“Belinda?” Dad murmurs softly, and I hear his surprise.
She’s wringing a piece of fabric between her fingers and looks like she’s aged ten years in the past day.
“I need to talk to you,” she says, tears brimming on her lower lashes.
“Of course.” Dad rushes to her side and opens his arm to tuck her under before leading her toward the back—I’m sure to his office. I scoot around him and hurry down the hall, passing the lawyer and the only interrogation room. The large window shows an uber calm Mark sitting on one side of a table.
Instead of opening Dad’s office, I opt for the breakroom. There’s a large desk, and it will provide more room than his office and keep things a little more professional.
Dad eyes me but leads Belinda toward the room. Her head turns when she passes the interrogation room window, and she lets out a heavy gasp, then clutches the material she was holding to her lips as if to cover the sound. She stands frozen in place, and her entire body tenses until her frame seems somehow smaller, frailer.
“Belinda,” Dad calls her name softly, but when she responds, I don’t think it’s to him.
“He really has found me then.” Belinda and Mark are locked in some sort of stare off. She looks terrified, and he appears almost blank, yet there’s still a threat in the air.
“Do you know him? Who is he to you?” Dad asks while glancing between them.
Belinda finally breaks the trance and looks over at my dad. A few tears have spilled down her cheeks, and she looks sad, sadder than anyone should just from seeing another person.
Dad tucks her farther under his arm and scowls at the man behind the glass. His protection doesn’t need to be stated, his body language is loud enough. A tiny grin tips Mark’s lips before he looks away, seeming bored again. I won’t say it out loud, but I can see why Belinda is so freaked. That guy is creepy as hell.
Dad guides Belinda into the breakroom, but she pauses before she breaches the doorway as if she’s debating even going in as Dad pulls out a chair for her. Eventually, she squares her shoulders and walks over to Dad. He places his hand on her lower back until she’s settled before lowering himself into the seat right next to her.
I place my bag on the counter, making sure not to crush Percival with my laptop, and lean against the wall so I don’t interrupt. There are times when a personal connection helps to cut to the bottom of things quicker, and I’m hoping this is one of those times, because it’s clear she knows a hell of a lot more than she let on yesterday.
“What’s going on, Belinda?”
Slowly, she looks up and meets Dad’s eyes. “I came to tell you the truth and let you know I was leaving town, but…there’s no point. He’ll find me again, he always does.”
“Who? Mark?” Dad has his hand on the table, looking like he’s ready to rise. I’m sure he’s thinking about getting answers straight from the man himself. Belinda reaches out and lays her fingers gently over Dad’s arm, and he lowers into the chair.
Watching them interact makes it even clearer that this thing between them is way bigger than I thought or hoped, considering the circumstances. “Not him, he’s just a tool for my husband.”
Dad’s back hits the chair abruptly when the air whooshes out of his lungs. “Your husband? You never told me you were married.”
Belinda scrubs her hand down her face. “Not by choice, not in a very long time.” Her words and tone convey her exhaustion.
“I don’t know what the hell is going on, but that man ran from the police. I have a suspicion he was involved in the murder, and now you’re telling me you know him?”
He’s not asking the right questions, but I’m not going to interject yet. Once the can of worms is open, it’s much harder to cram them back inside, so I’m sure we’ll get to the truth. “I’ll explain, but there’s so much I didn’t tell you.” Belinda is gazing at my dad as if he’s holding her very life in his hands, or maybe it’s her heart, because while she appears worried, she doesn’t look frightened like she did of the man in the interrogation room.
Dad reaches out and takes hold of her hand, stopping her from wringing the fabric. “Talk to me,” he implores.
I almost feel like I should leave, since this seems so private, but I know I can’t, if only to protect my dad in case this goes south. “I told you I was from Ohio, and that’s true, but I moved to Nevada for school a very long time ago, and that’s where I met William.” Belinda’s eyes are on her lap. I don’t think she could look at Dad even if she wanted to.
“I was barely twenty when we married. Things were good for a while.” She lifts one shoulder in what could be called a shrug, but it’s more like she’s shrinking into herself. “William is intense and determined in everything he does, whether it’s work or his personal life. There were signs before we got married, showing me the type of man he was, but I ignored them. I’m not sure it would have mattered if I didn’t. William gets what he wants.” She lets out a deep, mocking laugh. She leaves out the details about her life, but she doesn’t really need to give more than she already has, her words and body language are speaking volumes about the kind of marriage they had.
Dad rearranges himself in the chair. I can see how rigid his back is and how stiffly he’s holding himself. “I tried to leave him a few times.” She reaches up and touches her jaw absently, and as her fingers pull away, I notice a long thin scar. “He always found out. Everyone in the house worked for him, so I wasn’t surprised. Eventually, he placed protection spells everywhere that prevented anyone from getting in. I believed him when he said it was because his work was dangerous, but it also stopped me from getting out.” My stomach drops. The tiny bit of experience I have with that feeling from last night comes back to me, but I was never once afraid of the guys. I can’t imagine how powerless she would feel locked up like that, like a prisoner in her own home.
Dad’s leg starts to bounce, but otherwise, he seems calm. Belinda pushes some hair away from her jaw in a sweeping gesture and finally lifts her face. “It took me a few years of planning, but I finally escaped him. I’ve been looking over my shoulder, waiting for him to find me since. That man, he works for William. I can’t even say I know him because I don’t know his name. I wasn’t allowed to speak to any of his employees, nor they me. But he was sent here to take me back. Him and the man who died in the library,” she confesses in stunted sentences.
Dad nearly hops to his feet. “Then it was self-defense,” he blurts, jumping to the conclusion that Belinda did have something to do with the man’s death after all.
Belinda reaches for my dad’s hand while remaining seated. “Marty, it doesn’t matter. I would rather go to prison than go back to him anyway.” She gives Dad the saddest smile I’ve ever seen. “I just wanted you to know the truth. I almost told you a hundred times, but I think I knew it would come to this, and I didn’t want to waste what little time we had together. Call me selfish.” She makes a noise between a chuckle and a sob.
I finally move to pull out a chair, and Belinda looks over at me as if she’d forgotten I was even there.
“Tell me what happened in the library, what really happened. I don’t want to hear some garbage about you willing to go to prison because you’re giving up,” I challenge. If this woman has really been through hell, and I think she has, then there’s no way I’m going to stand by and watch her husband win.
