Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
THE BOX UNDER THE BED
SARAH
Connor’s deep singing floated through the apartment. He’d decided we needed to eat something before we went into hibernation mode and left me to lounge in bed until the food was ready.
I flopped onto my belly, deeply inhaling. His scent clung to the pillow, beating back the worry that sat on the periphery of my mind.
This summer had been a rollercoaster, and now it seemed like there was no end in sight.
Sighing, I rolled onto my back, knocking my phone onto the floor with a heavy thud.
“Ugh.” I slid off the edge of the bed, wrapped in the flat sheet.
I picked up my phone, the screen lighting under Connor’s bed. A bit of pink lace caught my eye.
“What is that?” I reached under, swiping my hand back and forth until my pinkie caught on the scrap of fabric. Heart beating wildly, I slowly pulled a pair of panties from under his bed.
A pair of my panties from under his bed.
“The fuck?”
I lay on my belly, using the flashlight on my phone to look under the bed. Set far on the other side was a shoebox. Glancing at the door, I glared at Connor’s happy rendition of our song, accompanied by the clang of pots and pans.
Son of a bitch.
I shook off the sheet and crawled around the end of the bed. Kneeling, I dragged the box out. The lid hit the bed frame and fell to the side, exposing the contents.
“Oh my God.” I covered my mouth, blinking as if it would make what I was holding disappear.
In an old sneaker box, there were three pairs of my panties and about a hundred photos of me all around town.
Standing, I dropped the box on top of the bed and frantically picked up picture after picture.
The earliest was from the first day of Camp College Bound, meaning he’d been following me all summer.
Now I know why we kept running into each other.
Crumpling up every picture I could, I wondered who the fuck still had physical photos? I mean, he had to take the film or files to a store and get them developed. Then, someone had to develop them, adding a witness to this little pet project.
Did they think he was my boyfriend?
I scoffed. Of course, after years of being single and picky, I just had to go and make a fucking stalker my boyfriend.
“Food’s ready,” Connor called from the kitchen.
Shit.
Slipping on my shoes, I jumped up and ran right into Connor and the plate of pasta he was holding. His warm smile fell as he took in my expression and the shoes on my feet.
Setting the plate on the dresser, he asked, “Are you okay?”
My heart ached at the sincerity in his voice, and for a moment, I doubted myself.
Do I have it wrong?
But then I glanced at the bed. Every picture poked a hole in our newfound relationship. Shaking off the lingering affection, I fixed him with a glare. “What are these?” I shook the lace in his face. “I said, what are these?”
“Your panties?” Frowning, he took a step toward me, but I darted around the bed.
I fisted the lace and shook it at him. “And why do you have my panties?”
The bastard looked confused and shook his head when he caught a glimpse of all the pictures. “What—”
“No!” I held up a hand and scrambled on top of the bed. “You go over there.”
“Sarah, I—” He inched closer, his hands up in surrender.
“I need to go. I’ll call you when I’ve thought this through.” I jumped off the bed and ran out of the room.
Slamming the front door, I rushed down the stairs and out the front door, running smack into Duncan’s broad back.
“Shit. You okay, Sarah?” he asked, steadying me.
I glanced over my shoulder, worried Connor would follow. “No. I need to get home.”
And probably call the police, but I’m not ready to admit that.
Duncan frowned. “Did Connor hurt you?”
I shook my head and said again, “I need to get home.”
His thick fingers tightened on my biceps, and he nodded. “Let Carter take you. I’ll stay here in case Connor tries to follow.”
“That’s really not—”
“Come on, Sarah,” Carter said, gently taking my elbow. “Let’s get moving before it starts raining.” The sky was a dark shade of green, promising a wicked storm.
Impatient, I nodded and took off. If Carter wanted to follow, that was his business.
“You okay?” Carter asked when he caught up.
“No,” I said, very uninterested in rehashing the last ten minutes with him. It was bad enough I’d finally told a guy I loved him, finally felt that special connection people talk about, only to find out he was an unhinged stalker. There was no need to let the rest of the world know.
But what if he’s dangerous? The Kirksville Killer is still out there, what if he is . . .
I quickly rejected the thought, and that worried me. While there was no way he could have killed Hailey, it didn’t mean he couldn’t have commited some of the other murders. What if there was more than one killer?
Was I too close to the situation to make the right call?
Raindrops hit my face as I climbed the stairs to Frattic. Carter followed a couple of steps behind, making me uneasy. At the top, I turned to him and said, “I think I want to be alone right now. Thanks for walking me home.”
He stepped up one more stair, bringing us eye to eye. “You sure?”
Nodding, I moved under the door’s awning. “Yeah.” With a small smile, I gestured at the sky. “You’d better head back before it pours.”
Carter tilted his head and smiled. “Okay. You call me if Connor shows up.”
I’ll be calling the cops, but sure, buddy.
“Will do.” I rushed into the apartment and locked the door behind me.
Not waiting a second, I dug through my purse and pulled out the card of the detective who had questioned us just hours before.
“You’ve reached—”
“Ah!” I screamed, looking out of the blinds at the parking lot. The rain had picked up, filling the potholes and washing away the bird shit on my car. The beep came, and I hung up, unsure of how to explain the situation.
Was Connor a stalker? Was he a threat?
Rain and wind rattled the windows, and the nearby tornado sirens sounded. For the first time since stepping into the apartment, I noticed just how dark it was, so I flipped on a light, thankful the power was still on.
Notifications flooded my lock screen as the girls asked where I was. They were all downstairs in the frat’s basement. Looking out the window, I weighed my options.
Is it safe? Will Connor show up?
Just then, Carter walked out from under the steps of Frattic, and I frowned. “What’s he doing?”
Another figure came limping into view. My heart lurched when I realized it was Connor, and he was injured. Despite finding out his dirty little secret, I didn’t want him hurt.
How fucked up am I?