And now that choice may very well be the thing that ended up killing her.
Look around you, baby girl. You’re not that far from the van. Just keep moving on the path you’re on, and you’ll be okay.
The sound of her mom’s voice echoing through the wind had Cera scanning their immediate area. Oh, she knew it was her own subconscious breaking through and not actually her mom’s spirit coming back from the grave to help her.
But it didn’t make the imagined words any less true.
It was hard as hell to see much of anything other than snow, but the split-second dips in the wind’s currents made the skies the tiniest bit clearer. Only for a moment, and only a little. But still.
Following her dead mom’s imagined guidance was her only hope at figuring out if her efforts were in vain. So she kept trying.
With every labored step, Cera tried to find the damaged van. With each fiery breath of her lungs, she forced herself to forge ahead. The one good thing she had going for her…
Dr. Randall looked like he could collapse at any minute.
Struggling to breathe, the man’s steps had become visibly slower. Where she might be cold—colder than she ever thought possible—she was younger and in better shape.
Which gave her the advantage.
A new plan began to form as Cera continued trekking through the dangerous winter weather. Having been keeping an eye on Randall as he forced her back to where they’d wrecked, she could see the gun trembling in his shaking fist.
“W-why d-did you d-do th-that?” Her abductor’s teeth chattered loudly as they hiked. “I w-wasn’t g-going to h-hurt y-you.”
The man’s entire body was shaking. Hers, too, but not nearly as violently as his. And since he’d still only been wearing a pair of jeans, a button-down, and that thin jumpsuit used as a disguise to get him into The Douglas, Cera was willing to bet his core body temperature was dropping well into dangerous levels.
“Like I c-can believe anything y-you s-say,” she spat back angrily.
“I’d n-never hurt y-you!” The crazed man pointed the gun at her. “I c-care about y-you!”
“You stalked m-me!” She shot a glare in his direction. “Every…thing…you d-did hurt m-me! Y-you r-ruined m-my ch-chance at becoming a c-cop. Made it impossible to m-make friends or have any k-kind of romantic r-relation…ship...”
“Th-those m-men weren’t g-good enough f-for y-you, any…w-way.” Dr. Randall stumbled, but managed to stay upright. “Y-you’re too g-good for any of th-them. T-too good for that p-private investi…gator, t-too.”
What the hell?
“You sabotaged m-my life to k-keep me from b-becoming involved with anyone?”
Dear God. This man was sicker than she already thought.
“I knew the f-first time w-we met, y-you were sp-special,” he claimed. “And I w-was right. Y-you needed me.”
“I did.” And she hated that truth more than ever before. “D-don’t any…more.”
Because that was what had started his insane obsession. Cera had figured it out on the drive, and Dr. Randall hadn’t denied it.
As long as she was nearby and could keep her regular, in-person appointments with him, things were fine. It was when she decided to branch out on her own two years ago that the man had snapped.
“D-don’t say th-that, Cera.” He was talking softer now, but his words were coming out a little less shaky. “Y-you’re my responsibility.”
Keep him talking, sweetheart. If he stops feeling cold, he’s all but dead. Keep him talking. Wear him down. Just be careful you don’t wear yourself out in the process.
The voice rolling through her mind that time wasn’t her mother’s. It was Ivan’s.
Almost as if he were suddenly there, walking right beside her, Cera felt better. Stronger. And the urge to beat Randall at his own game was more powerful than ever.
“I’m n-not yours to w-watch ov-ver, T-Tim.” She gave up the formalities and used his first name. “N-not any…m-more.”
God, she was cold. So, so cold.