Chapter Twelve
I am dying a thousand deaths inside when we come up to Krista and Zack’s home. I used to love coming here. Turner loved coming here. The four of us always had such a good time together. I remember how excited my brother was when he bought this house as a wedding present for Krista. He drove her here blindfolded the morning before their wedding. I’ll never forget the surprised look on her face when he took off the blindfold and Turner, my dad, and I were standing out front holding a sign saying, “Welcome to your new home.”
Now as it looms closer, my heart rate starts to speed up. My worst enemy is sitting inside that house with my family and only one of them knows the truth. Trent puts on a mighty damn fine job of pretending to be his brother, I will give him credit for that.
I detest him, but myself even more for letting him touch me, control me, make me feel things I shouldn’t be feeling with anyone else except the man who put these rings on my finger. I stand there staring at them like I am learning their meaning for the first time. I am locked in my own personal jail and I will never be free. Every waking second makes me hate the person that I have become even more.
“Put your happy face on, Clove.”
Krista snaps me out of my confusion as she takes a crying Nolan out of his stroller.
“I think someone is getting hungry.”
I pat his cute little bottom as Krista places him up on her chest and he nuzzles his mouth towards her breast.
“I think you’re right,” she coos at him as we enter the house.
Dad is the first one up as we walk through the door.
“Holy shit, that boy has some lungs on him!” my dad exclaims as he tries to get Nolan’s attention.
“He’s hungry, James, so I’m going to take him to his room to feed and change him.”
“All right, dear, but bring him back out here so I can see the little man before I leave. He and I need to have a talk.”
“Whatever, Dad. What could you possibly have to discuss with a two week old baby?” I question with a smartass look on my face.
Leave it to my father to put a much-needed smile on my face.
“We need to start talking about me teaching him how to hunt.”
His face goes all serious and he pulls his pants up and puffs out his chest.
“You did not just say that shit about my son, Dad.”
Zack enters the conversation from across the room where he has his feet propped up on the coffee table and a beer in his hand. His eyes are glued to the baseball game and yet he can still hear my dad.
“I sure as shit did, boy. That kid has a firm grip on those little hands, which means he’ll be able to grip a shotgun real damn good.”
“My kid is not hunting, Dad. And that grip he’s got means he is going to play some ball just like his dad did.”
Zack is totally egging my dad on now.
“We’ll see about that,” Dad says as he takes his seat next to Zack and pats him on the leg.
The two of them bantering back and forth has me thinking how good it is to feel right at home. That is, until I feel arms snake around my middle from behind. Despite it being nice and warm outside, I suddenly go cold all over. The bristle on the back of my neck stands up as he leans his head on my shoulder.
“Hey baby. How was the walk?” He nips at the side of my neck.
“It was great. I feel refreshed and thirsty. I’m going to get some water. Excuse me for a minute.”
Trent releases his hands and they drop to his side as he strides back and sits in the chair.
“I need another beer,” I hear Zack say as I enter the kitchen.
“Grab me one too, would you, bro?” Trent asks and my eyes grow wide as I think about what Zack must be feeling.
“Dad, you need one?”
“Nah, I’m good. I need to be going soon anyway, and you know two is my limit, son.”
I hear what sounds like a pat on the back or shoulder as I stand in the middle of the kitchen like a statue waiting for my brother.
“Mother fucking piece of shit scum bag,” Zack mutters softly as he enters the kitchen. “God. This is fucking torture. You have no idea how much I want to arrest that fucker right now.”
Zack quickly darts my way and pulls me in for a hug.
“I know, Zack.”
“She told you everything, then?” He says as he steps away and goes straight to the fridge.
“Can you grab me a bottle of water out of there?” I ask a little too loudly.
“Yes, and you and I need to talk. Can you call me first thing in the morning at the office?” I question.
He nods his reply, twisting the caps off of both beers and taking a long, deep swig of his.
“Hang in there, sis. I love you.”
“I love you, too.” I whisper as he walks away.
For the hundredth time in a matter of days, I go pretend to be the happy little wife even though nothing seems to make me happy. I doubt if I will ever know the true meaning of that word again.
After hugs, kisses, and a promise to call my father for lunch, Trent and I are on our way home. His hands seem to be all over me the minute we hit the interstate and it’s making me enormously uncomfortable as his hands roam everywhere.
“We’re going to crash if you keep that up, you know.”
I’m dripping with enthusiasm on the outside and yet on the inside I am fighting him off with everything that I have. Right at this moment I may be able to tolerate having his hands on me, but at least for tonight I am going to make sure that is as far as he gets.
With each new day I pray that this is the day Turner just walks through our front door, or he calls me and says he is okay. How nice it would be to pull into my driveway and walk into my house and there he is, waiting for me like he would do any other night when I would be out. I know it’s not going to happen.
My Turner, my love, and my life is somewhere out there suffering even more so than I am, and the thought of anyone hurting him has my heart numb. I am empty inside. If this is the end of my perfect marriage to the man of my dreams, I know I will not have the strength to move on from the loss of him.
There is no need to pinch myself to see if I am dreaming; this nightmare is so fucking real that it will forever haunt me.
Trent’s voice breaks through my thoughts.
“What are you thinking about over there? Did you even hear a word I said?”
“Eh. Nothing important. Just daydreaming.”
“About what?”
He keeps his head facing the road while his hand continues to roam up and down my thigh. I need to think of something rather quickly so he will shut the hell up and get me home. All I want is to crawl into my bed and pray like hell he leaves me alone.
“Oh, just how it was such a nice weekend. The thought of going back to work tomorrow doesn’t sound so appealing.”
“Take the day off, then. God knows you deserve it after working your ass off while I was gone.”
Trent, you couldn’t have come up with a better idea, I think to myself. Perfect excuse for me as I turn in my seat to face him.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?” I ask, turning on the charm.
“No. Not at all. Stay home and relax all day, or go have a shopping day. You know I don’t care what you do.”
Yeah, right, dipshit.
“Actually, I think I might call your mom when we get home and see if she wants to go shopping. I haven’t talked to her all week.”
I keep my eyes on his face to see his reaction but there is none, just an unfeeling, straight-ahead stare.
“That’s a great idea. I need to call her myself. We have been so busy at work this past week that I didn’t even give a thought to calling her.”
All kinds of alarms start to go off in my head at his statement. Shit! I don’t trust him or his mother to be together right now. When I make my not-so-pleasant visit to my dear old mother-in-law tomorrow, that will be one of the first things I demand of her. Stay the fuck away from Trent.
Weaving our way through traffic, the rest of the ride is nothing more than small talk regarding clients and audits and things from work.
Shit, we have access to so many people’s personal information. Drowning in my own personal hell, I never even gave the business a thought at all this week. What the hell do I do about that? He obviously has to know something about accounting with the way he has talked and handled several clients on the phone this week.
Somehow I need to find a way to see exactly what it is he is doing in that office. I wonder what kind of damage he has done to the business Turner and I have worked so hard to create. Who the hell knows how many clients’ books he could have screwed up, or if he is stealing from them?
I just have to shove all this work stuff aside for now and focus on the fact that my husband is missing and pray to God when this does get out people will understand. I am being pulled in so many directions I don’t even know what is right or wrong anymore.
“I need to get some gas. Do you need anything?” Trent asks sweetly, sounding exactly like his brother.
“No. I’m good. Thanks.”
I smile smugly into the darkness. Good. I need to make a phone call while you’re inside paying for the gas.
He smiles as he pulls into the gas station and steps out of the car. The side mirror gives me a good view of him as he opens the gas cap and starts to pump the gas with his head facing away from me. Frantically I scrounge through my purse and find my phone, dialing Melody’s number while keeping my eyes on Trent’s reflection.
“Clove?” she answers, her voice sounding panicky.
“Melody. I don’t have much time to talk. I just wanted you to know that I will be over to your house tomorrow morning at nine and I want answers.”
“W-what do you mean? I told your brother everything that I know.”
“Cut the bullshit. You and I both know there is more to all of this than you told Zack. I have a right to know everything and you’re damn well going to tell me.”
I hang up abruptly, not wanting her to say any more or try and weasel her way out of this. I drop my phone back into my purse and place it back on the floor of the car. As soon as I sit back up, Trent finishes and makes his way into the station.
Just as he gets inside, I hear an unfamiliar ping. I turn away from the window and look around for the source. It’s his phone, which he placed in the cup holder between the seats. Making sure he is still inside, I grab the phone. For an imposter, he sure is dumb as hell . . . when I swipe the screen, he doesn’t have it locked.
“Oh my God. No!”
I see who the message is from and tears form in my eyes as I gasp and place my hand over my mouth. The text is a picture of Turner lying on what appears to be a dirty mattress, bloody and bruised everywhere.
“Oh my God. What have they done to you?”
I softly rub my hands over the photo on the screen and silently curse any and everyone who has done this to my husband. I have no clue what makes me think so rapidly, but I reach down and dig my phone out, quickly taking a picture of my husband and setting the phone back in place.
My heart cannot bear looking at what they, he, or whoever has done, so I shut my phone completely off and keep it in the palm of my hand as I lay my head back on the headrest. Even though I want to cry, somewhere deep down I find the strength to hold it all in. Even when Trent climbs back in the car and takes off driving with his hand resting on my leg, I hold it in. I hold it in until we get home and I climb in my bathtub. Then, and only then, do I let my tears fall, all the while gripping my phone. It’s the closest thing I have to him right now and yet I still can’t bring myself to look at it again.
With unstable hands I power my phone back to life, all the while not even looking at the screen. It takes me several minutes before I am able to flip my phone over, and when I bring up the pictures and see Turner’s battered and tortured form lying there, it’s the most heart-rending thing I have ever seen. My entire body shakes thinking of what he has endured at the hands of his father, a man who doesn’t even deserve the honor to be called that. And why?
I can’t look at this anymore, so I hurry up and shoot a text to my brother explaining everything. Immediately he responds, asking me if I am going to be all right. My ever-overprotective big brother is undeniably doing his best to look out for me. He has attacked this with the wrath of a thousand suns and he’s damn good at his job, one of the best on his force.
The pain he has to be going through tears me up inside. For all the issues and arguments Zack and I had growing up, not once have we not had each other’s backs.
But this? No one should have to try and protect someone from what I am going through right now. It doesn’t matter, anyway. Whatever happens, I really believe none of us are ever going to be okay again.
“You alive in there?”
I jump and almost drop my phone into the tub when Trent speaks from right outside the bathroom door.
“Yeah! I started to doze, is all.”
I’m thankful as all hell my voice stays strong and doesn’t show any of my hurt or anger.
“I did too, on the couch. Come on and let’s go to bed.”
Sleep isn’t going to come to me at all tonight, and I know this. I let out the plug and with sluggish moves, I dry myself off and lotion up before brushing my teeth. When I pull Turner’s t-shirt over my head and inhale his scent, I have to brace myself against the vanity for a moment before climbing into bed with the piece of shit stranger who had a part in the beating of my husband. I roll as far away from Trent as possible. He might want to sleep with one eye open tonight, because the way I feel right now, I may just stab him in his cold, black heart.
“You sure you can handle working by yourself tomorrow?” I ask more out of concern about what he will do when I am not there than anything else.
He chuckles, giving me the same damn sexy crooked smile I’m used to seeing on my husband’s face, then stretches his naked torso around to turn off the light.
“I’m sure, babe. I’m fully trained to handle things on my own. I do have a degree just like you, you know.” He moves a little closer so his hand rests on my hip.
A degree in kidnapping and how to fucking ruin people’s lives, is more like it!
“I know you do. It’s just that last week was so damn hectic, and I feel bad.”
“Don’t worry about it. Just have a good time with my mom and enjoy yourself, babe.”
I know he wants me out of our office so he can do whatever the hell he does without any interruptions, but I let it go.
Trent tugs on my shirt to try and bring me a little closer to him. Rolling myself over so my back is to his front, I let him rub my hip. I squeeze my eyes shut but he doesn’t move them any farther north or south. When his hand stills on my hip and I hear his breathing start to even out, I lay as still as I possibly can until I know he is sound asleep.
Ever so slowly, I lift his hand off of me and slide over to the other side of the bed. He rolls a little, but doesn’t wake up. I can finally breathe as I lay there in the dark and stare through the window into the black, moonless night. I wonder if Turner is sleeping peacefully or if he is looking at the same dark sky as I am.
The stars are nonexistent tonight as they hide behind gray clouds. The dark doom of the night does nothing for my mood; if anything, it depresses me even more. Somehow my mind finds a way to shut down and my eyes drift closed, but even as I fall into a fitful sleep, something tells me that when I wake up I am not going to like this new day at all.