She tensed. Bit her lip as she stared at him. Finally, she sighed and blurted, “I’ve been getting messages online from someone who lives in Mom’s hometown. Belle Chasse.”
His stomach twisted, old fear churning in his gut.
“Is this why you don’t want to go back to Miami? Is this guy harassing you?”
Tense with the need to act, he was already thinking through their legal options for an injunction.
“Just listen,” she pleaded, sounding close to tears. “I was ignoring this person’s notes in social media when I saw where she was from.” She turned the phone toward him so he could see a social media profile for “lockeduplove47,” also known as Becky from Belle Chasse.
The woman appeared around his age, with frizzy blond hair and a neck tattoo of a fleur-de-lis.
“I’ve never heard of her. Maybe she was someone who went to school with your mother?”
“Right. That’s the kind of thing that I was thinking so I ignored her.” She shrugged. “I didn’t want to worry you. And you know I try not to dwell on that stuff so…”
“I know.” He covered her shaking hand with his. “You’ve been stronger than any teenager should have to be.”
“Not really. Theresa says I just ignore stuff, which kind of isn’t the same.” She slid away her hand and used it to change screens on the phone. “But anyhow, the woman just messaged me with this.”
She flipped the device so hecould read it.
Your dad regrets the hurt he’s caused you. If you give him a chance, you’ll see what a kind, warmhearted man he really is!
Heat burned his chest, as if he’d swallowed sparks from the bonfire. He gripped the phone so hard he accidentally shut the screen off.
“What the hell is she talking about?” He’d never met the woman, so he could only assume that when she referred to Sarah’s “dad” she must mean Brandon.
“That’s what I’ve been scared about.” Sarah took her phone back and put it inside her bag, chewing her bottom lip raw. Then she withdrew a folded piece of paper. No, an envelope. It shook in her hand as she held it up. “I got this two weeks ago.”
Fear crushed his chest in a dark forewarning. He wasn’t going to like this.
“What is it?” His voice was scratchy, the sound barely there. He reached overhead to turn on the dome light.
Sarah handed him a crumbled and dirt-smudged letter sent to her from a federal penitentiary in Pollock, Louisiana.
“It’s from my father. My real father.”
“And you didn’topen it?” Erin asked, propping a pillow under her head as she adjusted her phone on her other ear.
She had almost been scared to answer the call when it had come in half an hour ago, worried it might be Patrick again. She’d been so relieved to see Remy’s number—on more than one level—too much so to analyze now. Later, she would sift through the flutter of excitement.
Or at least, she’d been relieved until she’d heard about what had happened to Sarah. He didn’t sound like himself, the stress of the night threading through every word.
“I wasn’t sure of the best protocol from a legal standpoint. I don’t know what kind of laws protect us from Sarah’s father, but if there’s any chance that he broke one when he contacted her, I want to be certain they’ve got the best evidence to prosecute him or the woman who is contacting Sarah online.”
If it really was a woman.
Erin didn’t say it aloud, not wanting to upset Remy more, but who could trust a profile name and photo? Anyone could pose behind a fake identity online.
“So you’ll talk to the police tomorrow?” She clicked off the ceiling fan, using a remote beside her bed, so she could hear better.
She’d fallen into a fitful sleep thinking about what approach to take with Remy the next time she saw him. Pretend their night together never happened? Well, now she knew they hadn’t destroyed their friendship by sleeping together. Maybe they could still salvage some kind of relationship for the rest of his time in Heartache.
“Yes. And Sarah’s counselor, too. I didn’t think it would be fair to Sarah after all she’s been through to drag her into the station at midnight. Plus, her therapist might want to talk to her before the letter is opened.”
“I’m glad she confided in you.” She sat up, hugging her knees as she watched the moonlight filter in through the wooden slats of her blinds.
“Finally.” He didn’t sound happy about it. Was he upset that a felon was contacting Sarah? Or did he still resent that she’d kept it a secret that whole time?
