As he fought to regain his balance, he juggled to keep her in his grip. While he concentrated on keeping the two of them upright, something shifted inside her, and Addis lifted her hand to gouge his neck, wanting to embed as many of his skin cells under her fingernails as she could. That way, when they found her body, they’d hopefully be able to track down her killer. It would be her message from the grave.

‘Son of a bitch! Knock it off,’ the man snarled, almost flinging her from him in an effort to remove her nails from his skin.

Somewhat astonished to find herself still cradled in his arms as opposed to being tossed on the ground like forgotten trash, Addis released her grip.

And started crying. It was really over. After she and Emerson had managed to escape, she’d actually started to believe she’d get to see her Aunt Grace again, but who was she kidding? This wasn’t a movie where the heroine gets rescued at the end. There wasn’t a knight in shining armor who would be riding to her rescue, no guns blazing, no grand, last-minute reprieve. She was going to die, like her mother, her father, and most likely, Emerson.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Tuesday, October 8

Adam’s hands were a mess of gashed skin and blood. Embedded in one particularly deep slice near his wrist was an array of tiny crystals of crushed rock where he’d repeatedly smashed it against the ground.

If only he’d been brave enough to go to the police all those years ago when Alex had slashed that kid who’d been hassling him about losing the big game, he wouldn’t be in this situation. Not that he hadn’t considered it, but she was like a demon who could read his mind even when she wasn’t with him. A couple days after he’d confronted her, demanding to know if she was the one responsible for the kid’s murder and insisting he’d never wanted that, she’d asked him over, a smile beaming from her face when she’d answered the door. Then she’d grabbed both his hands and twirled him around in an awkward little circle before tugging him inside. Her bubbly attitude was not only rare, it was also contagious, and he’d found himself grinning along with her, though he had no idea why.

But then the door had clicked behind them.

And he’d watched Alex put on a performance worthy of an Academy Award or Oscar or whatever. The glee from moments earlier evaporated as she collapsed to the ground, hugging her knees to her chest. Rocking back and forth, sobbing into her hands, her hysteria grew in volume, nearly robbing her of breath as she cried: