“What do you mean he’s been released?”
“He’s already out?”
“Why?” I whispered. “Why was he let out early?”
“The reason cited is overcrowding,” came the reluctant answer.
I let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Overcrowding? Do you know what kind of man he is?” The word hung in the air like a blade, sharp and unforgiving.
The detective sighed. “I think I do. I’m sorry, Miss Gilson, I’m Detective Mark Detwiler,” he said, a note of recognition sparking in my mind. “I led the investigation three years ago. I wasn’t sure what you knew about his case, or if you kept track.”
“No,” I said, the word tight, compressed with years of avoidance. “I told you all I needed back then. I didn’t want updates.”
He chuckled, a dry sound that somehow softened the tension. “I remember that. But I need you to know: he wasn’t just convicted for burglary or robbery. His charges were violent. He left someone in a wheelchair for life.”
His words crashed over me, each one heavier than the last. “He was supposed to serve ten years,” I whispered, anger threading through my shock. “Only three? And now I find out it was more than robbery, that it was violence… with all that he’s out, only serving three years?”
The fear settled in my chest, thick and suffocating. “I need to protect my daughter, don’t I?”
The detective’s sigh came heavy. “Yes, Miss Gilson. I argued against his release, but it wasn’t my call. He’s made remarks that suggest revenge isn’t off the table. I wanted you to know so you could stay vigilant.”
My heart thudded, the blood roaring in my ears. “Thank you for calling,” I managed, breathless.
“Are you driving?” His tone sharpened with concern.
“No.” I glanced around the parking lot, the dark corners that now seemed more sinister. “You think he’ll come after me, don’t you?”
A long pause, then, “I believe it’s possible. He said some things when he was signing papers that make me think he’s going to come after you, yes. Not direct threats but I want you to know. Be cautious. He isn’t the type who fears going back to prison.”
Fear wrestled with logic, my mind leaping to my brother, Marcus. He’d know what to do. He always did.
“Thanks again, Detective Detwiler. I do appreciate you informing me.”
“It’s no problem, Miss Gilson. Listen, I don’t have the authority to assign any cops to watch over you. Do you have anyone who can help you and keep you safe? I saw from the file that you moved but you’re probably on your own, right? You haven’t gotten married again?”
His words brought Jackson to my mind and I told myself it was because he was a firefighter, not because he was extremely attractive.
“Sir, I most certainly have not gotten married again.” While he laughed on the other side of the line, I continued, “I live next door to a first responder. Not a cop. A firefighter. I’ll ask him to keep an eye on my house.”
“You do that. Stay safe, and don’t hesitate to call if you need anything. My contact info should be on your phone and in the message I left at your office.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Take care, Miss Gilson.”
I ended the call, sat for another moment, then locked the car doors before starting the engine. As I pulled out of the lot, the distant glow of streetlights blurred in my vision. I focused on one thing: getting to Alana. Everything else would wait.
The hum of heat blowing against the chill was barely comforting. On my way, I plugged in my phone unto the car and called Marcus, the familiar tone of his voice echoing through the speakers after a few rings.
His voice coming through my car speakers always sounded so powerful. I trusted my brother to be wise and to always take care of me however he could whenever he could. He had told me if I ever felt in danger again to let him know. If there was ever a time for me to call him, it was now.
“Greetings and salutations, sister!” he said. He was the kind of guy who answered the phone a different way every time.
His breathless voice made me smile despite everything. I could hear a train in the background.
“Hey, Marcus. Trail biking again?” I tried to sound casual, though the strain tightened my words.
“Yep. Perfect day for it. You okay? You sound off. Give me a second, I’ll take a break. Needed one anyway.”
