“Her ex, Derek,” Knox cuts in, scowling.
“Derek,” the sheriff repeats, not arguing. It couldn’t be anyone else, because no one in town had a vendetta against Maisie. “Derek had to have been watching the diner, waiting for an opportunity to act.” He points across the road. “I’ve had thedeputy check for any suspicious activity over there. The guys at the fire station are offering some much-needed support.”
“And?” Wyatt prompts, frustration bleeding out of him.
“Nothing yet,” the sheriff says. “They’re going door to door. Derek couldn’t have taken her far without someone seeing something.”
“And if he drove her out of town?” I can’t be the only one thinking it. Derek could have shoved her into his car and be speeding far, far away from Rios as we speak.
The sheriff claps me on the arm. “We keep looking, and we don’t lose hope. Wewillfind her. It’s only a matter of time.”
“What can we do?” Elias asks.
“Start going door to door,” the sheriff says. “Folk from the diner emptied out to help look for her. The more people we have out there, the faster we’ll find her.”
Chapter 26
Maisie
Hard fingers dig painfully into the skin on my upper arm.
I hiss, wiggling to get free. “You’re hurting me.”
He leans into my face. “And I willkeephurting you if you don’t shut your stupid mouth.”
I cower.
One sentence, and it’s as if all the weeks I’ve spent smiling and loving life melt away. I feel myself shriveling into myself in a way I never thought I would again.
Idiot. Stupid. Pathetic.
Familiar words tunnel into my head—and my heart—and I’m right back to being Derek’s punching bag.
His hard stare bores into the top of my head, and for three long seconds, all I hear is the sound of his breathing.
Tensing, I brace for a punch. Maybe he’ll kick me in my belly when I’m down on the ground. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s done it.
The soft murmur of male voices draws his attention away, and I’m tempted to scream, “I’m here. Please save me!”
Screaming would open me up to a world of pain, so I keep my stupid mouth shut and wait for the first opportunity to run.
No one would think to look for us in the apartment where I would have died if Wyatt hadn’t gone for a late-night drive.
Two pieces of plywood sealed up the door that Wyatt had kicked open to save me.
Everything had happened in reverse. Derek kicked the bottom right corner of the plywood, and when it opened, he shoved me into the apartment, climbed in after me, and wrestled the wood back into place so it looked untouched. I’m certain he brought me here to kill me.
I stand with my back against the wall between the living room and kitchen as Derek stalks away from me. He’s light on his feet as he crosses my apartment, away from the destroyed stove and blackened walls, to one of the few windows that survived being smashed by the smoke or the firefighters.
Male voices just outside linger for a few seconds longer. It almost sounds like Knox, but maybe it’s wishful thinking?
Derek keeps out of sight, peering carefully down at the street with his body and most of his head tucked against the wall beside the window.
The only reason I don’t take advantage of his distraction to run is the thing he’s holding in his right hand, down low beside his blue jean-clad leg.
A gun.
He never had one before, which means he bought one especially for this.
