I’m out of the car before I hear anything else and racing to the door. Lieutenant Kempe must be on the same page, finally, because I hear thecommands of him telling his men to enter the house. A group of three men beat me to the front door, where they kick it in, and I shove my way through. I look around, trying to figure out where I am before I hear Rina yelling.
I sprint to the back room and find Rina standing over a cowering Tyler, yelling with conviction.
“How dare you think you can just take what you want! Especially a whole-ass person!”
Chapter 41
Rina
I panicked when he lunged for me, and I did the only thing I could think of. Ran.
It led me to the room with the pictures I saw earlier, his “office”. I struggle to get the door open as Tyler chases me with shocking speed. I finally get the door open and go stumbling through it, landing on the floor.
“Now, now, Marina. Is that any way to treat the man you’re with?” His sinister tone sends chills down my spine.
I scramble on the floor, bumping into the desk, which draws my attention to the room.
Pictures. Hundreds of them cover every wall in the room. A lot are of me, but there are a handful of other women on here too.“What is this?” I whisper, not even realizing I’m asking out loud.
“This is where I keep track of my women.” He says it so simply, like it’s normal human behavior to have creepily taken pictures tacked up in a room.
“Your women?”
“You thought you were the only one?” His laughter is cold but has an edge of hysterics to it. “You may be my favorite at the moment, but youaren’t my only. One day, I’ll have all of you here. Serving me just like you should be.”
He’s wistfully daydreaming about how he expects the women he stalks to just fall in line. How utterly delusional. But it’s that thought that forces me to focus. If he’s delusional, I need to use it against him or outsmart him. I can’t be stuck in here with him because Lord knows what else he has planned. Hell, he may have a fucking dungeon somewhere, but I’m not sticking around to find out.
“How many are there?” Instead of asking about what he means by serving, I need to get more information about the other women. I’m not sure how easily the police can figure things out just from photographs, so the more I can get, the better.
“Currently? Six. There were a few other possibilities, but they fell through.” He takes a step closer to me, a coy smirk on his face.
“Why did they fall through?”
“One I lost track of; another was engaged. She wasn’t one of my favorites, so I decided to be gracious and let her go. There were two others who moved away. Following them felt unnecessary since I had the seven of you already in place.” He steps to the side of the desk, grabbing something off of it, and I resist the urge to vomit all over his shoes. Although that may not be the worst way to distract him. He’s holding up duct tape and an ominous leer, and no matter how much true crime I’ve watched, witnessing something like this in person is a whole different ball game.
“Ha-have you done this before?” I’m scared to ask, but I know we need to know if there are other victims.
God, I hate that word. I don’t wantto be a victim.
“When I was in college” —he crouches down to my level, almost caging me in— “I became infatuated with two girls. I followed them everywhere and just wanted to be a part of their life. I knew they wanted me to. They were friends and said hello to me a couple of times when they passed by. I followed them a lot, learned their patterns, but then summer break came and the next semester they were just gone.” Anger litters his voice.
Good, they got away.
“And am I the first you’ve … brought home?” I’m not sure if this is the right approach. It could tip my hand or make me sound interested in his life. I’m hoping against hope it’s the latter.
“You kind of forced my hand, lovely Marina. I wasn’t ready for you yet. But that’s okay. I have enough ready that we’ll make do.” He holds his hand out, and I debate what to do. If I take his hand, does it lessen my chance to walk out of here? If I don’t, does he flip his personality like Dr. Jekyll?
Fuck it.
I take his hand as we both stand up, and he forcefully pulls me out of the room and back into his bedroom. He shoves me onto the bed, and fear creeps up my spine. I don’t know how many options I have here, and panic is starting to set in. I need a level head to get out of this, especially since I can’t access my phone easily anymore.
He paces back and forth in front of me, and I calculate if I could beat him to the front door, but his height and speed would beat me every time.
There’s tension in the air, heavy with uncertainty and fear on my end.
I’m not even sure who moves first, but I know that I don’t want to be in here anymore. I don’t want to know any more information, and I want to get the fuck out of here and to my husband immediately.
I tackle Tyler as he lunges for me. He wasn’t going to get the better of me, no; I was going to take care of this once and for all. I have a life to live, after all. I hit him with all my force, my arms wrapped around his middle like a football tackle as I take him down against the dresser. I hear an awful thud, but I know it wasn’t from me, so I don’t care.
