Where is Ivy Rose?

Chapter 8

Taylor

'Maybe you should stop focusing on me and start focusing on the secrets hidden in your dads closet.'

Her words wouldn't stop echoing in my ears like a broken record stuck on repeat. What did she mean? How did she know who my dad was? Could this just be a sick twisted mind game to throw me off her scent? Question after question plagued mind, locking itself in a pitless box, getting reading to curl and unfold. My head pounded and I winced as the stabbing pain in my head intensified. I shouldn't let the likes of Carly Sinclaire get to me, not when she was a cold-blooded killer. I groaned once more, grabbing the tablets that were placed on the bedside table, shoving them in my mouth and gulping two mouthfuls of cold water.

After being released from the hospital, I've been given orders by the doctor to get plenty of rest, which meant absolutely no working for a week, one whole god damn week! At the time I resisted, knowing that Carly was still out there, possibly targeting her next unsuspecting victim. My partner, Chris, had to reassure me that he wouldn't stop looking, which calmed my persistent need to interfere with the investigation.

'Fucks sake, I shouldn't be here, I should be out there looking for Carly!' I got out of bed, reaching for my car keys in the top drawer of the bedside table. My head was killing me, screaming at me for getting up so quickly, but I was too stubborn and ignored the pain. It was impossible to relax knowing there was a serial killer on the loose, prowling the streets.

'Taylor? Taylor! What are you doing out of bed?! You heard what the doctor advised, you need to rest, come on baby girl, don't be stubborn about this please.'

My dad grabbed my car keys from my hand, placing them back inside the drawer. He stared at me, folding his arms across his chest with that look on his face, the one he used on me so many times as a child, the 'I'm serious look.' I grumbled under my breath, getting back into bed under the covers. I felt like a child that was being scolded for sticking her hand in the cookie jar before bedtime.

'I know this must be frustrating baby girl, but you've got to look after yourself, not just for your mum and me, but for Amelia, be better for her okay? She misses her mum!'

Upon mentioning my daughter's name, my head shot up, Amelia, I missed her so much. I could remember her face lighting up when she visited me in hospital, her tiny legs scurrying towards me, wrapping her arms around my neck she snuggled against my side, her favourite book in her hand. It was moments like those that I cherished, the little moments. With how dangerous and time consuming my job was, I always made the most of my time whenever I was with her.

'How is she?' My dad smiled at me, sitting at the end of the bed as he patted my feet reassuringly. He loves Amelia just as much as I do, spoiling her whenever he gets the chance, mum too. I frowned, remembering the events that transpired a few days ago in the hospital. Her face was unlike anything I've ever seen, so full of rage and disgust as if the mere sight of him repulsed her. As a child, I could remember them have petty arguments, but they always made up afterwards as any loving couple do.