Follow Me Back Page 19

  “He calls you a bloodsucking leech, and you follow him. You fall for him. And me? Not even a follow back. Honestly, how stupid are you?”

  Tessa didn’t even register his words—too consumed with the bottle on the table. She suddenly remembered Dr. Regan’s final instructions before she left the house:

  If she starts to hyperventilate, give her two pills with a glass of water.

  If she could just get to that prescription bottle. Tessa shifted in her chair, awkwardly extending her leg as far to the left as it would go. So close. Just a few more inches…

  “What are you doing?” he snapped. “Stop that! Stop leaning. You’re ruining the shot!”

  Tessa lowered her leg and sat up straight again, planting both feet on the ground. She paused for a moment to suck in one more noseful of air. Then she jerked sideways with her full body. The chair legs screeched against the living room floor as she scooted an inch to the left.

  “Cut it out, Tessa! What the hell?”

  He took a step in her direction, but Tessa didn’t pay him any heed. She stuck out her foot again. This time she made contact with the tip of her toe. The bottle fell sideways, its contents rattling against the coffee table, and Blair stopped in his tracks. His whole face changed, so suddenly that it might have been comical under other circumstances. The anger evaporated, replaced by a mask of puppyish devotion.

  “Your pills?” he said softly. “Oh gosh, are you OK, love? Are you hyperventilating?” He set down his camera and rushed to her side, grabbing the medication off the table. “Tessa, are you having a panic attack? Just say so. Just nod if you need your pills.”

  She nodded vigorously.

  “Anxiety disorder,” he muttered. “You know, you never would’ve had this problem in the first place if you’d stuck with me.” Tessa flinched at the flare of disapproval that crossed his face, but he patted her knee reassuringly. “Don’t worry. There’s no need to panic, Tessa. You did me wrong, but I forgive you. I love you. I’m here to be a good boyfriend to you now.” He opened the bottle and shook out a few pills onto the table. “You take these with water, right?”

  Tessa nodded again. He stood and headed for the kitchen, and she slumped forward in relief.

  Now what? Her mind reeled with scattered thoughts. She needed a plan. She didn’t have much time. He would have to take the tape off her mouth when he gave her the pills. Should she try to scream then? Would Dr. Regan hear it from the car?

  Tessa shook her head. She couldn’t take the risk. If she screamed and no one heard…

  She let out a tiny whimper. No, she couldn’t scream. Not from here. She tried desperately to focus, but she could barely summon the energy to put together a coherent thought. Her mind kept going back against her will, like a swimmer fighting against the current. Back to that other time…the time before. Last June.

  She hadn’t screamed that night either. She’d somehow had the presence of mind to swallow her terror. She’d woken in the dark in an unfamiliar room, and she’d known she wasn’t alone. She’d sensed his presence beside her. He’d stirred, and she’d whispered soothingly, barely louder than a breath:

  “Shhhhhhh. Go back to sleep.”

  He’d rolled over in the bed, and she hadn’t stopped to look at him as she’d stumbled for the door.

  THE INTERROGATION

  (FRAGMENT 9)

  December 31, 2016 9:17 p.m.

  Case #: 124.678.21–001

  OFFICIAL TRANSCRIPT OF POLICE INTERROGATION

  —START PAGE 9—

  INVESTIGATOR: Tessa, I need you to stay as calm as you possibly can right now, so that I can take your complete statement. Let’s talk about Blair Duncan.

  HART: If you want me to tell you what happened last summer, I can’t. Anything but that. I can’t talk about that.

  INVESTIGATOR: That’s all right, Tessa. We have a full account from the direct messages you sent over Twitter last night. I’ve just been reading through them. If you like, I can go ahead and read your messages into the record. All you have to do is listen and confirm whether you want to make them a part of your official statement. Can you manage that?

  HART: I think so.

  INVESTIGATOR: Let the record show that I’m looking at a series of multiple direct messages sent from the Twitter account @TessaHeartsEric to the Twitter account @EricThornSucks. The first time stamp is December 30 at 11:56 p.m., and the messages continue without interruption until 12:17 a.m. The messages begin, and I quote:

  “I’m not completely sure when it started. I think it might have been the first weekend of the program.” End of message.

  “It was a summer fine arts program sponsored by the university. Really hard to get into. People came from all around the region for different things. Creative writing, music, painting, filmmaking, photography…” End of message.

  “We were all staying in the empty dorms. I didn’t do a lot of sleeping…or creative writing either. It was pretty much partying every night.” End of message.

  “We went out a lot that first weekend, club-hopping different places. I think that’s where he first saw me. At one of those clubs.” End of message.

  INVESTIGATOR: Tessa, I’m going to break here for a moment. The events you’re describing took place in New Orleans?

  HART: Yes.

  INVESTIGATOR: Can you remember the name of the club where you first encountered this individual?

  HART: I don’t know. There was a bunch of places. I can visualize what it looked like inside, but I don’t know the name.

  INVESTIGATOR: To the best of your recollection, was it more of a dance club? Or would you describe it as more like a venue for a music concert?

  HART: More like a concert. A bar with a live band.

  INVESTIGATOR: OK, thank you. I’m going to continue now with the next message in the thread. The time stamp is 11:59 p.m. And I quote:

  “It was super crowded, and I kept feeling this guy creeping up on me.” End of message.

  “I shrugged it off at the time, but I started having this weird sensation afterward. Like this nagging feeling that someone was following me.” End of message.

  “It went on for the next four weeks. I would walk down the street and feel sure there was someone behind me. But when I turned to look…nothing.” End of message.

  “I told myself I was just being paranoid, but it kept getting worse and worse. It started happening in my dorm room too.” End of message.

  “I would get this weird feeling like someone was watching me through the window. But when I went to look outside, I didn’t see anyone.” End of message.

  “So then I really started to lose it. I started keeping my blinds shut all the time, but it didn’t really help.” End of message.

  “I would go to bed and wake up with this feeling that someone had been watching me while I slept.” End of message.

  “I started having trouble sleeping. So that’s when I started drinking a lot more. Just to take the edge off.” End of message.

  “I guess that was a mistake. The drinking. I still don’t know for sure if it was just the alcohol that night or if he slipped something in my drink.” End of message.

  HART: Stop. That’s enough.

  INVESTIGATOR: OK, Tessa. We’re almost done. Just a few more messages to go now.

  HART: Do you really have to read the rest out loud? We both know what it says.

  25

  RECALCULATING

  “9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

  Eric gripped the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white. He’d pushed his Ferrari’s engine as fast as it would go, but he eased off the gas slightly as he leaned into the speakerphone.

  “Send the police! There’s a girl—a break-in! Someone’s trying to break into a house.”

  Not exactly but close enough. He didn’t have time to explain the truth. They’d sort it out once they got there. Right now, he needed to say whatever it took to get the police to Tessa’s door. The text from Maury had
just come through moments earlier.

  “Three Sycamore Lane,” Eric said into the phone. “Hurry!”

  “Sir, did you get a look at the suspect? Could you describe him for me?”

  “It’s a girl. A teenage girl!”

  “A female? Acting alone?”

  “Yeah, but…but she’s armed. Definitely dangerous. I think she might have a gun. Seriously, hurry up!”

  “Police are on their way, sir. Anything else you can give me by way of a description?”

  “Maybe five foot nine. Green eyes. Dark hair. Skinny legs. Wearing a dark hoodie sweatshirt.”

  He clicked to end the call and drove down the deserted road in silence, trying not to think. Failing. At least Tessa had her therapist along for the ride, he reassured himself. She wouldn’t be alone.

  Would she? Would Tessa even go along with it, when she saw that it was a girl? Maybe not. Maybe it was all a big false alarm. He was freaking out over nothing. Tessa was way too paranoid to bring some stranger back to her house.

  But then why wasn’t she checking DMs or answering her phone? Maury had texted him Tessa’s phone number, but the call went straight to voice mail. Something had to be wrong. Seriously wrong.

  Dangerously wrong.

  Eric glanced at the clock on his dashboard. Nine minutes had passed since he left the club. He needed to concentrate on driving. He couldn’t afford to dwell on all the horrifying possibilities. Not if he had any hope of getting to Tessa in time. With an effort, he forced himself to focus on the directions coming from his GPS.

  In one half mile, take ramp on right…

  Proceed on the current route…

  Left turn ahead…

  Recalculating…

  “Shit,” he swore, brakes squealing. He’d missed a turn in the darkness. Hadn’t they ever heard of streetlights around here? He swiveled his head, straining to make out anything that could pass for a sign. Long stretches of black nothingness flanked the poorly lit back road, with a few scattered houses set far back from the curb.

  • • •

  Tessa shrank down in her chair as the unbearable memories crashed over her in surging waves. She’d be neck-deep in the flashback soon. She couldn’t let that happen. Blair was coming back, and she still hadn’t figured out a plan. She needed to stay focused—concentrate on getting out of here and let the terror overtake her afterward. She closed her eyes, and her thoughts drifted back to their usual safe harbor.

  Eric. Eric Thorn.

  “No,” she moaned inside her head. She couldn’t afford to start projecting now, even if it helped to ease the panic. She didn’t have time for this! But she couldn’t shake the old, familiar image that she saw behind her closed eyelids: Eric’s face, looking over his shoulder, frozen with fear.

  Tessa’s eyes snapped open.

  “Eric,” she tried to whisper in spite of the tape that covered her mouth. A new thought had just struck her. The answer to a question that had haunted her for months—a question that her therapist had reflected back to her time and time again:

  I just don’t understand why I chose him. Why Eric Thorn of all people?

  You tell me, Tessa. Why do you think you’ve fixated on him?

  The answer was so obvious. How had she failed to see it before? She knew exactly why she’d obsessed over Eric. Not because she liked the way he looked or the sound of his voice. Because she identified with him. When she looked at his picture and saw fear on his face, she recognized herself. It wasn’t just projection. She understood firsthand where his anxiety came from—the same source as her own worst fears.

  The fans.

  That’s what she had in Blair, when she came right down to it. A fan. A fanatical follower who loved her too much, like the fangirls who stalked Eric’s every move. Not one of the casual fans, who were content to buy his music and reply to his tweets. No, she had one of the dangerous ones—the fans who wanted their crush to love them back so badly that they convinced themselves it was true.

  She heard a different voice inside her head now. Not Dr. Regan. The memory of a reporter’s voice, crackling from her TV.

  Such a class act. That could have turned ugly so easily…

  You can tell he’s had his share of run-ins with overeager fans…

  How did Eric deal with the obsessed ones? Tessa knew the answer. She’d seen it with her own eyes. She remembered the whole scene now, the way it had played out on her TV screen in blurry cell phone videos.

  He’d looked deep into that girl’s eyes, and his lips had formed the magic words—words that Tessa couldn’t hear, but she could guess their meaning. The words that his pursuer wanted to hear above all others. The lies that every fangirl dreams of hearing from her idol:

  “I see you… I notice you… I know that you exist… I love you back… I love you too…”

  Tessa heard the kitchen tap turn off, followed by the sound of Blair’s hurried footsteps. He was coming back, but she felt her fear receding. She sat up and squared her shoulders. She knew what she needed to do.

  “OK, Tessa. Ready?”

  Ready, she confirmed inside her head.

  “I’m going to take off the duct tape now, but you have to promise me you won’t do something stupid. No screaming. Do you promise?”

  Tessa nodded calmly.

  “Good girl.” He set the water glass down on the coffee table and peeled away the tape with one hand. In his other hand, all the while, he gripped the butcher knife in a tight fist.

  “There now,” he said gently as he eased away the tape. “Sorry it’s so sticky, Tessa. Am I hurting you?”

  “No,” she answered once her lips were free. She forced her mouth to curve into a smile. “Thank you. I’m OK now. I feel so much better.”

  “You do?” His brow crinkled with concern. “You’re not having a panic attack anymore?”

  “No, no,” she said, smiling even brighter. “I think it was just the tape making me hyperventilate. I wasn’t scared. Why would I be scared?”

  He tilted his head to one side, examining her face. “You were going to scream before, when I caught you snooping in my bag. I had to put my hand over your mouth. Don’t lie to me.” The knife flashed in front of her face. Tessa bit back a gasp and forced herself to laugh instead.

  “Of course I was going to scream, Blair. I just realized who you were! I was excited. That’s what all girls do when we’re excited. We scream!” She laughed again. “You’re so funny. I can’t believe you tied me up. I’m not afraid of you. I love you.”

  His eyes narrowed, and Tessa held her breath.

  “Then why did you run away from me last summer?” he asked. “Why did you leave me in the middle of the night like that, Tessa? You just left. You didn’t even say good-bye.”

  Tessa’s smile faltered slightly. Her mind raced for an explanation that would convince him. “That’s true,” she admitted. “I was scared of you in New Orleans. I think you just came on a little too strong. But that was all before…before I really knew you. You were still a stranger to me then. I know you so much better now!”

  “Bullshit.”

  The word hit her like a gut punch. It wasn’t working. Tessa blinked and looked down at her knees.

  “That’s bullshit, and you know it,” he said, his voice low and intense. “Before you really knew me? What’s that supposed to mean, Tessa? We were together! I loved you. I treated you right. And you…you loved me too.” His voice rose higher and higher as he continued. “And then all of a sudden, out of nowhere…poof! Gone. Not one word of explanation. Like I meant nothing to you. Like I never even existed!”

  “Blair,” she whispered. “It wasn’t like that.”

  Tessa saw her mistake now—a slight miscalculation. She hadn’t realized just how deeply his delusions ran. He must have concocted a whole fictional love affair inside his head and convinced himself that it was real. She was in too deep now to backtrack. Her only hope was to go with it. Play along, just like Eric had done. He’d held tha
t girl in his arms and whisked her around the stage, and she’d let him waltz her right into the hands of his waiting bodyguards.

  Tessa gave up trying to smile and schooled her features into a coquettish pout. “You say you love me, Blair, but I know it isn’t true. Don’t lie to me.”

  His eyes went wide, incredulous. “Of course I do! How can you say that?”

  Tessa shook her head. “Actions speak louder than words. This was supposed to be a special night for us, and you tied me to a chair. How is that supposed to make me feel?” She lifted her eyes and gazed up at him through veiled lashes. His face changed at the accusation in her words. He lowered the knife to his side.

  “Tessa, I’m sorry.”

  She glared at him indignantly but not with the true disgust she felt—more like the kind of look she used to cast at Scott in the middle of some petty argument.

  “Tessa,” Blair tried again. “Don’t be mad. I have to do this after the way you treated me…after you ran away. You see that, right?”

  She nodded slowly, pretending to agree. “I know. I’m sorry I acted that way. Blair, please.” She raised her eyes to him again, imploring. “We were so good together before. I just want things to go back to the way they were.”

  “That’s what I want too!” He dropped to his knees in front of her and wrapped his arms around her legs, resting his face in her lap. “That’s all I want, Tessa. Just like it was before.”

  Tessa ignored the bitter taste rising in her throat. She awkwardly positioned her bound wrists beside his head and stroked her fingers through the clumps of unwashed hair. “It’s not too late,” she said softly. “Don’t you remember what we said last night?”

  “Last night?” He lifted his head from where it rested on her knees. “Who? Me? When?”

  “Over DM!” she went on. “We said we would dance. Remember?”

  “No, you said that with—”

  But Tessa plowed on before he could protest. She was so close now. She could sense his resolve crumbling with each new lie she told. “I want to dance with you, Blair. Just you and me. It’s not too late. Untie me so we can dance.”