I set the phone down and release a heavy sigh of disappointment. I’d been hoping that hypnosis might be the answer to Carrie’s murder, and my case. Instead, there are no memories to retrieve. Too bad the killer doesn’t know that.
For a long moment, I debate my options. I can either allow this news to bring me down and cause further stress, or I can put it aside and concentrate on the positives in my life—like Gabe.
My eyes slide to the alarm clock on my nightstand. He should be coming home soon, and I want to be waiting for him in bed.
Positives it is.
I rise to my feet and set the phone on the dresser next to my purse. Then, I grab my bag of toiletries and head for the bathroom down the hall.
I’m in the middle of brushing my teeth when Channing appears in the open doorway. I hadn’t closed it because last I’d known, Channing and Ash were downstairs watching a movie. I quickly spit in the sink and pick up the paper cup, rinsing. When I’m finished, I look at him expectantly.
He stands in the doorway, his expression serious. “If Gabe knew I was talking to you about this, he’d be pissed.”
Uh oh. I turn to face him, my own expression sobering. “Whatever you say will stay between us,” I promise.
He nods and looks at me intently. “I know he hurt you, but I’m worried that this time, you’re going to be the one to hurt him.”
I look at him with surprise. “Why would you think that?”
“What happens when you don’t need him anymore?” he asks bluntly.
“I’m not sure I understand where you’re going with this…”
“You’re scared, and you need someone to lean on. I get that. Anyone else in your shoes would do the same. My question is, once this bastard is caught, where does that leave you and Gabe? Will you still feel like you need him in your life, or will you let the past ruin what you two could build?”
I fall silent instead of replying. The questions he’d asked are ones I hadn’t thought to ask myself, and I take a moment to think upon them.
I can’t imagine losing interest in Gabe once my life settles back into normalcy. He’s been in my thoughts for years. It just took facing death to bring it all into perspective. I can either give him a chance and learn to trust him again, or I could die two days from now, or five years down the road without having followed my heart. I also don’t want to be left with regrets when I’m old and gray and wishing my life had turned out differently.
I hold Channing’s gaze. “You’re worrying needlessly.” It’s all I can tell him at this point. Just because Gabe and I are trying to sort things out, it doesn’t mean it’s a sure thing. Trust isn’t the only thing that can come between two people.
Channing studies me and then nods. “He loves you, you know,” he says quietly.
My heart skips a beat inside my chest. It’s not the same as hearing it from Gabe, but it’s still nice to know. Lately, I’ve kind of wondered, but I haven’t allowed the thought to fully develop. I draw in a deep breath and exhale. “Thank you,” I say softly.
“He’ll never look at another woman, not as long as you’re in his life. He’s going to prove that to you, Harper.”
“That’s what I’m expecting.”
Twenty-one
Harper
On Tuesday, I wake before my alarm and feel Gabe’s warm body pressing into my back. He’s breathing deeply in his sleep, and I’m careful not to jostle him as I stretch my arm and turn off the alarm. Until this mess with Carrie’s killer is resolved, we’re going to continue sleeping in the same bed nightly.
This is the first day of Gabe’s three-day break, and last night, he’d fallen asleep the minute he’d dropped into my bed. I linger next to him for a few more minutes, and then I carefully begin to ease out of his embrace. He’s usually awake before I am, so this tells me he needs more sleep, and I intend to make sure that he gets it.
After I leave the bed, I turn and watch as he shifts amongst the sheets. He rolls onto his stomach, and his head nestles into his pillow as his arms wrap around it. His eyes remain closed, and he goes completely still once more.
Unable to walk away just yet, I allow my eyes to linger on him. His back is bare, and his smooth, tanned skin beckons to me. I don’t think I’ve ever been attracted to anyone as much as I am to Gabe. It’s been a few days since we’d had sex, and my body aches for his.
I determinedly shake off my thoughts and turn from the bed. Since Gabe has the day off, I’ll have plenty of time to see him after my shift at the clinic. After I quietly grab everything I’ll need for the day, including my purse, I sneak out of the room and hurry to the bathroom down the hall.
When I enter the kitchen thirty minutes later, no one’s around. Channing probably left early for a class, and I’m not sure if Quinn and Ash left or have yet to get ready for the day. Nobody’s made coffee, and I’m not in the mood to sit and wait for it. I’ll stop by the drive-thru on my way to the clinic.
With my keys in hand, I exit the house and walk to my car. The sun is bright this morning, and after I unlock the driver’s side door, I climb in and close it. It’s going to be another gorgeous day, and as I start the engine, I think back to Ash’s suggestion about a weekend at the beach. I can’t wait to go back to some regularity and no longer be susceptible to the paranoia and tension that’s been surrounding me. I carefully maneuver my car around Gabe’s and then pull into the street.
It’s not until I’m a few blocks from the house that I hear movement in the backseat. It’s such an unexpected sound that it takes a moment to comprehend before my eyes dart to the rearview mirror, my blood freezing in my veins.
Someone’s crouched directly behind my seat, but I can’t make out who it is. My foot instinctively begins to push on the brakes when a hand reaches between the seat and my car door, poking something sharp into my left side. “Keep driving,” a masculine voice warns.
The knife pressing into my side is unmistakable, and I ease my foot off the brake and continue driving as my heart thunders in my chest. I know that voice, but fear has clouded my mind.
“Drive towards Box Springs. If you do anything stupid, I’ll gut you right here.”
My eyes widen with shock. “Mason?”
“Surprise,” he reveals dryly.
I try to peer in the rearview mirror, but he remains hidden from sight. “I don’t understand…”
“You really don’t remember, do you?”
“That night? No,” I say as my mind begins to function once again. Remaining calm is going to be the key to getting out of this mess. I’d known there was a chance that I might know Carrie’s killer, but now that I know who it is, I begin to brainstorm. He’s always been so kind and friendly. None of this makes sense.
In front of me, a set of stoplights have turned red, and I slow to a stop behind another vehicle.
“Don’t be foolish and try to signal to anyone.”
“What’s going on, Mason?” I ask. My eyes slide to my purse on the passenger seat. My phone is inside it, but I’m certain he’s watching my every move.
“That should be obvious. If you recover your memory, I’m fucked. Makes more sense to eliminate you entirely from the equation.”
“I didn’t see anything,” I protest as I wait for the light to turn green.
“Bullshit. You looked directly at us.”
“You and Carrie?” I ask.
The light turns green, and the cars begin to move forward. I press my foot on the gas and control my breathing so panic doesn’t form. When I don’t show for my shift, Lynn will call me, and then she’ll call Gabe if I don’t answer my phone. I’d updated my information recently in case something did happen before I could reach the animal clinic. She’s also supposed to call Bryce.
I glance at the clock on the dashboard. My shift doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes. It’s imperative that I keep Mason distracted and talking.
“Yes,” he bites out, responding to my question.
“My brain c
ouldn’t acknowledge or store the memory, Mason. I checked with a psychiatrist who explained that hypnosis is out of the question. Whatever I saw, it’s gone. Listen to me, you haven’t admitted to Carrie’s murder, and the police don’t have any proof. We can end this now, and you can move on with your life with Emma, and I can continue living mine.”
“Shut up and drive.”
My heart sinks. He doesn’t want to listen to anything I have to say. As I come upon another intersection, I try to figure out another way to coax him into talking. I don’t want to push too much for fear of causing him to lose his temper, but I also need answers.
“Keep going straight,” Mason orders.
“It was you all along? You’re the one who cut me with the knife, and the one who attacked me at the clinic?” I ask quietly.
“I thought you would be easier to take care of. Clearly, I underestimated you.”
“How did you get into my car? I left it locked last night.”
“I picked the lock. Scratched the paint a little, but you won’t be around to care,” he says indifferently.
As I drive, I force myself to look straight ahead. I badly want to signal to someone that I’m in trouble, but I don’t dare. Not with the knife still at my side. “You don’t have to kill me,” I say softly.
“I love Emma, and it all comes down to choosing a life with her or allowing you to live so you can someday ruin it. Easy decision.”
My eyes stray to the rearview mirror, but I still can’t see him. “Why did you kill Carrie?” I dare to ask.
He says nothing.
“You’re going to kill me anyway, so what does it matter?”
There’s another heavy silence, and my heart constricts as I make my way closer to Box Springs. In another few minutes, I’ll be leaving the busy city life behind and heading towards a long, winding road that leads further into the mountain area.
“I fucked up while Emma was gone,” Mason finally says, his tone heavy with regret. It’s the first honest emotion he’s revealed since he’d made his presence known to me.
I recall that Emma had flown home to Maine for an entire month over the summer. My hands tighten on the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white. I’m hoping that I can talk Mason out of this, but as the conversation unfolds, the more determined he seems to end my life. “So, you and Carrie?” I ask, careful to keep my tone light so that it doesn’t sound like I’m accusing him.
“I got shitfaced at a party, and one thing led to another. It should have never happened, but Emma won’t understand that.”
I silently agree. A drunken hookup led to my breakup with Gabe. Emma would have likely left Mason. “You killed Carrie to keep your secret?” I prod.
“At first, she agreed not to say anything, but I could tell she’d developed feelings for me. Then a month ago, she began telling me how guilty she felt and that we both should come clean to Emma. That couldn’t happen, Emma’s my life,” he says with ferocity in his tone.
I switch on the car’s blinker and turn down a residential street, leaving the busy city of Riverside behind. “You followed her to the party,” I murmur, wanting him to keep talking.
“Emma was out of town with Lara, so I figured it was the perfect time to have a little talk with Carrie. I followed her to the party and waited near her car so I could approach her when she was leaving. I needed to get her out of the area so we could talk without anyone seeing or overhearing us.” He makes an annoyed sound in the back of his throat. “I was coaxing her to my car so I could control where we went, but then you stumbled past. Carrie almost went after you out of concern, but I really needed to talk to her, so I distracted her enough that she forgot about you and left with me.”
He falls silent a moment before he continues. “We went up to Box Springs, and I pulled the car over and warned her that if she told Emma, I would make her life miserable. She got upset, and the more I threatened, the more disgusted she became with me,” he says flatly. “I had jumper cables in the backseat, so I grabbed them and strangled her with them. It was like it was instinct or something. I didn’t know I was really doing it until it was done. Once she was dead, I leaned over and opened the passenger door, shoving her out. It wasn’t the plan, but dead people can’t talk, right? My problem was solved, or at least part of it. I hadn’t been concerned with you earlier, because you were completely wasted. But once Carrie ended up dead, I realized I had a new problem. You.”
“Didn’t you feel guilty after what you did?” I ask, hiding my revulsion. The way he talks about Carrie, it’s as if he’s apathetic.
“I must be fucked up somewhere inside, because no, I didn’t.”
His simple statement has the blood in my veins turning cold. Coaxing Mason into a conversation hadn’t helped me figure out how to change his mind. However, it does make one thing clear. I would have never been able to change his mind anyway, and now my only way out of this is to escape him. That’s going to be hard to do since I’m driving, and he still has the knife pressed to my side. Fear treks down my spine. He could easily stab me to death in the front seat of my car. That’s probably his plan once I pull over.
I draw in a deep breath and force myself to think clearly without terror clogging every part of my mind. What can I do? I mentally think over his plan and find one glaringly evident hole.
“Mason? You can’t drive my car back down the mountain, you’ll be seen once you’re back in the city. And if you kill me in it, you don’t have a way back down,” I point out.
“I’m not an idiot, Harper. You don’t think I’ve got that all figured out?” he says with a humorless laugh. “I’m not going down for your murder, I made sure of it.”
My heart sinks. “What do you mean?”
“I left my car in an area where no one will notice, and I lied to a friend so I could borrow his car. I told him mine was in the shop, and he handed me the keys without a second thought. You see, he lives so close to campus that he walks to save gas. So early this morning, I picked up his car and drove it to the base of the mountain where one of the trails meets up with the road. I left it and walked some ways before calling a cab. I had the driver drop me off three blocks from your house, and from there, I walked the rest of the way. With it being dark, no one noticed me. Once I reached your place, I broke into your car and climbed into the backseat to wait,” he says with a hint of arrogance in his voice. “If anyone notices the car at the base, this is all going to fall into Scott’s lap, not mine. I’m in the clear, case solved,” he muses.
No… Damn. He has it all figured out. “What about when Scott insists you borrowed his car?”
“I’ll be driving it back to his place as soon as I’m finished with you. Then, I’ll grab my car and head to my afternoon class as if nothing happened. It’ll be Scott’s word against mine since I didn’t tell anyone I was borrowing his car, and I’ve been careful not to leave fingerprints. I’ll leave just enough evidence—maybe some of your blood in his car for the police to find. That way there’s no doubt he’s connected to your murder, and Carrie’s case will likely be closed.”
I’m now driving on the dirt-covered mountain road, leaving the pavement behind. There are some residential estates in this area, and the road is bumpy as I continue driving. I need to come up with a plan—fast.
Then it hits me.
There’s only one thing I can do, and there’s a chance that I may not survive. Though I have a better chance than Mason does. I have my seat belt on, and I have the driver’s side airbag.
A heavy calmness comes over me. I won’t allow Mason to make the decision whether I live or die. I’ll decide that for myself, and if I die today because I don’t survive the crash, I’ll at least be taking Mason with me.
Gabe’s face flickers in my mind, and my heart aches. I may not ever see him again, and tears sting the backs of my eyes. At least I have no regrets. I gave into my heart, and at least we were happy for a short time.
As I drive further along the dirt road, p
assing the reserve parking lot, I know that I need to make my move before we arrive to Mason’s destination. A heavy silence fills the vehicle as I continue to drive for another few minutes. My fear is thickening the back of my throat, and I struggle to separate myself from it.
There’s a steep incline on left side of the road with shrubbery and large boulders, and I know this is where I need to put my life in God’s hands. Feeling shaky, I draw in another deep breath.
One.
Two.
Three.
I jerk the wheel to the left, my foot slamming on the gas as we careen over the dirt road, causing the car to begin to roll. I grip the steering wheel tightly as Mason curses. Metal crunches, and I close my eyes tightly and pray.
***
Pain.
It’s the first thing that seeps into my consciousness. My head feels like its been cracked open, and my entire upper body hurts. It’s a struggle to breathe, and it takes effort to draw in shallow breaths as I pry my eyelids apart. I’m confused as I squint out the shattered driver’s side window. I’m staring at blurry boulders and mountain terrain.
Mason.
My breath hitches, and needle-like pain pierces through my ribcage and chest. A groan escapes me, and the pain immediately intensifies until I nearly blackout.
Knowing I can’t lose consciousness, I wait until the pain is bearable and then cautiously lift my head from where it’d been resting on the deflated airbag. Blood’s smeared across it, and as I sit up, I fight to breathe while reaching up to touch my head.
I wince and bring my hand back. It’s bloody.
After a few more blinks to try to rid myself of the blurred vision, I realize that it isn’t going to clear. Concussion, I assume. Cautiously, I move my arms and cry out when I try to move my left wrist and hand. The pain is agonizing, and I bring my hand up to see that my wrist is broken, a bone jutting out from the skin. When I see my fingers, I whimper. The last three fingers on my hand are all broken and bent in unnatural angles.
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