If only he looked evil, then people could’ve seen the rot inside him sooner.
“How did you find me in San Francisco?” she asked.
He grinned. “It was luck. Destiny. A man I sold insurance to in New York, he showed me photos his mother had posted on social media. Of the lovely painting of flowers her sweet, friendly neighbor had painted for her.”
Savannah sucked in a breath. Mrs. Romero. God.
“And the shooting at the coffee shop?” she asked. “The man who broke into my place?”
Walkson winked. “I just wanted to scare you a little. Punishment for running from me.”
She shook her head. He was a monster.
Then she saw the knife in his hand, with blood dripping off it.
Savannah tensed. No. She looked back at Ella-Mae and saw blood on the girl’s shirt.
“You hurt her?”
“Just one little cut.” He smiled. “Nothing like what I gave you.”
“I’m here now, so let her go.”
He walked behind Ella-Mae’s chair and stroked the girl’s hair. She whimpered behind her gag.
“I’m not sure. She’s such a pretty thing. And so frightened.”
Savannah gritted her teeth. “You said if I came, you’d let her go.”
Walkson frowned, his face turning angry. “Yes, but I’m very mad at you Susannah. I think I need to punish you.”
She tried to stay calm. “You said you’d let her go. I’m here. It’s me you want.”
“Yes, but I’m angry.” He stroked Ella-Mae’s cheek. The teenager tried to pull away. “You ran from me for so long. And then you let him touch you. That big, overgrown pig.”
Savannah slid her hand into her pocket. Her hand curled around the hilt of the palette knife. Her pulse raced and she tried to focus. “I love him.”
“No, you love me!” Walkson’s face twisted. “You’re meant for me. Your art, the paintings you did, it was all for me.”
She bit her lip. Ella-Mae’s terrified, pleading gaze was locked on hers. “You need help—”
“I’m not crazy!” He whirled and kicked at an easel, knocking it over. It slammed into the wall.
“I didn’t say that.” Savannah kept her voice low and even. “Let Ella-Mae go, and we’ll talk.”
“You care more about her than me. You care more about that cop than me. About everyone more than me!” He whipped the knife up and pressed it to Ella-Mae’s cheek.
“No!” Savannah cried.
Tears rolled down the teenager’s cheeks.
“Please let her go,” Savannah said. “I’ll do anything.”
Walkson cocked his head. “You’ll do anything for me?”
“Yes.” Her stomach did a sickening turn.
He ran the tip of the knife down the girl’s cheek and a thin, red line of blood appeared.
Then he cut her gag off.
“Savannah.” Ella-Mae let out a wild sob.
“Don’t call her that.” Walkson yelled. He untied the girl’s bindings. “Her name is Susannah.”
“Just go, Ella-Mae.” Savannah steeled herself. “I want to be with Andrew. You need to go.”
She tried to urge the girl with her eyes to run as far and fast as she could.
Go and find Hunt.
Ella-Mae nodded, then stumbled past Savannah and into the hall.
Her running footsteps faded to nothing.
Savannah let out a breath. Ella-Mae was safe.
She looked at the smiling man who’d stalked and terrified her for years. Her hand tightened on the knife in her pocket.
She was done running. She was done being afraid.
“It’s just you and me now, Andrew.”
Chapter Eighteen
Driving away from yet another art studio—this one packed with budding artists attending a class, Hunt bit back his frustration.
Walkson had already had Savannah too long.
Hunt would kill the man if he’d hurt her.
What if Hunt didn’t make it in time? What if he wasn’t there for her when it mattered, just like he wasn’t there for Eric, Manny, and Mitchell?
“Hunt, stay with me,” Vander said from the driver’s seat.
“I’ve got a lock on it.” A shaky lock. “It could take days to check all these studios. The one he’s using might not even be listed.”
“We’re going to find her.”
Vander’s phone rang and he touched the screen on the dash.
“Vander.” Ace’s voice came through the speaker. “I’ve got something.”
“What?” Hunt demanded.
“Before Savannah turned off her phone, she did some searches on art studios. Hex had a nifty program and could zero in where Savannah stopped scrolling. Do these words mean anything? Bryant, Midway, Electra, Infinity—”
Hunt sucked in a breath. “Wait. Infinity. It’s a name of a painting she did. Fuck. It was the first piece that Walkson purchased of hers.”
“There’s an Infinity Studio in Nob Hill.”
“Address,” Vander barked. “Tell the others.”
Ace rattled it off.
Vander took the next corner fast, tires screeching. He sped down the street, and the traffic thickened. Hunt bit back a curse
“It’s not far,” Vander said.
“You need to stop a block away. We don’t want Walkson to know we’re there.”
Vander nodded.
Soon, they screeched into a parking spot on the street. Both men flung the doors open and Hunt started down the sidewalk.
“Hunt,” Vander said.
Hunt looked up and saw a terrified Ella-Mae sprinting down the sidewalk. Her blonde-brown hair flew out behind her.
“Ella-Mae!” he yelled.
The sobbing teenager saw him, adjusted course, and then threw herself at him.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you. Take some deep breaths.” Shit, there was blood on her cheek and shirt. She had no shoes on. “How badly are you hurt?”
“Not bad…” Her voice was unsteady. She gripped Hunt’s jacket. “He has Savannah. She came in and made him let me go.”
“I need to go and get her,” Hunt said.
Ella-Mae nodded, tears streaming down her face. “Savannah needs you. That guy is crazy.”
“Where are they in the studio?”
“The back room.”
“Ella-Mae, I’m Hunt’s friend, Vander.” Vander held out a key fob. “There’s a black BMW X6 parked down the street. Go and wait in it. I’ll have people come to get you.”
The teenager nodded, her fingers closing around the fob. “Go. Go and save Savannah.”
Hunt and Vander broke into a jog.
“Plan?” Vander asked.
“Did Ace send you schematics of the studio?”
“Yeah.” Vander pulled out his phone. “There’s a main area in front, and a hall to the back room.”
“Let’s go in quietly.” Hunt spotted the studio and pulled out his SIG.
Vander did the same.
Hunt slowly opened the front door. Vander slid inside, moving like a ghost. Hunt followed, easing the door closed behind him.