She turned on her music, only just catching Shorty’s last words. “Just keep your eyes open, love.”
And she did. The sun was high, the sky a brilliant blue as she jogged down the steep street. She kept her eyes down, avoiding contact and making sure her pace was fast and even. People paid no attention to her, only the odd leering gaze from a few men, but they felt harmless enough. It felt good to be out breathing in the fresh air. Her jitters eased with each stride and after an hour she was puffing her way back up the hill feeling refreshed and invigorated. She knew Shorty would probably tell her off for taking too long, but she’d decided to walk most of the way home. She felt free and alive for the first time in days.
The feeling fled the second she reached her front door. It was ajar, the broken lock a testament to the force with which it had been smashed open.
“Shorty?” She whispered, taking off her cap and easing into the room. Her heart was in her throat, pounding so quickly, she thought it might scamper free and leave her.
A soft groan came from behind the couch. She spotted his foot and dashed towards him. Vaulting over the cushions, she landed next to him, her eyes flooding with instant tears. There was so much blood. His face was a mess, his nose smashed in, his left eye swelling shut. Blood coated his teeth and dripped from his mouth. Her fingers shook as she reached for his middle. His red-slicked hands were holding his stomach together, he had multiple stab wounds peppering his torso.
She didn’t know how he could still be alive.
Terror swept through her as she realized he wouldn’t remain that way for long.
“What do I do?” She trembled. “Shorty, what do I do?”
“Run.” Blood sputtered over his lips. “Don’t let him win, Cy. You run and you live.” His breaths were short.
She shook her head denying his words. “Who did this to you?”
“Don’t ask…questions now…” His voice hitched. He was running out of air. “Run. Live…that’s how you’ll beat him.”
His eyes closed and she bent over him, not caring that her hands were being covered with his dark blood. “Shorty, please stay with me. Let me help you.”
“Go.” His voice was a soft breath on her face. “Live for me, love.” And then the breath was gone.
“Shorty?” She gently shook his head, pleading for some kind of response. “Shorty, no.” Cries shook out of her throat, making her quiver. This couldn’t be happening.
She wanted to rest her head on Shorty’s chest and sob, but despair had no time to linger.
“Hello, Lucy.”
She gasped, her blue eyes landing on the one man who was systematically taking everything from her. He stood on the other side of the couch, meticulously wiping blood from his hands and knife. His pale eyes were gleaming with an amused darkness that made Lucy want to curl into a ball and block the world out forever.
“My name’s Cyan,” she whispered, making him chuckle.
“I might almost believe that, but you, my darling little girl, have eyes just like your daddy’s.”
She couldn’t breathe. Her lungs had literally stopped working. She felt like her body froze for a split second, her senses coming crystal clear as he wiped that knife.
“I worked it out in Sacramento, you know. A little too late, I have to admit.” He tipped his head. “But I just could not shake you from my mind. There was something about the way you looked at me with those soulful eyes of yours. And then one night it just came to me. Jack’s face popped into my head, his wide eyes pleading for release. So pathetic.” Hearing him speak of her father with that pitiful smile on his face made a swift rage tear through Lucy’s insides.
“How’d you find me?”
“Well it was pretty damn hard at first. You’re like smoke. I feel as though every time I get close you seem to disappear into thin air. You can imagine the pleasure I had extracting the information from your skinny young friend. You know he was a lot stronger than he looked. He held out.”
The air punched back into her lungs, making them expand and squeeze at a rapid pace. Poor Marlin. She wanted to scream at this man, throw herself at him and scratch his flesh raw, but she knew it was pointless. Marlin was dead and her dying in a rage wouldn’t bring him back to life.
“Truth is though, it wasn’t until your moronic friend down there started asking the wrong questions.” His expression became granite hard. “You don’t find me, Lucy. I find you. I’m the carnivore in this equation. The people who try to find out what I do become my prey. Am I making myself clear?”
Her head bobbed of its own accord.
“I always win, which is why I’ve never stopped looking for you. I wouldn’t call it an obsession really. More like a pet project.” He grinned. “I promised your father I’d find you one day. It may have taken me five years, but I’m a man of my word.”
The knife was now clean, wiped to a high sheen that would soon be tainted with her blood.