How had she died? Something in Maxim’s eyes reminded me of one of my patients. He was nine, and he continued to blame himself for his father’s death. His dad had been driving him to get ice cream when a car ran a red light and slammed into the driver’s side, killing him.
That little boy kept saying that if he hadn’t wanted ice cream, his dad would be alive.
Maxim’s look mirrored my client’s when he’d mentioned Nadia.
I needed to know what had happened to her. I pulled up my phone and did a search for Nadia Dolov. Nothing.
Hmm…I’d been so sure I was right. I dozed around dawn and woke to an empty house. Maxim left a note in the kitchen, letting me know he was at practice. I took a rideshare back to my condo after I wrote him a thank-you note. Once I entered Millie’s apartment—with no Millie—I let myself cry. Then, I soaked in Millie’s jetted tub and pulled up some websites as I searched for a new place to live. Nothing good came up.
The rest of the weekend passed in relative peace, interspersed with texts from Maxim, my first video chat with Millie, and a time to see the judge about my restraining order.
Maybe I should have asked Maxim to meet me here—he would have. But I hadn’t wanted to be a bother…and I wanted to prove I could handle the situation myself. Still, telling my daddy would have been smart. Smarter than having a judge explain that “the man in question has no previous record, a stable job, and has in no other way been deemed a threat to society.”
He peered at me over the top of his glasses, his mouth pressed in a thin line. “That said, I read the messages you included in your petition as well as the incident report you and Mr. Dolov filed, which is why I’m willing to grant you a temporaryex parte. You can refile in twenty days, and I’ll decide if a permanent protective order is necessary. However, I strongly doubt any further action will be needed.”
Once I left the courtroom clutching my paperwork, I called my mama. The thing about Mama was, she knew something was bothering me.
“I’m leaving the courthouse.”
“Whyever would you do that?” she asked.
“I got a temporary restraining order against Dillon.”
At Mama’s demands for details, I filled her in. While I was talking, I glanced around…and right into Dillon’s eyes.
My breath caught and my stomach clenched…rolled…dropped.
No. You can’t be near me.
He glared, nostrils flared. I stepped back, so that my back was tight against the wall.
“Ida Jane?” Mama asked.
“He’s here,” I whispered.
“Who’s where?”
“D-Dillon. At the courthouse.”
“Get the hell away from that cretin,” Mama exclaimed. “I…”
Dillon smirked, seeming to like my fear.
“Get out of there, baby. Now. Go. Get. Away.”
“Working on it, Mama.” I hustled out the main doors of the building and into the waiting rideshare. My legs gave out as I closed the door. I had to open it to snag my purse inside and onto my lap.
“I’m safe,” I whispered.
“You can’t stay there,” Mama said. “Come home—”
“My clients, Mama. They need me. They’re just little kids.”
“You’ll be no good to them if you’re hurt,” she snapped. Her voice trembled when she said, “Or worse.”
“I’m going to move out of Millie’s condo this weekend.” Where to, I still didn’t know, but after seeing Dillon today, knowing he could find out where I lived, if he didn’t already know, I couldn’t stay there any longer.
“What if he finds your work?”
