# Chapter 13: The Call

# Chapter 13: The Call


My phone—Adrian's phone that I'd stolen—started ringing. The caller ID showed my own name.

He was calling me from my own phone, which meant he'd recovered it from where I'd thrown it in the woods. Or maybe he'd had a backup all along.

I answered on the fourth ring.

"Hello, Emma." His voice was calm despite what must have been a significant head injury. "I have to admit, I'm impressed. That was the first genuinely unpredictable thing you've done since I started studying you."

"Stay away from me."

"I'm afraid I can't do that. You've seen too much, taken too much evidence. But I want you to know that I'm not angry about the assault. If anything, it proves that you have the survival instincts necessary for our life together."

"There is no life together. There is no us. You're a criminal, and I have evidence of everything you've done."

"Evidence that you stole by breaking into my property and assaulting me. Evidence that any competent lawyer would have dismissed as inadmissible. Evidence that local police would struggle to understand or act upon."

He was right, and we both knew it. The complexity of what he'd done, the sophistication of the psychological manipulation, the fact that most of his actions were technically legal—it would be nearly impossible to prosecute.

"The FBI will understand."

"Agent Park is a competent investigator, but she's been trying to build a case against me for two years without success. I'm very careful about jurisdiction issues, Emma. Each of my activities was conducted in a different state, making it difficult to establish federal charges."

"You've been monitoring the FBI investigation?"

"I've been monitoring everything that could affect our future together. Including Agent Park's attempts to connect my previous relationships to federal crimes. She's gotten close a few times, but never quite close enough."

Through the truck stop's windows, I could see headlights turning into the parking lot. A dark sedan, moving slowly as if searching for something.

"Are you here?" I asked.

"I'm everywhere you might go, Emma. I told you—I've been planning for this contingency for years. Did you really think one blow to the head would stop me?"

"What do you want?"

"I want you to walk outside calmly and get into the dark blue sedan that just pulled up to pump number four. We can continue our conversation somewhere more private."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then other people will get hurt. The truck driver at pump six has a wife and three children in Oklahoma. The cashier working the night shift is putting herself through nursing school. The elderly couple in the RV are celebrating their fiftieth anniversary."

The threat was implicit but clear. If I didn't cooperate, Adrian would involve innocent people in whatever came next.

"You wouldn't hurt strangers."

"I would do whatever was necessary to protect our future together. You of all people should understand that by now."

I looked around the truck stop at the innocent people going about their late-night routines, unaware that they'd become pawns in a psychopath's game. The truck driver Adrian had mentioned was filling up his rig, talking on his phone to someone—probably his wife. The cashier was helping a customer with lottery tickets, smiling despite the late hour.

"I need a guarantee," I said. "If I come with you, you leave everyone else alone."

"You have my word."

"Your word means nothing."

"Then you have my self-interest. Involving civilians would only complicate things unnecessarily. I prefer elegant solutions, Emma. You know that about me."

The dark sedan's engine was still running, exhaust visible in the cold night air. I could see a figure in the driver's seat, but the windows were tinted too dark to make out any details.

"How do I know you won't just kill me once we're away from witnesses?"

"Because killing you would defeat the entire purpose of everything I've worked for. I don't want you dead, Emma. I want you compliant."

"There's a difference?"

"There's a world of difference. Dead people can't appreciate the gifts they've been given. They can't grow into their full potential or explore the depths of human connection."

The rationalization was as twisted as ever, but I believed him about not wanting to kill me. Adrian was too narcissistic to destroy his own masterpiece. He needed me alive to validate his delusions about love and transformation.

But compliance and survival weren't the same thing either.

"If I get in that car, where are we going?"

"Somewhere we can have an honest conversation about your options. I promise you'll be physically safe as long as you don't try anything as dramatic as that flashlight to the head."

I looked at the USB drive containing all his files, then at the innocent people around me who had no idea they were in danger. The choice wasn't really a choice at all.

"I'm coming out," I said. "But Adrian? This isn't over. Someone knows where I am, someone has copies of your files. If I disappear, people will look for me."

"I'm counting on it," he replied, which was not the response I'd been expecting. "The next phase of our relationship requires a certain amount of external pressure to reach its full potential."

He hung up, leaving me to wonder what new manipulation he was planning.

I walked slowly toward the exit, my mind racing through possibilities. The truck stop's security cameras would record me leaving voluntarily. To anyone watching, it would look like I was meeting a friend, not being kidnapped by a stalker.

Outside, the dark sedan waited at pump four as promised. The rear door opened as I approached, and I saw Adrian sitting in the back seat. A large bandage covered the wound on his head, but otherwise he looked surprisingly composed for someone who'd been unconscious twenty minutes ago.

"Get in," he said gently. "It's time we had our real conversation."

I hesitated at the car door, knowing that once I got inside, I would be completely at his mercy. The USB drive felt heavy in my pocket—evidence of his crimes, but also potentially useless if I couldn't get it to the right people.

"Emma," Adrian said, his voice taking on that patient, almost fatherly tone that I'd come to hate. "You're thinking about running again. You're calculating distances to other vehicles, wondering if you could make it to the truck stop's entrance before I caught you. But you've already done the math, haven't you? You know I've planned for every contingency."

He was right. Even if I could outrun him to the building, he'd already demonstrated his willingness to involve innocent people. And somewhere in the darkness beyond the truck stop's lights, there might be others working with him.

"Who's driving?" I asked, nodding toward the shadowy figure behind the wheel.

"A friend. Someone who understands the importance of what we're building together."

I slid into the back seat, keeping as much distance as possible between Adrian and myself. The door closed with a solid thunk that sounded unnaturally final.

The driver pulled away from the pump without a word, and I got my first clear look at him in the rearview mirror. He was younger than Adrian, maybe early thirties, with the kind of clean-cut appearance that would make him invisible in a crowd. When our eyes met in the mirror, he smiled—not friendly, but satisfied, like someone who'd successfully completed a difficult task.

"Emma, meet Marcus," Adrian said. "Marcus has been helping me with the more technical aspects of our project. The surveillance equipment, the digital monitoring, the logistics of tracking someone across multiple states."

Marcus nodded politely, as if we were being introduced at a dinner party instead of during what was essentially a kidnapping.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Somewhere more conducive to honest conversation," Adrian replied. "The truck stop was useful for demonstrating a point, but it's hardly the right environment for the kind of discussion we need to have."

As we drove through the dark countryside, I tried to memorize landmarks, road signs, anything that might help me later. But the rural highway offered few reference points, just endless stretches of forest occasionally broken by farmhouses with darkened windows.

"You're probably wondering why I let you see so much," Adrian said after several minutes of silence. "The surveillance trailer, the files, the evidence of my previous relationships. It seems counterproductive, doesn't it?"

I didn't respond, but he continued anyway.

"The truth is, Emma, we've reached the point in our relationship where complete honesty is not only possible but necessary. You needed to understand the full scope of what I've built for us, the years of careful planning and preparation. Most people never get to see behind the curtain of their own transformation."

"Transformation into what?"

"Into who you were always meant to be. Someone who understands that love—real love—requires complete knowledge of the beloved. Someone who appreciates dedication and sacrifice. Someone who recognizes that ordinary relationships, built on lies and partial truths, are pale shadows of what's possible between two people who truly see each other."

The car turned off the highway onto a narrow dirt road that disappeared into thick woods. My heart rate spiked as I realized we were heading somewhere remote, somewhere no one would hear if I screamed.

"You're afraid," Adrian observed. "That's natural. Change is always frightening, even when it's for the better. But I want you to know that whatever happens next, it comes from a place of love. Everything I've done, every sacrifice I've made, has been for us."