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CHAPTER FIFTY

The next morning, Olivia awoke disoriented, the unfamiliar ceiling above her spinning a moment before reality crashed back.

The mask. The escape. The beach house.

She pressed her eyes closed, willing away the images that flooded her mind. Instead, even more came.

The root cellar. The garden shears. The expressionless face of Casanova hovering above her.

When she opened her eyes again, sunlight streamed through gauzy curtains, so different from the absolute darkness of her captivity.

Olivia forced herself to sit up.

She barely remembered the journey here—just fragments of a private plane, Tyson’s concerned glances, the car ride along dunes. She’d been floating somewhere outside her own body, watching herself move through the motions while her mind retreated to a safer place.

She lay in bed, still trying to process what had happened.

Detective Scarborough seemed to indicate that the man who’d abducted her was someone she might know.

The thought was terrifying.

But who could it be? Was it Donald?

She couldn’t really believe that.

She ran through a mental list of suspects. Guilt pounded at her for each thought.

Wes. But he couldn’t be behind this. Not only was he like a brother to her, but he’d been out of town during one of the incidents. She’d even seen a picture of him on social media. He’d been on a date with his flavor of the month.

Chandler was a family man and so even-tempered. She couldn’t see him doing this either. And he’d been out on medical leave when Olivia’s first abduction happened. He’d had knee surgery and hadn’t been able to walk without a limp for weeks.

Paul . . . he had arrived in town at a suspect time. Had he wanted to be a hero and set himself up to save her during her first abduction? Had he arranged for someone else to take the fall? He had the knowledge and skills to do so. Olivia shuddered at the thought.

Who else could it be?

Lyle’s image came to mind. The thought of Lyle being guilty made her stomach churn with disgust. Her therapist couldn’t be behind this. But if he was . . . he would have a front row seat for her turmoil. Wasn’t that what predators preyed on?

She swallowed hard. Was there a way she could check his schedule? To see if he’d been out of town while she was in Charlotte?

Maybe. Perhaps she could make a few phone calls, see what she could find out. But if so, she’d need to be very careful.

That only left one other person . . . one person she couldn’t bear to think about.

Tyson.

She shook her head. It absolutely couldn’t be him. If this madman was Tyson, he’d need to have a serious personality disorder. Or he was a master of disguise.

No, Tyson would never do this to her. Besides, their paths hadn’t even crossed until recently.

The thought was absurd, and Olivia chided herself for even considering it.

However, the truth was she needed to seriously examine everyone in her life.

She didn’t want to just sit back and wait for this guy to find her.

No, Olivia needed to be proactive and do what she did best: research.

* * *

Tyson lifted his head as he sat at the kitchen table reading his Bible.

Footsteps padded down the hallway.

His breath caught when he saw Olivia. She looked sleepy and somber but not quite as in shock as she had yesterday.

He rose to his feet. He was hardly ever unsure of himself, but right now Tyson didn’t know how to greet her. More than anything he wanted to pull her into his arms. But he wasn’t sure that would be the right choice given what she’d gone through.

Instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets and observed her. “How are you?”

She paused in front of him and crossed her arms. She wore black yoga pants with an oversized sweatshirt that swallowed her small frame. Her dark hair was pulled into a sloppy ponytail, and her skin still looked pale.

More worry coursed through him.

“About as well as you might expect,” she started, her voice soft. “Thanks for the nightlights you left around the house.”

“I thought they might help.” He’d been desperate to do whatever he could to help.

“They do.” She glanced around. “Where are we?”

“Ocracoke Island, off the North Carolina coast. The place is only accessible by plane or boat, and only two people know I bought this beach house a few years ago. You should be safe here.”

He wanted to say she would be safe here. Looking at all the facts, that assessment was correct. But Tyson couldn’t afford to let down his guard and feel too comfortable.

Olivia’s gaze drifted out the window to the waves as they crashed against the sand. “It’s beautiful.”

“And secluded. I thought we could lie low here. Let the police do their work. Let them follow clues until they catch this guy.”

Olivia frowned, the expression clearly showing her doubt.

But they couldn’t lose hope. This had to end somehow, and it couldn’t be with Olivia being hurt.

She moved to the kitchen table, and Tyson pulled the seat out for her, tucking her chair in with her. Then he went and poured her some coffee, placing it in front of her.

“So what do we do while we’re here?” Olivia wrapped her fingers around the warm mug.

“You’re welcome to do whatever you want. I just don’t think you should tell anyone where you are.”

She frowned. “I don’t plan on it.”

“I’m able to work from wherever I need.”

Her intense gaze bore into him. “But don’t you have interviews set up?”

He shrugged. “I already rescheduled them. It’s really not a big deal.”

Alarm filled her eyes. “But it is. You have a lot going on and?—”

He reached across the table and squeezed her arm. “My business will be fine. I’m not worried about it.”

She stared at him a moment, doubt in her gaze. Then she opened her mouth as if she might argue.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she nodded. The motion almost made her appear resigned, like the fight in her was dying.

Olivia was pulling away, Tyson realized. He knew all the reasons she was doing so.

But despite the reasoning, those facts still worried him.