Cole

––––––––

It's really her.

I wanted to understand what the hell was happening, but I couldn't.

Locke, that was the name she had given me, but that wasn't who I knew. When she said it, it didn't set off alarm bells or give me that moment of clarity as if I had it wrong all these years. Locke was not her name, and I wasn't wrong, it was definitely her.

Seeing her up close, looking into her eyes and hearing her voice, I knew right away that she was the same girl from my past.

She's in danger. Something isn't right, something is going to happen.

There was a feeling, a gut-wrenching sensation that whatever it was, wasn't good. I didn't know what, I didn't know when, but I knew finding her meant something. It sat like a pit in my stomach, cutting me, poking me, prodding me like a fucking hot spike.

I had to do something, there was no question in my mind about that.

How else could I explain her suddenly dropping back into my world?

Sitting in my car, I eyed the front of the apartment in my mirror. She was inside, and had been all night. Second floor, second window in the front, that was her place, that was where she went after work and after we ran into each other at the store.

Sipping my coffee, I just sat and watched. I had no clue what I was doing exactly or what I was looking for. But my instincts were telling me that I needed to be there for her, that her safety relied on me, that her future wasn't set in stone and I was there to change it.

My entire body was telling me that she was mine to take care of and protect.

Was it guilt and regret, was it my conscience trying to make up for something that happened so long ago it shouldn't matter anymore?

Maybe.

It matters, it has always mattered.

The past—my past, it was nothing short of something to forget. But you can't forget when it's your own blood that brought it on. You can't forget when the world watched you and waited, taking notes just to see if that same evil ran through your veins.

People thought that blood lines meant blood ties. People expected me to crack and break just like him.

I never did.

Years had washed it out to sea, time had made it a cold story, and aside from a few friends, no one had a clue what I came from.

Not even her.

When she asked me if we knew each other, I almost fell over. But her curiosity was light, it wasn't a sure question, she didn't know for certain that we had met at some point in time.

And I needed to keep it that way for now.

If I was going to protect her, if I was going to be able to do whatever the hell I was being driven to, she couldn't know.

Not yet.

It would push her away, it would scare her and send her running in the other direction. She didn't need to fear me, but that was exactly what would happen.

The minute she learned about who I was, her skin would turn white, her eyes would glaze over, and her heart would implode inside her chest.

The name 'Sterling' meant nothing to most, but to her. . . It meant everything she ever feared.

Peering up at her window, I could see her cat, sprawled across the windowsill. The sun was hitting him smack in the face as he stretched his tiny feet out to capture the rays in his paws.

I guess I'm watching you too, Frito.

Smiling, I laid my head back and just peered out the window. Time didn't matter to me, work didn't matter to me. All I cared about was making sure nothing happened to her.

That's what this all came down to, it came down to making sure my dreams didn't turn into reality.

I still couldn't make sense of it all, I still couldn't rationalize the urge and pull that I had to do something. And I couldn't rely on just my nightmares as the reasoning for all of this.

If I had to explain myself, my actions, the obsessive nature that pinned me to her; no one would believe me.

But I couldn't deny myself.

The dreams had come first, then she manifested before my eyes after years of trying to forget it all, trying to forget her. That's not a coincidence. . . That's fate—it had to be fate.

My phone went off on the dashboard, buzzing and ringing all at once. Reaching out for it, I held it in my palm and stared at the screen. Shit. Clicking the button, I pushed it to my ear while I kept my eyes on the apartment.

“Yeah,” I said quietly, my gaze staying steady and glued to her building.

“You plan on coming in today?” Dean's tone was dry, full of annoyance and frustration.

He was starting to lose his patience with me. I couldn't blame him for being pissed. I hadn't gone into the office for almost four days. But I couldn't.

Something larger than me, something stronger than choice was keeping me chained to her. Need was the only word I could use to describe what I felt.

I needed to be there, I needed to watch her, I needed to sit back as her silent protector.

If I left her, if I let her out of my sight and something happened, I'd never forgive myself.

Just like I still haven't forgiven myself.

Letting out a heavy breath, I gripped the bridge of my nose and pinched it tight. “Look, I'm sorry, I really am. I'm still working on the case, I haven't forgotten about it.”

“Then you're aware there was another one, right? Renee Fletcher, twenty-three, bound and strangled last night up in Prairie Creek.”

“Are you serious?”

“Fuck, Cole, yeah I'm serious. Do you think I'd joke about something like that?”

“No, no, I didn't mean—”

“Look, we need you on this. I can't afford to have you flaking out on me. Please, give me good news, tell me you learned something from what I gave you the other day? Anything.”

“Tell me about her, tell me about Renee.”

I heard him grunt in frustration as the sound of papers flipping buzzed like a mosquito in my ear. “It's the same fucking M.O. as the rest. Black hair, green eyes, bound, killed. . .” Pausing, his voice came out worn and tired. “We have to find this guy, we have to find him now. I don't want to lose another innocent girl, Cole. Give me something to go on here.”

Reaching into my bag, I pulled out the files on Bethany Doone and Jane Doe. Scanning page after page, I read the details with my heart in my throat and an ax in my gut.

This monster, this creature of death and rage was hunting. He was prowling for young girls, girls that made him think of someone else, girls that he could look down on as he cut the air from their lungs and stole their life, imagining it was the person he hated the most.

It made me sick.

“He's targeting these women for a reason, Dean. You need to release those details to the media, give the women with those same traits the opportunity to protect themselves. If you want to give them a chance to not get picked by this monster, then that's what you need to do right now.”

“And what? Start mass panic? Maybe a riot in the store for hair dye and colored contact lenses? We can't do that, not yet. Right now we need more, something that sticks out, something that—”

“Dean,” I said, cutting him off. “I'm going to have to call you back.” I heard his voice come in hard and fast, falling to a whisper as I dropped the phone from my ear, and hung it up.

I didn't give a shit. He could be as pissed at me as he wanted to be, it changed nothing. Being in the office, reading line after line, and searching pictures of the scenes did nothing to help her.

She was my mission, she was the one who needed me right then the most. I wasn't going to let her down. . . Not this time.

Locke had come out of her building and headed off down the sidewalk. But there was something else—someone else—shadowing her from a distance.

The figure stayed back, but his eyes were firmly on her. I could see it plain as fucking day. The way his head dipped into his chest and he observed her from the corner of his eye as she passed him once she left.

His face was shaded, the only thing I could really see was an outline. His nose was thin and long, his chin was wide and cut in the shape of a square.

Turning on his heels instantly, he changed direction, weaving in between people so he didn't lose her in the crowded street.

How did I not see him there before?

Sitting up in my seat, I watched through the side mirror in horror. My heart began to race, the air around me grew hot and dense. I couldn't believe that I was watching this all unfold.

The mystery man was definitely following her. Locke had stopped to adjust her sneaker and the man stopped too, looking down at his phone but still keeping her in his sight. When she started forward again, the man did the same, keeping his pace slow and steady.

Do something, you have to do something.

Starting the engine, I threw the car in drive and pulled a u-turn in the street. Snatching my phone off the dash, I called Dean back.

“What the fuck, Cole! This shit—”

“Dean, you need to listen to me. I'm on Johnston, I need you to send a patrol officer.”

“What's wrong? What's going on?”

“Just send someone over here.” Hanging up, I tried to stay close and follow behind him without being spotted.

Is no one else seeing this?

There was so much commotion going on around me, but no one else connected the dots between the hooded man and the quiet girl unaware just ahead of him. There were cars and buses, person after person walking right past them, but not one took notice, no one even batted an eye.

Locke seemed oblivious to the man as her head bounced to a silent beat and her fingers played chords in the air. She was happily strolling along while evil lurked behind her.

The man inched closer, his strides lengthening and growing heavier as he stalked her with purpose.

Do something. . . You have do to something.

Gripping the steering wheel, I sped up past the man and jerked the car to the right. Throwing the car into park, I opened the door with one quick push and jumped out ready to confront the fucker.

Snapping my head over my shoulder, my muscles contorted and twitched as the adrenaline surged through like white water rapids. The pain in my chest had changed, morphing from an ache into a blazing fire, ready and willing to take on the silent stalker.

Balling my fists, I gritted my teeth as my eyes began to focus on where he was. But he was gone, vanishing into thin air as quickly as he appeared.

Circling the sidewalk, I stood stunned. Did I imagine that? Is my mind playing tricks on me?

Turning to see if Locke was still around, I spotted her up ahead, focusing on her feet and whatever destination she had in mind.

Leaning against my car, I dropped my head into my hands and shut my eyes. I knew someone was there, there was no way my brain had just created that entire fucking thing.

Did it? Could it?

No. No, he was there. I know he was there.

The guy had on a dark green sweatshirt, the hood was pulled up over his head, hiding his face. He was there. You're not going crazy, you saw him.

Grunting, I stormed around my car to the driver's side and tore the door open. Climbing in, I punched the steering wheel in frustration and  just growled.

Dragging my hands down over my face, I just sat confused and angry. I couldn't push the feeling away that something bad was going to happen to Locke.

I knew first hand there was a killer on the loose, stalking his victims. This wasn't a game of chance, the man wasn't taking out his rage on girls that just happened to cross his path.

He's a hunter.

My chest tightened as I thought about how the girls had most likely been picked from a horrible lottery. And now I couldn't get the idea out of my head, the sickening fear that Locke's number had been drawn, that she was on his list of soon to be victims.

He's hunting them down like prey. . .

And maybe he was hunting her too.

She's been through enough, this can't happen.

I won't let it.