Page 67 of The Player
“Go on,” Adam urged when I fell silent.
“Like I said, I can’t tell you the full story yet, but I think he left those for me. He wants me to know he’s watching. That he can still get to me.”
They all growled and cursed, angry that there was an enemy out there, but they didn’t know who it was or what they were facing because I wasn’t talking.
“Fucking hell, Will. Just lead us to him and he’s dead,” Colton shouted.
“That’s my fucking plan,” I replied, feeling exasperated and torn, trying to navigate my way through this.
Adam took his phone out and started making a call.
“Hey, Tom,” he said when they answered. “I need you to come and collect something.” He went quiet as Tom, our inside guy in the police, responded. “I need you to take some fingerprints. Get a few IDs sorted for me.” He huffed and shook his head as he spoke. “No, the hands aren’t attached to the bodies. We just had a bag of them dropped on our doorstep, so no, no need for any arrests. We just need to know whose hands they are.”
Adam nodded as the conversation went on, then he tapped his phone abruptly to shut the call down and shoved it in the back pocket of his jeans.
“Tom’s gonna get us some IDs. He’ll say the bag was found by the lake in the local park. Stumbled upon by a local passer-by walking their dog. He promised to keep our names out of it.”
We all nodded, but I knew our names wouldn’t ever be out of it. He’d left those hands as a calling card. He was smoking me out, but this time, I was ready for him.
“Looks like it’s all hands on deck,” Colton joked, but for once, I didn’t laugh.
“Load up the van with whatever weapons you can,” I instructed plainly. I was all business, no time for anything else. “We’re going on a road trip. I hope you like Newgate Forest, because we’re about to be all over that fucking place.”
ChapterThirty
BRYONY
The second he walked out the door, I faltered, questioning why I’d let him go.Maybe I should’ve gone with him, I thought to myself, because being on my own in this apartment didn’t feel as settling as I thought it’d be. I felt anything but settled. I was constantly on edge, waiting for something to happen.
I tried to watch TV; I couldn’t concentrate. Kate had some books in her bedroom, so I had a go at reading, but my mind kept wandering to darker places. Every creak of the building or gust of wind whistling through the windows and doors set me on edge.
I wasn’t okay.
I was far from it.
I might’ve escaped that basement, but the basement still had its hold on me.
When I was at my weakest, I thought about my father and how he’d suffered in his final moments, experiencing agony that I knew he didn’t deserve. That was his legacy now, leaving me with a millstone of guilt, pain, and regret that I’d carry with me and endure for the rest of my life.
Maybe it was time I looked for a therapist. The sooner I started to face these demons, the better. I couldn’t go on the way I was because I knew I was spiralling, and I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to get trapped in another hell of my own making.
I heard a noise outside the front door; someone was trying to turn the door handle, and instantly it felt like my whole body had been plunged into icy water. Dread shot through me as fear twisted my stomach, and I sprang up from the sofa. My head spun around as every sound in the apartment intensified. My eyes darted about, my body jumpy as I started to plan an escape route.
He was here.
He’d seen Will leave.
He’d been biding his time to make sure Will was far enough away, and then he’d come up here, ready to finish what he’d started.
This was it.
My final reckoning.
The door handle rattled again, and I ran to the kitchen. Flinging the drawer open, I grabbed the first knife I saw, gripping it tightly as I looked at the window, trying to decide if it was a good enough escape route. Then I glanced at the door, contemplating facing him and ending this once and for all. I didn’t know which one to choose, and time wasn’t on my side.
My heart thumped out of my chest, and I was just about to dart for the window when I heard, “Bryony! Don’t pretend you’re not in there! Colton already texted me to tell me you’re home. So, open the goddamn door, will you?”
I let out a breath of relief. It wasn’t him. It was Shelley. But I didn’t drop the knife. I kept a firm grip on it as I walked to the door to unlock it.
