Page 95 of Haven't Killed in Years
“Does Elyse know that?”
“Why doyoucare so much?” he asked without answering.
“Does she know?” I repeated. “Does she know her boyfriend is connected to this whole thing?”
“Jeez.” He chuckled, still not answering. “You’re worse than Dominic. Yeah, she knows. It’s not a big deal.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Was I overreacting? Elyse knew Jake had a connection to Abel Haggerty and to the arms? It didn’t bother her? Jake had casually offered up that information to her but not anyone else? I had been there when they’d found out about the body being discovered, surrounded by his overeager friends. He’d said nothing. It didn’t make any sense.
“No.” I shook my head. “You and Dominic are sick Abel Haggerty worshippers and now I’m supposed to believe your connection to Oswald Shields is a coincidence?”
“Okay, ouch.” He laughed. “But you’re right about Dominic.” He uncrossed his arms and slid them into his pockets. “He does know an awful lot about Abel Haggerty…and hisfamily. He talks so much about them, you know? Can’t keep anything to himself.” The corners of his mouth curled. Even if Jake hadn’t known my real identity this whole time, he certainly did now that Dominic had found out.
I didn’t know what to say. I was in no position to keep pushing Jake about his involvement. I was alone. No one knew I was there. I had no way to defend myself, no kitchen knife slipped in a sweatshirt pocket.
I took my phone out and checked the time. He just watched me. I bobbed my head from side to side, antsy, pretending to be considering the time, pretending I hadn’t picked up on what he was trying to say. “Ugh, I have a work thing. I’m supposed to be there in twenty minutes. Will you have Elyse call me as soon as she gets home?” I wasn’t sure if there was any way he was going to accept my sudden flip to the casual, but I had to try something to get out of there.
“Sure…” he said, looking at me like I was crazy, and I wasstarting to feel that way. I was learning through all this that it was stressful to make assumptions about murderous psychos. If you’re right, you can’t trust anything they say or do; if you’re wrong, you end up looking like the crazy one. I was happy to be the crazy one in that moment if it meant I could get the hell out of there.
“Thanks,” I said as I headed toward the door. Once I was past him, I exhaled—a temporary consolation that he was letting me leave, not symbolic of any real relief. I still had no idea where Elyse was or if she was even alive. I had no idea the extent of Jake’s involvement or Dominic’s or freaking Wesley’s or what I was supposed to do about it. All I could be grateful for was the opportunity to go and figure it out.
I reached for the door.
Then something struck me in the back of the head and everything went black.
Fifty-Five
I started to come to.I didn’t know how long I’d been out, but my head hurt so bad that it was hard for me to imagine opening my eyes. There was a humming that I could both hear and feel. It was smooth until it wasn’t, and that’s how I knew I was in a vehicle, slumped over on a bench seat.
My hands were behind my back, handcuffed together so tight I would have protested had I been conscious when it happened. I tried to adjust but quickly realized a seat belt was looped through my arms, keeping me in place. This was not good. I had to open my eyes.
I opened the left eye first. In front of me was the back of the passenger seat. I was in a van. Dominic’s van.
I sucked it up and opened the other eye. It was blurry, but I endured a piercing pain in my head in order to focus, and my vision cleared.
I brought my chin to my chest so that I could see the driver’s seat. Jake’s profile stared ahead, eyes on the road. He wasn’t gripping thesteering wheel like a menacing Cruella de Vil; instead he casually rested his right wrist over the top like he was out for a Sunday drive.
He caught my motion in his periphery. “Oh, hi there,” he said.
There was enough give in the seat belt for me to shift my legs onto the floor and I sat up. “Where are you taking me?”
“You’ll see,” he said.
“Where’s Elyse?” I asked. “Did you do something to her?”
“She’s fine.” His answer was flippant. Did he forget he had bopped me over the head and handcuffed me to the back seat? The jig was kind of up.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked.
“Jeez,” he said, “so many questions.”
“You’ve made my life a living hell,” I reminded him. “You just knocked me out and kidnapped me. I have a lot of questions.”
He laughed at that. “Oh, made it a living hell, have I?”
I wasn’t scared. I should have been scared, but I was too angry, too annoyed, and too defeated. I had played into everything. “Are you going to kill me?”
He didn’t answer, too concerned with changing lanes to exit the highway.
