Page 40 of Obsession

“Good. Send me a report update by business close today.”

I inwardly sigh.

Elliot follows me to my cubicle like a shadow I can’t shake. The moment we’re out of earshot, he crosses his arms and says, “Admit that you’re sinking, Savannah. Robbie is never going to give you his story.”

“Don’t you have better places to be?”

Elliot roots through the clutter on my desk, and I have to bite my tongue so I don’t tell him to fuck off. “It’s not too late to back out. We can swap stories.”

“You want me to cover your current case?”

He shrugs, dropping a crumpled-up candy wrapper back down. “We both know this is big news now, but Robbie Hammond is a legend.”

“Every legend started somewhere,” I point out.

“You don’t get it, sweetheart.” He traps me against the desk with his hands on either side of me. I have to bend back to look him in the eye. “Do you know how many active serial killers there are at any one time?” His breath whispers across my lips. “A lot. But only a handful become notorious like Hammond. His name will instill fear in people for generations to come.”

“Move back, will you,” I growl, but he doesn’t budge.

“Odds are, this killer will fade into the shadows.”

“Your career is now, Elliot. Not fifty years from now. Cover a coveted story today, and you’ll soon see yourself snatched up by a much bigger newspaper.”

“Maybe it has nothing to do with my career? Ever thought of that? Maybe I just want the opportunity to interview Hammond.” He finally steps away, and I flip him off to his back. He turns around at the entrance to my cubicle and, with one hand on the frame, says, “Think about it.”

Anger burns my gut, and I rush out after him, shouting, “When will you drop this? Robbie doesn’t want you to interview him.”

The look he levels me with over his shoulder has me backing up a step. He whirls on his heel and strides up to me. We’re garnering an audience now. Curious eyes peer at us over cubicle walls.

“I forget that you’re special to him. Must suck, huh? That you can only look at him from across the table.” He leans in, keeping his voice quiet, “You’ll never be able to fuck him, Savannah. This time next year, he’ll be cold in the ground.”

My hand lashes out, and I slap him hard across the cheek. His head whips to the side, and we stay like that for a beat—me with my hand raised, breathing like a provoked bull, and Elliot with his head to the side, his curly hair disheveled from the impact.

His cruel and cold chuckle sends chills racing down my spine. Straightening up, he runs a hand through his hair. “Where do your loyalties lie? With a dead man walking, or your career? You heard James; protect Hammond, and you’re out. No newspaper will want to hire you again. Not when they find out you can’t stay impartial.”

“Miss Campbell?” I jump at the sound of a stranger’s voice behind me. Elliot’s eyes slide over my shoulder, and then he walks away.

I turn to see a delivery man holding out a letter for me. A blue cap on his head shadows his eyes, but his smile is polite.

“Thank you.” My hand stings from the blow to Elliot’s cheek as I accept the letter and walk back into the cubicle. I sit down on the creaky desk chair and slide a finger beneath the gap, ripping it open and peering inside.

A folded piece of paper.

My heart immediately flutters like the wings of a butterfly. How can a man have this effect on me?

Rule number six: Don’t think you’re safe because you know the person in front of you. Familiarity doesn’t equal security.

Pulling up on the drive,I cut the engine and stare mindlessly at the lit windows. No one is in there except for my father. Charlotte has already gone for the day.

What would happen if I just kept driving into the night and didn’t turn back? Where would I end up?

Gripping the steering wheel, I focus on the feel of the cracked leather beneath my fingers. It’s snowing again. Soft flurries sail through the night sky, slowly obscuring the view of my home as they cover the windscreen. Maybe I could live in my car. Away from the guilt and the shame?

I drag a palm down my face before wiping away the tears wetting my cheeks.

I’m tired.

So fucking tired.