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I went back out into the office and began to sort through the files. Most of it was still there, just strewn all over the place.
Shivers ran down my spine. I knew who had broken into my place, but I really didn’t want to admit it.
Quickly though, that unease turned into anger.
The bastard had been here. Whoever it was had found my office and had broken in, had gone through my shit, had violated my personal fucking space. My office had been my sanctuary and my home for so long, and now it was tainted.
I shook my head, seething. It took me almost an hour to pick through the files, but eventually I found what I needed. They were mostly dossiers on people who were closest to the Seed case back in the day.
I backtracked into my bathroom slash film development lab and began to sort through the pictures again. That nagging sensation of missing something came back to me, hard.
And then I noticed it. When Laney had first started with me, I had taken some pictures of her, but those pictures were missing.
In fact, every picture of her was gone.
I went back out into the main office, my stomach filled with dread.
The file I had made on her when she had first started was also missing. I had a habit of starting a file on people, just in case I ever needed it.
All of her pictures. All of her materials. As far as I could tell, that was everything that had been taken.
Anger flooded through me, anger and worry. I quickly gathered my shit and left, shutting the door behind me but not bothering to lock it.
As I got closer to my car, I began to run, my fists clenched, my jaw tight, uneasiness filling my chest.
23
Laney
It was like floating on a cloud. Maybe that’s a cliché, but that was how I felt.
Easton had worked my body all night, worked me harder than I ever had been worked before. By the end of it, I was ready to pass out, completely spent and exhausted.
I felt great the next morning. Easton was sleeping beside me, his body taut and strong, and I couldn’t help but admire him as he slept.
Everything was such a blur. It all rushed by, faster and faster, and I had no clue where any of it was leading. We were dealing with an insane murderer, apparently hell bent on getting after Easton. And yet all I could think about was his sex, his body, his fingers, and his cock.
After he woke up, we ate breakfast. We barely saw our parents since they were leaving early and working late. It was almost as if we lived in the big house alone together and everything was ours.
It felt good to play house with him, even if it was just for a morning.
“I’ll be back in an hour or two,” he said.
“Where are you going?”
“Got to grab some things from the office.”
I nodded, stretching lazily. I was wearing only a pair of boy shorts and a tank top. “Are you sure you want to leave?”
He grinned, kissing my neck. “Not at all, but someone has to do some work.”
“Fine. Suit yourself.”
“You stay just like this. I’ll be back soon.”
“Okay.”
He kissed me quickly and then left.
The house felt huge without him around. I spent the next half hour messing around with Facebook, basically killing time. My mind kept roaming back to the way Easton made me feel, the way he worked my body, his incredible hunger for me.
Sure, he was cocky. Sure, he could be an asshole. But there was something else inside him that I was beginning to see more clearly, something special, something that I wanted to understand. He let me see glimpses, but he never fully let me in.
After another few minutes, I heard the front door open and slam shut. Smiling to myself, I opened the bedroom door.
“Easton?” I called out.
There was no response.
“Dad? Susan?”
Nothing.
Frowning, I went back into my room and put on a pair of pants and a long-sleeve T-shirt. I slipped my cell phone into my pocket and then I opened the door back up and walked softly back into the hallway, heading down the steps.
I stopped in front of the front door. It was still slightly ajar. I pushed it closed.
Who would come inside and leave the door open?
Frowning to myself, I walked toward the kitchen. “Easton?” I called out. “Where are you?” Up ahead, I heard the sound of running water.
I looked into the kitchen and frowned. The faucet was running, but nobody was in there.
I walked over to it. “Easton? You left the water running.” I turned the valve and the water stopped.
Tingles ran down my neck.
“Easton isn’t here,” a voice whispered.
I whirled around.
He was standing there, inches away from me, this sick smile on his face. His face looked familiar for some reason, but I couldn’t place it. He was young, maybe even my age.
I tried to run.
