I gasped audibly.
My teeth began to clatter, and my lips trembled when the gun in his possession skimmed its way down my chest. My lack of recognition further fueled the burning inferno, blazing rampant through his blood and spilling over into rage as he punched the wall behind me.
“Fuck,” he screeched while shaking his fist. “Cut the bullshit. I’m done playing games. I’m done waiting for you.”
“I’m not, I swear. I don’t know who you are.”
“You had to go and ruin everything . . .everything,” he shouted and shook me violently to get his point across. “All you had to do was be a good little obedient girl, know your role, and play the part; instead, you had to go sticking your nose where it didn’t belong.”
“Please—”
“No amount of begging or pleading can help you now.” He released his grip on me, and my body sagged into the mattress with a shred of relief until he produced another piece of duct tape.
“No, please don’t. I can’t breathe. Please don’t do this.” I jerked my head from side to side but to no avail. “No, no—” I shrieked until my words turned into incoherent mumbles.
His eyes shot up to mine, his expression cold, blanketing me with trepidation.
With a rough swallow, I pushed down the jagged lump rising in my throat.
He reached behind his back and pulled out what looked to be a photo. “You survived me once; shame on you. Survive me twice; shame on me.” He then shined the light on the image and held it up for me to view.
It was a wedding photo.
A photo that not only captured a life I knew very little about but further crushed my soul as it only reaffirmed just how far we had grown apart. How far our worlds were when we had a fighting chance to mend the gap. At that moment, I learned that even between life and death, the past and present had the power to collide, shattering everything I thought I knew, everything I believed to be true.
With my thoughts misfiring, my inner fight surrendered to the gaping void in my heart as my eyes rolled back into the darkness, with her name lighting the way.
Annabelle.
Chapter30
Boden
“How many times have you watched that video clip?”
“Clearly, not enough, or I wouldn’t be sitting here.” And it wouldn’t be enough until I had locked down a solid lead.
The video of an assailant dressed from head to toe in black grabbing Lakelyn as she ran out of my house will forever haunt me, yet I refused to stop watching it.
“Take five, man, clear your head,” Jaxon suggested.
“It’s been nearly thirty-four hours, and we’ve got jack-shit.”
“Have you even slept?”
“Would you be wasting time sleeping if someone you loved had been abducted? You and I both know the first forty-eight hours are the most crucial.”
He nodded and pulled up a chair. “Bring me up to speed. Was the cyber tech able to pull all the footage from your camera? Any signs of the van doing any re-con in the area beforehand?”
“He got it all and found three sightings of a white van, but in all instances, there was nothing suspicious about the drive-bys. No deliveries or change in speed, and the driver had a ball cap on.”
“Any hit on the plate?”
“After piecing together fellow neighbor’s door-cam footage, I managed to track the van’s movements out onto Upper Wentworth, then picked it up off a red-light cam. Not for an infraction, as the fucker’s face was still covered in a balaclava, but I did get the plate. The problem is that they are stolen and registered to someone deceased.”
“Were any prints found at your place or hers?”
I shook my head no. “I’ve only ever felt this fucking helpless once before and . . . and it’s fucking gutting me,” I said, dropping my head into my hands, roughly grabbing fistfuls of my hair.
