“I’m Officer Caleb Johnson,” he said politely, “I’m a friend of Daxton Bradshaws.” A wave of relief washed over me that it was his friend who showed up, reassuring me that maybe I had a chance of being believed. He was young, probably close to Daxton's age, though he wasn’t built the same. Officer Johnson had light blonde hair and pale blue eyes. His uniform was tight againsthis broad frame, though he wasn’t nearly as tall as his friend. He was handsome in a prep school type of way, probably wore a lot of Abercrombie and Fitch in high school.
“Did he tell you what was going on?” I asked hesitantly, holding the envelope tightly in my lap.
“He gave me the brief rundown, said that you received some photos in the mail that I should take a look at which also involves a person of interest in a double homicide.”
“And attempted murder,” I added sarcastically, and sighed, I wouldn’t get my point across by being a sarcastic asshole when Daxton went out of his way to make sure his friend showed up. “I got these in the mail.” Gently, I set the envelope on the table between us, feeling like I was handing over a ticking bomb.
Officer Johnson pulled a pair of white latex gloves out of one of his many pockets and slipped them on before touching the envelope.
“Besides yourself, did anyone else here touch it?”
“Yes, Shemar, the nurse who handed out the mail and another patient. Other than that, I’m not sure who else handles the mail.”
He nodded but didn’t say anything else as he slid the contents out and looked through them.
“Is it okay with you that I take these in for evidence?” He asked as he flipped them over to read the back. I had forgotten all about the writing on the back in my panic toreach my sister.
“I guess that’s fine, but it’s an obvious threat, right?” I tried to crane my neck to read them before he put them back in the envelope.
“Technically, yes, it’s threatening; the sender clearly states that if you don’t ‘come to your senses’ that you will ‘lose what you care about’.” Officer Johnson turned the photos with the writing around so that I could read it. “Is this Mr. Grasso’s handwriting?”
“Honestly, it doesn’t look like it, but no one else would have a reason to threaten me. He’s still wanted for what happened to his mom and sister, too, isn't he?”
“He’s still listed as a person of interest, yes. Daxton has been pushing to have your case reopened as well, given the new information we’ve been provided with.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means we’re doing our best to find him. Do you have any idea where he might be hiding?”
I thought long and hard about his question. If he wasn’t at his parents’ house, I honestly had no idea where he would slither away to avoid taking responsibility for his actions. Shaking my head, I told him as much. Craig didn’t really have a lot of friends, at least none that he had introduced me to.
“I’ll probably be back in touch. Daxton informed me that your sister went back to her house and has a friend staying with her in the meantime?”
“Yes, she took my dog with her, too.”
“Can I offer you some unofficial advice?”
“Sure, lay it on me.”
“You might want to line up having someone stay with you after you get discharged. At least until we get this mess sorted out.”
“I’ll make sure to do that,” I assured him as a knock on the door preceded the security guard entering the room again.
As he escorted Officer Johnson down to the lobby, I was allowed to go back to the lounge. Even though reading was the last thing on my mind, I didn’t want to hide like a child in my room and avoid everyone. Craig wanted me weak and controllable, and I wouldn’t allow him that power anymore.
June 28th 2021
What the hell is wrong with me? What made me think I had any right to question him on how he treats me? Was I really that delusional that he would take any responsibility for how he’s been acting lately? I’m crazy, I have to be going crazy.
I swear I’m not making it up, I swear he’s been blaming me for his bad mood for weeks, but when I confront him about it, when I finally have the guts to say something, he denies it. Says not everything is about me, sometimes he needs space.
Everything is a lie. Down to the ignored texts. Everything is made up according to him. He doesn’t get my texts, I never send them, or I put my phone on airplane mode to “send” them, but they never go through. I’m trying to make him look like an asshole to get attention.
Maybe he’s right, maybe I am crying for attention, trying to claim that I’m abused just so I can play the victim. He blames the phone for ‘glitching’ when it shows he’s somewhere he says he’s not. Sharing our locations with each other was his idea, only it’s constantly telling me he’s lying to me.
My head hurts, and I don’t know what to believe. I can’t remember the simplest things as the days go by. So how can I be the bad guyeven more? He’s right, no one else would ever put up with my shit. Even if the only way I can get him to be nice to me is by sucking his dick, at least it buys me a day or two of peace before I have to go back to walking on eggshells again.
Chapter twenty-three
