Page 87 of Lost on Ice
Swallowing. I try again.
“Whoever you are… please! Please just let me go! I won’t say anything to the police...”
More silence, which makes my desperation grow. I choke on a sob.
“Please don’t hurt me. I have a daughter!”
What if I can’t get back to her? What if I never see Lilah again?
Oh, God, I’m going to die here, and I never got to tell Jake how I feel about him. I also didn’t tell him about Lilah, and he’ll learn he’s her father from Sophie or Vivianne. I won’t be there to explain everything to him, and he’ll feel so betrayed finding out that I lied to him. And Lilah? My sweet, sweet Lilah. She’s going to grow up without a mom, just like I did… and I can’t…
No! No, it can’t end like this! There’s too much I have to do. I can’t leave them!
“Please!” I shout, my voice cracking on a sob. “I’m begging you! I need to go home to my daughter. She needs me!”
I hear heavy breathing in the shadows behind me.
“Oh yeah?” the horrible voice says. “You should have thought about that before you taunted me.”
I nearly scream at the sound. But then, something hits — I know that voice. I recognize it. It’s a male voice. Where do I know it from?
“Stuart?” I whisper.
There’s no response, but whoever is at my back slowly begins to walk around to the front of me. My heart is hammering so hard that I almost wonder if they can hear it. If they might take some sick satisfaction in knowing how terrified I am at this moment. The figure moves around me and some details begin to become clear — it’s a man, tall and lanky — and when he comes to a stop in front of me, I feel like the whole world has been flipped upside down.
I stare up at the all-too familiar face, certain for a moment that I’m hallucinating. This can’t be real. This isn’t happening.
It can’t be him.
“Dr. Westbrook?” I gasp.
He glares down at me, a crazy gleam in his eye. I’ve never seen him look so… unhinged. I barely recognize him.
Realization dawns on me. All this time, he’s been right under my nose and I never realized it. How? How could I have let thishappen? I’ve known him for three years, much longer than then anything started with the stalker. I can only stare up at him in shock as my mind races and I think back to all our interactions together. Any time I thought his actions were a bit odd or out of place, I just made excuses and shrugged them away.
“It’s you,” I whisper.
He glares at me with reddened eyes.
It all makes sense now. Him moving to Ivy Glen. Taking the job at the clinic. When he appeared in the parking lot when I was talking to Stuart, I thought he was just being protective… then there’s that time he dropped those clipboards and snapped at me. I just thought he was having a bad day.
Now, though, I’m seeing those moments through a darker lens. Seeing how obsessive, invading, and inappropriate he truly is.
“Hello, Abbie,” he says in a low, sinister voice that sends a horrible shiver down my spine. “I’d apologize for the accommodations, but … well, desperate times, you know.”
It’s then that I see he’s holding a large butcher knife. What the fuck?
“You’ve been the one stalking me this whole time.”
He smiles from the corner of his lip. The kind, charismatic Dr. Westbrook, the unassuming guy with the kind smile — he doesn’t exist. That was just a mask for whoever this lunatic is. He lets out a long breath through his nostrils and taps the flat side of the knife against his thigh.
“I wasn’t planning on revealing myself so soon,” he replies in a tone similar to a parent scolding a child. “I heard you talking to your friend in the breakroom yesterday and realized I was on the verge of getting found out, so I decided it was time to collect on what I’ve been promised.”
“Promised?” I blink and shake my head, completely lost and petrified. “What are you talking about?”
“You know what I’m talking about,” he hisses, tilting his head to the side, his eyes narrowing into dark slits. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. I saw the way you looked at me when we first met in Harrisburg.” The rage burning in his eyes is horrifying. He’s practically in tears. “You’d always tease me with glances and flirt with me. I could tell you wanted me… that you still want me.”
I stare at him, stunned. What the fuck is he talking about? He’s watching me, regarding me like I’m a treat he can’t wait to sink his teeth into. His smile is lascivious as he drags his eyes up and down my body, and when he grabs his crotch and adjusts himself, I nearly gag.
