Redesigning Fate (Revive #1) - A. M. Wilson Page 0,42
a breath. “It just struck me that your shades are open, and anybody on the street could probably see right in the window.”
My lungs deflate rapidly with relief that he wasn’t laughing at me.
“I’ve never really thought of that before. Should we put on a show?” I laugh, turning my body toward the window, feeling a bit reckless with the adrenaline that is running through my system. I crane my head to look out the window, as I’m sitting in Elias’s lap, and panic wells up inside of me.
I fly off his legs, grabbing my shirt off the floor. Jamming my arms through the holes, my hands start to shake. “Oh my god.” I back away from the window slowly towards the door, covering my mouth with my hand.
Elias jumps off the bed, coming towards me. “What did you see?” He walks over to the window. “I don’t see anything,” he says, shifting around my window frame looking for the source of my panic.
“The car, Elias. It’s that blue car,” I tell him, trying to calm myself down. I’m shaking. Tears are blurring my vision. I sense the moment he spots the dark blue Impala parked across the street behind my car. His body visibly tenses in the window frame, his hands bracing himself on either side. The car is positioned so perfectly it would have a view directly into my bedroom window.
“What is it doing here?” My words are nothing more than a whisper.
“Do you know whose car that is?”
“No. But it’s the same care from that night, isn’t it?” The words are hard to get out. They’re choking me. Then it strikes me, doubling my panic. “Elias…that car has been here before.”
“When?” he asks, prowling to stand in front of me. He places his hands firmly on the slant where my neck meets my shoulders, looking me directly in the eyes while waiting for my answer.
The touch soothes me even though my mind is wilding spinning with thoughts. “I don’t know, a few weeks ago. It was back when I first got the job at the law firm. I thought that maybe it was another tenant or something. But it was parked right behind my car, just like it is now.”
“You didn’t realize that it was the same car when it tried to run you over a few weeks ago?”
“No!” I shout. “I barely got a glimpse when my head was smashing into the pavement!”
“The other night was not a random accident.” Elias scoots me to the side so he can exit my bedroom.
“What are we going to do? Should I call the cops?” I ask, trailing after him.
“I have a better idea,” he growls, slipping his shoes on and opening the front door.
Skipping my own shoes, I follow him down the hall and outside onto the steps in the early morning cold. As I step around Elias, I notice someone who wasn’t there before. A tall, fair skinned, bald man. He seems casual leaning up against a telephone pole, taking long, slow drags from a cigarette as he stares up at the apartment building. Yet, something in his presence sparks a chorus of alarm to ricochet around my head.
“Wait, don’t go down there!” My fingers curl into the back of Elias’s shirt, halting his descent.
The driver must have spotted us, because the car abruptly pulls away from the curb and speeds off. In the early morning sun, I barely catch a glimpse of the man seated behind the wheel. I freeze with Elias’s shirt still clenched tightly in my fist.
The panic and fear welling up inside of me suddenly morph into a fury so hot it shuts my brain down. The early morning chill, forgotten. The lack of shoes on my numb feet, forgotten. The man now pushing away and strolling down the sidewalk, forgotten. The blood is roaring through my ears, drowning out the sound of Elias’s voice trying to get my attention.
“You can let go of my shirt now.” His hands grasp my shoulders, shaking me slightly. “Marlee?” He voice breaks through the barrier to my thoughts.
“I know who it is. I know who is in that car.”
“Who?”
“It’s Travis.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Travis
March 23, 2015
Preston Brooks. Just reading his name turns my blood hot. Boiling anger runs through my body, fueling the hate, fueling the rage. The need for retribution is stronger than any desire, any passion I’ve ever felt before. I want to inflict pain. I want him to hurt. I want his family to suffer.