“No. We don’t. However, we need to alert the authorities about the connection. Then we can find a way to keep you safe.”
I peel away from her tight hug. “Won’t I become a suspect?”
She pauses and considers. “Goddamnit. Yes, you will be. But they’ll be able to rule you out pretty quickly. I still say we need to tell them. Maybe you’re the lead they’ve been looking for this entire time.”
Something in my gut churns at the idea of the cops having any of this information at their disposal, and I can’t even begin to digest why. I stow it away for another time.
“Just… give me some time to try to figure this out. I need to process,” I plead, panic setting in.
She grabs my hands and squeezes. “Whatever you want to do, we’ll do it. I owe you that much.”
The implication of what I did for her hangs between us, unspoken, where it’s resided for ten years now.
“I don’t want to go to the cops yet. They didn’t believe me before; they already think my stories are fishy, which will sway them away from clearing me.”
“Babe, you’re on the radar of a serial killer. Have you seen what he does to his victims?”
I nod as more tears burn my eyes. “I have. I need to do this my way. For once.”
Her sigh means I’ve won this round, but I don’t think I’ll be able to hold her off for much longer if this escalates.
And lately, that’s all it seems to do.
When I open my car door to head home from Allison’s, I snatch the note beneath the windshield before getting in.
Like before, I lock the car and turn it on before unfolding the paper.
Their blood is onyourhands.
5
Greer
PAST
Waking up is surreal, like I’m in someone else’s life. There’s a burning ache in my stomach. Anxiety is blazing a hole through its lining as I roll onto my side and stare out over the expanse of my bedroom.
Everything is still and silent. It’s one of my favorite moments of the day. There’s a peaceful stillness the morning brings that’s unmatched. Nothing else compares. But I now find guilt and heaviness in the solace of morning. I can’t escape my mind in the silence I once loved.
Grabbing my remote, I sit on my bed and click on the television, moving through the early morning news channels. I’m searching. Scanning for any mention of the man I killed last night—the one I left for dead in the middle of the road like nothing more than roadkill.
Nothing.
Not one mention.
It bothers me even more. What if no one’s found him, and he’s still lying there, lifeless?
I gag and rush for my connected bathroom, barely making it before I dry heave into the toilet.
There’s nothing left to vomit. I was too sick all night.
My phone rings from my nightstand, and I sniff back tears as I let it go to voicemail. It’s probably Allison; she’s the only one who would call this early.
Thinking she might have found something when I’ve been unsuccessful, I get off the cold tile and grip the sink before looking at myself in the mirror. I pad over and sit on the edge of the bed, grabbing my phone to call her back.
It rings again in my hand. She’s worried.
“Hello,” I say shakily, picking up her call.
