Have you heard anything?" I interrogate, my phone
growing slick from the persistent anxiety since Arch
went missing from my doorstep.
"No one has been able to locate him," Daya answers through
the phone. She's been looking into Arch's disappearance herself
since I told herwhat happened last night, never one to rely on the
police to solve anything.
But Daya doesn't have much to go off of. She hacked into
Arch's known enemy's systems—their cameras, phones, laptops,
and the GPS on their cars. Just like we suspected, they had no
connection to Arch's disappearance—at least not that we could
find.
It was my shadow who took him. And without having any idea
who he is, there's really no way to find Arch.
"I can't believe this is happening. I practically got this man
killed," I say, tears pricking at my eyes.
"Babe, I hate to say this, but I don't think that's the worst thing
that could've happened. I think this guy would've really hurt you.
The things he did to his ex-wife… they're unspeakable. He wasn't
a good man. None of those guys were…" she trails off, and I don't
need her words to know she's thinking about Luke.
She said they had an incredible night together, but she ghosted
him the second she found out what kind of guy Arch is—was.
She said anyone who is friends with a man like Arch isn't anice
man themselves.
Can't really disagree with that, either.
I take adeep breath. "I know, you're right. I guess I just don't
like that he was hurt—maybe killed—because of me. Iwould've
much preferred one of his many enemies caught up with him."
"Yeah, that would've been the best-case scenario," she allows.
"The best-case scenario would've been a wild night of hot sex
with a hot guy where I orgasm multiple times and then send him
off on his merry way," I interrupt.
She pauses a beat before saying, "Yeah, you're right. But that's
not what would've happened. Not with this guy's history. He's
violent."
"Well, apparently, so is my stalker."
"I know, which is why I'm hooking you up with a security
system. You'renot going to be another statistic, not more than you
already are. If you die, I have to follow, and I'm quite attached to
my body. God gave me a good one this lifetime."
I roll my eyes at her dramatics, especially because she's not
even religious.
"Okay, just bill me for it," I agree. I like the idea of having
cameras in my house. It makes me feel better about someone
sneaking around when I can't see them.
"I'll be over later to set them up."
Getting cameras will be the first thing to happen in a monththat
gives me any semblance of safety. No matter how fragile it is.
I'm just finishing up another chapter when I hear the USPS
truck pull up. The mailman has always been a pretty nice guy. He
doesn't stick around long and spends most of his time glancing
around nervously.
The last time I asked him about it, he said somethingevil
happened here.
And since a man went missing off my doorstep last night, I'd
say several evil things have happened here.
I open the door just as he's dropping off several cases of
books. I have to sign these and get them shipped out to my
readers.
Eight large boxes later, the mailman is panting, sweat running
down his light brown face."Thank you, Pedro. Sorry for all the boxes," I say, waving
awkwardly.
He waves a hand in acknowledgment before getting back in his
truck and shooting off.
I sigh, staring at the boxes with a look of dread. These are
going to be a bitch to haul in. I step out, but my foot knocks into
the corner of something heavy.
Looking down,I notice a small, lidded cardboard box. There's
no shipping label on it, which means Pedro didn't drop this one off.
My heart plummets, a burst of anxiety hitting me right in the
gut.
I don't know why, but my eyes dart towards the woods as if I'm
actually going to see someone standing there. I don't. Of course, I
don't.
Sucking in a deep breath, I pick up the box. And then nearly
drop it when I see a smear of blood where the box was sitting.
"Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck. God? Please don't allow this
to happen to me on this fine Sunday morning. Please let me not
find what I think I'm going to find," I pray out loud, my voice
cracking as a drop of blood lands on my toe.
Hands shaking, I set the box back down and just panic. There's
a drop of blood on my toe. Iknew there was blood on my hands
already, but now my toes? I can't take this.
Before I can think about what I'm doing, I tip the lid off with my
foot.
Hands.
Severed hands are in the box, just like I feared.
"Oh, fuck me. Fuck this shit."
I twirl and run back in the house, scrambling to find my phone
to call Daya.
The line rings for all of two seconds before she answers.
"I'll be there in a few hou—"
"Daya."
"What happened?" she asks sharply.
"Ahand. And another hand.Two of them. In a box. On my
porch."
She curses, but my panic mutes the sound."Don't do anything yet. Wait till I get there," Daya orders. "Go
take a couple of shots and wait for me."
I nod, despite that she can't see me. But it doesn't stop me
from nodding again and then hanging up without a word.
I do exactly as she says. Taking two shots of vodka to calm my
nerves. And then take deep breaths, slowly, in and out until my
racing heart calms.
The fucker actually did it. Hesent me Arch's hands. Apart of
me knew he wouldn't lie, but somehow, I didn't believe it anyway.
"Shit," Imutter, dropping my head low between my shoulders,
balancing my weight on the edge of the counter.
Twenty minutes later, Daya shows up, her car ripping through
the driveway,based on the squealing tires.
Her car door slams shut. By the time I get to the door, she's
approaching my gift still sitting on the porch, her gaze riveted on
the grotesque sight.
"This guy is fucking deranged," Daya spits, picking up the box
to inspect the hands closer."Definitely Arch's too. He's got that
stupid ass star tattoo on his thumb."
I blink, curious how she even knows that, but still too much in
shock to open my mouth and ask.
"There's a note in here," she mumbles, plucking out a piece of
paper coveredin blood. Carefully, she opens it. It takes her two
seconds to read it before she's sighing and handing it over.
Hesitantly, I reach out and grab the note by the corner that
doesn't have blood on it.
While I will enjoy punishingyou for every time you call the
police, let's hold off this time. Wouldn't want to have to hurt
them next, little mouse.
Is this guy shitting me? He'sgoing to punishme? Don't you
think sending me fucking severed handsis punishment enough,
asshole?
"He's seriously going to threaten to kill a cop?" I hiss. Daya
swallows, her eyes darting to the hands.
"I think you need to listen thistime," she says quietly. I look up
at her,having come to the same conclusion. This guy is
dangerous. Very dangerous.As much as Iwantthepolice to handle this, there are two
problems. I don't have any faith whatsoever that they'd be able to
catch the guy. And secondly, I don't want anyone else to get hurt
because of me.
I don't know if I will be able to bear it.
"I don't know what to do, Daya," I whisper, my voice cracking.
Daya sets thebox down andrushes to me, enveloping me in a
tight hug.
"I have a friend coming over to help install the security cameras
and alarm system. Listen, normally, I would say call the cops
anyway. But I don't know, Addie. You know how I feel about cops
as it is, but I truly don't believe they will be able to help you. I have
some connections, and maybe we can hire a personal bodyguard
or something."
I'm shaking my head before she can finish her last sentence.
"So he can die, too?"
She gives me a droll look. "This isn't just going to be some guy
off the streets,Addie. Whatever you're up against, they can't be
more badass than a trained killer, right?"
"Maybe," I concede. "But I don't know about any of that yet.
Having a bodyguard follow me everywhere just makes me feel like a damsel in distress."
I can tell by the look on her face that she thinks I'm being
stupid. I mean, I dohave a hand-chopping, possible murderer
stalking me. But then what? I have some random guy following
me around until my shadow is caught, and who knows if that'll
ever happen.
I grind my teeth, overwhelmed with frustration. I don't want to
live my life with an extra attachment—an extra limb. And in both
scenarios, I have one. One is there to protect me, while the other
is there to… I don't know. Hurt me? Love me?
Either way, I don't want either of them.
"Do you think Arch is dead?" I ask, failing to keep the tremble
out of my voice.
She twists her lips. "I don't know. It's definitely a possibility. But
it's also possible he chopped off his hands and let him go as a
warning. We won't know until Arch either shows up… or doesn't."I nod. "I'll let you know about the bodyguard thing. Let'sjust
see how this alarm system thing works out first."
"Okay, in the meantime, I'm going to dispose of these hands. I'll
be back in an hour, and then we're getting hammered."
My eyes widen. "Daya, youdon't have to do that. This is
morbid enough, and I don't want you to have to—"
The severity of her expression stops me short, my words
trailing off.
"I see worse every day, Addie. Go inside, I'll be back soon."
Swallowing, I nod and turn towards my door, shooting one last
lingering look at my best friend's retreating form, wondering what
the hellshe's involved in if she sees worse than chopped up body
parts every day.