Page 153 of Beneath the Quiet

I raise my eyes to the sky, my lips twitching from amusement. “It sounds disgusting,” I tease.

“Pfft. Don’t mock my coffee addiction, honey.”

I close my eyes, letting the softness of her happy voice settle over me. “I’ll never get tired of hearing you say that.”

I hear her soft sigh. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Yes.”

I push off the side of the car and round it to jump into my side and turn the ignition. I put the phone on the console, but when it vibrates and an image flashes across the screen, I pick it up and open the text.

“Fuck!”

One look, and that’s all it takes to recognise that the tourist wasn’t a tourist at all.

It’s Joe.

I put the car in gear, and without even glancing behind me, I push hard on the gas pedal, and the tyres squeal as I set off to the station.

To where my heart is.

My Maeve.

Before the sick bastard gets to her first.

Maeve

The gunshot rings in my ears, freezing me to the spot, and my heart jumps into my throat. I arrived at the station early today, wanting to get a head start on the graffiti case, and I’m alone apart from Franny manning the front desk.

“Oh, God. Franny!” I yell.

My pulse races as I set off in a run towards reception, my feet closing the distance easily. I shouldn’t be running towards the danger, but if Franny’s hurt, I need to get to her.

I stop at the entrance and flatten my back against the wall, getting my breathing under control.

“Maeve!”

I close my eyes, shaking my head in disbelief.

“What do you want, Joe?” I yell back.

“Just you.” He chuckles darkly, the sound so full of venom that bile hits the back of my throat.

“Why?”

Please, please, let Franny be okay.

“If you’re not out here in five seconds, I’ll start hunting you. Do you want that?”

“No!” I scan the office around me, but all I can find is a letter opener lying on top of the filing cabinet to my right. I pull the hair tie from my wrist, bundling my hair back in a high ponytail. Certain that it won’t fall into my eyes, I make a grab for the letter opener, grateful I chose to wear a bulky sweater today. I push it high up my sleeve, hiding my weapon as best I can, and blow out a long breath to steady myself before I face Joe.

Breathe, sweetheart. I’ve got you.

Aidan’s steady voice grounds me, and I hug the words to my heart, finding the strength I need to face Joe.

“Okay, okay. I’ll come out,” I shout.

I take a peek around the corner and immediately sweep the floor, but there’s no Franny. I raise my head and lock my eyes with my childhood nemesis. He hasn’t changed much since I last saw him. He’s still built like a linebacker, but he has large bags under his eyes, as if he hasn’t slept well for ages. The black sweater he’s wearing is torn at the elbows, and his grey jeans and sneakers look worse for wear.