And I have no control over any of it.
Arlo steps up on the porch silently, and I join him, knowing we’re out of time. Reaching out, I grip the door handle in my hand. I can feel myself shaking, feel the dread, but I push it down, like I always used to. And then, I open the door.
Arlo and I enter the cabin one after the other and take a cursory look around, checking for Tennison. But it’s hard to see past the man stripped and tied to a chair in the middle of the room.
Lennox.
Bound by rope, with multiple deep cuts down every part of his body I can see.
“Fuck,” Arlo curses quietly.
“So lovely of you to join in the fun.” Tennison walks out from a shadowed corner with a sinister grin on his face and his knife in one hand as he twirls it around.
Chapter 29
Oakley
Alfred Tennison, by all accounts, is average. He’s in his mid-fifties, with thinning brown hair, but he is in decent shape for his age. I guess you’d have to be, considering what he does on a regular basis. His glasses sit skewed on his face, like he’s rushed this entire setup. Usually, every picture we’ve ever seen of the man has him put together, not a hair out of place, and blends in seamlessly into any crowd.
He’s different right now, unhinged in a way I’ve never seen him. You couldn’t tell by his words, but his appearance tells me this vendetta with me wasn’t exactly planned. His clothing hangs off of him, telling me this past year hasn’t been good to him.
It also means Tennison is a new level of dangerous, which scares me more than anything.
Lennox tries to lift his head, but he’s already weak from the blood loss. My heart clenches painfully in my chest at the sight and the fuckingregretat having a hand in putting him in this position.
“I’ll get you out of here, Len,” I whisper.
“Well, he may be getting out, but you certainly aren’t. I’ve come all this way; I plan to talk, get to know you, and who knows, maybe have a little fun while we chat.” Tennison’s words are sharp as he spins his knife around again.
“No. You were right on the phone.” My eyes barely shift from Tennison, tracking as Sheriff takes a step in Lennox’s direction. It’s a smart move; if I can keep Tennison talking, then maybe Sheriff can get to Lennox and get them both out. “It’s time we end this. Talking seems unnecessary, no?”
“It seems you’ve learned nothing while chasing your tail trying to get to me. Talking is everything, my boy. Tell me, what do these people tell you about me after you’ve rescued them?”
The hair on my arms rises because I know where he’s taking this, but it’ll keep him talking and that’s important, even if it makes me uncomfortable as hell.
“Do they tell you about the conversations we have? Or do they just tell you my name? Do they tell you how long we play for? Or do they only tell you my name?”
“They tell me your name.”
“Precisely. You know why that is?” He tilts head at me in question, and it only makes him look like more of a threat, menacing.
“Why?” I growl.
“Well, let me back up.” He slowly walks around Lennox, leaving a clear path for Sheriff. It’s clear Tennison doesn’t really care about Lennox anymore, and for us, that’s the best-case scenario. “Do you know why I don’t kill any of them? Why I leave all these witnesses to this so-called crime?”
I stay silent. Why answer him? Why give him power when that’s what he thrives on?
“Because if you kill them, you can’t watch for years to see the damage you’ve done. Sure, there are some who have family that’s affected, but it’s not the same. Being able to check in with the people I’ve hadchatswith? It’s the game that never ends. It’s also why they don’t ever tell you more information about what happens to them. You see, fear is a wonderful thing. It makes people … compliant. It really is wonderous what the human body will take when it’s in self-protect mode. And the mind is even more fascinating.”
I feel sick. Bile is very quickly working its way up my throat, and I’m trying like hell not to show him any weakness, even though that’s all I feel right now. My fists clench tight as I see Sheriff out of the corner of my eye cutting Lennox’s hands and feet free.
Tennison glances over his shoulder. “I did enjoy our time together. Talk soon, Lennox Hutton,” he says before turning his attention back to me. Sheriff quickly gets Lennox out of the cabin, and my shoulders barely sag in relief.
“I’m sure you have questions for me. Please sit,” Tennison offers, and I almost laugh.
“No, thanks. I will ask those questions, though.” He nods, predicting my response, I assume. “Why me?” I ask the biggest question. I don’t even care anymore why he does what he does. I don’t care what his future plans are—I don’t plan to let him walk out of here alive anyway.
“Simple. You are the one who got the closest. You almost had me a year ago. You remember, don’t you?”
