“I’m standing at your front door. There’s a big hole in it. It looks like it was kicked in.” She clears her throat. “There was a note in the hole.”
“Read it to me, please.” My voice trembles.
Darby hesitates. She’s breathing into the phone, making a crackling sound. “It’s nasty, Brynn. Are you sure you want me to read it?”
“I need to know what it says, Darby. Please.” My voice is strained in my effort to stay calm.
Over the line, I hear the sound of paper unfolding. “It says,Innocents don’t run. Only fucking whores. I’m going to find you, and when I do, you’ll wish it was dead.”
My limbs, once full of bone and muscle, feel like they’ve been hollowed out with a serving spoon. The acidic taste of bile swirls at the base of my throat.
“Brynn?” Darby sounds afraid. Of me? When I hired her, I didn’t tell her why I was going away. If she recognized me, she didn’t mention it. I was so relieved to be talking face-to-face with someone who didn’t look at me with fear or pity.
“I will take care of this, Darby,” I say, summoning all the strength I have left. “Have you called anybody about the door?”
“Like the police? Because that’s who should be called.” Her voice is high-pitched now. Not quite hysterical but damn near close.
She’s right. My guilt, my shame, my remorse, and regret, can’t be an excuse for allowing an unhinged man to function in society. “Darby, please keep that note. Leave my door alone. I’m going to handle this. You’ll probably receive a call from Detective Wilkes.”
“Brynn, what’s going on?”
“Type my full name in your internet search bar. Just remember that no matter what it says, there’s a reason I’m not in jail, and that I left town. Bye.”
I end the call. Filling my lungs with a deep, shaky breath, I search my contacts. When I added him to my new phone, I hoped to never need him. While the phone rings, my gaze lands on the alarm sitting tucked under the back door. Walking over, I press on it with my big toe until it sounds, then stop. Just checking.
“Hello?”
Tears sting my eyes without warning. Memories of that day flood me. The bright light of the interrogation room, the smell of stale coffee, the eyes of someone who thought maybe I’d hit and killed two people on purpose.
“Hello?” he repeats. It’s a voice I never wanted to hear again.
“Detective Wilkes, this is Elizabeth Montgomery. I need help.”
* * *
I didn’t wantto do it. I really, really didn’t want to.
My flight is booked. I did it. I closed my eyes and pressed the final button on my computer. A second later my email dinged with my confirmation.
Wiping the one millionth tear from my cheek, I pick up the phone. She answers on the fourth ring.
“Mom, hi.”
“Hey, hon. Hang on.”
I cringe at the airy sound of wind blowing across the phone, and my mom’s muffled voice. “Can you wait a second before you head out? It’s my daughter. I need a moment.” The windy sound disappears. “Okay, that’s better. What’s up?”
“Eric Prince.” She doesn’t have much time to talk, so I get right to the point. “He kicked a hole in the front door at my condo and left a nasty note. He threatened physical violence, and he knows I’ve left town.”
“Did you call—”
“Yes.”
“Thank God. How do you feel? Is there any way he knows where you are? What about the property manager? Does she know where you are? What if he gets ahold of her and she tells him?”
“Mom, calm down. Darby doesn’t know where I went. She can’t tell him something she doesn’t know.”
“So what’s happening now? What did the letter say?”
