I bite down hard on my hand to stifle a scream. There are detectives down there. All I have to do is walk my ass down the stairs and tell them what I saw. How would the person holding Parrish captive even know that I’ve done it? How?
“He’s going to kill me.”
But fucking hell. Is it worth the risk? Is there anything in this world that’s even remotely worth the risk to Parrish’s life? It’s just a question, at the end of the day. Just a stupid, easy question. What it means, and what it has to do with Tess, I have no idea.
Could be a crazy fan, I muse, thinking about the huge crowd of reporters outside. Tess is pretty famous, and she does write a lot of true crime stuff which could put her at risk … but really? Kidnapping her son? How did this guy even get to Parrish? Did Parrish go out for a walk and get snatched off the street? Did someone actually come in here?
My mind strays to that night in the woods, the one that I’ve decided to push aside in favor of chalking the experience up to sleepwalking and nightmares. If someone came in the house then, they could do it again, couldn’t they? It just seems so … coincidental that the security cameras weren’t recording. Even the outside cameras that are supposed to livestream to the security company picked up nothing unusual. They didn’t even catch Parrish leaving the property voluntarily, so what happened? He had to have gotten out somehow.
The door to Parrish’s room flies open, and I stifle a small scream. My nerves are fried at this point.
“Relax, Little Sister. It’s just me.” Chasm pauses, and then, upon seeing the look on my face, slams the door behind him and puts his back to it. “What the hell is going on?” he asks as I sputter and try to come up with a lie. Even now, with just Chasm in here, it feels like the truth is going to burst out of me and spatter the room with Parrish’s blood. “Dakota.”
Chasm stalks across the room and snatches my phone from my hand. He sees the text message right away. That, and evidence of the video call that ended almost fifteen minutes ago.
“What the fuck is this?” Chasm chokes out, staring down at the screen. I jump but I don’t answer him, not right away. I’m shaking so hard that I can’t stand up anymore; I end up sitting on the edge of Parrish’s bed without remembering how I even got there. “Dakota, what is this?!”
“Parrish.” Just that one word. It’s impossible to say more. How can I? What could I possibly say? “It’s Parrish. He’s …” I take a deep breath and rub at my tired eyes. “He’s been kidnapped.”
Chasm just stares at me like I’m a crazy person before letting out a nervous, breathy laugh.
“Not funny, Dakota. Did you talk to him? If you know where he is, you better fucking—”
“I’m not lying!” I shout out, shoving up to my feet and snatching the phone from Chasm’s hand. He looks taken aback, leaning away from me like he doesn’t know who I am anymore. Or maybe never did, come to think of it. “I got a video call from Parrish. He was tied to a fucking chair. He was bloody and bruised, Chas. It looks like someone beat the shit out of him.”
Chasm just keeps staring at me, but he doesn’t move, and he doesn’t say anything. He’s just blinking through the moment like he can’t quite fathom what’s going on. I don’t blame him. Isn’t denial the first stage of grief?
“He told me not to tell the cops. He said that if I did … they’d … that they’d …” I turn away from Chasm and pace over to the window, shoving it open and climbing out onto the roof. I just need air. I just need to remember to breathe.
“That they’d what?” Chasm snarls, following after me and crouching on the roof beside me as I put my forehead to my knees and try to think. “That they’d what?”
“He told me if I didn’t do what his captor wanted, that they’d kill him. He said they’d kill him.” I’m talking into my knees since I can’t bear to lift my head up quite yet.
“You’re lying,” he tells me, his voice accusatory. “That’s bullshit. None of that is true.”
I lift my head up to look at him and he recoils like he’s been slapped.
“It’s true. Parrish told me I had to ask Tess about some guy named Justin Prior or … or else.” It sounds like a load of shit, doesn’t it? Like something from one of Tess’ novels. Only … it’s not. It’s actually fucking happening to me, and I can’t just sit here. I have to do something.
