“You’re awake. You don’t need to pretend.”
He stepped closer and held out his hand. She’d correctly pictured the man making a sandwich. It rested on a plate.
“Eat. If you don’t eat something, you’ll die.”
Justine’s eyelids fluttered. She locked her gaze on the plate, didn’t want to look into his face and spy the monster who’d captured her in the fog. Still, the voice tickled her memory. He’d sounded familiar in the parking lot too, though she had no friends or family in Kane Grove.
He picked the sandwich off the plate and pushed it toward her lips. She turned away, though her mouth watered. Seasoned roast beef, lettuce, a sweet pickle. It amazed her how much her nose discerned from one whiff.
“You must pay for what you did. Even inaction is a crime. But I won’t harm you, if you cooperate and make amends.”
Justine’s eyes shot to his silhouette. He’d echoed the guilt she’d felt since high school.
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed.
“I know you are, and that’s why you’re still alive. But you need food and water, if you’re to survive another day.”
He pressed the bread against her lips. She opened her mouth and bit down on the sandwich, chewing as the flavors hit her tongue. He might have poisoned her. One last trick. But she didn’t think so. For whatever reason, he wanted her alive. She needed to escape and warn Paige. If the man was avenging Dawn’s suicide, Paige would be next on his list.
She swallowed and coughed after eating too fast. The food struck her hollow stomach and sizzled, threatening to make her nauseous. As she steadied herself, he placed a glass against her dry, caked lips. The water hit the back of her throat. She gulped hungrily as he tipped the glass, his arm extended, face always hidden behind a veil of darkness.
Justine choked and spewed water. Her lungs spasmed as she sucked air, chest wracked by another coughing fit. He waited until she finished. Then he offered her the glass again. She blinked the tears out of her eyes and cleared her throat, accepting the water.
The stranger fed her until only the corner of the sandwich remained on the plate. She’d consumed all the water in the tall glass. Her chest heaved as though she’d climbed a mountain.
“Who are you?”
He stepped back, as though afraid she’d recognized him.
“Someone who will help you atone for your sins.”
Justine cried out.
“Please don’t hurt me. I should have helped her.”
“Yes, you should have. But here we are, all these years later, and you still need to pay for what you did.”
He turned before she could reply and spoke over his shoulder.
“I will bring you another meal this evening. You did well, Justine. But death is forever. You’re never leaving.”
The door closed, and the key twisted in the lock.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Saturday, August 14th
4:20 p.m.
The escalator carried Chelsey to the second floor of the mall. Two college age females approached with shopping bags, the girls laughing about something that happened at last night’s party. Chelsey moved aside and let them pass. They were too consumed by conversation to pay attention to people around them.
Finding a bench in front of a store selling classic board games, Chelsey slumped onto the seat and sipped her soda, people watching as soft music played through the speakers. Two rails divided the corridor. She glanced over the closest rail, giving her a birdseye view of shoppers hustling down the lower corridor. It was good to relax. After lying to Raven about going home, she’d driven to the mall outside Harmon, craving retail therapy.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She eyed the screen and glimpsed Raven’s message. Chelsey flicked the phone into silent mode and ignored the text, still fuming over the ridiculous accusation. Cutting herself? Even at Chelsey’s darkest moment, when her friends had abandoned Wolf Lake for college and her parents didn’t know how to reach her, she hadn’t disfigured her body. She’d only wanted the nightmare to end, to find a way out of the dark tunnel she’d fallen into. There were nights when she closed her eyes and didn’t care if she never awoke. Yet she’d never considered suicide. Not seriously. Nor had she sliced her body with little razors and hid the lacerations like secret friends.
Who was Raven to accuse Chelsey of self-harm? Her mother jammed needles into her arm for a decade, and LeVar ran the Harmon streets with his thug friends. Raven was the last person who should lecture someone about her demons. Chelsey had even given LeVar a chance, and the teenager blew off the interview. She’d predicted he’d call moments before the appointment with some excuse, some lame reason for postponing the interview. So, when his name had appeared on her phone, she’d ignored his calls. No second chances. She climbed out on a limb for Raven’s brother, and he made a fool of her.
Chelsey tossed the soda in the trash and wandered up the corridor, hugging close to the rail to avoid the throng of weekend shoppers. Cold sweat trickled down her forehead after a burly man in a hurry almost trampled her. He looked too much like Herb Reid, the construction worker she’d investigated. Memories of the attack came unbidden to her. Head swimming, she leaned against the rail and caught her breath as shoppers passed, a few eyeing her warily.
You’re okay, she told herself. It took a while before the floor stopped undulating. After she steadied herself, she continued on. Her growling stomach reminded her she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Sweet and savory meals wafted out of the food court.
Outside the Disney Store, a man and woman embraced. She swore it was Thomas and Naomi until the man turned his face toward Chelsey, sensing her glare. Chelsey lowered her head and hurried away,
