Page 136 of Another Girl Lost

Before dawn, I left Luke’s and was feeling restless. My phone dinged with a text. It read:I’ve filed stalking charges. Stay away from me.

I didn’t recognize the number but guessed this must be from Lynn. Instead of driving home, I headed down Shore Drive toward Lynn’s town house. I parked out front, staring at her darkened windows. I’m not sure how long I sat there, but finally, I realized I was acting irrational.

The drive to the warehouse took fifteen minutes, and as I parked, the sun was edging up toward the horizon. I punched in the front door lock code, but the door locked instead of unlocked. Had I not locked this before I left earlier? I couldn’t be that distracted, could I?

I flipped on the lights and entered. Immediately, I realized something was off. Beyond the pink hues of sunrise, I peered into the darkness, but I saw nothing. Buildings in this area were targets, and I’d not been home all night.

I listened for any sign that someone was there. The shadows were still and quiet, but the energy was off, just as it had been the nightTanner had snatched me. I’d dismissed the feeling then, but not now. The warehouse felt wrong.

I turned on more lights and moved into the kitchen. I checked the back door. It was locked. I inspected the windows. All secure.

There was a rustle in the back of the warehouse. I stilled, the sound of my pounding heart filling my ears, I grabbed a knife from the kitchen and moved toward the back, where my room was located. I glanced over my shoulder. I should leave. Call the cops. Screw Dawson.

A loud thump echoed from my bedroom. Then another thump and another. Gripping the knife, I called 9-1-1. The phone rang and rang.Thump.“Shit.”

I hung up and flipped on lights, edging past the prints hanging like specters from clotheslines.Thump. Thump.

How many times had I pounded on the walls while trapped in Tanner’s basement? How many thumps or creaks had I heard signaling his arrival? I switched on the overhead industrial lights, which flickered. It would take a good five minutes for them to fully brighten.

Moving toward the screen that divided off my bedroom, I fought the tension rippling through my body. I quietly angled around the screen, and I drew in a breath as I braced.

When I stepped into the bedroom, my gaze slid immediately to my bed, where a woman was tied to the bed frame. A bag covered her head. She was thrashing against her bindings. Adrenaline scraped through my body, and for a split second I was too stunned to act.

Then shaking off the shock, I hurried across the room and with trembling fingers pulled the bag from her head. Under the cloth, the woman’s face was wrapped in plastic. Even through the haze, I recognized Lynn, and she was struggling to breathe. How had she gotten here?

I laid the knife by her head and pried my fingers into the tightly wrapped plastic. The binding was tight, and my fingers slipped over the slick surface as Lynn thrashed. Her bound hands were turning blue asher muffled screams tried to permeate the plastic as she rolled her head from side to side. She was suffocating right before me.

“Hold still.” I reached for the knife. “I’m going to cut this off.”

Lynn stilled as I wedged the knife tip under the plastic. Very slowly, I ripped through the casing, carefully peeling it away from her chin and then her mouth. The instant her lips were uncovered, Lynn sucked in a deep breath of air. She screamed.

The screen behind me shifted, and I whirled around, knife in hand. Margo stepped into the room. She was dressed in jeans, a dark shirt, black athletic shoes. Her hair was slicked back, and her sidearm was gripped in her right hand. Her eyes were wide and hard, just as Della’s had been when she’d asked if I’d damn Tiffany to hell for her.

I almost laughed. No one else might see Della, but I did. All these years of wondering where she was or if I was losing my mind. “Della,” I said.

“Scarlett, what have you done?” Margo asked. “What are you doing to that woman?”

“I found her like this.”

Lynn gasped for air and railed her head from side to side, trying to uncover her eyes. “Help!”

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” Margo asked.

I glanced at Lynn lying in my bed, her face partially wrapped, the knife in my hand and Della’s tight grip on her weapon. “You set all this up, didn’t you, Della?”

Margo shook her head. “You keep calling me Della. You know she’s not real, right?”

Della thought ahead. She was a master at manipulating Tanner and me. All these years, and that had not changed. “Youareher.” I was oddly calm. I felt justified. Not as if my memory were faulty. “You changed yourself, but youareher.”

“You’re paranoid,” Margo said. “The cops never proved that Della existed.”

The innocent expression and convincing tone reminded me of Della as she lured me to Tanner’s van. “Then what the hell are you doing here in my place?”

“Dawson’s been trying to get Lynn on the phone for hours. He told me to keep an eye on your house.”

She made it all sound so logical. “You always have a good answer.”

“It’s true. And if you’re wondering, the world will believe me. Not you, Scarlett. You’re the girl that cried wolf too many times. No one will chase your wild theories. The cops are on their way. I already called Dawson.”

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