The cold air won’t kill me. As long as I keep walking, I’ll stay warm. I can find people—good people, this time—and get myself out of this disaster. If I continue at a quick pace, I bet I could reach that town we passed by morning.
Though night’s already set in, so little light pollution exists out here that all I need are the moon and stars to illuminate the way. I can see just far enough to?—
An arm wraps around my waist from behind, jolting me to a stop.
Before I can open my mouth to ask Brody what the hell his problem is, he bends his knees and tosses me over his shoulder.
I thrash against him. “Put me down!”
His grip on my midsection loosens, and my stomach lurches as I tip sideways.
“Careful,” he warns with a ragged voice. “Don’t want me to drop you, do you?”
“Brody!”
His heavy footfalls thump as he ascends the stairs, carries me over the threshold, and proceeds to dump me ungracefully into the nearest chair, like an abandoned new bride.
My heart pounds, and Brody temporarily blinds me when he flips on the lights.
A modern open-concept floor plan greets me, the kitchen separated from this living room by a long bar counter. The flooring is all pale ceramic tile, and light wood paneling covers the walls beside the windows. A fireplace sits near the front door. Brody dropped me on one of two brown leather armchairs that match the couch, a TV on one wall and a dark wood coffee table in the center of the space. The ascending staircase to the right probably leads to three or four bedrooms, going by the size of the home.
At least it doesn’t look like a murder house.
Brody returns to the door and taps a code into the nearby keypad. The unmistakable clicks of locks rise around me like a symphony.
I whip my head back and forth, tracking the noises. This place has four enormous square casement windows set into every wall. Probably so that the people hiding here can see an enemy coming from any direction.
Little metallic twitches at the base of each sill hook my eye.
Brody just shut us in here like this is a panic room.
My heartrate accelerates, and I fight to keep my breaths from becoming shallow. Now, I’ll never be able to escape him.
The helplessness of this awful situation threatens to crush me until the rustle of Brody rummaging through the stainless steel fridge yanks me out of my looming depression.
He sets a few packages on the black granite counter, then pulls open a white cabinet to take stock of what’s available.
Guilt slams me as I ponder the kiss by the car all over again.
Angelica’s face flashes through my mind. Her green eyes, her bright red curls…
What the hell is the matter with me?
Men who wanted to hurt me as a child kidnapped and murdered my best friend instead, and when my shitty karma finally catches up with me, I make out with my captor? Let him touch me?
Searing self-loathing fries me to a crisp.
By kissing Brody, I committed the most flagrant, blatant act of disrespect toward Ange’s memory that I ever could. How could I have done that?
Shame chases the self-loathing, encasing me in a cocoon of self-flagellation.
All I can think about is Angelica and how I failed her. How everyone failed her from the very beginning.
I’m so stupid.
Her smiling face chars my memory. For years, her death has haunted me, and she’s the sole reason that the hard drive even exists. I needed some way to deal with my pain and isolation. So I resorted to research.
I couldn’t save Ange, but at least I could discover who murdered her and help bring them to justice.
