“Sorry about that, ma’am. I mistook you for someone else.” It sounded as if he’d been gargling with rocks. “You’ll have to forgive an old man for his poor eyesight.”

“Oh, yeah…sure,” I said, rubbing my arm where he’d gripped me. Was I supposed to run? Stay? Call for help? Did I need help? Vincent had said Reagan “freaked him out,” and I knew he’d been abusive toward his wife and son, but he was an old man now, thin and frail looking.

His grip had hardly been frail though.

“You’re Jessica Martin, aren’t you?” His use of my full name jerked my attention back. I nodded, before quickly realizing I shouldn’t have confirmed it. “I thought so. I recognize you from church. You used to go with your mama.”

The last time I’d attended a church service was at least ten years ago, despite my mom trying everything to get me to attend. “I haven’t been to church in a long time, sir.”

He smiled. His teeth were brown, gums red. “Neither have I.” His eyes roamed over me, giving me an uncomfortable feeling, as if his gaze was covering me with slime. “You’ve grown up into quite the beautiful young woman. That blonde hair…” He reached out, confusion and surprise keeping me rooted in place as he caught a strand of my hair in his long fingers. “Like an angel.”

Hurriedly backing away, I said, “I have to go,” and walked away without another word.

Getting my keys out of my purse immediately, I nestled one of them between my fingers like a weapon, thankful for all the shops and people nearby. Reagan didn’t follow me, but I heard what he called after me.

“Have a good day now. You be careful out there.”

My feeling of unease remained for the entire walk home. I kept looking over my shoulder, expecting to see the old man again every time I turned my head. Thankfully, my mom’s car was gone as I approached the house. Only once the door was shut and locked behind me, and I’d double-checked that the security system was set, did I feel any better.

Why was Manson’s dad still hanging around? His son wanted nothing to do with him, and as far as I knew, he didn’t have a house here. What did he want with me? Why and how did he even know who I was?

I pulled out my phone, staring at my reflection on the screen. I didn’t like to go crying to anyone for help, but I had a terrible feeling in my gut that something was really off. Who the hell grabbed a stranger like that? The way he’d talked about remembering me, the way he’d touched my hair…

I shuddered, then pulled up Vincent’s number and dialed.

He answered after only a couple rings.