God.
"How did a woman like this adopt a child?" I growl.
"She was probably not like that when she adopted. Drugs do bad things to people," Craig explains. "She obviously tormented the boy."
My throat gets tight, but I don't focus on the feeling long. I go through the notes and come across an address.
"This her old house?"
"Yes," the officer tells me. "It's about four hours away, but I think it's worth checking out. There is a high chance he's taken them there."
He's right.
I stand. "Let's find this fucker, and end him."
TWENTY-SIX
Hartley
The drawers are empty. Every single one of them.
There are no knives, or anything else that could be used as a weapon, anywhere.
The smart bastard thought of everything.
Jacob's laugh fills my space. "Gosh, I mean I thought you were a little smarter than this, but to run into the kitchen? Did you really think there would be a big butcher knife waiting on the table, so you could kill me and skip off into the sunset? This isn't a movie, Hartley."
My knees tremble. He's on the other side of the counter, that massive blade in his hand. My head is pounding. My body hurts. I feel like I'm going to pass out. But right now, I'm out of that room. This will be the only chance I have of ever getting out of here. I have to think. Taylor is down there, bleeding. She could die if I don't get this right.
God. Taylor. Is it already too late? There was so much blood. She tried to save me, she tried to save me and she got hurt. I have to get us out of here.
There isn't much I can do with my hands and feet bound.
"There is nowhere for you to go, Hartley," he chuckles, running a thumb down the edge of the knife, looking completely deranged with his bloodied face.
I cannot believe I let this man into my life.
I shake that thought.
Focus.
"No matter which way you try to escape, I will catch you, and I will slit your throat."
My knees are shaking, my hands are sweating, but I don't move.
There has to be a way.
There just has to be.
"What did you honestly think would happen if you ran from me? Do you think you'd actually be able to kill me?"
He laughs.
"We both know you wouldn't," he continues. "You might be strong, Hartley, but you don't have it in you to take a life."
Something moves behind him, and my eyes dart to it. Taylor is shuffling down the hall. For a moment, I think I'm seeing things. But it's her. My brave, beautiful friend. Looking like she may just die, but she's doing it. She has blood pouring from the wound in her leg, but she's moving steadily. For now.
///
He hasn't heard her. He hasn't seen her. He screwed up. They always screw up, even if it's so tiny no one notices. No one can be that perfect. And he just left his door wide open. In chasing me, he forgot about Taylor. He assumed she was too injured to move, or maybe dead, or maybe in his rush to come after me he simply forgot about her.
But he screwed up.
And now here she is, coming down the hall behind him, hands clenched in front of her, determination shining through her pain.
I have to keep him distracted. This is literally our only chance.
"I could," I say, meeting his eyes. "Kill you."
He laughs again, swinging the machete around. "What would Raymond think of his beautiful wife doing such a thing? He'd be horrified."
That won't work. I know Raymond would much rather me rid the world of someone like Jacob than allow him to take my life and then go on to take others. "He'd be glad I rid the world of one more piece of scum."
Jacob's face tightens, just a bit. I know I'm winding him up. That's the point. I want him angry. Mostly, I want him distracted.
"You're so worried about what my dead husband would think of me," I say, shifting just slightly to the left so I can see Taylor without having to look directly at her. "What would your mother think of you? I mean, you're obviously doing this for her, right? Imagine if she saw you now, letting a victim escape. I'm embarrassed for you."
Red floods his cheeks and something incredibly terrifying passes over his eyes. It's an evil that runs deep. Scarring that is imprinted on his very soul. He's damaged. Severely damaged. How did I never notice that in his eyes before? After all, they are the window to the soul. I missed the worst part of him.
"For that," he hisses, "I'll slit your throat twice."
"Go ahead, I'll be dead after the first one."
His jaw tics.
"You think you can break me, Jacob, but you're forgetting one thing … "