At first, I didn’t recognize the address.
Then, cold consciousness flooded me and sent my stomach into tying itself into knots.
“Well, well,” I muttered, clicking on the message. “What do you know.”
Avery,Elsa had typed with no dear before my name. Why would I expect one?I’ve met someone. We’re still married, technically, so I need a divorce asap. I know you won’t deny it’s over, so don’t be a dick about it. I’ll send you the papers over the internet. You have full custody of the kid, I’m not challenging that. You’ll keep everything. Any questions, call me.
She wrote her number at the end of the note with no farewell.
I shut my phone down while absently sipping my wine. Not that I’d deny her the divorce she craved. As she’d pointed out, it was long over between us. I confessed I’d never given adivorce a second thought. Happy in my bachelorhood, I hadn’t planned on needing a divorce from Elsa.
It seems she did.
“You go, girl,” I whispered. “I hope he’s what you want. Since I wasn’t.”
I stared into the dark kitchen, pondering what we once had meant to each other. Elsa’s bitterness screamed at me from her note.She didn’t know what she was marrying. I can’t blame her. But she could have let the love she had for Declan work for her. Instead, she bolted.
“Like a frightened deer,” I muttered into the near darkness. “She never said goodbye to him. Just – left.”
Too young to understand, Declan cried for his absent mother. As I’d held him, rocked him, he, a bewildered two-year-old, cried for his mommy. The mommy who’d abandoned him, departed for parts unknown, left him as she wouldn’t have left a puppy in a field. My anger rose.
“Damn you,” I hissed in the dark. “Now you think you can come back and make demands. You whiney bitch.”
I’d sign her divorce papers and be happy to. Elsa wouldn’t contest me for custody of our son. Nor should she. She had no right after walking out on us as she had. As I stood, late in the night, thinking of Elsa as I once thought of her – beautiful and sexy and utterly loved – I realized one important matter.
A small part of mestillloved her.
Chapter Five
Jacy
Does that guy work for Carter? Was he just a random freak who had the urge to yank my chain?
I had no answers.
My stomach in nervous turmoil, I burned Declan’s lunch, sprayed bug killer around the kitchen instead of a deodorizer to get the nasty smell out. Declan watched me with concern while munching the sandwich I’d made for him. I knew he wanted the reading lessons to continue, but I doubted my state of mind permitted it. If I can’t read the label on a spray bottle, how can I teach him to?
“Can we go back to the library?”
Step outside the house? Ye gods!“Not today, sweetie.”
His small face crumpled as though he’d cry, but he didn’t. It broke my heart to say no, to see that expression of upset crunch his normally cheerful countenance. What was I doing to him? I’m scared to death to leave this house, yet how can I demand he do the same? Was I putting him in danger simply by my presence?
“I’m sorry, honey,” I said, crossing the kitchen to crouch beside his chair. “Maybe tomorrow, okay? I’m just – not doing well right now.”
Declan brightened instantly. “Okay.”
While he happily finished his lunch, I scrubbed the blackened pan while castigating myself. If the dude from the black sedan worked for Carter, how long before he tracked me to this house? Would he kill both Declan and Avery along with killing me? Would he leave them alone? Not likely. Carter’s philosophy was to leave no witnesses.
In the TV room, Declan played an educational game on his tablet. Trying not to be obvious, I looked out the window to the street. Sprinklers watered green lawns while a few kids rode bikes up and down the pavement. I saw no black sedans sitting at the curb. All the vehicles I did see were familiar as belonging to the neighbors.
Still, I didn’t feel safe.
My cell beeped. Frowning, I pulled it from my back pocket. I seldom received calls, and only a few people had access to my number. Avery, for instance. And Beth. My call log was empty, but my e-mail icon informed me I had a new message. Getting an e-mail was rarer than a phone call or text.
I clicked on the icon.
Olly, olly oxen free! Come out, come out wherever you are. I just want to talk. Just you and me. Let me know where you are, and I’ll send a car for you. We can work this out, Jacy. I promise.
