Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
“You’ll need to let me know when you have to go.”
“I need you to unlock this chain and let me go,” I snap. Shaking his head, he turns to leave, and I shout out, “No! Wait! I’m sorry. I really have to use the bathroom.”
His lips press together, and he slowly pulls the key from his pocket. He unlocks the cuff, but his hand shoots out to wrap around my ankle before I can pull back and kick him. “Don’t even think about it.”
“I wasn’t. I have to pee. You tased me. My body is jittery.”
“You will learn to accept this. Now, let’s go.” He waves for me to walk ahead of him into the bathroom and stands inside the door, closing it behind him.
“Privacy, please?”
“You have thirty seconds.”
“Seriously?”
“Twenty-three.”
“I can’t pee with you watching me.”
“Eighteen.”
This is insane. I want to fight him, but I have to pee more. Giving in, I pull my pants down and do my business. When I finish, I walk over to the sink, desperate for water.
“Stop right there.”
I look over at him. “I’m washing my hands. And I’m thirsty.”
“Water is a reward. You must earn it.” He squeezes my arm and drags me out of the bathroom. I set my feet and try to wrestle my arm free because I need that water. My throat burns. “Let me go!”
“Keep fighting me and your opportunity to show me you can behave will be gone.” He tosses me to the bed and snatches my ankle, locking the cuff back into place.
“You’re a fucking psychopath!” I thrust my leg out to kick him as he moves out of reach.
“It’s not nice to call people names, Minds—especially not the one who holds all the cards. Think about how you can improve your behavior, and we can try again tonight.”
He turns and walks out. I barely hear the clicking of the lock over my screams. Rushing over to the bed, I grab the vase of roses and launch them across the room. Water splashes out and runs down the door as the glass shatters—water I could have had if I’d thought smarter. I watch each stream in dismay, tears soaking my cheeks.
Chapter twenty-four
Tate
My head keeps spinning as I try to focus on the facts and clues in front of me, but my mind won’t settle long enough. I’ve become useless in this search. How could I let this happen? She’s been missing for over twelve hours. He’s had her for over twelve fucking hours. I swallow the lump in my throat and drag my cold, clammy hand down my face.
I try to convince myself she’s tough. If anyone can survive whatever he has planned, it’s her. But the thought of what she might be enduring gnaws at my insides.
The sun begins to break through the blinds of Paul’s apartment. We’ve been at it all night. The barn was a bust. Not a single clue that would lead us to her. It solidified what we already knew: Paul Tillman is a fucking psychopath. My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I look at the screen. Theo. This is the third time he’s called. I decline it and stare back at the wall. Walking into Paul’s apartment was like walking into another version of the barn but worse.
A single couch with a television, a small bed covered in thin sheets. But that isn’t what has chills spreading down my spine. It’s the images lining the walls from top to bottom. Pictures of her. From every angle and location. Some altered to include him. More recent shots to ones I’d guess were taken long ago. He’s been preying on her for fucking years. My blood boils. My stomach sours.
A more thorough search leads me to his DVD collection. All labeled with movie names. All the ones she’s in.
My anger builds, and I grab a random DVD, smashing it in half. Then I take another. I hate that he has these. That he gets off on her. That she’s had to live her life this way because no one’s been there to take care of her like she should be taken care of.
“Tate… TATE.” I pause, inhaling a staggered breath. “You have to pull it together, man. You’re not doing her any favors by breaking down.”
I close my eyes, struggling to breathe. My chest feels too tight.
“This isn’t your fault, Tate—”
I shove his hand off my shoulder and step away. “It is all my fault. I practically handed her to that motherfucker.”
“Look around you, man. This guy was determined. Whether it was at the liquor store or some other time, he was determined to get her.”
I twist around to face him. “Again, your bullshit isn’t makin’ me feel better.”
“I’m telling you this because it’s not your fault.”
“Jesus, will you stop saying that! It is! I fucking let her down. She put her complete trust in me, and I just fucking let her go. I didn’t even say goodbye. Can you imagine how that fucking feels? I never said goodbye. What happens if she—”