Page 137 of Cruel Steps

“My truck needs to be checked, too. He might’ve tampered with it.”

Officer Smith nodded and spoke into his walkie again. “You need a lift to the hospital?” he asked when he was done.

“Yes, please,” I asked, taking control. Holden squeezed me in response, following Officer Smith to his patrol cruiser. He gave a few more orders to the people on site before opening the back door for us. I slid in, and Holden followed.

“Should we call his parents?” I asked

“No, not right now, not until we know more. They don’t care about Colter. They’ll only make it worse.”

I nodded, trusting his judgment. I knew Colter didn’t get along with his family, but I didn’t know the full extent of his problems.

“Sandy!” I gasped and pulled out my phone. I sent her a message. She immediately responded to keep her updated and tell Colter not to worry. I sent messages to Cody and Jenny and then emailed my professors, and Colter’s, thankful we’d shared our schedules. I got Holden’s professors next and sent them and the football coach messages.

“Thank you, Wildcat,” Holden breathed into my hair. He hadn’t taken his arms from around me.

“You’re welcome. This is something I can do.” He kissed my hair and sighed into me. When we got to the hospital, we weren’t given much information, and I debated lying that I was his sister. Instead, I called Rose, and she showed up with my dad and took control.

Unfortunately, I hadn’t thought about the detective also arriving while they were there.

“What’s going on?” Dad asked, worry etching his face.

“Um, do you remember Monsieur Owen?”

“From Dance Expressions?” he asked, his brow scrunching in confusion.

“Yep.” I nodded, but Detective Jennings cut in.

“We’ve not ruled he’s the perpetrator at this time.”

“It’s him. I saw him.”

“When?” Holden asked, his face hard. I rubbed his thigh to soothe the tension.

“After you ran out the door, I called 911 like you said and went to the window. He was standing over Colter and then walked away. I smacked the window and shouted for him not to leave. He stopped and blew me a kiss.”

“Motherfucker,” Holden said through clenched teeth. His hand gripped the chair, and I heard it crack.

“Can you describe what he looked like, Miss Adams?” Detective Jennings flipped out her notepad, eyeing me.

“Um, he wore all black and had a hood up.”

The Detective’s pencil stopped, and she lifted her eyes to mine. “So, you didn’t see his face?”

“It was him.” I lifted my chin, my eyes hard. I was so sick of people not believing me. She sighed like I was the most significant inconvenience of her life.

“I’m not saying it’s not, Miss Adams, but without solid evidence, I cannot charge someone.”

“Have you found him? Is he out?”

Her nostrils flared, and my gut sank. “His whereabouts have not been verified. He was released in May on early parole.”

Unadulterated fear overtook me. He was out and coming after me. The police might not believe me, but I was right. I didn’t know if today was just a message or if he’d actually tried to kill me.

“My daughter isn’t a liar. What will you do about her safety?” my dad asked sternly.

“We’re doing all we can to ensure everyone’s safety, sir.”

“Detective Jennings,” Officer Smith said, walking into the lobby. “They found something.” The officer glanced at Holden and me, then back at the detective. Worry lines were etched across his forehead, and my gut sank at the implications.

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