Follow Me Back (Follow Me Back #1)

A bag. Duffel bag. Whose duffel bag was that?

It didn’t belong there. Tessa knew that much. It belonged to… It belonged to…

The realization hit her all at once. A wave of nausea rolled through her, and the air in her lungs burst upward from her chest, but the scream died inside her throat. The sound came out as nothing more than a whimper.

Her mouth… There was something wrong with her mouth. She could only breathe through her nose. Her cheek muscles strained, and she felt a pop in the joint of her jawbone, but her lips remained closed tight.

Sealed, she realized. Sealed shut.

The truth came back to her in full then—the moment of sheer panic, just before the world went fuzzy gray. Dr. Regan had left her alone in the living room with Blair. Tessa had stooped to look inside the bag, and she’d understood everything the instant she unzipped it.

Cameras, lenses, tripods. A spool of thick white cord. A roll or two of duct tape.

The cord, she saw with a downward glance, now bound her wrists together. Long strands of it looped around her torso and upper arms, fastening her securely to a straight-backed wooden chair. And the duct tape… She could sense the sticky backing against her lips now. He’d plastered it across her face from cheek to cheek.

A low moan escaped from behind the gag as Tessa’s eyes made another rapid circuit around the room. Her captor had disappeared somewhere. She could hear his footsteps puttering around overhead. If she listened closely, she could just make out the sound of him creeping from room to room: closing windows, drawing blinds…

Tessa remembered how he came up behind her before. He’d caught her red-handed, looking inside the duffel bag. She’d opened her mouth to scream, but he’d clapped a heavy palm across her mouth. His other hand had reached around her and emerged from the bag holding a long, sleek blade—a butcher’s knife. He’d brandished it in front of her face.

She could only remember bits and pieces after that. Her mind kept going vacant, drifting in and out of focus. She couldn’t recall being bound and gagged—only the way he hauled her over to a chair. She’d felt him reach inside the front pocket of her jeans, and she’d kicked her legs with all her strength. He hadn’t kept his hand in there for long though. He’d pulled it out again, and she’d felt the glide of an object against her outer thigh—her cell phone. He must have pocketed it before he tied her up.

Tessa flexed her arms and strained forward with her chest. She had to get out of here before he returned. If she could only make it to the front door… She knew Dr. Regan must still be sitting in her car. Tessa pressed her weight forward, but the cord barely flexed. It cut painfully into the flesh of her arms and across her ribs. No way could she loosen it enough to slip out. Maybe if she tipped the chair over… Maybe she could try to crawl…

The sound of a creaking floorboard interrupted her. Too late.

Tessa squeezed her eyes shut as she heard the steady footfalls on the stairs.

? ? ?

Eric stared in bewilderment as the meaning of his manager’s last words sunk in. I haven’t heard a peep. She’s not answering her phone.

“Wait a minute,” Eric said, his eyes suddenly going round. “You have her phone number?”

“Sure, I tried calling. Don’t worry about it, kiddo.” Maury gave him a tentative jab in the arm. “It’s just one fangirl. You’ve got fourteen million others where she came from.”

“But…you have her cell phone number? Do you have her last name?”

Maury nodded. “Sure, I have a copy of her driver’s license too. Full background check. The works. I know you like to complain about security, but they’re not actually so reckless that they’d stage a whole concert for some—”

“Wait,” Eric cut him off. “Wait, wait, wait. You have her address?”

“Why are you so hung up on this?”

“Answer the goddamn question, Maury! Do you have her address?”

Maury shrugged and began patting around the pockets of his jacket. “Yeah, sure. Got it here somewhere. Some rural area about twenty minutes’ drive from here.”

Eric felt something click inside his chest. Not quite relief, but at least a ray of hope. He turned on his heel and ran toward the side of the building where he’d left his car. “Text it to me!” he called over his shoulder. “I’m on my way.”

He didn’t stop to listen to his manager’s voice, trailing behind him. “Eric, wait. You gonna do the concert there? I mean, that’s… I appreciate the initiative. Don’t get me wrong. But that’s not what we agreed. At least take a guitar or something. What about hair and makeup? Eric!”

Eric reached for the handle of the car door when another thought flashed through his mind. He looked back over his shoulder at Maury, waddling around the corner of the building in pursuit. “Call her again!” Eric shouted to him. “Keep trying to get through! Tell her…tell her that girl isn’t who she says she is!”

“What? Who isn’t?”

“Just call her back and tell her!”

Maury stopped running and watched in utter bafflement as Eric wedged himself into the driver’s seat.

Eric tried again. “The catfish! The one with the rabbit’s foot! She’s lying! Tell Tessa not to take the bait!”

“The catfish—”

“The other one,” Eric yelled. “Not me! The other catfish!”

“The other… Eric, have you been watching MTV again?”

But Eric didn’t hear the question. He’d already pulled the car door shut. His manager’s bemused words were lost in the sound of squealing tires as Eric slammed his foot down on the accelerator and sped away.

? ? ?

“Still asleep?”

Tessa froze at the sound of her captor’s voice as he stepped off the stairs and entered the living room. She’d closed her eyes when she first heard his approach. Now she didn’t dare open them.

“Gosh, you’re sleepy, Tessa. You should get more rest. This is what happens when you stay up all night DM’ing some loser on Twitter.”

He clucked with disapproval, but Tessa thought she heard a trace of humor in his voice. Was he making a joke at his own expense? She supposed he must be. He must find it all rather amusing. She’d stayed up almost every night for months, and the whole time she’d been talking to… How was it possible? Why hadn’t some instinct warned her? How had it never occurred to her—not once in all that time—that the person on the other end was him?

Him.

Tessa kept her eyes shut tight. She couldn’t bear the thought of looking at him.

“That’s all right, love. You go ahead and sleep. Just hold still, OK? I’m going to start with some close-ups.”

Tessa heard the noise, barely audible over the sound of his voice, but to her it resonated louder than a peal of thunder. That click, click, click of a camera shutter. She’d spent her whole time in New Orleans hearing that faint rhythm at every turn. For weeks, she’d thought she was only imagining it—hallucinating, hearing things. It was only on that final night that she understood the truth.

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