Page 7 of Make You Mine

You’re safe.That’s what the female officer who led me out of the backyard said, too, before several news channels descended on the scene. Each station set up seconds after the yellow tape surrounded the property, and reporters got as close as the authorities allowed…

Multiple voices called out questions while camera lights flashed.

Officers stood guard while making sure no one crossed the perimeter.

Who tipped off the press? I have no clue, but this is the kind of story that makes the national news, and each horrifying detail exposed makes everything worse.

For me. For the poor woman fighting for her life. For every victim.

Because I’ve been told this isn’t his first time. That he’s killed for pleasure.

“Were you not aware the community had an event tonight?” the officer asks, helping me sit down on the curb where a squad car blocks me from view. “Is there a reason you didn’t attend?”

“Not tonight. There’s something for next week.” My voice is hollow as I shake my head. Hands shaking. “No one mentioned it today, either, at my shop. Or maybe I was too busy and didn’t?—”

“Breathe, Miss. Slowly in and out.”

A sob lodges in my throat then, and my eyes become glassy as I stare into hers. “Ava.”

“I’m sorry?” She’s breathing in deep and exhaling slowly, gesturing with her hand for me to follow with an upward and downward motion, a movement I mimic as a jittery sensation starts at the soles of my feet and carries throughout my body. “That’s good. Keep taking in slow, deep breaths for me.”

Nodding, I continue the pattern a few more times before answering. “My name is Ava.”

“Okay, Ava. You’re doing good.” There’s movement to the left of us, someone rushing toward the ambulance while carrying a small object in his hand. The male officer hands it over to the EMT, and then the doors close. That truck takes off while the second one moves into the spot the previous one vacated; I know I’m next. That I need to be checked. “You were very brave.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.” Tears fall down my face, and I feel as if a heavy weight sits on my chest, the pressure growing. “I should’ve?—”

“No, Ava. You did the right thing by calling.” Squatting down to my level, she grabs both my hands in hers and squeezes them. “She wasn’t his first victim. He’s killed before, and you did what others couldn’t. You stopped him.”

At the time, I was afraid to ask what they found inside his home for her to make that statement. And maybe I should’ve, but my focus once again turned to him.

While my world crashed,Jasonenjoyed the acknowledgment.

He never tried to hide his face as he was escorted to another squad car, this one parked right behind his company truck in the driveway. Not when the door to the vehicle closed, either. Instead, he pressed his face against the glass and watched with that same sickening grin as the world learned his name.

I’ll come for you.

“God, give me strength. Please help me get through this,” I choke out a few minutes after the nurse left. This time, my voice is a little stronger as unbidden tears leave mascara tracks behind—I taste them. A sob also claws to escape my chest; I’m fighting to swallow it back with everything in me when I hear it…

The sound of a nearby television and my head snaps in its direction, eyes immediately locking on the entrance. My door is wide open, and with the layout placing me at the center of the room, I have some visibility into the one across the hall. From my position, I take in the man on the bed with a heavily bandaged arm and neck brace, the grimace on his bruised face, but that’s not what makes me whimper.

It's not the blood, either.

It’swhathe’s watching. What Ihear.

“We’re back with breaking news out of Dallas, Texas, where a suspect’s in custody for the attempted murder of an unidentified woman. A neighbor coming home from work heard the victim scream and called the police, placing herself in harm’s way to save the woman now fighting for her life at a nearby hospital. And as of the last hour, we can also confirm the accused is being tied to a chilling crime spree spanning multiple states. We now go live to our correspondent, Marcy Royal, in Dallas for the latest on this developing story."

“Thank you, Glenn. As we reported earlier, the sheriff confirmed that Jason Ripley, the man in custody, will be charged with the deaths of several victims. The deceased, all women and brunettes, were between the ages of nineteen and twenty-nine. These murders occurred over the last two years and stretch across several states. His arrest today brings reliefto multiple communities on edge and could provide answers to a series of horrific murders that have shocked the nation.”

“Marcy, what is our understanding of the motives? Do we have any information on what the boxes taken from his home contain?”

“We do, and the contents are disturbing, Glenn. There have been two shrines uncovered in the home’s guest bedrooms. One to commemorate his victims, and the other, for the woman he seems to be obsessed with. The owner of a bakery?—”

“Off. Turn it off,”I beg through gritted teeth, and by some miracle of God, someone from inside the man’s room closes the door. It provides me respite from having to listen to the living nightmare I’m trapped in—I’d asked the EMTs who wheeled me in to do the same when I first arrived. A different room then, but I’m thankful the nurse attending this one thought to do the same.

Right now, I prefer the silence while stuck inside this room, letting the strong scent of antiseptic burning my nostrils become my companion. Fear grips me, and by the look on the attending’s face as he walks into my room a few minutes later with the nurse following close behind, hiding it is an impossibility.

He speaks, but I can’t make out what he’s saying. The cuff on my arm tightens again—it hurts the harder it squeezes, and the reading at the end is slightly more elevated than the last. They share a look, lips move, and when he shifts to give her what looks to be an order, I notice his badge holder clipped to his ordinary blue scrubs.

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