Page 44 of Find Me

“Have you thought about what we’re going to do tonight?” Colt asked.

I sighed because I had been thinking about it. I just couldn’t come up with anything. “I know I want to get ice cream,” I said.

Creed frowned. “We have to do more than just go out for ice cream.”

“I know. I’m still thinking,” I grumbled and opened the internet app on my phone to look up stuff to do in the area.

“What about a movie?” Colt suggested.

That wasn’t a bad idea. I was about to ask them what movie they’d want to go see when a cell phone started ringing. All the guys checked their phones before looking at me. That was when I realized the ringing was coming from my gym bag. I scrambled quickly by ripping back the zipper, rummaging through the inside of the bag until I pulled out my burner phone. My heart sped up with panic. It was an unknown number. I looked up at the guys and they gave me confused looks as they stared at both phones in each of my hands. I didn’t have time to explain.

“I need to step outside,” I said and flipped open the burner phone, answering it before turning to head for the door. “Logan?” I said into the phone.

“Shiloh,” a familiar voice spoke on the other end.

I froze just before reaching the door leading out of Knox’s office. “Ian?”

“Hey, kid.”

The tone of his voice made my legs feel weak; I had to put my hand out to brace myself on the door. There was only one reason Ian would call me instead of Logan and that was to tell me Logan was dead.

“Where’s Logan?” It took everything in me to ask that because I was falling apart on the inside, waiting for him to tell me.

“He’s busy in the other room,” he replied and a wave of relief washed over me.

Regaining my strength, I opened the door and stepped into the hallway. “You just scared the crap out of me!” I whisper-yelled into the phone. “Why are you calling me and not Logan?”

“Logan wanted me to give you a heads up before this shit hits the news. He couldn’t call you himself because he’s currently wrapped up in giving his report to our superiors,” Ian explained.

“What happened?”

* * *

After my phone call with Ian ended, I numbly walked back into Knox’s office to grab my bag and told the guys I was going to head upstairs for a run.

Colt studied me. “You okay, babe?”

I forced a smile. “Yeah,” I lied and left.

I ran that track for almost four hours, pushing past the irritation in my hip and the new fiery ache in my legs. The only reason I stopped was because everything I’d eaten that day was making its way back up. I beelined for the trash can by the stairs. I barely made it before I knocked the lid off and heaved into it. Up came my steak sandwich and I had to clutch the sides of the dirty trash can to hold myself up as spots dotted my vision. I felt a hand begin rubbing up and down my spine and then my hair, dangling from my ponytail that was barely missing being soaked with vomit, was pulled away.

“I think I’m going to pass out,” I cried and heaved again. Great, now I was crying and puking.

“Focus on breathing.” It was Knox’s voice.

Whimpering, I did as he said, forcing myself to breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth, but each exhale came out as a pant. My whole body wouldn’t stop shaking.Cheese and rice. This was the worst I’d ever felt after a run.I had done this to myself. I hadn’t been able to stop until my body had made me stop. My phone call with Ian had gutted me. The guilt was too much. The memories were too much. I had just wanted an escape until I was ready to deal with it—to face it. Apparently I was never going to be ready, with how far I’d pushed myself.

That poor girl.

Ian had called to tell me that they had found the body of a high-school girl who had looked similar to me. She had been a victim of Mr. X. How they knew that was because he had stapled a picture of my face to her face and they’d found his DNA—a polite way of saying his semen—all over her body. She had been tortured and raped repeatedly over the span of four days.

She was dead now because he couldn’t find me. I was here, safe and hidden, while he was out there preying on girls who looked like me.How do I live with that?How was I supposed to move on or start over or whatever the heck I was doing, knowing that? I felt like I was on borrowed time and that time had to come from somewhere…or someone. Four days. Was that how much time I’d received in exchange for her life? How much time would the next girl grant me?

I hated it.

It made me sick.

I made me sick.