Arrested again? What does that mean? I blinked a couple of times, looking over my shoulder, trying to get my emotions under control. Zach scowled down at me as he took a step back, holding up his hands innocently. His eyes were concerned as he regarded me worriedly.

I gulped, pushing myself up to sitting, keeping my eyes on him in case anything happened. Was it just coincidence that those texts were received saying someone could see me and then Zach was there? I didn’t know the answer. But just the fact that he was standing there was surely a sign of his innocence. The police had let him go, which meant they hadn’t found anything in his house that connected him to the phone calls.

“Are you okay? What were you running like that for? You looked like you were going to shit a brick,” he muttered, lowering his hands, moving slowly as if he was trying not to startle me or anything.

“I was frightened. I…” I gulped, my voice barely above a whisper. “I need to go. There’s someone watching me. I need to get home!” I awkwardly tried to push myself up but as soon as I got half way an agonising pain shot through my ankle making me drop down to the floor again and yelp.

My eyes glazed over as I clenched my jaw, trying to think of anything else. Zach squatted down in front of me, his hands instantly going to my ankle. “Stay still. Let me see,” he cooed.

“I need to go home,” I croaked, looking longingly at my car before glancing up and down the street, waiting for some knife wielding maniac to jump out and hack me to pieces. My whole body was trembling now. Cold seemed to seep into my very veins, turning my blood into ice. My teeth knocked together loudly, so I clenched my jaw, trying to keep myself focussed by watching what Zach was doing.

Zach shook his head, carefully unlacing my sneaker and easing it off along with my sock. “Let me just take a look and make sure it’s not broken before we move you,” he instructed. I closed my eyes as he felt and prodded at my ankle causing more pain to erupt in little bursts. “This isn’t broken. I think it’s just sprained,” he said finally.

All of a sudden my emotions got the better of me and I burst into tears, covering my face with scratched hands and pulling my good leg up to my chest.

“Maisie, shh, it’s alright. Are you okay?” Zach’s voice was soft as one of his hands stroked the back of my head and the other rubbed on my shin.

I peeked through my fingers, seeing that he was looking at me with worried eyes. “I’m okay. It’s just my ankle really,” I croaked.

He groaned, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to my temple. “Let me see these,” he cooed, taking hold of my wrists and pulling my hands away from my face. I looked down at my hands too, seeing lots of tiny scrapes and grazes with blood oozing out in parts. “These don’t look too bad. We should get the dirt out though.” He pulled the bottom of his sweatshirt up, wiping my hands gently, brushing off the dirt and little stones that were there before blotting the blood away. “I suppose you think I’m the one that killed Sandy too, huh? That’s why you were running from me,” he observed, his voice sad as he kept his gaze firmly locked on my hands.

I gulped. Did I think it was him? I was just frightened in the heat of the moment; I didn’t know that the guy who shouted my name was Zach. Would I have run if I did? I didn’t think so. Now that I knew it was him, my heart rate had started to slow down, the fear had started to ebb away, and I was actually incredibly glad that he was here. I wasn’t frightened of him in the slightest as he crouched there tending to my wounds.

“I didn’t know it was you that shouted me,” I explained. “I was already frightened and then I saw a shadowy figure in the street shouting my name, and I freaked out even more.” I hissed through my teeth as he turned his attention to my knees, rolling up my jeans so he could see the scratches there too. “And I don’t think you killed Sandy,” I added confidently. I didn’t know why I was so sure that it wasn’t him, I barely even knew him, but what I did know about him told me that he wouldn’t knowingly hurt a girl. A guy, yes, but a girl, no.

His lips parted as he turned his head, his gaze meeting mine. His eyes shone with gratitude in the darkness as his fingers deftly worked to roll my jeans up over my sore knees. “Well you and Olivia are the only ones that seem to believe that,” he muttered somewhat angrily. “Why were you frightened in the first place?” he asked, frowning.

I gulped. Zach didn’t know much about the harassment that had been going on. Other than family, I’d only told Charlotte, Beth and Luke. All Zach knew was that Chester had been poisoned because I told him at school the other day. “Some things have been going on recently. Someone’s been harassing me. I’ve been getting threatening letters and phone calls.”

His head snapped up at that. “Seriously? Wait, phone calls? Is that why the police kept asking me if I had another phone? They think I’m the one that’s harassing you?” he asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

I shrugged, looking away from him because I actually felt terrible that he’d been arrested for it. “I guess so. The person broke into my house and poisoned Chester, which is why they were asking you about fingerprints in my house and on his collar,” I explained.

He sucked in a deep breath through his teeth, nodding slowly as if everything was now dropping into place and he understood what was going on. “That makes sense now. They just kept asking and asking how I explained my prints being on the collar and in your house. It’s so stupid. Of course I touched your dog, it was hard not to when he’s jumping around your feet asking to be petted,” he muttered. “And then they were asking about a phone, where I put it, where I bought it, that kind of thing, but I didn’t really know what they were talking about. Now it makes sense.”

I nodded, tentatively touching one of the cuts on my knee and wincing when it burned. “Apparently the number that keeps calling and messaging me, called Sandy an hour before she was murdered,” I added, my voice wavering as the trembling in my body seemed to double.

His eyes widened as his grip on my hands tightened. “The person who killed Sandy is contacting you too? No freaking wonder why they were busting my ass in there. They were relentless. Now everything makes sense.” He stood up, looking up the street. “There’s a café open up there. Let’s get you off the cold floor and in there in the warm. I’ll get you some ice for that foot before it swells too badly. I’ll take you home in a little while,” he suggested, before bending down and picking up my purse for me, collecting all of the contents and shoving it back inside.

He grabbed my shoe and sock, slipping it under his armpit before standing up and holding down both hands to me. I smiled gratefully and placed my hands in his, letting him pull me to my feet, trying not to wince as the little scratches ached on my hands. “Keep that foot off the floor,” he instructed, looping my arm over his shoulder and wrapping his other arm around my waist, taking most of my weight. I nodded in agreement, not planning to put it on the floor anyway because the ache was already bad enough and I didn’t want to make it any worse.

He looked down, frowning before reaching down and brushing his hand over my butt a couple of times, obviously wiping something from there. I gasped, shocked by his hands on my body. “Shouldn’t you a-ask before you start f-feeling me up in the middle of the s-street?” I joked weakly, stuttering as the shivering started to get worse.

His eyes widened and he whipped his hand away quickly, a subtle blush forming on his cheekbones as he looked away and up the street. “Sorry. You have mud and dirt all over you, I didn’t mean…” He shook his head, tightening his jaw.

I couldn’t help but chuckle at how uncomfortable he was. “I was k-kidding,” I muttered, giggling at his horrified expression. I hadn’t taken Zach for the innocent type; he was always so cocky and self-assured. Why was he so embarrassed to have touched my behind? It was obvious that it was an innocent move.

He sighed deeply. “Maisie, you’re shaking. I’m not sure if you’re going into shock,” he muttered.

I shook my head at that, tightening my arm around his neck as I shifted my weight on my good foot. “I-I’m f-fine. Just c-cold,” I stuttered as another shiver racked my body.

His eyes tightened. “Come on. Let’s get you in there so you can sit,” he said, nodding at the café again.

Awkwardly, we hobbled and hopped up the street to the café with Zach taking most of my weight as we went. As he pushed open the door and helped me inside, the smell of coffee hit me in the face making me moan in appreciation. The warmth of the place was a little overwhelming on my skin, but it was like my insides had frozen solid. The place was deserted.

The waiter looked up as we walked in, a startled expression on his face. “Is she alright?” he asked, coming over to us quickly.

Zach nodded, letting the door swing shut behind us. “She just fell. I think she might be going into shock though. Can you make some tea with lots of sugar, and then get some ice for her ankle?” he asked, leading me over to the nearest table and helping me into one of the metal chairs. The waiter disappeared. Zach smiled down at me as he pulled off his black hoodie and then crouched down in front of me. “Put this on,” he ordered, already pushing it down over my head.

“You’re so b-bossy,” I griped. He chuckled, and I leant forward in the chair, letting him help me put my arms into the oversized material.

The waiter came back then, setting down a mug of watery brown liquid in front of me and a jug of milk. “Sugar is there,” he said, motioning to a glass pot with a spout on the table. “I’ll just get some ice,” he added before stalking off again.

Zach stood up, grabbing the sugar pot and tipping it into the tea. I cringed and shook my head. “I don’t t-take s-sugar,” I mumbled almost incoherently as I tried to reach for his hand to stop him putting in more.

He shook his head, taking my hand in his and tipping the pot up another three times. “Today you do.” I watched, disgusted as he added a generous slosh of milk and then stirred it all up before pushing it towards me. “Drink it,” he ordered, guiding my hand towards the cup. I cringed again, wrapping my hands around the mug, letting the warmth seep into my fingers to get the blood going again. I had no plans to drink it though.