Chapter Twenty-Two
Quinn
Sighing, I wring my hands together and stare at myself in the mirror in front of me as I wait for Detective Rodriguez to come interview me. After Clay shot himself, I finally managed to get my hands free of the ropes. With Brooklyn in my arms, I had to crawl across the floor, careful to avoid Clay’s blood, to a damn near comatose Lucas and pull his phone out of his pocket to call the police. Once they arrived, Brooklyn and I were loaded into an ambulance and checked over by the paramedics. By the time they were done, Lucas was gone and we were carted to the station to give our statements. They let me call Alice so Brooklyn didn’t have to spend anymore time here, which is good since I’ve been waiting here for a couple hours, at least.
My heart aches as I remember the look on Lucas’s face while we waited for the police to show up and tears well up in my eyes. God, I can’t imagine what he’s going through right now and all I want to do is pull him into my arms.
The door to the room swings open and a haggard looking Detective Rodriguez walks in with several files in his hand. I quickly wipe away my tears and sit up straight as he sinks into the chair across from me.
“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting, Miss Dawson,” he says, setting a notepad down on the table in front of him as he places the files off to the side.
“It’s okay.”
He nods with a heavy sigh. “Before we go over what happened last night, let me just ask… are you okay?”
“Uh… I don’t even know what that word means at the moment,” I admit and he nods, rubbing his hand over his face before he flips open the notepad.
“Right. Well, can you go over what happened from the time Mr. Julette showed up at your house?”
“Sure,” I breathe, nodding. “I was sitting on the couch and Brooklyn was asleep in my arms when someone knocked on the door. I laid her in her playpen and answered the door. I didn’t even see him at first because as soon as the door was open, he shoved the gun in my face and pushed into the house.”
He nods, scribbling notes on the notepad. “And what time was this?”
“Around midnight.”
“What happened after Mr. Julette pushed his way inside your residence?”
I suck in a breath. “I could tell pretty quickly that he was highly impaired…”
“You mean drugs?” he asks, interrupting me, and I nod.
“Yes.”
Jotting down more notes, he nods. “Continue.”
“Since he was so high, I thought I might be able to get the upper hand. I didn’t want him anywhere near Brooklyn so I grabbed my sister’s backpack from the foyer and swung it at him.”
“Did it hit him?” he asks, glancing up at me in surprise. I nod.
“Yes. He yelled and stumbled back but he recovered faster than I expected him to and he charged me. He tackled me to the floor and hit me with the butt of the gun.”
He flips through the notebook, reading some other notes before meeting my gaze. “How did you end up in the kitchen?”
“When he hit me,” I mutter, wrapping my arms around myself as I relive the fear I felt in that moment, “I screamed and Brooklyn started to cry, which got his attention immediately. I didn’t want him anywhere near her and we fought some more but I somehow managed to break free and run into the living room. I grabbed her from the playpen before moving to the kitchen.”
“And he followed you?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“What happened there?”
“He cornered us behind the island and demanded that I give him the baby. When I refused, he lifted the gun and fired at me.”
He points to the bandage on my arm. “Is that how you got that?”
“Yeah, he just grazed me.”
“What happened after that?”
I suck in a breath. “After he fired the gun, I was too scared to fight him anymore and I let him lead Brooklyn and me out to his car. From there, he drove us to the boxcar.”
“Were your hands tied in the car or once you got to the woods?”
“In the car.”
“Did he say anything to you on the way there?” he asks, not even glancing up as he writes and I shake my head.
“Just fragments of thoughts. He kept talking about the overwhelming evidence and how his father was a liar. He even started crying over his mom at one point.”
“Did you know what he was referring to?”
I nod. “Yes, Lucas told me about what happened to their mother.”
“At any point, did you try to reason with him?”
“Not really,” I answer, shaking my head. “I did try at one point but he just yelled at me to shut the fuck up and I was too worried about Brooklyn to press any further.”
He looks up. “And once he got you to the boxcar, what happened?”
“He took Brooklyn,” I whisper, my hands shaking as I remember watching Clay take my daughter from me. “And he left me on the floor while he kept ranting about evidence and his father lying to him.”
“And how long were you there before Luke showed up?”
“I’m not sure. We drove around aimlessly for a while but an hour, maybe more… like I said, I’m really not sure.”
“Did he say anything else during that time?”
I shrug. “Just more of the same.”
“What about when Smith got there? Did they talk about anything?”
My mind drifts back to just a few hours ago and the fear is as real now as it was when I was sitting on the floor of that boxcar, watching Lucas try to talk Clay down. “Clay started talking about evidence again and how their father claimed he was innocent but that he’d seen the photos. Then, Lucas told him we had to go to the police because he’d raped me.”
“How did he react to that?”
“He seemed like he had no idea what Lucas was talking about and after I told him what happened that night, he looked horrified. He called himself a monster and said he didn’t deserve a second chance before shooting himself.”
He sighs and tosses his pen down on the desk before rubbing his hand over his face and crossing his arms over his chest. “After Clay shot himself, what happened?”
“Lucas was… empty… He just kept staring at Clay’s body with this blank look on his face.” Just thinking about it breaks my heart. “I knew that we needed to call the police but no matter how much I tried to get his attention, Lucas was lost so after I freed my hands, I crawled over to him and dug his phone out of his pocket to call y’all.”
“Okay,” he breathes, nodding. “I think that’s all we need for now. The doctor at the hospital sent along his report and it all matches up with your story.”
I nod, my hands shaking. It has to be past six by now and I need to crawl into my bed and sleep for the next twenty-four hours.
“You’re free to go. If I have any more questions, I’ll call or stop by your house.”
“Wait,” I call as he stands. “I actually have a question.”
He nods. “What is it?”
“How did Clay get the file on his mom’s murder?”
Rodriguez lets out another heavy sigh and shakes his head. “Apparently, one of the officers took pity on Clay and thought if he knew the truth, he’d be able to finally move on and get clean. She gave him everything – photos, statements from neighbors, forensic reports, court transcripts.”
“I see,” I whisper, my hands shaking from anger this time. Clay may have seen Brooklyn and me at the baby shower but learning what his father did is what pushed him over the edge. My daughter and I were in danger all because of this misguided officer.
“She’s been put on leave while we sort this all out and I promise, it will be dealt with, Miss Dawson.”
I nod and he turns to leave. Reaching out, I grab his arm. “Wait. Have you see Lucas?”
His face falls as he nods.
“How is he?” I ask, my stomach flipping and my heart racing. He opens his mouth to answer before snapping it shut again and shaking his head. Taking a deep breath, he flashes me a sympathetic look.
“Just give him time. He’s still in shock.”
“Could I see him?”
“He left already. Storm, Chance, and Moose picked him up an hour ago.”
I nod. “Oh, okay.”
“Listen, I don’t know if this is any consolation given everything that’s happened, but I know that he loves you. Like I said, just give him a little time.”
* * * *
Frogs croak from the yard, joining the chirp of the crickets and I shudder, pulling the blanket tighter around me. I used to love that sound but I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to hear it again without picturing everything that happened in that boxcar four days ago.
“Quinn?” Alice calls from the front door and I glance up. “You okay?”
I force a smile to my face and nod. “Yeah. Is Brooklyn asleep?”
“I think so. She fussed for a while but that’s just cause she’s missing Lucas so much.” She walks out onto the porch and sits down next to me on the swing. “Have you heard from him?”
“No. And I don’t expect to.”
She wraps her arm around me and pulls me into a hug. “I wouldn’t give up on him just yet.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” a voice calls and I glance up as Tate walks up the front steps.
“Tate,” I say, forcing yet another smile. “What brings you by?”
“Well, if you wipe that fake ass smile off your face, I’ll tell you.”
My face falls and relief washes through me as she leans back against the house and sinks to her butt.
“That’s better. How are you feeling?”
I shrug. “Numb.”
The truth is, I’ve felt so many different emotions since that night that it’s just easier to say numb than to describe my ever changing mood. On the one hand, my heart is breaking for not only myself but for Lucas, too, and on the other, I’m so goddamn angry at him. When we were in the boxcar, after he got Brooklyn away from Clay, I might as well have been invisible. Although, I don’t know what else I expected. I always knew that he’d never be able to walk away from his brother and that night proved just that but it still hurt to watch as his only focus became Clay.
“Sounds like BS to me. How are you really feeling?”
“Anyone ever told you that you’re pushy?” I grumble, pulling the blanket tighter around my body. She grins.
“Every day of my life. Now answer the question.”
I sigh, dropping my gaze to the boards on the porch as I force back tears. “If you can name it, I’ve probably felt it in the last few days.”
She nods in understanding. “That’s better.”
“Have you seen Lucas?” I ask, hope filling my chest as I glance up at her and she nods.
“He’s a goddamn mess but I also think he’s a little relieved - not that he’d ever admit that to anyone. As long as I’ve known him, he’s always been worried about his brother and although he loved him and he’s sad, I think he feels free, too.”
“Which means he feels guilty,” I supply and she nods.
“That, too. I’ve been trying to knock some sense into him but the man is stubborn. You’re the only one who has ever been able to get through to him.”
Memories from just a few short weeks ago pop into my mind and I fight back tears. Maybe I was able to get through to him before but at this point, I doubt he’ll ever want to see me again. Too much has happened.
“I hope he’ll be able to find a way to be happy again…someday.”
Tate arches a brow. “Why the hell are you talking like it has nothing to do with you?”
“Yeah,” Alice adds, scowling. “Lucas is crazy in love with you, Quinn.”
“Look at everything that has happened, you guys. It’s too much for any relationship to survive, let alone one that was just starting.”
“No, you’re wrong,” Tate urges, shaking her head. “He fucking loves you, even if he does have his head up his own ass right now.”
I sigh and close my eyes. “Look, I’m not expecting anything from him, okay? He just watched his brother die in front of him and it was all my fault. I can’t blame him for wanting nothing to do with me.”
“Hold the fuck up,” Tate growls. “Why the hell do you think this is your fault?”
“What she said,” Alice adds, pointing to Tate as she glares at me. Memories from that night flash through my mind and tears well up in my eyes.
“Clay didn’t know what he had done to me. He had no idea that he had raped me and when we told him, he was horrified. He called himself a monster and said he didn’t deserve a second chance.”
“Shit,” Tate breathes, shaking her head. “Despite that, Clay had so many issues and you were not the cause of his death. If you want to blame someone, blame their good for nothing daddy. Bastard is going to rot in hell for what he put Clay and Lucas through.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have told him about the night he raped me… Maybe I should have just kept my mouth shut.”
“Listen to me,” Alice snaps, grabbing my face and directing my gaze toward her. “None of this was your fault. You were just another victim in a tornado of destruction that started damn near twenty years ago. I don’t want you blaming yourself.”
“Doesn’t really matter if I blame myself if Lucas does.”
Tate shakes her head. “No. He’s going through a whole heap of shit right now but there’s no way in hell that he blames you.”
“Exactly.”
“Then where is he, you two? He once said that being around me was the only thing that ever gave him any peace but now that he needs peace more than he ever has before, he’s not here. What does that tell you?”
“That he’s an idiot,” Tate argues, rolling her eyes. “All men are when it comes to serious shit like this. He doesn’t know how to fucking deal so he’s hiding out at the clubhouse and drinking himself into a stupor. Give him a few more days and he’ll realize that the thing he needs to ease some of his pain is the woman he loves and he’ll come running home.”
“I really wish I could believe that,” I whisper, gazing out at the front yard as tears well up in my eyes again. “But this feels like the end for us.”
Tate scoffs as she jumps up. “You know what, I’m going back to the clubhouse now to kick his ass some more and I’m going to remind you of this conversation on y’all’s wedding day. In fact, I might even do a whole speech about it.”
“I’ll help you write it,” Alice adds and Tate grins.
“Perfect. See y’all later.”
We watch her leave and as she car pulls out of the driveway, I sigh.
“You want to try watching a movie or something?” Alice asks and I shake my head, pulling the blanket tighter around me.
“No. I’m just going to sit out here a while longer.”
She sighs as she stands. “Tate’s right, you know. Lucas is coming back and you’re going to have to eat your words.”
“I admire your optimism.”
“Fine,” she grumbles. “Keep being stubborn but we’re right. You and Lucas have the kind of love that doesn’t die. I know it.”
“Anyone ever told you that love sometimes isn’t enough?” I ask, arching a brow in annoyance and she shakes her head.
“No. Love is everything, Quinn. And it’s going to bring Lucas back to you. Mark my word.”
I shake my head, tears welling up in my eyes again as I try to ignore the tiny little spark of hope in my heart. It’s dangerous and I can’t possibly afford to embrace it. Not when there’s still a huge possibility that I could lose everything.