It’s not the title itself that makes my heart stop for a few seconds, but the first paragraph right beneath it.
After striking terror for almost four years, the Bridgewater murderer has left his latest victim to be found at Lake Nippenicket, sticking true to his usual proceedings. But this time, the victim revealed new clues to the authorities, possibly providing crucial evidence that could lead to finally solving this ongoing case.
My eyes are glued to the paper, racing along the rows as if I can’t read the words fast enough.
There’s a murderer at work in this area, maybe even this town. A murderer who has been active for the past four years.
A murderer who sedates his victims with a remedy that only very few people have access to. And all of his victims are young women around my age.
My age, and the other girl’s age.
My heart is pounding so hard and violently that it feels as if it’s trying to hammer its way out of my chest.
Was it all a lie? Am I...
“Put this on.”
I jump up, evoking a shocked gasp as I let the newspaper glide down to the table. Turning around on my heels, I stare at him, my pulse speeding so much that it causes a dangerous vertigo I have no use for right now.
Jayson is walking toward me, holding something in his arms that I haven’t seen ever since I woke up in this house: a pile of clothes. Not just a white gown, but actual clothes, a set of simple but elegant cream colored underwear with feminine laces all around, a pair of blue jeans and a casual blouse in red.
My eyes flit back and forth between him and the clothes as he presents them to me, almost pushing them against my bare chest. Reluctantly, I reach for them, taking the pile out of his hands, and as soon as I do, he plants a kiss on my forehead and turns around, busying himself with the clasp of the leash.
I watch motionless, my entire body ridden by paralyzing fear.
“What happened to the girl?” I utter, my voice so low that it’s barely audible.
He doesn’t react to my question at first, his focus remaining on the clasp until he has unfastened it from the hook. My eyes are locked on to him with tense anticipation as I watch him rise up to his feet. He turns around, arching his eyebrows in surprise when he sees that I haven’t done what he told me to.
“Get dressed,” he repeats, pointing at the pile of clothes next to me. “Now.”
“Where’s the girl?” I insist, my hands curling into fists as I hold him in place with a demanding gaze. “Why won’t you tell me what happened to her.”
The expression on his face changes and he looks confused for a moment before he shakes his head, a crease appearing between his eyebrows.
My breath hikes when he takes a step forward, holding the leash in one hand while he raises the other toward me. I jump back on instinct, succumbing to actual fear for the first time in a while, when we are interrupted by a sound that is new to my ears.
A violent knocking at the heavy front door.