Page 217 of Things We Left Behind

I grinned. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

I got in my Jeep and watched him cross the parking lot to his car. I waited until he pulled out before grabbing my phone and opening my texts. Maeve and I were in for a very interesting conversation.

I yelped when my door was yanked open. A big, gloved fist gripped my sweater and pinned me to my seat. Another one covered my mouth, muffling my scream.

I couldn’t breathe. My attacker had sealed his hand over mymouth, and one of his fingers covered my nostrils. I immediately felt dizzy with panic as I stared at the black ski mask where a face should be. What did he want? Money? My Jeep? I hoped it wasn’t me.

I flailed against his grip and opened my mouth.

“Stop trying to bite me,” my attacker complained. “I got a message for you.”

Adrenaline dumped into my system. My free hand dove into my tote, feeling around for my pepper spray while I tried to memorize important details. Height? Taller than me. Weight? How the hell should I know? He was dressed all in black, and the dashboard light did nothing to illuminate any details. Was he familiar? Did I recognize his voice? His smell?

Was that cinnamon? Was my attacker chewing gum?

“Leave Upshaw where she belongs,” the man said.

“Mary Louise?” My words were smothered by the thick glove. This wasn’t a random mugging or carjacking. Someone had followed me here and waited for me.

“Leave it alone or youwillget hurt,” he said.

Then the hand on my chest disappeared for a second before returning to slap something that sounded like paper over my heart.

“This is your final warning. Heed it. Please.”

It sounded like a genuine plea. Was it possible that my assailant didn’t actuallywantto hurt me? Or maybe I was hallucinating. The lack of oxygen and the blood thundering in my ears could be distorting everything.

Then he was gone just as suddenly as he’d appeared.

This was too many whammies in one night.

With shaking hands, I reached for the door handle and yanked it shut. It took me four tries to find and press the lock button. By the time I had, my attacker was nowhere to be seen.

With shaking hands, I found my phone on the floor and dialed.

“N-­Nash?”

I wasn’t a nail biter, but I’d nibbled my way through my left hand and was about to start on the right.

On the surface, Nash looked calm, but his leg was bouncing under the table. After giving my statement to the Lawlerville police, I had begged Nash to take me to see Mary Louise. I had an awful feeling in the pit of my stomach.

He’d put up a fight, seeing as how I was ready to disobey direct orders from an anonymous bad guy. But I needed to see with my own eyes that she was okay, and Nash wasn’t ready to let me out of his sight.

“Are all prisons this awful?” I asked Nash.

He glanced around at the cracked ceiling tiles, the flickering fluorescent lights, the peeling vinyl floor. “No. The place Tina Witt’s in looks like a country club in comparison.”

I frowned. “What’s the difference?”

“This place is privately owned. Which means the owners can funnel the profits into their bank accounts. There’s no real incentive to improve the facilities if you get to pocket what’s left over after expenses.”

The door opened, and I jumped out of my chair. Mary Louise entered.

“Oh my God. Are you okay?”

Her face was bruised and swollen, and her left arm was cradled against her chest in a sling. But what made it all worse was the fear in her eyes.

I wanted to hug her, but she looked as if she were about to collapse in on herself. “Do you need a doctor?”