CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Finn kept busy the entire next morning, making plans for the cabin, calling his mom and Jake, talking with my mom and my sister.
I tried to take it in stride. After all, I didn’t have to make any decisions yet. If all I wanted to do at the cabin was relax, I could. And if I wanted to plan our wedding…I could do that, too.
I wanted to marry Finn I knew that without a doubt. I just didn’t want the current events in my life to overshadow what was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. And I wanted Finn to enjoy it, too.
When I said goodbye to my mom and sister, they were optimistic about my relationship with Finn, and that meant more than anything. I missed them already, but I knew I’d see them soon. Maybe for a wedding.
After they left, Finn got on the phone again, leaving me to wait for Dr. Palmer, who wasn’t coming until later in the afternoon. I paced in front of the window, nervous to talk to him again, although I wasn’t sure why.
“Sit down,” Finn suggested, turning his mouth away from the phone. “Relax.”
“I should probably tell Tucker.”
“It’s already taken care of,” he assured me.
He went back to his call, so I went back to pacing, searching for something to do. I’d called the detectives yesterday about Tracy, and then again this morning after her phone call last night. I wouldn’t be surprised if they stopped by for more information—and secretly hoped they were checking on her, too, in case something really was wrong.
In another moment, Finn was standing in front of me, still on the phone, and handing me a magazine. It was one of the ones Leslie had left behind, with a bride on the cover, laughing while she threw autumn leaves in a field of trees.
He lifted his eyebrows and grinned.
Rolling my eyes, I took the magazine and brought it to the couch. The first dress I saw looked a lot like the one I’d wanted when I’d been planning my wedding with Mark. Of course, he’d told me what he wanted as well. Wear something long, he’d said. Something that’s not too revealing, he’d instructed. And then he’d gone on and on about everything he wanted me to wear and not to wear, which had resulted in an argument that hadn’t ended well.
Setting the magazine aside, I caught Finn watching me. He ended his call and walked over.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, sitting next to me on the couch.
I shrugged, but then caught myself when he opened his mouth to say something about it. “Sorry, the whole truth. I…I looked at wedding dresses when I was planning on marrying Mark. It wasn’t fun. He wanted to tell me what to wear and he wanted to dictate everything. Not just the dress, but who I invited and…” I smiled at him, trying to brush it off. “I guess that’s why I don’t want anything big. I just want whatever you want.”
“Whatever we want. The cabin is a good start. It’s not traditional, but it means something to us. Both of us.”
“And your family.”
He smiled, lifting my hand to brush his lips on my knuckles. “You can wear jeans and a T-shirt if that makes you feel better. I don’t care as long as you’re there.”
“I still don’t know for sure about this week, or next, even.” I kept my eyes steady on his face, waiting for the disappointment to flicker. “I want to marry you, Finn. But I—”
“No pressure. Just keep talking to me.” He grinned. “I’ll keep trying to convince you, but I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to do.”
“I want to.”
“Anything you’re not ready for then.”
I nodded. “I appreciate that.”
“There’s one thing I do want a say in, though.”
“What?”
“The honeymoon. Let me plan it, let me handle it. I want to take you somewhere special.”
“Are you going to tell me where?”
He kissed me. “I don’t know yet. I might make it a surprise.”
“I’ll go anywhere with you, Finn.”
He grabbed me faster than I could blink, one hand in my hair and the other scooting me on the couch until I was almost in his lap. His mouth was on mine, taking my breath, tongue brushing mine.
“I know you’re strong and capable,” Finn murmured, “but it’s nice to be able to do things for you.”
I arched my neck when he ran his lips down my jaw, breath warm and hands seeking places on my body that made me want to take his clothes off.
“I need to rely on you more often,” I whispered.
“I’m here for you.”
Finn eased me back on the couch, his hand sliding under my shirt. I dragged his mouth to mine as one of his knees came up so he could kneel between my legs. Propped over me, his eyes so blue, I only wanted to lose myself in him.
In that haze of love, it took me a moment to recognize the ringing in my pocket.
“Don’t answer it,” Finn murmured against my lips, his hands still seeking, touching. He found my breast and his fingers brushed the tightened bud of my nipple.
“I…it could be my mom.” I fumbled in my pocket with Finn still levered over the top of me. “I need to see.”
I froze at the name on the screen.
“Who is it?” Finn asked.
“Tracy.”
Finn reached for the phone.
“No.” I scrambled up on the couch, pressing the button to answer. “Hello?”
Gritting his teeth, Finn scooted over on the couch so he was right next to me. “Charlotte.”
A low noise from the other end of the phone greeted me. Something that sounded like gurgling. Or wheezing.
“Charlotte,” Finn said again.
“Listen. Finn, listen.” I put the phone on speaker and we both leaned in.
The voice that came across the line was weak, in pain. “Rest…”
My gaze flashed to Finn’s, heart racing. He gripped the phone tight, his hand over mine.
“Tracy?” I said. “Are you there?”
“Rest…rant.”
“Tracy, this is Finn,” he said. “Can you hear me?”
Just breathing.
“Restaurant?” I whispered. “Is that what she said?”
“Tracy?” Finn asked again.
The line disconnected. My eyes locked with Finn’s.
“Something’s wrong,” I said.
When he didn’t answer, I got up from the couch. “Oh my God, we have to do something. Finn—”
“The police.” He snatched the phone from me, dialing 911.
I clasped my fingers together tight, hands shaking. “It might not be enough time.”
“Hold it. Charlotte,” he said when I turned for the door.
Someone came on the other line and he started relaying information into the phone, voice rushed and agitated. His fingers gripped my arm and he shook his head.
“Curtis,” I said quietly. “We need to get someone to the restaurant.”
He started to say something to me, but had to answer another question from the dispatcher. I pulled open the door.
Shane was there this time because Dustin had left to take my mom and sister to the airport.
“Is Curtis in there?” I asked, pointing to the other apartment.
“Yes. What’s going on?”
Finn tried to grab for me again, but I brushed past him and Shane, saying, “It’s Tracy. Something’s wrong.”
I started to knock on the door, but Shane took out his key card and opened it for me.
Curtis sat at a computer at the table near the kitchen and stood when I walked inside.
“Curtis, you have to do something. Tracy—”
“Hold on.” His gaze flicked to Shane’s, and then Finn’s, who was trying to finish up his phone call. “Tell me what happened.”
“Tracy called me again. Finn heard her, too—and something was wrong. We think she said she was at the restaurant.”
“I called the police,” Finn said, finished with his call.
Curtis nodded. “Good.”
“But what if they’re too late? What if—”
“Charlotte,” Finn started.
“No. No, we can’t just leave her there. I’m going down there.”
Curtis turned to Shane, but spoke to me. “You need to get back in your apartment.”
“We can’t just leave her there. You’re security,” I started, but stopped when Curtis checked his gun and gestured at Shane again. “I’m going with you.”
“Mr. Moore,” Shane said. “Your apartment, please.”
“Come on, Charlotte,” Finn said. “They’ll go look. Let’s get back home.”
“I can’t. No, she might need me. I know what’s she’s going through. What if she’s hiding from Mark?”
“No time,” Curtis said, strolling to the door. After a quick glance at Shane, he nodded. “Shane’s coming with me, so you will too. I don’t want you back in your place until Dustin gets back.”
Finn’s jaw clenched, but I was already hurrying to the door, following Curtis. We raced to the elevator and rode to the lobby. There wasn’t much traffic inside, or out in the Commons, where Curtis jogged with Shane pulling up the rear.
On the way, Curtis radioed someone at security headquarters to tell them the police were on their way. He slowed when we reached Entertainment and stopped the next store over from the restaurant.
He gestured to Shane and they didn’t need words to communicate.
“Stay out here,” he told me and Finn. “Right outside the door so Shane can see you. He’ll be just inside.”
Finn gripped my hand as they set into motion, holding me close to him. I kept my eyes on the door, on Curtis’s back as he entered, his gun at the ready. But Finn scanned the mall behind us, people walking the tiled floor, and the other shops, all filled with people.
Curtis said something in a calm voice, but I couldn’t make out what it was. I saw Shane nod and it made me even more anxious.
“What if she’s not in there?” I whispered. “What if—”
“Let them do their job.”
But a moment later, it was chaos. Curtis shouted something, I heard voices from walkies, and saw police coming through the mall. I broke free of Finn’s grip and slipped inside the door.
“Ms. Evans,” Shane started, but Curtis appeared behind the counter.
“It’s secure, and she’s back here.”
Finn was right behind me as we raced through the restaurant. I rounded the corner and skidded to a stop.
Tracy lay there, curled on her side with her phone clutched in her hand. Her shirt was ripped and one shoe was missing.
Curtis reached to her neck to check her pulse as I held a hand to my mouth. “Oh, God.”
Shane held his arm out, trying to usher us back to the front door as cops filed through. “Please,” he said. “Stay back.”
“Is she okay?” I asked Curtis.
His face stayed pensive, but he rolled Tracy onto her back. I gasped when I saw the bruises. Deep purple blotches on her face and neck.
Finn gripped my waist and forced me to turn away. He wouldn’t let me move further than an inch away from him as we walked to the door.
Detective Winters and Detective Stone both arrived, already giving orders.
“How did you get here so fast?” I asked.
“We were close to the building, coming to talk to you.” Detective Stone frowned, and it was the first time I’d seen him anything other than completely and genuinely nice to me. “We got a call from Tracy Portman shortly after she spoke with you last night.”
One of the police officers waved them down.
“Stay here,” Winters said. “Right outside the door. We need to talk to you.”
I could sense Finn wanted to argue, but they’d already vanished inside. Finn pulled me to a bench near the next store down and forced me to sit. I sank to the bench, feeling cold.
“Did you see her face?” I asked, staring at my hands.
“Yes.”
I glanced over at the lack of emotion in his voice. “Finn.”
“You shouldn’t have gone in there.”
He was right. But I felt responsible. Tracy called me last night and I didn’t do anything. What if I could have prevented this?
When paramedics arrived, I stood, anxious again. Worried Tracy wasn’t going to make it. She looked terrible. So many bruises I almost hadn’t recognized her.
“Please don’t go over there,” Finn asked, standing as well.
I took his hand, sticking close. “I won’t. I’m…I saw enough.”
“Mark did this.”
Stomach rolling, I looked up at his face. “It looks like it. Or…maybe he had someone else do it. But…”
I’d seen the bruises on her neck. Like someone had tried to strangle her.
“What?” Finn asked, eyes narrowing. “What is it?”
I swallowed. “She had bruises on her neck.”
Finn pulled me close, wrapping his arm tight around my waist. “We need to get you out of here.”
“Detective Winters told us we had to stay here.”
Finn frowned, but wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I don’t mean back home, I mean out of here completely. Away from Oasis.”
Movement at the door to the restaurant caught my eye. A stretcher was being carried out by a few paramedics with a very still body on top. Tracy.
I turned my face into Finn’s shirt. “I want to go.”
Curtis’s voice sounded close by. “Mr. Moore.”
I looked up, but Finn was shaking his head. “Detective Winters told us to stay.”
Curtis frowned, said something to Shane, and Shane vanished inside the restaurant again.
“Is she okay?” I asked.
“Her condition is serious. The paramedics did what they could inside, and they’ll rush her to the hospital.”
Shane returned and said something else to Curtis, which only made him frown again. He reached out for me. “Let’s get back to your apartment. Now.”
Curtis said very little before the detectives arrived, but he wouldn’t leave. He spoke in low tones with Finn as Finn made coffee in the kitchen. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but at this point I didn’t care.
Tracy was hurt. Bad. I should have tried harder to get through to her. I should have done something—anything—to make sure this didn’t happen.
When a knock sounded at the door, I stood, my heart instantly beating harder. I waited for Curtis to answer it since he shot me a serious look that said, Don’t move. I’d never seen Curtis so solemn, or so adamant I didn’t get involved in anything.
Both detectives walked in and Detective Stone accepted the coffee Finn offered while Detective Winters kept quiet for the most part. Always studying what was going on. I hated that this time, he seemed to be studying me.
“Have you heard anything about Tracy?” I asked, still frozen by the couch.
Finn walked around the back and offered me coffee as well. I accepted, but set it aside on the end table.
Detective Stone sat on the opposite couch. “They reached the hospital. She’s in critical condition, but it looks like, barring any complications, she’ll make it.”
I clasped my hands over my chest and sat heavy on the couch. “Oh my God, I can’t believe this.” I felt the relief flow through me, followed swiftly by guilt. “She tried to tell me something was wrong.”
Winters adjusted his tie. “As you said when you called last night. Conveniently thirty minutes before she called us.”
Curtis and Finn both remained standing, taking their cue from Winters.
“What did she say?” Curtis asked.
Winters glanced at me. “You sure you want everyone here for this?”
My mind drew a blank. Why wouldn’t I? “Of course,” I murmured, though now I was more nervous than I’d been before.
“She said you’d been harassing her. That you’d spoken with her on the phone thirty minutes prior to her call to us.”
“We did,” I said, scooting forward on the couch. “We did talk, like I told you last night. She was worried. I almost called her back because I thought something was wrong. I even—”
Curtis cleared his throat, giving Winters a level look. He got straight to it. “What are you trying to say?”
“Tracy Portman called to complain about Ms. Evans last night. And now she’s found battered in a restaurant in the same building you work in. In a store you’re leasing her.”
I got to my feet, shock coursing through me. “What? I don’t…”
Facing Finn, I could only stare at him, dumbfounded. He stepped forward and grabbed my hand.
“If you’re insinuating Charlotte had anything to do with this, you’re wrong. I can’t believe you’d even consider it.” He looked at Detective Winters instead, jaw hard. “She’s worked with you with John, been open about Mark this entire time. She called you because she was scared what might happen to Tracy if she continued to stay with Mark. And now something’s happened. I hope to God you’re planning on interviewing Mark after this because we all know who’s behind this.”
Detective Stone stood as well. “We’re not insinuating anything.”
“It sure as hell sounds like it.”
Detective Winters started to speak, but Detective Stone cast him a glance. “We’re just saying, it’s convenient—”
“Convenient my ass,” Finn started.
Detective Stone gave him a calming smile. “It’s convenient because it might confirm Mark’s involvement.”
Curtis shoved his hands in his pockets. “You’ll be talking with Tracy when she’s able, I assume? So that she can corroborate.”
“Of course,” Detective Stone said.
“And I’m assuming you were here all night last night,” Detective Winters said to me and Finn.
“We didn’t go anywhere,” I said, my stomach clenching. Oh God, did they really think I did this to Tracy? That I could have possibly done anything to hurt her. “I—”
“Charlotte,” Curtis said calmly. “I think that’s enough for now.”
My mouth hung open in surprise. Finn squeezed my arm to communicate his agreement.
“I agree,” Detective Stone said, setting his mug of coffee on the table. “That’s enough. We’ll be in touch.”
“You let us know if you’re planning on going anywhere,” Winters said, following Detective Stone to the door.
My mouth opened again, but Finn shook his head. The cabin. We were supposed to leave tomorrow or the next day.
Curtis made sure they’d left before returning to the living room.
“This is bullshit,” Finn said.
I dropped to the couch again and lifted my mug. The coffee was scalding hot, but I barely noticed when I took a sip.
“They think I did something to Tracy?” I asked.
“They’re keeping their options open,” Curtis said. “They’ll figure it out soon enough, especially if they decide to check the cameras. In the meantime, it might be wise to speak with a lawyer if they want to talk again.”
“But…” I looked up at Finn, my hands shaking so badly the coffee almost splashed over the edge.
Finn sat next to me, taking the mug and setting it aside so he could grab my hands. “Don’t worry about it. They’re just grasping at straws. They want to make sure they cover their bases so they don’t get in trouble. If they talk to Mark and he lies or blames you—or me—they want to be sure they’ve talked to you.”
“Blames you?” I asked, meeting Finn’s eyes. “No. Finn. Shit. This isn’t—Curtis.” I swiveled on the couch. “They can’t do this. They know we didn’t do anything. Mark almost killed Tracy. She—”
“Charlotte,” Curtis said in his usual calm voice. “It’s only a matter of time before Mark can’t hold the lies together anymore. They already have our word and John’s against him.”
“But, Finn, you shouldn’t have to deal with this.” His eyes flashed with warning and I shook my head. “I’m sorry. Sorry, I know you’re not—shit,” I said again. I tried to stand, but Finn held my hands tight. “I don’t know what to do.”
“There’s not a lot you can do right now.”
Shaking my head, I said, “There has to be.” I looked at Curtis again. “Right? Please tell me there has to be. Talk to John again, or even Mark—”
“Charlotte,” Finn growled. He yanked a hand through his hair. “Putting yourself in a position like that doesn’t fix the situation.”
Another knock sounded at the door, and this time Curtis didn’t even glance at us before walking to get it. After a moment, a familiar voice sounded in the hallway and I stood to see Dr. Palmer walking into the living room.
I rubbed my hand on my cheek. “I completely forgot. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Finn said, his voice coming out rough. He squeezed my hand when I glanced at him. “This is good. You can talk, wind down. I’ll make a few calls.”
Blowing out a breath, I nodded and greeted Dr. Palmer.