Page 156 of Secrets Beneath the Waves
Jules had just hit send on her last message when the device vibrated in her hand. A text from Dante. The heart rate that had finally settled ratcheted up again. Jules touched his name to open the message.
At the station and wanted to let you know the perpetrator has been brought in. Attaching the mug shot to set your mind at ease. He is now behind bars where he belongs.
It did make her feel better to know that Dante had seen the killer and confirmed that he was in custody. Jules inhaled andexhaled, the knots in her stomach easing as she hit the file to open it up. A hard, angry face gazed back at her from the screen.
A face she had never seen in her life.
Her throat tightened until it hurt to swallow. Too distraught to even bother with punctuation, she typed:
thats not him
She sent the text, all the possible repercussions of that truth whirling and crashing in her mind like parts of a trailer torn apart by a direct hit from a tornado. The nose. She had to get the description to Dante so he could finish the sketch. She started typing again, autocorrect fighting her every step of the way until she was ready to smash the device against the window in frustration. Finally, she got out:
neighbor saw suspect says his nose a little larger than average slightly crooked to the left like it had been broken
Anything else? With her thoughts whirling so frantically through her mind, Jules struggled to concentrate, to pull everything she had noted from her addled brain. Nothing she could think of. Hopefully that would be enough. She hitsendbefore slumping against the seat. Was it safe to go to her mother’s? Likely not, although they had to be getting close. She glanced out the side window. Dusk was falling, but through the murky twilight none of the landmarks they passed looked familiar. She frowned. This wasn’t the way to the hospital. Was there an accident or construction or something? The houses they were passing were getting pretty far apart, as though they were leaving the city. Why would the driver?—
A creepy, discordant ring tone shattered the silence of the car.
Jules froze, as though her entire body had been encased in ice.No.
The driver lifted his phone from the cupholder. As he had done in the alley that night, he hit the side button to silence the ring. Then he pulled off his sunglasses and met her gaze in the rearview mirror. “Hello, Jules Adler.”
Her mouth went bone dry. Barely glancing at the phone, she typed:
the uber driver
Before she could get out any more, the man twisted a little to show her the pistol he held in his left hand. “Toss your phone over the seat.”
When she didn’t move, he cocked the weapon. “Now.”
Would he shoot her if she threw it directly in his face? Quite possibly. With few options, Jules hit send with her thumb and then did as he had asked. The phone landed on the passenger seat. Likely her final message would mean nothing to Dante, but it had been the best she could do.
“Good girl.”
She gritted her teeth. “What do you want?”
He shook his head, a mocking smile twisting across his features. “Always asking me that. Isn’t it obvious? I want you.”
The extreme heat this man had an uncanny ability to ignite deep in her core flared to life now, spreading through her chest and down her arms and legs. Jules lunged for the door handle. Nothing happened when she yanked on it. Jamming a thumb against the window button didn’t move the glass either.
The man’s strange, amber eyes remained locked on hers in the mirror, taunting her. “Childproof. So helpful.”
Jules was a prisoner then. Completely at the mercy of a deranged man who had zero qualms about wrapping his handsaround the neck of a woman and watching as the life drained from her. She pressed her fingers to her throat. Well, as long as she was breathing, she wouldn’t make that easy for him. If the people she loved were safe, Jules had little to lose. She would not go down without a fight.
Hope flickered. Dante could trace her phone, right? He had her number. That brief hope sputtered and died when, as though he could read her mind, the man lowered the glass on the passenger side, picked up her device with gloved fingers, and heaved the phone out onto the shoulder of the road.
Jules briefly considered screaming or yelling while the window was down, but they had left the outskirts of Calgary and nothing but fields stretched out on either side of the car.
The killer’s eyes met hers again as he slowly rolled the glass up. “Just you and me now.”
The words sent more chills rippling through her. He wasn’t wrong. She was locked in this vehicle, speeding away from every person who meant anything to her, heading for an unknown destination with a psychopath.
The worst part was, he had told her he was coming for her. And, when he had, she had opened the door to her worst nightmare and climbed right in.
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
