Page 60 of Hunting Justice

Matt jotted down the name. “I’ll build a dossier on the guy.”

Noelle shook her head. “Yancy’s too young. The man who tortured me was probably in his forties.”

“Like the dad?” Jonah asked.

“Maybe.” Her brain struggled to keep up with the group’s line of thought.

“Noelle.”

Her gaze met Decia’s.

“It’s worth considering.” Decia continued. “Anyone else stand out? Even if it seems impossible. Go with your gut.”

How many times in the past had that internal voice saved her life? Too many to count. “My high-school art teacher, Mr. Larsen, paid a little too much attention to me. Or at least, it felt that way. He’d ask me to stay after class to discuss my work. Then he’d touch my shoulders and arms.” She shivered as though Larsen’s hands ran down her skin. “I’d insist I had to get to my next period and leave, but I sensed his eyes on me until I walked out of sight.”

Jonah’s fingers flexed in hers. “I don’t like that guy.”

She shifted to face him. “You don’t even know him.”

“I know enough.” He practically growled the words.

“Age?” Matt’s tone mimicked Jonah’s.

“What’s with the one-word questions?” She rolled her eyes. “I’d say mid-forties.”

Matt grunted and continued to write on the notepad.

“And before you ask, that’s it. I led a pretty boring life. I mean, sure, a couple of my father’s clients hit on me when they came into town for a quick business trip. But none of them had the opportunity to pull off multiple murders.”

“I want a list of every one of your father’s clients that you can think of.” Juliette’s demure tone turned harsh.

“I agree.” Decia flipped to a clean page on her notepad. “That’s a start. Let’s move on to what you remember about the abduction.”

And here it came. The ultimate question. What did she remember? Too much for her peace of mind. Gaze on the wall across from her, she avoided any and all eye contact with the others.

She pulled in a steadying breath and detached herself from the events. “I had parked on the opposite side of the mall from my friends that day. When we said goodbye, I exited out the food court doors. Night had fallen and the parking lot lights had turned on. I remember an odd sensation. You know, that sixth sense that something isn’t quite right. But I ignored it.”

“You’re doing good, Elle.” Jonah’s nickname for her eased the knot forming in her belly.

“I did what any single female does when walking alone. I had my car key between my fingers. A lot of good that did me.” She huffed. “I hit the car fob to unlock my car. When I reached for the door handle, a hand closed over my mouth, and a needle stabbed me in the neck. I struggled to get away, but whatever the guy used didn’t take long to knock me out. The next thing I knew, I woke up in a room inside a bare cabin or some kind of outbuilding—I’m not sure which—strapped to a chair.” She could taste the musty room. Smell the sweat—hers and her killer’s. The leather straps tight against her.

“Elle?” Jonah squeezed her knee.

She blinked away the consuming memory.

The rustle of papers registered in her brain. She glanced at Decia. “What is it?”

“From what we’ve uncovered, it seems you weren’t the only one that happened to.” Decia jotted a note in the margins. “Sorry. Please continue.”

Noelle fought the nausea roiling in her stomach. “The guy came in and out of the room. Each time, he’d uncuff my hands and take me to the bathroom by gunpoint, then ask if I was ready to tell the truth yet while he…well, you know.” Tears burned behind her eyes. Her skin flamed with pain as if it were happening right here—right now. “I had no idea what he meant. The night he tattooed me, he drugged me and laid me on a couch instead of sitting me in the chair—I’m assuming to get a better angle to get behind my ear. When he’d finished, he returned me to the chair and started to recuff my hands, but a noise caught his attention. I pretended to be out of it. Although, that wasn’t hard to do. The drugs made it difficult to think straight, but I knew it might be my only chance to get away. He left before securing me. I wiggled out of the restraints and staggered to another door I’d seen him use. And the rest, as they say, is history.”

Jonah lifted his hand and wiped his thumb under her eyes, drying the tears that streamed down her cheeks.

She brought her gaze to his, unwilling to face the others. But Jonah—he made her feel secure, almost whole again.

He cupped her cheek. “It’s over. You did great.”

His praise filled the cracks in her heart. With him by her side, she just might be able to face the past and not crumble.

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