Page 92 of Protecting Peyton

“Please give her a chance to go through it,” Lucas said calmly. “Go ahead, Peyton. At your own pace.”

“Is your name really Peyton Smith?” Jordy asked.

Lucas threw him a glare, but I answered. The tech geek had likely done enough background on me to know the answer already. “No. It’s Leighton Clarke.”

Zane nodded and gave me a squeeze.

Jordy looked up from typing on his laptop. “But you did go to Atlanta?”

Lucas poked his brother’s shoulder. “I swear, Jordy. The next time you interrupt, I’m breaking out the duct tape.”

Jordy flexed his fingers and typed, but stayed quiet.

“My best friend was an investigative reporter for theLedger, and she decided to do a series of articles on the Boyfriend Strangler,” I explained. “Her name was Cassie, Cassandra Moulton. She was working on that story when she became a victim of the Strangler.”

People stopped chewing their food, their eyes bugging out.

I paused as memories of that horrible night flooded over me. “I had to change my name because I saw his face—the Boyfriend Strangler’s face.”

Jordy rapidly worked the keys of his laptop.

“He’s killed, like, a dozen women,” Duke said.

“Eighteen is the current count,” Jordy corrected. “Holds them for three days. Rapes them and strangles them with a red necktie, all in the Boston metro area, and still on the loose.”

The details were too gruesome to contemplate, but I gritted my teeth and continued. “Cassie had dinner scheduled with a man she claimed was quite the gentleman—even sent her flowers. Not knowing where she was having dinner, I ended up getting takeout from the same restaurant. It was just happenstance.” I sniffled.

Zane stroked my back.

“I noticed her at dinner, and then she saw me and waved. That’s when her date looked up, and I saw his face. He had these eyes—two different colors. I’ll never forget him.”

“Is that the man you saw today outside the pawnshop?” Duke asked.

I nodded. “Yes, and he sent me roses and a card at work today. That’s why I ran.” It wasn’t the time to second-guess myself. “But that first night, back in Boston, I didn’t know he was dangerous. That next morning, I found a dozen blush pink roses at my door with a note that said we should have dinner and gave a place and time. None of the guys I’d been out with recently had sent me flowers, so I thought it was romantic and creepy at the same time.”

I felt Zane stiffen next to me.

Terry’s brows rose in confusion. “How does that tell you he was the Strangler?”

“When I didn’t hear from Cassie the next day, I went to her place. I found the same flowers and a note with the same handwriting as the one I’d just gotten. It was inviting her to the dinner I’d seen her having at the restaurant.” A shiver came over me as I continued. “Then the news came out that she’d been the Strangler’s latest victim, so I knew it was the man she’d had dinner with.”

Grace gasped.

“That is creepy,” Serena muttered.

“The press named him the Boyfriend Strangler because he went on dates with the victims before killing them. And yeah, like Jordy said, he always strangled them with a red necktie and raped them.” That was hard to say out loud.

“And you think those roses meant he was after you?” Terry asked.

“Yes,” I sobbed. “I damn well think he picked me to be next.”

“It’s okay,” Constance said. “Nobody’s questioning you.”

“Hold on,” Terry said. “Your friend didn’t know the roses were part of this guy’s MO?”

“Obviously not,” Duke said.

Lucas pointed at Jordy.