Chapter 10
GREER
His house is a small cabin in the middle of the national forest surrounding Oakland. I thought we’d never stop driving, and the deeper he took me, the more my heart leapt with fear.
There’s smoke coming from the chimney and light spilling through the front window.
If I didn’t know who lived inside, it would look picturesque—like a vacation spot.
There’s a fern hanging from the ceiling at the porch entrance, giving the illusion that this man cannot only take away life but also maintain it.
Putting the truck in park, he sighs behind his mask.
“When I let you out of this truck, you will do as you’re told.
If not, you remember how much I like punishing you when you misbehave.
No one will hear your screams out here, which means that I’m not limited to what I can do to you. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “I understand.”
His black eyes narrow behind his mask. “Get out and go wait for me on the porch.”
Listening, I open the door with a shaky hand and drag my bag out with me.
Bear follows him out the driver’s door, and my heart breaks to see him go.
It seems my stalker has a special bond with my dog. How could he not? He’s been sneaking into my house and doing god only knows what while I’m in a fog of drugs for years.
With a tight grip on my bag, I stand on the porch, watching my stalker take Bear to do his business before striding toward me.
I’ve been trying like hell to recall any of his features. His face is a blur to me as I try to remember his lifeless body lying on the pavement behind my car.
His eyes are all that have haunted my dreams for years.
Though even now, they seem dead, like there’s too much haunting him for life to bleed into their depths.
“Good girl,” he says, dropping his nose to my hair. He inhales. “Keep that up, you might earn yourself a reward.”
I turn to follow him inside, willing my feet to move as fear ripples through me.
Allison is going to find me, I remind myself.
She has connections all over the state.
She has resources.
She’s going to find me.
I just need to keep myself alive.
“Bear, come,” the man says, his voice as commanding as his presence as he opens the door to a crate in the corner of the living room.
There’s a plush bed inside and a few toys atop it.
“Good boy,” he tells him, closing the crate door.
With Bear handled, the stalker’s attention turns back toward me. There’s a disapproving look in his eyes, and I know it’s because of my running out to the police.
What was I supposed to do?
Calling them off a serial killer would’ve been utter lunacy.
He has to know that.
“Come,” he tells me as if I’m no more of a beast than Bear is.
My feet are moving before my mind can talk me out of it.
He grips my bag and tugs it away, tossing it onto a couch I hadn’t noticed before.
How could I notice anything? His presence takes up this entire cabin.
Fuck, it’s probably bigger than this cabin.
“I want to show you something.”
Turning, he heads down a hallway that’s encased in darkness. Before following, I take a moment to appreciate how well he blends into it.
Before I get into more trouble, I scurry to catch up with him.
There’s a room open at the end of the hall, and blue lights spill out, casting a glow on the opposite wall.
I slow to a crawl before entering.
I don’t see him in the room when I step in.
I quickly realize, as a hand grips the back of my neck and holds it firmly, that it’s because he was behind me.
Floor to ceiling, left to right, covering every surface, and desktop, there are screens.
I recognize my shower in one of them, my bedroom, the outside of my house… Then, there are some places that I don’t know.
My eyes scan to the right, finding a screen with the most shocking thing: Allison.
She’s sound asleep in her bed.
She doesn’t know it now, but she’s going to have the worst day of her life when she wakes and finds me missing tomorrow.
Stupidly, I hope she sleeps well tonight.
“You can go nowhere without me knowing. I can see you everywhere. Even in this house.”
Why is he showing me this? So that I’ll listen and be good for him?
If he wants to kill me, why not just get it over with?
“You don’t make a move where I’m not watching. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I nod, a whimper escaping as tears fall down my cheeks. “This is because of what I did? Because I left you?”
“Why? Are you going to apologize for leaving me in the middle of the road that night?”
I don’t get a chance to answer. He whips me around, backing me into a computer chair, which slams into the desk in front of it. “Tell me, poison, did you cry for me? After you drove away from my dead body, did you weep?”
Breaking into sobs, I nod. “I did. I still do.”
Leaning his ski-mask-covered forehead against mine, he sighs. “You’re the one that got away, and now I have you. You’ll never escape again.”
His words spill through my brain like a bleed, my head aching from the pressure of them.
“How did you find me?” I manage to ask through my emotions.
It’s odd, I should be more afraid of him. I am, don’t get me wrong, but part of me is… relieved.
It’s finally over.
I’ve been afraid for so fucking long.
I’ve been overwhelmed with guilt for even longer.
Now, it’s over.
All of it.
“You don’t remember?” he asks, his voice a mere whisper. There’s a dark husk to it, and it causes a shudder to move through me.
“No.”
Stepping back, he removes his mask, all of his sharp features coming into view under the light of all the screens he’s used while stalking me all these months.
Something about him seems… familiar, but I can’t quite place him.
“I’ve seen you before…” But where?
I step into him, my tears finally drying as I look him over.
The angles of his face are sharp, his cheekbones are high, and his dark eyes are framed with thick lashes.
His lips are full, and they have a slight pout to them. A massive scar runs the length of the right side of his face, making it harder for him to blend into a crowd.
Every bit of his appearance gives the warning that he’s a threat.
“You bumped into me in town once. I need to get better at watching where I’m going,” he mocks.
All of a sudden, all the pieces come together in my mind. His face, his damning, sinful face as I back toward my car. The way he looked at me… Like he knew me. Like my bumping into him had offended him. Like I was his next obsession come to life.
“The notes started the next day,” I realize.
“They did. Well, I left it that night, but you wouldn’t have found it.”
I swallow. “You followed me home?”
“I did. Then, I snuck inside. It took time for me to work up the nerve to touch you, but once I did… The noises you made for me,” he recalls, closing his eyes as if to relive moments I don’t remember even if I try.
The bubble of curiosity around me pops, and fear reminds me I’m in the presence of a murderer. I back away from him, gripping the desk chair with one hand. “You killed them.” My voice shakes, but I’m well past trying to hide my fear from him.
“I killed more than your little fuck toys. I’ve killed every woman that looked like you, that had your eyes, for ten years.” He steps into me with two massive strides, his hand lifting and thumbing over my cheekbone.
“Why?”
“Because you’re like me.”
The implication has rage unfurling inside my chest, burning to be set free. “No! I’m not!”
“You are, pretty poison. You left me there for dead. You killed me and went on with your life like I never existed. I’ve never met an equal before.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“Why? It’s what you are. Poison in my blood, in my psyche. You’ve rewired me entirely with one encounter.”
He speaks about me as if I have any power in this situation. As if I command him, instead of the other way around.
“I looked for you,” I admit.
What’s the harm? He’s going to kill me anyhow.
My chest loosens, and some of the tension winding through me releases as the admission unburdens me.
I’ve been holding my feelings and nightmares inside for so long. Who better to tell than him?
He’s silent.
“I called every hospital twice. I read every newspaper page and listened to as many radio talk shows as I could. I went back there…” I swallow as he leans closer, his looming presence thickening the air between us.
It seems that my admission has intrigued him. “What would you have done if you found me?”
“I—” I swallow, choosing my words carefully. “I don’t know. I needed to know you were alive.”
“Guilt is a heavy burden. Too bad you’ve suffered yours for no reason.”
I might be crazy, but his tone of voice implied my guilt… disgusted him.
He truly thinks we’re alike. My searching for him, going to look for him, and my guilt prove otherwise.
Reminding myself I need to stay alive long enough for Allison to find me, I keep any details that could prove that I’m nothing like him to myself.
If the thing keeping me alive is that he sees a kindred spirit in me, I need to play along. As much as I can, anyhow.
“Why haven’t you killed me?”
He turns away from me, shoves a massive hand into his hair, and tugs. It’s like he’s unraveling right before my eyes.
I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.
The silence in the room is nearly deafening, and I wish he would answer. The buzzing of hard drives and equipment is all I can hear over his heavy breathing.
Turning back, he grips my throat in his hand, not squeezing, only holding.
I get the impression I’m the most precious thing in the world to him, and it scares me.
“I like the sounds you make,” he says, and my eyes widen.
When he drugs and touches me against my will?
That’s not something I can use to help my case here in his murder cabin, I remind myself.
“What do you do to me while I’m asleep?” I ask, even though I know he won’t answer me.
“Would you like to see?”
What?!
“What do you mean?” I whisper.
He leans close to my ear, his breath tickling the edge. “I have every encounter with you on tape. Do you want to see what I do to you when you’re sleeping, pretty poison?”
“Yes,” I stammer.
I need to know. Even if I don’t want to, I need to.