Placing the jacket on the clean path, she straightened and returned her hands to the air. “I’m standing directly in the sunlight. No weapons. No phone. You can see for yourself.”
No response.
Her heart slammed against her ribs, her breaths quickening with the rush of her words.
“My name is Rylee. Originally from El Paso. I moved from there ten years ago because…uh… Well, I’ll get to that. I know you have a gun trained on me. I don’t blame you since you don’t know me or trust me. But believe me when I say I’m more afraid than you are right now. I mean, I can’t see you, but you can see me. That puts me at a disadvantage. So I’m just going to keep my hands up and slowly step inside. You said this floorboard creaks so…” She put her boot on it, listening to it protest beneath her slight weight. “Don’t shoot.”
With the windows covered and the door wide open, a single beam of sunlight stabbed through the darkness, illuminating dust particles like sparkles of glitter.
They made their way into her lungs, and she coughed, cringing as the hacking sound echoed through the house. Dusty boards, dusty drapes, dusty furniture. In the middle of the desert, there was no escape from the powdered sand that covered every surface and filled every crack. She coughed again, stirring up a maelstrom of dirt into the torpid air.
“I know you’re here, Tommy.” She squinted at the impenetrable shadows, her scalp crawling with dread. “Please, talk to me.”
A rustling sound swished on her left, and she spun toward it, gulping. “Tommy?”
Another soft noise whispered behind her. She whirled again, and the door slammed shut, dousing her in pitch blackness.
Sharp, icy fear shot through her, stiffening her joints and freezing her lungs. She tried to speak, but her voice abandoned her. She needed to move to a window and rip off the drapes, but her legs wouldn’t work.
Why hadn’t she thought to bring the flashlight from the truck?
Another dry cough erupted from her chest, and the wheezing unleashed her voice.
“I’m just going to start talking and try to explain, okay?” She cleared her throat, trembling with unease. “I married the love of my life twenty-three years ago. We had a beautiful life, a promising future, yadda, yadda, lots of superfluous words.” She hugged her waist, fighting down old anger as her senses strained in the dark. “Ten years ago, I walked in on him banging another woman. Maybe it’s not the same loss you experienced with Caroline, but I loved him. Every breath in my body was his. You know what it feels like to lose your entire world. But I’m not as strong as you. I wasn’t. I died that day and had every intention of killing myself for good. I told you how I acquired Caroline’s jacket. I never should’ve logged into the account you created for her. But there I was, standing on the edge of the Pecos River Bridge, when you sent the first email. I wasn’t going to read it. I was just going to delete the account and jump. I was going to die, Tommy. I had no reason to live. Until I saw the subject line of your message. I need you. Do you remember it?”
Her question hung in the dry air, her eyes wide and unblinking. The memory still hurt. The sticky, hateful slime in her stomach never faded. But she’d managed to keep breathing, keep functioning, even if she was dysfunctional as fuck.
She held still, listening for the sounds of his breaths, footsteps, anything to give away his location.
Seconds of tingling silence passed. He hadn’t shot her in the head yet, so that was something.
“You must think I’m a nutjob.” She wiped at the sweat gathering on her brow. “Anyone would think that if I told them about you. I haven’t. No one has seen your emails. But here’s the thing, Tommy. I’m not suicidal anymore. I want to walk out of here unharmed. So I made copies of your messages. They won’t be discovered unless I go missing. If I don’t return home when I’m expected, the authorities will find those copies and know that I drove here to meet with Tomas Owen Dine. I don’t want that to happen. I’m not here to hurt you. I have nothing to gain from that. I just want to talk.” She caught her breath. “Turn on the lights.”
Please, don’t kill me. Please, don’t kill me.
He didn’t make a sound. Nothing.
The longer he kept her in the dark, the more fearful and furious she became.
“I know you’re pissed.” She forced bravado into her tone. “Fine. Yell at me. Let me hear it. Act like a fucking adult and confront me.”
He still had some anonymity because she didn’t know what he looked like. But this wasn’t about him hiding his face. He was fucking with her.