Page 28 of No Mercy
I sit forward slightly trying to get a better view ignoring her first statement, “No she didn’t. That’s strange, the windows are too dark for me to get a visual of the driver. Write down the plate for us to check later.”
As the car drives away, I keep the camera trained on Rachel as she disappears into the studio. “Think she’s meeting someone in there?” I ask, adjusting the focus.
Mandy squints, still eyeing the door. “Maybe… but from what I can see, it’s only females going inside.”
We sit in tense silence, watching the steady flow of people entering the building. Every second feels drawn out, the weight of the moment hanging in the air. My fingers drum nervously against the wheel as I try to steady my breath. Mandy finally breaks the quiet with a sigh. “I’m going to get a coffee, want one?”
“Please, iced caramel latte with no sugar,” I reply, my voice strained as I keep my eyes glued to the camera, not letting it leave my grip. Every shift in movement, every small detail could mean something important.
The passenger door creaks open, the familiar sound of Mandy getting out—leaving me alone with the silence. I grab my camera bag, setting it carefully on the dash in case I need to change the battery, and pull out my eye masks from the glove box. I’ve barely got one on when the sharp sound of a bike revving past the car makes my heart skip a beat.
I freeze. My eyes snap to the mirror just as the bike, carrying two riders, disappears down the road Mandy just went down. “Reckless idiots,” I mutter to myself, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling that’s creeping up my spine. But then something shifts, something’soff.
The rev of the engine cuts through the air again, louder now, more deliberate. I whip my head around, every nerve on high alert, as people nearby start staring down the road.
The bike is back. But this time, it’s different. There’s only one rider.
I hold my breath.
The biker slows, coming to a stop at the corner. The figure on the bike turns slowly facing my direction. And that’s when I see it.
The glowing red mask.
The cold, soulless eyes staring back at me from behind it send a shock wave through my body. My heart drops into my stomach as flashes from last night flood my mind. That red glow… it’sthatmask. It matches the glow I saw fading over the balcony edge.
It can’t be… can it?
Goosebumps prick my skin as my body tenses, my muscles locked in place. I don’t even know how to react. I watch in the mirror, waiting for something to happen. The rider doesn’t move, but the mask—that glow—feels like it’s burning a hole right through me.
And then, as quickly as he came, the biker turns around, fading from my view. The roar of the engine fades into the distance, leaving nothing but the echo of my racing heartbeat in my ears.
I sit frozen, eye masks still clutched in my hand, my body buzzing with adrenaline, a strange sense of déjà vu creeping in. The feeling of last night, the terror, the unknown, it all rushes back with force. I can’t breathe. The air feels too thick, too heavy, but I can’t pull myself away from the mirror.
Minutes pass, but they feel like hours. I glance between the studio door and the road, searching for any sign of movement, anything to distract me from the heaviness weighing down on my chest. But there’s nothing. No sign of Rachel, no sign of the masked rider.
The sound of the car door swinging open snaps me from my daze, and I jump, my heart hammering in my chest. My eye masks slip from my hand and tumble to the floor as Mandy practically bursts back in, her face lit up like she’s just won the lottery. “Guess what!” She’s practically glowing, eyes wide with excitement as she hands me the coffee. “A guy came into the coffee shop and asked me out on a date! Can you believe it?”
I stare at her, completely speechless for a moment, my mind still racing with the image of that red mask. “Mandy, are you serious? Do you even know him?”
She wiggles her eyebrows, oblivious to the storm swirling in my head. “Not yet. All I know is his name’s Parker, he’s about 6’1”, brown hair, green eyes, andgirl, the tattoos! He has tattoos. And he’s picking me up at seven!”
I blink, trying to process the information, but it’s like I’m hearing it through a fog. My mind can’t quite make sense of it. My thoughts jump back to the biker, to the flash of red, to the lingering sense of danger I can’t shake. “You didn’t give him our address, did you?” I ask, my voice tight, though I know the answer. There’s no way she’d be that careless.
Mandy rolls her eyes. “Of course I did! How else will he find me? Don’t ruin this for me, Eva!”
I can’t help the shock that floods my system.Who is this woman?My overprotective Mandy would never do something this reckless. Not like this.
Before I can say anything else, the studio doors fly open. Rachel steps out, flustered, trailing behind a group of women. She waves down a taxi, and my focus snaps back to her, to the task at hand.
“We’ll talk about this later,” I mutter, the words catching in my throat as I force myself to focus on Rachel, pushing aside the unsettling feeling that refuses to leave me
Nothing much happened while we followed Rachel around. She led us to a farmers market, where Mandy discovered some “healing” honey she swore would change her life. Then westopped at Sephora, where I picked up a few essentials for myself before tailing Rachel back to her hotel.
Now it’s six-fifteen PM, and Mandy is standing in front of the mirror in her room, holding up outfit after outfit, trying to decide what to wear for her date. “How do you know he’s not a serial killer?” I ask, watching her toss a blue dress onto the floor like it insulted her.
She picks up a sleek black strapless dress and holds it against herself, completely ignoring my question. She twirls a little, admiring her reflection. “What about this one?”
I cross my arms. “You look amazing, but you didn’t answer me.How do you know he’s not a serial killer?”
