Page 130 of Obsession
“Knock, knock.”
Swallowing down the nausea, I drag my eyes away from the news report on the laptop screen and spin around in my seat to find Jeanine leaning against my cubicle. Her hair is swept over her shoulder in a cascading waterfall of blonde tresses, and her red, knee-length skirt and white blouse are crease-free. I envy her sometimes. No matter the day of the year, she always lookslike she stepped off a runway. But not only that, she makes it look effortless.
That’ll never be me. One look at my own black skirt tells me I’ve sat down too long, and now it’s so creased it almost looks like I slept in it.
“You look nice,” she says, unaware of my self-critical thoughts. “It’s not often I see you in a skirt.”
I don’t even know why I put it on this morning. Maybe it was because I couldn’t be bothered squeezing into a tight pair of jeans, like a squished sausage, or maybe I fancied freezing my ass off on my way to the car. Maybe I was just bored, or maybe I’m finally losing the plot. It’s bound to happen when two serial killers have their eyes on you.
On top of all this shit, I had zero sleep last night, tossing and turning, hoping and praying Robbie wouldn’t show, until the alarm startled me at five in the morning.
But the question remains: why did Robbie Hammond seek me out? Why did he offer me the interviews? Why did he seduce me? Was it part of some twisted game by a bored man behind bars? It makes me sick to my stomach every time I think of him sitting across from me, knowing who I am, asking me about my childhood, about my dad. And now, a young woman has gone missing under circumstances that are eerily similar to his previous murders.
“Savannah?”
I blink at Jeanine, who watches me warily.
“Are you okay?”
Shaking my head to clear it, I reply, “Yeah…yeah, of course.”
But I’m not okay. I’m not okay at all. What if Robbie did kidnap that girl? What if he killed her? Have I been naive to think he’d change?
Hesitating, she watches me for a moment before she pushes off the wall and indicates in the general direction of theboardroom. “You’re late for our midweek brief. James asked me to get you.”
I whip my head around and check the time on my laptop. Shooting to my feet, I curse out loud.
When I exit behind her, she asks, “Are you coming for a few drinks on Friday after work?”
“Claire mentioned something about that.”
“You should join us.”
“I’ll think about it,” I reply as we turn down the hallway to the boardroom. “How are you getting on with covering The Bridge Killer?”
Jeanine smiles at me. “It’s a lot of fun. Much better than the smaller projects I’ve had before, you know?”
Fun? Only Jeanine would call writing about murders ‘fun.’
“It’s so strange they haven’t found the missing body parts yet, only the parts the killer wants us to find. Don’t you think?”
My scalp pricks as I think of the lips he sent to me. “Yes, it’s strange.”
“I wonder where he disposes of them?” she mumbles, deep in thought.
Walking ahead, I push open the door and wait for her to enter. My own mind is whirling with theories. Robbie Hammond killed my father’s friends in cold blood, yet their bodies have never been found either. Other parts of his previous female victims are still missing, too, like the skull.
A shudder runs through me as I step inside. The more I let my mind go down this route, the sicker I feel.
I let myself be enamored by a dangerous man I knew nothing about, a dangerous man who somehow knew more about my past than even I did when we first met, a man with intentions that I couldn’t even begin to decipher and unravel.
I still can’t.
I’m floundering in the dark, trapped in a web spun by a killer. Worst of all? I watched him weave me up in his lies and greedily sink his teeth into me. And I liked it.
54
SAVANNAH
