Page 110 of Obsession

Chuckling, I tip my head back and let my eyes fall shut against the flurries of snowflakes that melt upon impact. I breathe in the fresh scent of damp forest and roughened bark. Spring is far away.

Elliot’s pained groan breaks through the whisper of voices inside my head that demand hell to be unleashed. Snow shifts underfoot, disturbing the specks of blood and leaving imprints behind that will soon disappear beneath a fresh layer of white. My boot connects with his stomach one final time, and he cries out in pain, his teeth bloodied, his face pale.

Stepping over him, I disappear into the thicket of naked trees, called forward by the ancient whisperings of their solid roots buried deep beneath a thick blanket of moss and snow.

46

SAVANNAH

“Let me get this straight….” Elbow on the armrest, I rub the bridge of my nose. “First, you gave me the Hammond story, then you took it away from me and assigned me The Bridge Killer because of a conflict of interest. And now you’re taking me off The Bridge Killer and putting me back on the Hammond story.” I drop my hand and peer at James. “I’m confused. Hammond is still at large. Is it not a conflict of interest anymore?”

James looks uncomfortable as he loosens his tie. “While my stance hasn’t changed, the situation has. Elliot is leaving this paper with immediate effect.”

“Elliot is what now?” Confused, I blink. “He’s leaving? Why? Where is he going?”

Did someone else give him a better offer? I don’t voice the question out loud.

“Do you want the Hammond story or not? I can assign it to someone else?—”

“I’ll do it.”

His desk chair creaks as he leans back. “Good. Elliot’s handover will be with you by close today.”

“What about The Bridge Killer?” I ask carefully. No one but Elliot knows about the connection—the link placed on the railing. I need it to remain that way.

“Jeanine wants it,” he says, waving his hand dismissively. I watch him lean forward and reach for the decanter of water on his desk. He pours some into a glass, and the sloshing sound is loud in the small office.

“Was there anything else?” he asks, glancing at me as he puts the decanter back down. “The weekly column is yours too.”

Shaking my head, I stand up from the chair and exit the room. My thoughts race. Too many to pick apart and make sense of. But one stands out.

Why is Elliot leaving so suddenly?

I bypass my own cubicle, continuing down the hallway until I’m outside his. Leaning on the doorway, I knock on the wall. He spins around, and his eyes fall down my body before he quickly turns back and picks up a cardboard box on the desk.

His belongings.

I clear my throat. “So it’s true? You’re leaving?”

His shoulders stiffen, and with the cardboard box cradled to his chest, he grabs his cell phone. He slides it into the pocket of his trench coat and swipes his maroon scarf off the desk.

When he turns around, he looks anywhere but at me. My hackles rise, and I cross my arms as I push off the wall. “What happened, Elliot?”

“You’ve got your story back.”

“Okay…” I take a step closer, unsure, and he swallows visibly, his eyes clashing with mine.

I press a hand to my mouth. Angry bruises mar his sharp cheekbones, and his full bottom lip sports a sore-looking cut. “What happened to you?”

His teeth grind together, and a muscle clenches in his cheek. He looks away, refusing to meet my probing gaze.

I get it.

His pride has taken a beating.

“What happened, Elliot?”

Emerald eyes, flashing with raw fury, swing back to my face. “Don’t be fucking naive. I’m not the one with a psycho stalker.”