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She stares at me for a moment, her pretty green eyes meeting my dark ones. I could get lost in those fucking eyes. My cock swells in my jeans, despite myself, and my fingers burn where I touched her soft skin earlier.
Out of all the places. That’s where I fucking got to taste her again.
The phone buzzes between us and Hannah jumps.
“A text,” she says cautiously. She clicks on the icon. “It’s unknown.”
“Of course it is,” I mutter under my breath.
“Thanks for sending those security guys away,” she reads aloud. “I would have hated for them to have looked in the closet.”
She freezes. Fuck, I freeze.
“They were there the entire time,” she breathes, tears welling in her eyes.
“Give me the phone.”
She pauses and I shoot her a look, daring her to argue. Begrudgingly, she places it in my hand, as if it’s a ticking time bomb.
“Whoever this is has been sending weird shit like this to her phone for awhile,” I murmur, scrolling through the list of deranged, cryptic messages. “Dating back to before she went missing.”
“Do you think they took her? Whoever they are?”
“I wouldn’t think they would kidnap her and then keep coming back to her house after.”
“But who else could it be?”
“Look, Hannah.” I set the phone down between us. “Parker had a lot of fucking enemies. Melissa would have, too, as his mistress. And I know you don’t want to believe it, but she also fucked over alotof people. People who wouldn’t think twice if something bad happened to her.”
“So, you’re saying . . . it could be anyone.”
“I’m saying these could be two different scenarios. Is there anyone you know of?”
Instantly, it’s like a light bulb goes off behind her eyes. She jumps up, hurrying over to the counter and grabbing her own phone. She opens it and carefully sets it in between us, right next to Melissa’s.
Unknown.
Now shit’s getting serious.
Unknown: Roses are red, violets are blue. Your sister will be dead soon, how about you?
Unknown: There’s only one way this will end.
Unknown: Stare at the darkness too long and eventually, the dark will stare back.
Texts upon texts of psychotic babble that doesn’t make sense. Idle threats, disguised as nursery rhymes. A picture of the fucking finger found in Mom’s mailbox, even a text asking about me.
“What the fuck is this?”
Hannah has the audacity to look startled by the anger thick in my voice. Like a child scolded. “They started a few months ago. It’s what made me come here. Mom wasn’t doing anything but covering Missy’s disappearance up.”
“And you just forgot to mention them?”
Her lips clamp shut and her eyes well with tears, but I don’t care. I’ve been trying to keep her safe and yet, she’s hiding this shit from me.
“Hannah, this shit is serious. People are fucking crazy. What if they come after you in the middle of the night?”
“I know,” she bites. “But I’ve troubled you enough, I wasn’t about to unload all that baggage onto you, too.”
