Now
“I need to call Diana and John,” I say, racing across the dining room to the kitchen.
“Who?” Dex asks.
“Cora and Cat’s grandparents,” I explain. “They’re retired. I’m going to send the girls with them, on vacation, somewhere far away. Out of the country or something. I can’t have them around this. This is too much. In all the years of stalking, whoever this is hasn’t made a threat like that before.”
I make it to my purse and pull out my phone, searching the contact list. My heart is racing, and I’m struggling for breath.
“Hey,” Dex says, placing his hand over the phone. “Slow down. Let’s think this through.”
“Think this through!” I yell and then struggle to drag in air. I brace my hands on my knees to control my breathing and calm down while I finish. “Listen, Dex. We don’t know each other that well. You asked me the other day why I was training. This. This is why I’ve been training. I’m not going to sit around like some delicate flower, waiting to see what the bad man will do to me.”
“That’s not what I—”
“I know, but what you don’t know is that I’ve plans in place. I’m not going to sit quietly by and let my life get torn apart again. I’m not going to wait and see if one of those dead birds symbolizes my girls. He made the mistake of leaving me alone for three years. I’ve had time to think about everything. Time to realize what I did wrong. Time to put plans in place to make sure it doesn’t happen again.” I don’t know if it’s the words or just the act of talking, but as I finish that spiel, I catch my breath, and the anxiety attack passes.
“I’m just saying that you need to calm down,” Dex says. “Just talk to me, Maddie. Tell me where your head’s at.”
“This is worse.” I start pacing the floor in front of the kitchen counter. “The last time he started escalating, it was nothing like this. And you were right in the car. Nothing he has ever said has seemed malicious, but this—that’s not caring. That’s…”
Dex takes a seat at one of the barstools. “It’s not good.”
“Yeah,” I say, still pacing. My hands are shaking, my words spilling out faster than normal. “First things first. I’m getting the girls out of here, and Hope, too. Audra can go with them. If you’re okay with sending her away? I mean, if you want to stay around for this. I don’t blame you if this is too much. But if you are, I think you should separate her from me.”
“You’ve gotta stop this, Maddie. I understand the impulse—believe me. Though I wish I handled things like you. You have this knack for pushing everyone else out of the way so you can face problems alone. I get it. But you need to understand that it’s not always what’s best for you or them. Your strength is the fact that you have all these people who love you and are willing to stand by you.”
“They’re just kids, Dex,” I shout. “They aren’t going to help in this situation, and I won’t leave them in harm’s way.”
“I’m not asking you to,” he shouts back, matching my tone. “I’m just saying that we should wait until we know what this even is. What if it’s a prank? This doesn’t match your stalker’s MO. It could be anything. Flying off the handle and pulling the kids from their school could end up being an unnecessary disruption to their lives. So why don’t we call Martinez and get the investigation started on this, and then decide what we’re doing? Okay?”
Dammit. I don’t like it, but Dex’s right. We don’t know what this is.
“Okay.” I nod. “I’m calling Bridget, so she can get here before the police.” I check the time on my phone. It’s only one in the afternoon. “After that, I’m going to call the security guys and have them take the girls to the Mad House after school. I don’t want them coming home to this and a swarm of police in their home. Then we can call Martinez. You good with that?”
“Sounds like a plan,” Dex says and then tugs my elbow, standing and pulling me to him.
His arms come around me, and he kisses my forehead.
“You probably should get a shirt on,” I remind him when I become all too aware that he’s still shirtless.
“Yes, ma’am,” he says as he grins down at me. “I love it when you get bossy with me.”
I snort and shake my head. That’s exactly what makes me nervous about him. My phone rings. I jump, and it falls out of my hands, tumbling to the ground. I move out of Dex’s arms, reaching down to pick it up but kick it across the room instead. What am I? One of the Three Stooges? I cross the kitchen and finally get a grip on the phone. Bridget’s face is on the screen.
“Bridget?” I answer, a little freaked out that she’s calling when I just decided to call her.
“Finally,” Bridget says. “I’ve been trying to call you. I have some news. Is Holly around?”
I walk over to the window in the kitchen that overlooks the driveway. “I don’t see her car, but Marcus’s Honda is parked in front of her garage door, so I assume she’s there. It’s only one. She doesn’t leave for work for another few hours.”
“Good, I’m coming over,” she replies. “I’ll get her and meet over at your place.”
“Okay? I was just fixin’ to call you anyway because I need to call the police. There’s something at my house that you gotta see.”
“Shit, another flower?”
“No, this is worse. You have to see it. I’m not sure what to make of it.”
“All right, I’m on my way,” she says, and the line cuts off.
I turn back, but Dex is already gone. I search through my contacts. One phone call down, two to go.
Then
It had been three months, and there were no break-ins, no strange men lurking around the corner. Life had returned to normal. All that meant, though, was I had time. Lots of time to sit around and think about what I’d lost. Aside from derby and work, which was something. But compared to my schedule for the last few years, it felt like I was sitting still. I sighed, missing the band more and more every day. Staring at the wall, I mindlessly stirred the pan filled with pasta sauce.
“What’s that about?” Jared asked over my shoulder.
I shrieked and spun around, flinging a trail of tomato sauce across the counters. “Holy crap, you scared me.”
“I wasn’t even quiet.” He grinned. “You were just off in your own little world, staring at the wall, making little noises.”
“I wasn’t making noises,” I grumped.
“You were, but the question is… what are you thinking about?”
“The band,” I confessed and turned away to clean up the mess.
“What about them?”
“I miss it. Being onstage. Performing. Even just sitting around and writing music, rearranging covers. I don’t get to spend a lot of time doing that. Don’t get me wrong—I love working at the studio, and I’m learning a lot. I just spend more time filing or getting coffee than I do working on actual music.”
“I see.”
“Do you?” I teased.
“I do. And I think I might have something that interests you.”
“I’m listening.”
“I know a guy—”
“You know a guy? You know that’s the way guys where I’m from tell you about some shady handyman who can fix just about anything. I’m not sure you want a handyman working on me,” I said with a playfully sinister expression.
He pulled the kitchen towel from my hands slowly, the smile on his face growing. “You’re going to get it for that.” He held opposing corners of the towel and started swinging it so it twisted up.
I yelped and tried to dodge him, but he blocked my exit. The first snap of the towel missed completely, but that didn’t stop me from yelling out and laughing. I grabbed the pot lid off the counter to use as a shield. We were apparently loud in our play because the girls dashed around the corner.
“We want to play, too,” Cat said.
The pasta water started boiling over. I dashed to the stove to stop the mess, turning down the flame and stirring the noodles.
“Sorry, baby. We can’t play anymore. Mommy’s gotta finish dinner.”
“Tell you what,” Jared said. “Why don’t you go pick out the movie for after dinner?”
“Cora, come on.” She grabbed her sister’s hand with a grin. “Daddy says we get to pick the movie.” They both ran from the room, giggling.
Jared leaned against the counter next to me, crossing his arms over his chest. He leaned back a bit until he caught my eye.
“I met this guy at work. He’s another instructor. Can play anything, but he prefers drums. We’ve been playing around on the instruments after hours a few times. He said he’s interested in joining a band. I told him about you. He wants to meet you. If you’re interested.”
“What kind of music?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Pretty much anything.”
“He any good?”
“Yeah, the best I’ve seen in a while. I think you should meet him. Swing by the school after my class.”
“I don’t know. You know, that was the thing about punk; I may have loved it, but I don’t think I ever fit. Punk is born out of huge amounts of emotions that are hindered by limited technique.” I sighed, remembering all the times I frustrated the hell out of Spence. “When I joined them, I had more technique than necessary. Spence and I worked on finding a middle ground because I wanted a clean sound and complexity of notes; he wanted simplicity and raw sounds. I had the emotions…”
Realizing that my anger toward him was what fueled a lot of that passion, I shifted my focus away from him. He didn’t need to read that on my face. I turned off the flame underneath the pots. Tears pooled in my eyes as the enormity of what I lost sank in, but I refused to let them fall, squeezing my eyes shut.
“It wasn’t about getting famous or making money. We did it because we loved the process of transforming those emotions into sound. Punk isn’t just music. It’s a culture. Actually, it’s many cultures. Everything from the Aggro Hardcore to the Art-schooled. I’ve a hard time believing that I’ll ever find that again.”
“Then don’t. Find a new journey. Create a new sound that is all you. Merge your blues and punk roots, find your current emotions, and make music that comes from where you’re at right now.”
I pressed my hands into the counter and bit my lip, afraid to turn and look at him. I didn’t want him to see my heart breaking with the realization that I’d have to move on.
It wasn’t just the music. Law hadn’t called me back. I’d broken up with him, but I’d hoped that he would see reason. That he would come by to find Jared at his apartment, me in the house, and realize that things weren’t the way he imagined them. But with Jared living inside the house, due to the stalker, he might not see things that way. And maybe that was why he wasn’t calling. Maybe Sloane had told him, and he’d decided to move on. Either way, it was around the thirtieth unanswered message that I decided to stop calling him.
I just needed to wake up and accept that he’d moved on. The band was over. I needed to move on, too.
“Okay,” I agreed.
“Okay?” he asked skeptically.
“Yes, okay. Is there some reason why you never believe me when I say okay to you?”
“Nope,” he said with an innocent look on his face. “Just making sure.”
“Whatever. Drain the pasta, will ya,” I said, handing him the potholders.
Now
The doorbell rings. I check the clock on my phone and realize that it’s only been fifteen minutes since I hung up with Bridget—the downside to living close to work.
I round the corner into the foyer just as Dex is letting Bridget, Marcus, and Holly enter.
Bridget’s eyes meet mine before she nods to her right. “We should go into your office and talk about the news I have before the police get here and we move on to the rest of it.”
I nod in reply and follow them. Holly and Bridget sit in the chairs across from the desk. Dex and Marcus remain standing, and I take the seat in my office chair. Bridget looks to Holly. “Are you okay with them being in here?” She looks to Dex and Marcus. “Because I have news about Roz.”
That name has both Holly and me stiffening, but Holly’s eyes take on a faraway, lost look. Roz is Holly’s ex-boyfriend, and to say they had a volatile relationship is putting it mildly. She shakes her head. “No, it’s okay. Just say what you’ve gotta say,” she says, but her voice comes out rough and timid.
I can admit that hearing Holly like that puts me on edge, more than I already was.
“About thirty minutes after Chloe and Maddie left this morning, I got a call from the DA,” Bridget says to Holly. “Roz’s parole hearing was moved up. Due to good behavior, he’ll meet with the parole board in December.”
“How the fuck is that possible?” Holly asks, her brows drawing together as anger takes over her voice.
“I don’t know,” Bridget says. “But you’re going to need to speak before the parole board.”
I rise from my seat. Concerned for my friend, I kneel down in front of her.
“We’ll do it again,” I say, grasping her hands. “Together. Same way we did last time. He won’t get to you, and he sure as fuck won’t get to Hope. I promise.”
I look at Bridget to make sure I’m not talking out my ass. I want it to be true, but I’m not confident we can pull it off. Bridget nods, but the look on her face isn’t as reassuring as I hoped it would be. Holly shakes her head as tears streak down her freckled cheeks. She pulls her hands from mine and wipes her face. Standing awkwardly, I lean over to hug her. I hate seeing her like this. She’s always so strong.
“I’m gonna talk to Jerry,” Holly says, her voice muffled by my hair as she squeezes me back. “This is why I work for him. He promised to protect us, you know?”
I nod and lean back.
“That’s bullshit, Holls,” Marcus blurts. “You don’t fucking need him. I told you, you don’t need to be connected to that shit. Dex and I got your back.”
She told him. I’m floored as I watch them curiously. Guilt seeps in that I haven’t been around enough to know that they were becoming that close; Roz is a subject Holly keeps locked down.
“I already told you no,” Holly snaps. “The motherfucking cops’ idea of protection is a goddamn piece of paper. And that shit means nothing to him. You’ve gotta fight fire with fire.”
I lean back against the desk as Holly stands, her face turning red with anger. That’s the Holly I know. Her hands clench into fists as she faces down Marcus. They have a silent standoff as they stare at each other.
“Fuck this shit,” Marcus mutters as he turns and leaves, slamming the door behind him.
“He’ll get over it.” Holly shrugs, waving his exit off with nonchalance. “I gotta get ready for work. The nanny got here just before we came over. I’ll let you know what Jerry says.”
I grab her hand and squeeze it because I know she’s putting on a brave face right now. She has to be scared shitless—I am.
“Let me know if you need anything,” I say. “I’ll get security for Hope if it comes to that. You know I’ll do anything. Money is not, and will never be, an issue.”
Holly nods, but I know she’s holding back. The damn stubborn woman has trouble taking help from anyone. She hugs Bridget and me, and with a nod to Dex, she leaves too.
“Well, where’s this other shit?” Bridget asks after Holly closes the door. “I swear, I need a raise,” she mumbles.
“Done,” I say with a shrug.
She rolls her eyes at me. “I’m not serious.”
“It’s in the dining room,” I say, moving back to my desk chair and opening my personal laptop. “Detective Martinez and the CSI unit should be here any minute. Just make sure not to touch anything.”
I leave her to it as she walks out of the room, then work on pulling up the connection to the security server. I know that’ll be one of the first things they ask. Dex sits across from me, steepling his fingers at his chin.
“Hey, will you go grab my purse and work computer from the kitchen counter and put them in my car?” I ask Dex. “I don’t want them becoming part of the crime scene. I’ve an idea brewing.”
“Sure. You care to enlighten me?” Dex asks.
“Later,” I add, looking at my phone. “We don’t have much time.”
He nods and leaves the room. I pull up the security feed just as the doorbell rings. Crossing the room, I check the window next to the door just to be sure. Martinez stands there with several people behind him, his face marred by a frown. I open the door wide.
“It’s in the dining room,” I say without preamble. “I already pulled up the security feed server on my computer.”
Detective Martinez enters and walks back to the dining room as four crime scene techs follow him in without comment. The last one halts in front of me.
“Can you point me in the direction of your computer?” she says. She’s a petite woman with mousy brown hair who looks to be around my age, if not younger.
I close the door behind her and motion to her to follow me.