INSTALOVE

Chapter 45: Tased and Confused

Chapter 45: Tased and Confused

E L L I E

Emerson inches closer, brandishing his taser-phone. I hold my breath as he approaches and raise my palms before me like a shield.

What the hell is wrong with him? His sister has a head injury, and he's seriously considering using that thing on me as well?

He stops a few feet from where I stand, and he stoops down. I breathe a little easier as my eyes follow his movements. He reaches for an object at his feet. The visor... Eleanor's visor... Reese must have dropped it when she hit her head.  

Emerson stuffs his phone in his pocket and picks up the visor with both hands. He stares at it for a long moment, cradling it gently between his fingers. Then, with a sudden violent movement, he cracks the frame against his thigh. The plastic snaps, exposing the wiring within. He yanks at a few metallic strands and then heaves the whole destroyed visor off to his left. My stomach clutches as I watch it fly over the edge of the cliff and careen downward, bouncing off the rocks, before it disappear from view into the fog-cloaked lake.

"Why?" I start to say, but the question dies in my throat. I know exactly why he did that. Destroying evidence. The visor's outer casing may be waterproof, but the inner circuitry will corrode once it's exposed to the elements. Any data it contained—any proof of my innocence and Emerson's guilt...

Gone. Wiped away.

He controls the corporate server where any records would be stored. That visor was my only hope. And now it's lost forever.

I have the worst feeling. I swallow hard, swaying slightly on my feet, as Emerson lifts his steely eyes to me again.

Why do I get the sense that those glasses aren't the only evidence he intends to discard over the edge? I don't know what he's capable of doing. Once I make that video confession, there's no telling what he might do—what lengths he might travel to make sure I'm not around to contradict my recorded statement.

I have to get out of here. Now. While his taser-phone is still lodged in his pocket.  This might be my only chance. If I can just dodge past him to the safety of the trees...

I lunge forward, but I'm too slow. Emerson doesn't tase me, but he lurches sideways to block my path. He grabs me by the wrist and wrenches my arm behind my back.

I let out a yelp of pain as his grip on my arm tightens. I try to turn my head, but something stops me—the hard plastic case of Emerson's cellphone, no longer tucked away. He presses it firmly against my temple.

"Don't be stupid," his voice growls in my ear. "Just do what I say, and we can put this whole mess behind us."

No. I don't believe you.

I think the words, but I don't say them out loud. I'm not sure I could speak if I wanted to. I'm frozen. Panicked questions swirl inside my head.

If he tases me, then what?

Will I fall?

Will I lose consciousness?

Will he toss me over like the visor? Tell the authorities my guilty conscience made me jump?

"Stop," I whisper. "I'll do it. OK? I'll make the video. Just let me go!"

I can't tell if he heard me. The taser remains against the side of my head as he shuffles me closer to the precipice. I squeeze my eyes closed, not daring look down at the angry water crashing against the rocks. I can feel the police caution tape slap against my shins as it rustles in the wind.

"Please," I say a little louder, unable to take another step without tripping. "Please stop. Please!"

He loosens his grip on my arm. "OK," he says calmly. "Turn around and face me. We'll take the video here."

I do as he says with my hands raised in the air. He aims the camera lens at my face, ready to record my statement.

"What do you want me say again?" I ask, wrapping my arms around my body to stop from shaking.

But I don't listen to his answer. The truth is, I don't intend to say a word. I'm playing for time, trying desperately to formulate a plan.

His eyes leave my face and go to his cellphone screen.

"Hold on," he murmurs. "You're out of focus."

The rain feels like it's finally letting up as the storm moves further out over the lake, but the rock beneath my feet is treacherously soaked. I glance down and my stomach rises to my throat. A mere six inches of slick rock separate my heels from the ledge.

How do I get out of this? How?

I don't dare attempt to push past Emerson a second time. There's no telling where I might skid if we collide...

He raises his eyes from the cellphone, meeting mine. "Go ahead," he orders. "Tell the camera what you just told me."

"Wh-what?"

"Tell us who reset the parameter. Don't be scared. Was it you?"

I still don't have a plan, and I'm running out of time. I stare into Emerson's camera lens and open my mouth to speak, but I clamp my lips closed again before I utter a word.

This isn't over. Not just yet. A flash of movement just caught my peripheral vision from the trees behind Emerson's back.

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