Page 101 of All the Missing Pieces

I frowned, pulling up the social media app. My feed looked normal, but then I clicked on a photo. The comments were flooded with unfamiliar handles that had a sick feeling spreading through me.

AveryAnnihilator123,

SerialSlasher69,

EmersonsEverything88.

The list went on and on, each comment worse than the one before it.

Careful where you put your nose Ridley or it won’t be a w@rning next time.

Go spread your lgs somewhere else podcast slût.

Two Gs to whoever teaches Ridley a lesson.

But my heart stopped when I saw the most recent comment.

I wonder, will Ridley’s screams sound the same as her sister’s? I can’t wait to find out.

40

COLT

Grabbingthe towels from the closet, I headed back to the deck, ignoring the fact that I was getting water all over my house. But after an afternoon with Ridley, I shouldn’t have been surprised. Chaos reigned in her wake, but it was the beautiful kind, the type of disarray that meant you were truly living.

I stepped outside, letting the screen door snap closed behind me as Bowser nosed at Ridley’s leg. But her hand didn’t drop to pet him the way it normally did. She didn’t move at all, nothing except the small shiver that racked through her as her now-wet shirt clung to her body.

My pace quickened, and I wrapped one of the towels around her. Ridley still didn’t move or make a sound. I followed her line of sight to the phone in her hands. She gripped it so tightly her knuckles looked like they’d lost all blood flow.

That’s when I saw it. The vile comment at the bottom of the screen.

I wonder, will Ridley’s screams sound the same as her sister’s? I can’t wait to find out.

Bile surged, rage hot on its heels. “What the fuck?” The words were more growl than anything else.

Ridley whirled as if just realizing I was there. She didn’t make a move to attack, but her eyes were wide and her typically tan face was a sickly shade of pale. “I—there’s—a lot—” She wasn’t making sense, but it didn’t matter.

“Inside,” I ordered. Even Bowser seemed to understand my tone.

I grabbed my discarded clothes and guided Ridley quickly toward the back door. But my head was on a swivel, looking for anything out of the ordinary, anyone who might be watching.

Hell.

Stripping down and jumping off my deck had been the height of recklessness when just a couple of weeks ago, Ridley had been attacked. I knew there was someone out there who wanted to do her harm. I should’ve been a hell of a lot more cautious than risking the kind of moments we’d just shared in that lake.

Slamming the door, I quickly locked it and set the alarm. I took Ridley’s hand and led her down the hallway to my bedroom. She didn’t say a word as I headed for my closet. I reemerged with a thick gray bathrobe. Gently, I slid one of her arms into it and then the other.

Ridley shivered, then stared down at the garment. “You have a bathrobe.”

“Yes,” I said, a hint of defensiveness making its way into my tone.

“It’s fluffy,” she mumbled, skating her hand over the fabric.

“Comfortable,” I amended.

“Cozy.”

I grunted and took her face in my hands. “Will you be okay for a minute?”

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