She nodded and glanced around. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Lana,” she said with the same quiet voice. “Jamie, my daughter, never liked him. And I was just so happy to not be in this alone, to feel loved and like I had a partner that I didn’t want to believe you.” She looked up at me, and what I saw there had my stomach hollowing out. “But I do now.”
“Oh, God, did he hurt her?”
“No,” Erica said, and tears filled her eyes. “No, he didn’t, but I’ve realized some things about him recently, and I…he’s not who I thought he was.”
She started to cry. I gripped her shoulders. “Did he hurt you?”
“No, nothing like that. Just beneath the good-guy mask is someone I don’t want near my family.” She shook her head. “God, Lana, I’m so sorry. For everything.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.”
“All I’m worried about now is you and Jamie. Can you get away from him?”
“I was going to tell him it’s over tonight, and stay at my mother’s for a while.”
I nodded. “Don’t be alone when you tell him. Have someone there, or do it over the phone, but don’t let his temper come out when you’re alone.”
“I know.” She pulled me in for a big hug and said one more time, “I’m so sorry.”
I wanted to tell her it was okay. That she and her daughter were safe, and that’s all that mattered. She didn’t need to be sorry to me. But she just turned and got into her car and drove off. It was then I realized it was a silver 4x4.
The same car Cal described leaving my house after the break-in.
“Oh, God…”
~
Cal had been called out to a fire, so I had to wait until he got back to tell him what I’d discovered. In the meantime, I was done letting Brock mess with my life. It was clear Erica had the “getaway car” from the night of the break in, which meant Brock was the one in my house. And he wanted something.
But what?
I opened my front door and walked in. Dropping my bag, I started looking through my desk, files, anything he might think could be valuable. I had no idea what he could possibly want. It was like searching for a mad man’s treasure.
“What the hell are you after?” I said to myself, looking through my box of important documents. Just my birth certificate, insurance policy—
A booming knock came at my front door.
“Lana!”
It was Brock. And he sounded pissed. I took a deep breath and walked to the door. There was still some daylight left, and I was across the street from a fire station. I had my phone in hand, just in case. But it was time to confront the bastard.
“What do you want?” I asked, opening the front door.
He was almost red with fury. “For starters, I’d like to know where my fiancé ran off to.”
I swallowed hard. “How would I know?”
“Don’t fuck with me. I know you said something to her, and now she’s gone.”
“Good,” I said.
He growled and kicked the door the rest of the way open and stormed in. I backed up and fear flooded. I dialed 9-1-1, but before I hit send, he grabbed the phone and threw it across the room.
I was terrified. Those eyes, that rage…I knew it all too well, and it made the little girl inside want to scream and cry. No, I needed to stay calm. Stay focused. Try to rein in the fear and get out of this.
“Why were you here? I know it was you who broke in.”