Page 88 of Before the Night Falls
As an FBI agent, Paul knew The Admirer’s patterns. He had access to the case files and knew every detail of how Olivia had been tormented.
And he’d definitely known she’d be here tonight.
Could Paul be behind this? Was this some twisted attempt to make her need him again?
The thought chilled Tyson.
He tore his gaze away, not liking his suspicions . . . but not willing to ignore them either.
CHAPTERFORTY-SIX
Just as shedid every day, Olivia slipped out early in the morning to have her quiet time.
The morning air held a gentle chill to it. She’d come to cherish these quiet moments before the house awakened—just her, her Bible, and the rising sun painting the Carolina hills in watercolor hues.
Last night still lingered on her mind. Olivia and Tyson had left the gala early.
Just as she’d suspected, the security cameras hadn’t picked up on anyone leaving those roses for her.
That meant she was no closer to pinpointing who this guy was now than she was before.
The thought weighed heavily on her.
Olivia opened her Bible, losing herself in Psalms.The Lord is my light and my salvation—whom shall I fear?
She remembered the woman at the picnic on the reservation. She’d said people either brought shadows or light.
Olivia prayed she brought light to those around her. Because sometimes the darkness felt as if it was closing in. That it could swallow her whole.
She couldn’t let that happen.
She prayed it wouldn’t happen.
Just as she said amen, a twig snapped somewhere close.
She glanced behind her, expecting to see one of Tyson’s security guards making their rounds.
The smile froze on her face.
A figure stood between some bushes behind her, in the shadows. Dressed in dark clothes, his face obscured by what looked like?—
Her heart seized.
A white porcelain mask. Expressionless. Hollow-eyed. Casanova.
Her Bible slipped from her fingers.
Run, her mind screamed.
But her limbs wouldn’t respond.
As the figure stepped forward, adrenaline kicked in. Fight or flight?
She had to fight.
Olivia lunged for her phone so she could call for help. But as her fingers closed around it, a hand clamped over her mouth from behind.
The familiar sickly-sweet smell of chemicals filled her nostrils.
