55. Elyse
CHAPTER 55
Elyse
DO YOU REMEMBER?
PRESENT
T he house feels too quiet once Dominic leaves for work.
As much as I hate it when he’s on nights, I feel oddly energized despite the sun beginning to drop behind the mountain. I grab my laptop and a fresh notebook from the kitchen counter and set up at the dining table, switching on a nearby lamp and lighting my favorite candle.
One of the weddings I have booked for June has a massive budget, and with everything that’s been going on, I haven’t had the bandwidth to give it the attention it deserves. But tonight I’m forcing myself to drown everything out, and focus on it.
The latest developments on my case have made it hard to focus. Every new discovery is dead end after dead end.
Throwing myself into something creative is just what I need to stay distracted until Dominic gets home.
I scroll through the bride’s Pinterest board for inspiration, jotting notes as ideas start forming. With one click, I queue up one of my throwback playlists, low but just loud enough to fill the silence. The rhythm helps steady my thoughts, and soon I’m sketching centerpiece arrangements and brainstorming color palettes.
The notes of a familiar song drift through the room, and I hum along, my pen moving quickly across the paper.
I’m mid-thought, writing down an idea for floral runners, when a knock at the door startles me. The pen skids across the page, leaving a long, jagged line. My heart jumps, but I take a calming breath. With patrol surveillance back on, there’s not a chance of anything happening. It’s probably just a neighbor or one of my siblings dropping by unannounced.
I glance at the clock—Dominic’s only been gone for an hour.
Cautiously, I walk to the door, peering through the peephole. My twisted stomach unravels in relief when I see Ryker standing on the porch, his tall frame silhouetted by the porch light.
“Ryker?” I say, opening the door partway.
He gives me a small smile. “Hey, sorry to bother you. Mind if I use the bathroom? I didn’t get a chance to stop at home before coming here.”
I blink, confused. “I thought Gerard was going to be patrolling tonight?”
Ryker shrugs, a tired smile barely lifting the corners of his mouth. “He was, but he called in sick and I happened to be free.”
I open the door wider and step back to let him pass through. “Sure. Come on in.”
Based on how tired and worn out he looks, I think he just got off shift, only to have to come here and patrol me. A pang of guilt hits me. This situation isn’t just impacting my life, but now everyone in the department.
He steps inside, his boots thudding softly against the hardwood floor as he glances around. His eyes settle on my laptop and sketchpad. “Working late?”
“Just catching up,” I say, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear as I make my way back to the dining table. “It’s been a busy week.” I point toward the hallway. “Bathroom’s the first door on your left.”
Ryker nods, and turns on his heels.
A few moments later I hear the toilet flush and the sink run, before hereappears.
Standing just outside the dining area, his gaze flashes to the speakers. “You always did have good taste in music.”
I let out a dry laugh. “Gosh can you believe we’re old enough now to hear music from our teen years on old school stations? Makes me feel ancient.”
Ryker comes closer, exhaling a laugh as he sits. “How do you think I feel? I’m three years older, practically a senior citizen.”
I roll my eyes at him with a smile, double-checking that my project is saved. Before I can respond, Ryker’s strained gasp grabs my attention, forcing me to turn to see what’s happening.
“This song,” he says, his voice quieter now. His eyes fall shut as he listens, like he’s lost in a memory. When they reopen they settle with mine. “Do you remember?”
The playlist just switched from an upbeat Bruno Mars song to “Stay with Me” by Sam Smith. Besides being one of the many songs on my chaotic playlist, I don’t know the significance of it.
“Remember what?” I ask, tilting my head.
His smile morphs into an expression I can’t quite place. “Prom. We danced to this song.”
My eyes flit to my screen, a wave of awkwardness crashing against me. I often forget we went to prom together.
Sensing his stare, I force my focus back to him, despite how incredibly uncomfortable I feel. I never know how to react when he brings up our one and only date.
A strange chill runs down my spine when our gazes meet, but I try to keep my expression neutral. “I guess I forgot. That was a long time ago.”
He stands and walks around the table, now hovering over me, his eyes drilling into mine. “How could you forget? It was such a special night. The one time it felt like you were mine, even just for a little while.”
My ears snag on the word mine as my stomach starts to knot.
When Ryker asked me to prom all those years ago, it was a bit of a scandal for our small town. He had recently broken up with his longtime girlfriend and I was just a freshman. The age difference between us is nothing now, but back then I was newly fifteen and he was a very grown eighteen-year-old. Luckily, the scandal died as quickly as it made the waves because nothing came of it. We were casual friends, nothing more. I started dating Dominic and Ryker graduated and went off to college.
In all honesty, I never think about prom with Ryker because it’s completely overshadowed by the memory of coming home that night and finding Dominic waiting for me. I had told myself if he was waiting for me, then there was hope—that maybe he did like me as much as I liked him. He did.
It was a huge turning point for us, all the details leading up to it are insignificant by comparison.
Maybe I should’ve given that night more thought.
Ryker is still looming over me, watching me.
I rise from my chair, needing to put distance between us.
He moves toward me. “Don’t tell me you forgot. I think about it all the time.”
I take an involuntary step back, my pulse quickening. “ Ryker, that was a long time ago. And we went as friends, it wasn’t like that.”
“Not for me,” he says, his voice tightening. Then, he holds out a hand, a strange look in his eyes. “Dance with me. For old times’ sake.”
The request sends alarm bells ringing in my head. I force a shaky laugh, trying to deflect. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
His hand drops, his expression darkening. “Why? It’s not like your boyfriend is here. No one has to know.”
I falter, unable to come up with an excuse fast enough. His smile vanishes and the air gets thinner. I can’t take in a full breath.
“Fine,” I say quickly, trembling. “One dance.”
His smile returns, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He steps closer, placing one hand on my waist while his other hand takes mine. I feel trapped, my mind racing as I try to make sense of the unease clawing at my chest.
As we sway to the music, his grip on my waist tightens slightly, and I fight the urge to pull away.
Being in his arms feels wrong. It’s nothing like the dance I shared with Dominic. Nothing about Ryker feels right. It didn’t back then, and it definitely doesn’t now.
“You know,” he starts, “I never told you this, but Claire and I were having problems for a long time. Things were bad, really bad.”
I stay quiet, unsure of where this is going.
“She found out about Victoria,” he continues, casually, as if he’s discussing the weather.
My breath catches. “Victoria?”
“Delmar,” he clarifies, his gaze piercing into mine. “She was…well, she was a mistake. She didn’t know her place. When she found out I was married, she ended it, and then threatened to tell Claire. ”
My body stiffens, my mind reeling. “What are you saying right now?”
He lets out a soft chuckle, the sound sending shivers down my spine. “I couldn’t let her ruin everything. So I handled it.”
I feel like I’ve been doused in ice water. My heart pounds as his words sink in. “Are you telling me you killed Victoria Delmar?”
It’s not possible. There’s no way.
His grip intensifies, and I can feel the strength in his fingers, the sheer force he’s holding back.
“I didn’t have a choice. That whore was going to destroy my life.”
I can barely breathe, my mind racing as I try to piece everything together. “But Claire’s pregnant. You guys seem so happy. ”
“She left me,” he says, almost bored. “Can you believe that? That bitch thinks she can leave me and take my kid. I told everyone she’s sick because it’s easier than answering questions about where she is. She’s been staying with her parents since she confronted me about the affair. Fucking gold digger was following me. She thinks she’ll be free after I sign the divorce papers, but I have plans for her once our son is born.”
I try to move backward, but his hand on my waist keeps me firmly in place. My heart thrashes as the pieces click together, the realization hitting me like a thunder clap.
“It’s you,” I whisper, shaking. “It’s been you this whole time.”
His eyes regard me with a menacing stare. “You were always supposed to be mine. I saw you first!” He yells, forcing me to jump in place.
Like the draw of a curtain, his facade slips, revealing a person I don’t know. I’ve never seen Ryker yell or lose his temper. Ever.
“You were so fearless back then.” He chuckles, as if the story is heartwarming. “You came right up to me and pushed me to the ground because I’d accidentally shoved Scottie. I think I fell in love right then and there. Years later, when I finally worked up the nerve to ask you out, Dom came along, and everything got ruined.”
I try to pull away again, panic surging through me, but he doesn’t let go.
“I planned everything,” he continues, his voice rising slightly. “Prom night. I was finally going to have you. All you needed was alittle liquid encouragement, laced with something to loosen you up abit. Instead, the drinks got mixed up, and I ended up sick. You were such a little cock tease back then—but I knew you wanted me.” He presses his cheek against mine, his hot breath like fire on my ear. “You were so innocent, so pure. Untouched.” Moisture slicks across my earlobe as his tongue drags over it. It takes everything in me to not vomit. “I was going to be your first. Instead, you had to be a slut and let that ‘spic touch you.”
Goosebumps spread across my body, rising like individual needles stabbing all at once as his confession spills out.
“You’re insane,” I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper.
He shifts me, forcing our eyes to meet, his icy stare piercing me like a blade. “I’m not insane. I’m in love with you. I always have been.”
I shove at his chest, trying to break free, but he’s too strong. He grabs my wrist, pulling me toward the door with terrifying ease.
“Ryker, stop!” I scream, struggling against him.
“Elyse, I’m done waiting,” he growls, dragging me out onto the porch. “Time is up. You’ve tortured me enough—flirting with me, wearing sexy outfits just for me, but you open your legs for him. I’m done fucking sharing you.”
In a swift motion, he’s lifting me, and hauling me outside. I scream so forcefully the taste of metallic floods my mouth just as his hand slaps over my lips, muffling me.
I twist and kick, desperate to break free, but his grip is like iron, his fingers digging into my arm as he drags me toward the vehicle. The unmarked patrol car sits in the shadows, its dark windows reflecting the faint streetlights above. He opens the rear door with a practiced motion, yanking it wide as I thrash in his grasp.
“Let go of me!” I scream, my voice raw, but he doesn’t flinch. His hand shoves me forward, and I stumble into the back seat, the slick leather cold against my skin. The door slams shut with a hollow thud, and the sound reverberates through my chest, stealing my breath. I lunge for the handle, frantically tugging, but it’s locked. No matter how hard I pull, it doesn’t budge.
He slides into the front seat, glancing at me through the rearview mirror with cold, lifeless eyes. I scream again, the sound a piercing cry, but it’s swallowed by the heavy silence as the engine growls to life.
The car jolts forward, tires crunching over gravel, and panic consumes me. The dim glow of streetlights fades as we speed into the darkness, each second stretching into eternity. A sharp pang flashes across my chest as I take in my surroundings—a partition separating the front and back seats, no divider with trunk access, no way out, no one around to hear me. My nails claw at the door’s edge, the leather, anything, as my mind races.
I press my forehead against the window, watching the world blur past, and a terrifying realization settles over me; I have no idea where he’s taking me or what’s waiting for me at the end of this ride. One thing is clear—I have to find a way to escape, and fast.