Like I said, no coincidences.
But, in other ways, it’s unfortunate. It only adds insult to injury, because it’s like watching myself live out the nightmare all over again and there’s nothing that I can do to stop it.
She’s here, she’s part of this story, and when the times comes, I’ll have to shatter her world, too.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Brett
One Year Ago
No amount of coffee can quell the disappointment that washes over me whenever I refresh my inbox and there’s nothing from a literary agent. No rejections, no requests for more chapters, not even a confirmation of receipt.
Crickets.
I know it’s not instantaneous, and I may never hear back from anyone, but I hate waiting without any end in sight. I used to fill my spare time by working on the book, but now I don’t even have that, which is both a blessing and a curse. Maybe I can start a new book and finish it in a matter of days with all the spooky inspiration I’m getting from Colson and his deranged behavior.
I feel better having told Barrett everything, and I’ve made a point to stay away from the office as much as possible until I figure out what to do. But even with the extra space, I can barely concentrate on anything, including reading books I put off so I could finish mine.
This is what I’m doing on Saturday afternoon after I’ve run out of distractions. I finish another chapter in a thriller that would, at any other time, make me blind to everything else around me and get up to pour another cup of coffee. Bowen is running back and forth between the basement stairs and the garage door, carrying duffel bags and gun cases out to his truck.
He looks like he’s packing up to go to war, but it’s really just paintball with Jay, and after that, they’re going coyote hunting. I shouldn’t think anything of it, but I don’t want him to leave. I don’t want to be alone.
It’s stupid, I’ve lived by myself for almost four years and now I’m turning into a nervous wreck just because Bowen’s leaving for the rest of the afternoon. I used to live in a condo surrounded by thousands of people right outside downtown, I used to come and go at any time of the day or night, and even there, I never felt as many eyes on me as I do here. Even though I’m hidden between forest and cornfields, I can’t shake the eerie feeling that something—or someone—is constantly watching me. I haven’t seen anyone who doesn’t belong here since I ran into Hannah in the hallway months ago, but it’s still there, and when my belongings aren’t disappearing, different ones appear out of thin air.
I slide the creamer back onto the shelf and swing the fridge door shut. When I turn around, Bowen slides a folded piece of paper across the countertop.
“What’s this?” I ask, unfolding the printout.
And when I do, I come face to face with a ghost.
My chest tightens when I see Colson staring back at me from the creased paper. It’s an old photo, more similar to how he looked in college. He’s wearing a black t-shirt and his auburn hair is longer, popping against the institutional light blue background. His head is bowed slightly, his vibrant aquamarine irises glaring at the camera. His mouth is affixed in a sinister smirk that sharpens his jawline.
He looks terrifying.
My eyes move to the top of the paper, drawn to the official logo of the Canaan Police Department. I scan the block of text flanking Colson’s image that lists his birthdate, height, weight, hair color, and eye color. One detail, printed beneath his photo, catches my eye and makes my stomach drop. Under the arrest date are the charges.
Menacing by stalking and trespassing.
When I look up, Bowen’s resting on his elbows on the other side of the granite, his dark eyes waiting for my reaction. He nods at the paper, “That’s who you’re dealing with.”
My heart sinks the longer I stare at the printout, scanning the words over and over, taking in Colson’s face that looks like a possessed version of who he is now.
“He was arrested for stalking,” I glance at the arrest date, “eight years ago?”
Colson would’ve been a senior in high school, just like me.
“I take it he neglected to mention any of this to you,” Bowen runs his fingers through his hair, brushing it out of his face.
Yes, but I already knew he was like this…
I look at the mugshot one more time, “Who was he stalking?”
Bowen eyes me curiously, “Does it matter?”
It doesn’t, I guess. But I still want more information.
I furrow my brow, noticing another detail that gives me pause, “Why was he arrested in Canaan?”
“What do you mean?”
“Colson is from Dire Ridge…”
Bowen blinks, “Honey,” he scoffs, “stalking doesn’t stop at the county line.”
“I know, but—” Nothing else comes out. I don’t know where I’m going with this. Something about it seems odd, I just can’t put my finger on it.
“Doesn’t seem to bother you,” Bowen’s eyes narrow as he studies me from across the counter.
“It does,” I realize my hands are shaking, so I take a deep breath and set the paper down on the countertop, “it’s just a lot. I don’t know what to do with all this.”
Bowen cracks a smile, “You don’t see it?”
I cock my head in confusion.
“Everything is right here in front of you,” Bowen’s tone grows harsher, “he assaulted you back in college, he dragged you out of bed, naked, and put a gun in your mouth.”
My jaw tightens, my face feels hot, and tears begin pooling in the bottoms of my eyelids. I nod, thinking that’ll satisfy him and make him stop talking. I don’t need him reminding me of what happened. He’s supposed to be the one who takes my mind off of all this fucked up shit—even though I’ve gone and done something colossally dumb and made it all worse. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to stave off the tears.
