Page 32 of Pulse
“Oh, it’s a lot different.” I laugh. “You had tea to spill. Morgan and I just carried a bat around my house.”
“And why did you have a bat?”
“I used to play softball,” I say, knowing damn well and good that’s not the answer he was looking for. “Now, if you don’t have a purpose for being here, I do have things to do today.”
“So we’re just going to pretend that everything was fine last night?”
I huff before staring at him. “I told you.Everythingisfine.”
He smirks. “I do this for a living, you know. Watch people and notice when things are suspicious. And I’m really fucking good at it.”
“Well, guess what, you burly little investigator? I’m fine. Nothing was going on. I wasn’t scared.”
“I didn’t say you were scared. I asked if you’re okay.”
Shit. I retype in my password. This time, it works. “I’m getting annoyed.”
“Be annoyed at yourself. You’re the one Freudian slipping.”
“That’s not a thing.”
“It’s absolutely a thing.”
“Freudian slippingis not a thing. It doesn’t even sound like a thing.” I skim my inbox—no email from the detective. I start to click out of the window when something catches my eye. “You’re just mad you don’t have all the answers.”
If he answers, I don’t hear him. I’m focused on a message sent a few hours ago.
My blood runs ice cold.
White noise crashes over my ears as a shaky hand presses the mouse and opens the email.
To: Lovelace, Dahlia
From: Me
Re: Safety Check
Run or die.
Don’t alert the authorities, or I’ll make the choice for you.
My body tenses as my spine stiffens. Nausea swirls at the base of my esophagus, threatening to gag me with bitter bile. Troy’s voice registers faintly over the blood rushing through my body as my trembling finger opens the attachment.
Oh my God.
I push away from my desk, clasping my hand over my mouth. My breath stalls in my lungs.
“Dahlia?” Troy asks.
I rip my gaze away from the terrifying images on the screen and bring them to him.
As soon as our eyes meet, he jumps to his feet.
My eyes fill with hot tears. I try to speak, but I don’t know what to say. I can’t find my voice through the shock … and terror.
“What the fuck is going on?” he asks, his tone hard.
“Troy … I … I don’t know.”
