“Oh.”
Usually Hattie’s thoughts are projected on her face like a film reel, but I can’t actually tell what she’s thinking in this moment.
“Not what you expected?” I hold her gaze.
“No. Yes.” She’s apparently flummoxed and shakes her head. “I mean, I didn’t really know how old you were.”
It’s clear now that she’s asking herself whether I’m too old for her to be spending time with, even though if I had to guess, she probably hasn’t even admitted to herself that she likes me. She’s probably thinking,what would my parents think if I brought this man home?
“Age is just a number as far as I’m concerned. Believe me, I don’t feel any older than you inside.” That might be the most truthful thing I’ve ever said to her.
“You really think that?”
Am I seeing hope in her eyes? She really is into me. Satisfaction fills me as I realize that maybe what she’s worried about is whether I think she’s too young for me. “I do. It’s a stupid thing to get hung up on.”
She smiles, and we spend the rest of the evening getting to know each other better.
Well—I get to know her better. She gets to know a version of Bastion Clarke who never really existed. Perhaps he would if he’d had a loving, nurturing mom to raise him.
9
BASTION
Iarrive in Wisconsin the following week with a smile.
My lawyer called shortly after I landed to let me know that I’m the proud new owner of a manufacturing business in all things ventilation. It wouldn’t be exciting except for the part that it’s where Hattie works.
I’m almost giddy. It’s finally time to put my plan into action. The trap has been set, today I’ll lay the bait, and this time next week, I’ll spring the trap.
But first, I have to deal with the man I found in Hattie’s apartment last week. Mr. Smith sent me a dossier on him a few days ago. Turns out he’s the landlord of a few buildings in town, including the one where Hattie rents her apartment.
He’s also a registered sex offender. What are the chances that the piece of shit only sneaks into Hattie’s apartment? Pretty slim.
He reminds me of the men who used to take advantage of my mother when I was young. I don’t like men who prey on the weak. I was once the weak they preyed on too.
I think it’s time for someone to teach this asshole a lesson. And I’m not doing this for Hattie. I’m doing it for the other women and children he’s preying on.
After I check into my room at the hotel, I head out in search of Russell Balcom. The two of us need to come to an understanding.
Following the GPS directions, I drive past Russell’s nondescript bungalow and park down the street. A quick assessment tells me that the best plan of attack is to make my way into his backyard through his neighbor’s—I don’t spot any cameras, and there are a couple newspapers on the front porch that make me think they’re away. People are so fucking stupid sometimes. Why not just take out an ad in the local paper that says you’re out of town?
I put the black mask on my face and pull down my ball cap as far as it will go, then exit my car. Moving quickly, I gain entry into the neighbor’s yard. It’s a two-story home with a walkout basement, and the deck off their kitchen allows me to look into Russell’s yard. There’s no sign of him, a dog, or anything concerning.
After identifying which window I want to use, I climb off the deck and hop the fence, dropping to my feet in the grass. Quickly, I approach the house, peeking through the window to make sure I don’t see anyone.
The coast is clear. I came prepared today, and I pull out my lockpick. It’s an old door, so it won’t take me long.
Sure, I could bust the door down, but I don’t know if he’s inside, and I want to preserve the element of surprise.
Within minutes, I push open the door to the laundry room. I’m careful to be quiet as I move farther into the house. There’s a TV on in what sounds like the living room I spotted in front of the house when I drove by, so I assume the lazy piece of shit is in there.
I move forward, stopping every couple of feet to listen. There’s still just the sound of the TV. If there were a dog, he would have already sniffed and searched me out by now.
I’m in the kitchen, which has an opening that looks onto the dining room. Beside that is the living room.
When I peek around the wall, I’m ready to ambush him should he be facing me. But he’s in a chair facing a TV in the corner with his back to me. I grin against the mask on my face. Too easy.
The curtains on the front window are closed, though they’re only sheers, and they allow some light to filter through.
