Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 95311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Then a bare light bulb came on in front of her, turned on by a pull tab. She squinted at the light, her eyes blinking suns behind her lids. She squinted against it. She needed to see. She needed to know who had been making her life a living hell for months. Who hated her so badly she wanted to kill her.
Hannah didn't know what she was expecting. A random passerby from work. Or a complete stranger. Even Dan. But her eyes widened and what little breath she held in her lungs escaped her nostrils audibly at who was standing before her.
Sally.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Elliott had called her twenty times by morning. He went to voice mail over and over. But she didn't pick up. His texts went unanswered. He showed up at work, trying to focus on his tasks as the hustle and bustle of the office went on around him. And Hannah didn't show. He had expected to see her there, stubborn and prideful. Her eyes shooting daggers at him. Calling him Mr. Michaels in a tone that suggested she really wanted to call him a rat bastard.
But by ten o'clock he had given up hope of seeing her there. Perhaps ever again. He had royally screwed up and Hannah was not the kind of woman who forgave easily.
There was a frantic knocking at his door and he felt his heart stutter, praying it was her. But the door burst open and Tad rushed in looking frazzled, worried. Frantic even. Every bit not the Tad he was used to seeing everyday.
"Something's wrong," he said, his voice high pitched, breathless. At Elliott's raised eyebrow, he went on. "Something is wrong with Hannah."
Elliott sighed. He knew Hannah and Tad were close. He definitely knew by now that they were... together?
"We had a fight Tad," he said, his voice quiet.
"What? No," Tad said, walking closer, his eyes wide. "No, I mean something is wrong. I know she never told you about what has been going on..."
"What has been going on?" Elliott asked, rising from his seat, concern building.
"Someone is stalking her."
"What?" the word exploded from him like a curse, like an accusation.
"Come here," Tad said, leading Elliott into Hannah's office, brushing the contents of her desk frantically onto the floor to reveal the carving underneath. "It's been going on for weeks. Threatening notes. Emails. Graffiti on her parking space. They took pictures of you and her together. Calling her a whore. Tell her she's going to die..."
"Jesus Christ," Elliott said, savagely. Why didn't she tell him? Why would she keep it all to herself?
"That's not the half of it, Elliott," Tad said, Elliott's name sounding clumsy on his tongue. "They broke into her house. Stole her pet. Drew a picture of her dead on her living room wall. That's why she ran," he rambled on. "That's why she went to her hometown. But they followed her there. They cut her brake lines."
"Oh, God," Elliott said, sitting down on Hannah's chair, his head in his hands. He wasn't a man prone to worry. Anxiety was never a part of his life which he structured to always have control. But all his control was slipping out of his hands and he felt like he was spiraling into some awful unknown.
"She's gone," Tad said after a moment. "I've been calling and texting. She's not responding. Something is wrong."
Elliott stood up suddenly, turning over the chair as he did so. "I'm going to her apartment," he announced and looked over his shoulder. "You coming?"
They showed up at her door a few minutes later, finding it cracked open slightly. Elliott threw the door open and froze for a second. Things were scattered around like a struggle happened. The horrible bloody mural on her wall. And a man standing in the middle of the mess. The same man he had seen Hannah whispering with at work before. The one with the scar and menacing appearance. The one who practically had danger tattooed across his forehead.
Elliott flew at him, knocking him to the ground, shouting and trying to get a punch in. "Where the hell is Hannah?" he spat out, his fist finding a place in the man's stomach.
Xander pushed Elliott off him, hissing as he took a fist to his side.
Then there was Tad, getting between them. Yelling something that Elliott couldn't hear through the blood raging in his ears. And he watched in horror as his own fist landed squarely into Tad's face. Blood burst from his nose and Tad's eyes widened, his hand grabbing his face.
"Shit Tad. I'm sorry. That was meant for this jacka..."
"He's Hannah's private investigator," Tad spat back, pulling his shirt up over his face to stem the blood flow.
"What?" Elliott felt his anger draining from his body, leaving nothing but the worry. The bone deep fear for Hannah.