Page 145 of Cam Girl

“Who knows the kind of freaky shit people get into,” he mutters.

I wait with bated breath for him to fill in the details but I know what this is. Gilli was telling the truth when she said she’d called the cops and they laughed at her. They thought it was a prank, teens gearing up for the summer or some such.

They’d blown her off. Typical assholes.

But I’m one of them, a part of this town, a respected citizen and honorary asshole, and she isn’t.

“You know,” I say, leaning further out the window for a conspiratorial chat, “I heard from one of the girls at work that someone made a threat against her online. Spooked her up good. Happens all the time.”

Darrell stands up straighter. “No fooling?”

“No fooling. It seems to me some people take advantage of being anonymous online and think they can mess with whoever they want without consequences. Who knows? Maybe your prank call wasn’t actually a prank. People are sick.”

The one thing Darrell and his cop buddies hate is people who lord their power over others—even if they themselves do the same thing under the safety of their badges.

But it isn’t for me to judge.

The bug is planted, and I watch Darrell chew the inside of his cheek, his lips pursing. “You don’t say.”

“Might be worth checking into. Anyway, time’s a-wasting. Have a good night and try not to work too hard.”

I jerk my nose to indicate the poor schmuck trapped in his car waiting for Darrell to run whatever information he needs through the database but wasting time chit-chatting with me.

“You drive safe, Doc.” Darrell’s attention is a million miles away as I pull back onto the main road.

As soon as I’m out of town and away from the boys in blue, I press my foot to the gas pedal.

My high beams cut through the rich darkness of night, and I jam on the brakes at a flash of movement. Half a second later, a deer jumps into the road, pausing only to shoot me a look before taking off again.

I wait a beat to make sure it doesn’t double back, and then hurry on.

The deer turns out to have been a messenger. Or a harbinger, whichever title fits. Lost in thought, I might have otherwise missed the car on the side of the road and passed it by before making the turn to Savage Gardens.

The deer got me to slow down, and now I see that it’s Gilli’s car.

Why on earth would her car be here?

My first thought is she’s had car trouble. Then I notice that both front tires are absolutely flat. Punctured, it looks like.

And the driver’s side window is shattered.

Ice curls in my veins and sends frost shooting into my fingers and toes as I slam my car into park and rush over to inspect. Maybe she’s hurt. Maybe she needs my help.

The car is vacant. I notice glass shards from the busted window littering the front seat and floorboard. In the back seat is Gilli’s duffel bag. What?—

She could be injured, bleeding. I search the area frantically, calling her name.

Nothing.

What happened? Did she have double blowouts on her front tires? She skidded sideways and almost landed in the ditch, but that wouldn’t cause her side window to break.

I take another look at the car, and there’s her purse peeking out from underneath the passenger seat.

She wouldn’t leave her purse, would she? Then I noticesome small red drops on jagged shards still stuck in the window frame of the door.

Blood.

And suddenly it comes together. Looks like she was forced off the road and dragged from the vehicle.

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