I open her door and crouch down, staring in at my girl. “Morticia, baby,” I murmur, reaching in and brushing my fingers down the side of her cheek, wiping a tear away with my thumb. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
Harper visibly swallows before finally turning to take me in, and the agony behind her eyes fucking kills me. “He’s back,” she tells me, her voice shaking as she clutches my hand. “The man who stabbed me. He came back.”
“The fuck?”
I fly to my full height, immediately whipping around to survey the surrounding areas, searching every fucking shadow as I keep my hand in hers, terrified to let go. “Where?”
“In the house,” she tells me. “I came home from work and showered, and when I got out, he was waiting for me. He . . .”
“He touched you?”
Her face breaks, and my heart sinks, devastation pulsing through my veins at what she had to endure at the hands of this bastard. “I’m sorry,” she cries, her face falling as more tears spring from her eyes. “I tried to run, but he was too fast. He pinned me down. I—”
“Fuck, doll,” I say, reaching into her car. I put it in park and pull the hand brake before pulling her right out of the car and straight into my arms as a wave of guilt crashes over me. This is on me. I didn’t find him fast enough. I didn’t do my job. I didn’t protect her like I vowed. I let her down. “You don’t need to be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I did,” she cries. “I did so much wrong. I should have been honest with you. I should have told you everything, but I was tooscared, and now . . . I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to make it stop.”
“Shhhhhh,” I say, my hands rubbing up and down her arms, desperately trying to soothe her. “It’s okay. Let’s get you inside, then you can tell me exactly what happened. You don’t need to be scared, doll. I’ve got you now, and I’m never letting you out of my sight.”
My hand falls down to hers, and she clutches it like her only lifeline, but as I go to pull her toward the house, she hesitates, frantically shaking her head. “No,” she says, panicking. “I never saw him come out. He’s still in there.”
My eyes widen, and I look toward my house, my hand already reaching for my gun. “Are you sure?”
She nods, the fear in her eyes like nothing I’ve ever seen before. “Okay, stay here,” I tell her. “Get back in your car and lock the door. Don’t unlock it until I come back for you. Understood?”
Harper nods again, and I open her car door, watching as she silently climbs back in before looking up at me through the window. She locks the car, and I hold her stare for a moment longer before finally turning away and heading straight for the door.
I release my gun from its holster, my finger resting alongside the trigger as I reach for the handle and turn, unable to get Harper’s words out of my head. What hasn’t she been telling me? What hasn’t she been honest about? What is it that she thinks she has done wrong?
Letting out a breath, I silently push the door open, using the tip of the gun to push it wider as I survey every inch of my entryway. There’s nothing out of place. No signs of forced entry, no scratches on the new door lock. To the naked eye, everything appears as it should.
Stepping into the house, I do a quick walk around the living room and into the kitchen before making my way down the hall. I glance into the bathroom and every closet on the way before checking the spare bedroom. The coast is clear, and as I finally move into the bedroom, I start to see fragments of Harper’s story come to life.
Her scrubs on the floor from where she would have walked in and stripped off on her way to the bathroom. Her towel is on the floor, and though the bed is still made, it’s clear there was a struggle on top of the blankets. But there’s no sign of anybody inside the house.
I do a double and triple check, not wanting to risk bringing Harper back in here without being absolutely positive. When I finally head back outside and approach her Honda, she unlocks and opens the door. I make my way over to her, and she looks up at me as I step into the open car door. “There’s nobody in there,” I tell her. “It’s clear.”
Her eyes are still watery as she watches me. “You’re sure?”
“Positive, doll. It’s safe.”
She slowly nods before finally giving me her hand, and I help her out of her car before locking it behind me. We walk up the path together, my hand on her lower back as I lead her back into our home. “Have you slept?” I ask, closing the door behind us.
She shakes her head. “Couldn’t,” she murmurs.
“Why didn’t you call me? I would have come straight home.”
She shrugs. “I, umm . . . My phone. I left it here after I ran out. I didn’t want to come back in until I knew he was gone.”
“You ran?” I ask, leading her over to the couch. I sit down, and she immediately climbs into my lap, straddling my thighs and curling into my chest, right where she belongs. Harper nods against my chest, and I bring my hand up, cupping the side of her face. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”
She takes a shaky breath, and I give her a minute to gather her thoughts before she’s finally ready to talk. “I got home a little after five and went to our room to shower, but when I got out, he was just standing there in the doorway, waiting for me. I was only in a towel and he was blocking the door. I had nowhere to go. And then he said all this stuff about how I belong to him, and when I told him he was sick in the head, he ran at me.”
She whimpers, tears streaming down her cheeks. I wipe them away, doing what I can to soothe her. “You’re safe now, doll. I’ve got you.”
She nods again before letting out a shaky breath. “He . . . He was coming from the door, and I had nowhere to go, so I tried to break through the window but he got to me first and then threw me down on the bed, and when I tried to get away, he pulled me by the ankle and pinned me under his body.”
“Doll,” I breathe, brushing my fingers through her hair, every last piece of my soul crumbling.
