Page 69 of Obsession
Charlotte.
After slammingmy hand down at least three times on the nightstand in my poor attempts at hitting the snooze button, the blaring finally stops. Unable to sleep, I tossed and turned all night until the early hours when exhaustion finally dragged me under.
Turning over on my back, I unfold like a lazy cat, stretching my arms and legs in the morning sun that’s peering in through the gap in the curtains. There’s a nip in the air, so I pull the quilt up to my chin and turn over onto my side.
Just five more minutes.
I close my eyes, but they shoot open just as fast.
A single red rose with fragile petals and sharp, pointed thorns lies propped on the pillow beside mine. But that’s not the only thing.
My heart kickstarts, and I bolt upright before reaching for the rose and bringing it to my nose. I breathe in its flowery scent, and the soft petals grace my lips as I pick up the blood-smeared ID badge.
Officer Miller.
There’s a note too, a creased and torn piece of paper from my notepad on the desk in front of the window.
I swallow thickly as my gaze lands on the item peeking out from beneath it.
A playing card. And not just any card.
A queen.
I drop the badge and carefully reach for the note. My heart slows, caressing my ribcage with heavy thuds that reverberate through my chest. I trap my lip between my teeth, allowing the sharp sting to ground me.
Excitement swirls around me like a twister, uprooting my common sense. Robbie Hammond is a ruthless killer. I shouldn’t be this pleased to know he was in my room while I slept. I should be scared, but I’m not—not even a little.
The paper rustles softly in the silence as I unfold it with trembling fingers.
He touched what’s mine.
Jeanine knockson the cubicle wall, flashing me an apologetic smile. “James wants to see you in his office.”
“That’s nothing new,” I reply, rolling my chair back and standing up.
I’ve spent the last hour staring at my screen, unable to write a single word. My brain races with too many thoughts to compartmentalize.
While my boss told me to take as much time as I needed and not rush back to work, I couldn’t sit at home and worry about Robbie getting re-arrested or someone finding out that I killed my dad. The silence was eating me alive until I couldn’t take it anymore. I need to occupy myself somehow.
Silence falls over the room as I walk into the main area, and every head turns in my direction.
Sighing inwardly, I push open James’s door with my shoulder and emerge into his office. He’s on the phone, holding up a single finger for me to wait. The roof light reflects off his balding head, and his bushy eyebrows furrow in concentration.
I take a seat on the chair opposite and let my gaze drift around the room at the certificates and framed articles on the wall behind James. None of mine have made it yet, but two of Elliot’s articles and one of Jeanine’s are there.
James finally hangs up, tugging on his tie, and sits back in his seat. His assessing gaze falls down my body and back, but not in a sleazy way. I get the distinct sense I make him uncomfortable now that I’m apparently the latest obsession of a serial killer.
Maybe he thinks he’ll end up chopped into pieces for breathing the same air as me.
“You wanted to see me,” I remind him when the silence stretches on, and his eyes widen in response.
“How are you holding up?”
“Well, my dad is dead, and I can’t leave the house without a police escort.” I give him a sarcastic thumbs up, then chuckle at the expression on his face. “I’m sorry. I use humor as a deflection when I’m stressed.”
“Very questionable humor,” he mumbles, rubbing the space between his eyebrows as though my joke induced a headache.
“I’m fine,” I reassure him. “I’m happy to be back.”
