“No, let’s just get this over with.”
He nods.
Carefully, we make our way to the front door and step inside, cautious not to touch anything. We might be checking things out now, but calling the police once we are done is still a given.
First, we check the main floor, and then we make our way upstairs.
The house is empty, but by the number of broken things inside, Tony made sure he set foot in every single room.
“Do you still have your messages with him from the dating app or from social media?” Dutton asks as I quickly pack a bag, ignoring the photo of my sister and me from her graduation day, shattered on the floor next to my bed.
“I don’t know if the app saves them after you delete it, but I still have the ones from social media.”
“Good. We should stop by the station on the way to the bakery and file a report.”
I nod.
“I probably should have done that a long time ago.” My bottom lip shakes as I try to hold back the tears
Yesterday could have been so bad.
Someone was following me.
Someone was tracking me to find out where I worked.
Where I lived.
How long has he been watching me?
Has he ever been in my house before?
What does he know about me?
It all hits me fast and hard, and suddenly I'm on my knees, hyperventilating. I can’t stop crying.
“I … he …” Words fail me as Dutton drops to my side and wraps his arms around me. “Why did he …”
Full sentences are impossible while crying.
Dutton kisses the side of my head. “Because men like that are sick, and there’s no other reason for it. You did nothing wrong, Brooke.”
I lean into him and hold on as if my life depends on it, my fingers gripping and wrinkling his shirt.
He just holds me, as if he knows that being here is all I need from him.
It takes about ten minutes for me to fully gather myself.
Somehow, I manage to finish packing, making sure I have enough for at least a week.
By the time we pull up to the police station, the past hour feels like a blur.
Dutton keeps his hand in mine as we walk inside.
Kimmy spots us immediately, rushing around her desk and pushing through the door to hug me.
“Oh, Brooke.” She leans back to look at me. “How are you?”
“I’m …” Dutton squeezes my hand, and whatever I was going to say next disappears from my lips. My gaze turns to his and he gives me a soft smile.
