“He used to text her and tell her how pretty she looked that day or the night before at some bar. He made sure she knew he was always there, watching her. It was ruining her life.”
Laurel Hayes never went to the police. She thought it would make things worse. Antagonize him. She figured he would move on when he met someone new.
“Did she ever admit what was happening? Did she understand?”
“Understand what?”
“That he was stalking her. That she was really in danger.”
Kendra swears she tried to convince her. But Laurel kept hoping. She left town not because of this guy, but because she was terrified the police would link her to Clay Lucas and find out she’d been in touch with him. This man named Fisher Brand was far from her mind.
“Well, perhaps not,” the investigator says. “Because now she’s gone.”
ChapterTwenty-Nine
I go home and watch the feed from the hotels on my laptop in the kitchen. Wade had to have gone back to one of them after following Rowan. That would put his arrival anywhere between eleven and midnight. Unless he didn’t want to risk being seen and slept in the truck. Then he would enter the hotel in the morning when foot traffic picked up.
I stare at the screen, but I can’t focus. I can’t shake the images from last night that linger in my mind.
Rowan walking, unaware of the danger right behind him. His need to escape hijacking his judgment. The green light. The sound of the horn behind me. The bat and the arm, swinging casually in and out of the frame. Then the screeching tires and the woman yelling. Terror on her face as she holds her arm across the body of her child, protecting her from me. From what I’ve almost done.
I could have died last night. I could have killed two innocent people.
I see the cafeteria at my girls’ school and the view of the playground from the place where Wade stood, watching them. Filming them.
I know what I have to do. And now I have cover to do it.
I type a letter to Mitch on the laptop. I use words likespaceandtime to heal. I say there’s been a development, a change, and the girls will now be safer in Florida with his mother. Wade won’t risk showing his face at an airport to follow Mitch and the girls there. I know this about him now. Mitch’s mother lives in a gated community. And Mitch won’t let them out of his sight.
I say just enough to scare him, God help me—about the man who’s infiltrated our lives. I make sure to ask, not tell, to plead, and to do so with words likedesperateandterrified. He has to keep our girls safe. And he has to give me some space.
I book tickets, email Mitch the itinerary. I print the boarding passes and the letter.
I leave them by the coffee maker.
I am wrecked as I creep up the stairs and look in on my daughters. My sleeping angels. I don’t go to them and kiss them and pull up their covers because it’s close to daybreak and they could wake easily now. Instead, I wipe the tears from my eyes and tell myself I have no choice.
I’m gone before the sun comes up. I only had time to watch the feed from three of the hotels last night. He didn’t return to any of them after leaving Rowan’s apartment building. I have to play the odds that he’s staying at the fourth. And if he is, he could leave before I get there. So I just go.
I tell the detail I’m going to work early. I apologize again for ditching them last night, and they’re over it—or maybe just tired. It doesn’t matter as long as they stay put and watch my house until Mitch takes the girls and leaves for Florida.
Please make him listen, I think as I drive away.
When I turn the corner, I pull over and send Rowan a text. I tell him I need to take some time and can he please let Aaron know. I tell him this thing with Briana is too much and that Mitch is taking the girls on a trip and I’m going to find someplace safe to rest and think. I don’t get specific, but I ask him not to tell Mitch and that I’ll explain more when I see him. He knows how precarious this is, the situation with my marriage, and he won’t do anything that could make it worse. He’ll cover for me if Mitch calls. As far as the job is concerned, I’m on another leave. As far as Mitch knows, I’m at the job. I don’t know how much time this has bought me, but it’s the best I can do.
I get to the hotel in twenty minutes. It’s still dark. I holster my gun, then leave my car behind a grocery store in the area where employees park and deliveries are made. I walk three blocks to the bench where I’ve chained the bike and remove the camera from beneath the seat. I replace the battery. Then I return the camera, make sure it’s filming again and find a place where I can see the entrance to the hotel but also watch the recording from last night on my laptop. I choose the diner next door, a table with a window that faces the left side of the hotel parking lot. I order a cup of coffee and get to work.
I fast-forward the recording to theeleven-thirtymark. Wade was at Rowan’s apartment not long before. I don’t know exactly when he left, but I know when I got home so I can make a rough deduction. Today I don’t speed up the replay because I also need to watch the hotel. If Wade is in there, I can’t let him leave.
Guess what comesnext?
The girls come next. My girls. My babies. He hasn’t gotten what he wants, and this is his best leverage. The people I love. It makes sense now. Why he targeted Mitch and Rowan. And I still haven’t satisfied his needs.
The waitress brings a refill, and I wave her off politely. My insides churn with nervous energy. I can barely finish what’s in the cup beside me.
The sun is rising, and the sky changes quickly from black to orange. People begin to trickle out next door. I count the time as I watch the recording from last night. I don’t let more than three seconds pass before turning back to the scene at the hotel. Three seconds, then I pause, watch the hotel, return to the screen.
Fifteen minutes in, I see something. It takes every ounce ofself-restraintnot to keep watching but I don’t allow myself. I count to three. Watch the hotel. Return to the recording.
