Serial

Chapter Fifteen

My screams caught in my throat as I was hauled away from Scarlett. The only thing I could think was that Kyle had finally gotten his hands on me and would do to me what he'd done to all those other women. What he'd done to Scarlett. I kept picturing Scarlett's eyeless face, the sockets boring into my mind and taking root.

Would he take my eyes, too?

I tried to fight him off, but his grip was too strong. Reaching up behind me, I raked my fingernails over his skin, but knew it wouldn't help.

He would kill me, anyway.

"It's okay!" a guy's voice shouted from behind me. "You're safe!"

I stopped fighting as soon as I realized the arms were pulling me out the front door and into the open air. Our legs tripped over the welcome mat, but we didn't slow down until we were in the courtyard again. When I finally found my balance again, I turned to see Detective Brady gripping my shoulders tightly.

"Are you hurt?" he asked me quickly, glancing over my body for injuries.

I couldn't seem to get myself to speak, so I settled for just shaking my head.

"Good. Was Grafton in there?" he asked, looking me straight in the eyes.

I nodded and then burst into tears. I wanted to tell him to go help Scarlett. Get her down from where he'd strung her up. But I knew it was pointless. She was gone.

"Okay. I'm going to call this in and then check it out," Detective Brady said to me, calmly. He looked around the courtyard and then called out to someone behind me. "I need you to go out to the street and wait for the officers to arrive and then bring them back here. Can you do that?"

"Yeah. No problem," I heard Zhara say. Then he hesitated.  "Uh, someone should stay with—"

"I've got her," another voice said. Seconds later, I felt warm arms wrap around me carefully. "Don't worry, Zhar. Just go."

I knew those arms. That voice. The way he made me feel.

Preston.

I knew it was him without even looking. And I was happy he was there.

"Okay. Stay with her until the others arrive," Detective Brady said forcefully. "And if anyone shows up that you don't know, yell for me. Don't hesitate, just yell."

Then the detective pulled out his phone as he ran back toward Scarlett's apartment.

When he was gone, I finally stopped fighting the exhaustion that had been building in me and allowed myself to slump to the ground. Preston helped me into a sitting position and rocked me a bit until I began to calm down. I realized after a few minutes that this was the closest we'd ever been to each other. And surprisingly, it was comfortable. Like we just fit.

I felt safe, here, being taken care of by him.

"You're okay. I'm here. Easy, just breathe," he whispered, holding me tightly to his chest.

When I'd finally run out of tears, I looked up at Preston helplessly. I didn't want to tell him. I knew it was selfish. Scarlett had been his partner, and the news would probably hurt him more than anyone else at the company. But my insides were burning and I could no longer be the only one who knew what had happened. I had to tell someone who would understand just how horrible it all was.

"He got her. He killed Scarlett," I whispered, feeling my brain go fuzzy, like I was about to black out.

"What?" Preston asked, his eyes growing wide.

"He killed her. In her bedroom—Scarlett's body—he took her eyes, Preston," I said, listlessly. It was like my brain wasn't quite connecting to my body anymore. I lay there, paralyzed, unable to move, breathe, think. I have no idea how long we sat like that, connected in silence and shock. Fifteen minutes. Fifteen seconds. Time ceased to exist in a way that I could understand.