Page 111 of Obsession
My heart stalls. “Robbie did that to you?”
No, it’s not true. He wouldn’t.
But he would.
“So I’m going to ask you again.” Elliot shifts closer, keeping his voice low so the others won’t overhear. “Has he tried to contact you at all?”
“It makes no sense,” I whisper, eyes burning with tears. “Why would he do that?”
“Eliminate the competition.” Elliot straightens up and walks past me, taking his citrusy sent with him. Before he can walk out, he pauses in the doorway, and his eyes find mine over his shoulder. “Just…be careful, okay?”
Then he’s gone.
I gaze at the small space, observing the vacant desk and leather armchair, feeling an odd emptiness wash over me.
I caused this.
As annoying as he was, and though he was a complete dick at times, he didn’t deserve to lose his job.
I chase him, forgoing the elevator, my boots thundering down the steps.
With her phone held to her ear, Claire looks up as I run past. I stumble outside into the snowy morning air and catch him just as he shuts the trunk.
“Elliot,” I call out, the cold seeping through the thin layer of my cardigan.
His gaze finds mine as he opens the driver’s door. Now that I have his attention on me, I’m left speechless and not knowing what to say to make this better.
The truth is, nothing I say will mend this broken bridge between us. A cold breeze moves my hair around my shoulders, and I rub my arms. The look I give him is full of regret. “I’m sorry.” My shoulders lift and fall in a shrug.
What else can I do? Robbie Hammond is a deadly twister in a trailer park, and I’m caught in the eye of his storm. One day, when the sun finally breaks through the clouds, we’ll see the true extent of the carnage left behind. But for now, I’ll dance in the rain.
“I’m in love with him, Elliot. I can’t explain it. And no matter how doomed it is, I won’t apologize. Ican’tapologize. I know it’s foolish. There’s no hope for a future with a condemned man, but my heart won’t listen to reason. I’m not sure I want it to. For once in my life, I want to seize the momentbecauseit’s reckless.”
Elliot’s throat jumps as he watches me intently from across the car roof, the breeze shifting his curly blonde hair.
“Don’t you get it? I don’t have a choice. I’m his… When they strap him to that gurney and pump his veins full of poison, I’ll die right along with him. But for now, no matter how brief, I’ll seize this moment. Maybe that makes me crazy, but at least I’m alive again. At least he’s silencing my nightmares.”
“You don’t know him, Savannah. Not really. You weren’t there last night to witness the evil in his eyes. He’s dangerous, and if you’re not careful, he’ll kill you before the cops arrest him.”
“I know.” I shrug once more. “I know…”
A muscle works in Elliot’s jaw. He stares at me for a minute longer, then averts his gaze. Seconds pass. Seconds that extend into minutes. Maybe hours.
His eyes swing back to me, and he says, “I wish you the best of luck.” Then he slides in behind the steering wheel, and I watch his car join the traffic and disappear down the road.
“Goodbye, Elliot.”
“Robbie Hammond remainsat large and is considered armed and dangerous. Atley Hill State Police said more than one hundred investigators, both local and federal, are looking for him.”
Blowing out a sigh to calm the spike of anxiety inside me, I silence the TV and rest back against the couch, but my gaze is soon back on Robbie Hammond’s mugshot. Those cold, blue eyes and that arresting face demand my attention, even through the small screen. I can’t deny how the detached emptiness in that gaze warms my insides. Not when I’ve seen them flash with heat up close, so at odds with the evil staring back at me now.
Chewing my bottom lip, I rip my gaze away from the TV and focus back on the laptop nestled on my lap. I zoom in on the smiling face of one of Robbie’s victims, a young woman, not much older than myself, with big hoop earrings, shoulder-length brown hair, and a freckled button nose. According to numerous articles, she was an ambitious woman who had recently returned from a gap year abroad when Robbie broke into her house. A neighbor found her a few days later, or what was left of her.
I exit the photograph, skimming the article until I find what I’m looking for: the details of the killing.
My stomach churns with unease, twisting and coiling as I imagine Robbie, covered in scratches and blood, carrying her lifeless body to the bathroom, where he proceeded to remove her head—a head that’s still missing.
I close the laptop before tipping my head back and dragging my hands down my face. My thoughts are intrusive and unwelcome.
