by Claire Raye
But mixed in amongst them all are other pictures, photos of outside my house, photos of my car, my workplace, the train station and even outside the pub.
And in every single one of those pictures, are Sarah and me.
Sometimes we’re hugging, some pictures are of us kissing, but they all contain the two of us.
The only difference being that Sarah’s face has been scratched out, while mine hasn’t.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I say, as I take in the rest of my bedroom, looking for any other signs of disturbance.
I notice my drawers have all been pulled open and my clothes rifled through and left half hanging from the open drawers. Glancing at the bag on the chair by the chest of drawers, I notice the clothes Sarah has brought over have all been pulled out and hacked at with a pair of scissors. Thankfully she’s only got a couple of days’ worth of things here, and even though I will absolutely replace them for her, I hope nothing really important has been destroyed.
When I walk through to the ensuite bathroom, I see all of Sarah’s cosmetics have been tipped into the sink, her shampoo and conditioner squeezed onto the floor of the shower stall.
All of my things remain untouched.
“Oh this is fucking bullshit,” I murmur, pulling my phone from my pocket.
Scrolling through the contacts, I find the one I’m after and hit the call button.
“Detective Greenwood,” comes the voice on the third ring.
“This is Finn O’Loughlin,” I say, not bothering with pleasantries. “I’m going to need you to come over to my house ASAP,” I continue. “She’s broken in and trashed the place.”
Detective Greenwood clears his throat and I hear him talking to someone else before he speaks. “Finn, are you suggesting Carla Robinson has broken into your house?”
“I’m not fucking suggesting it,” I shout. “I fucking know it. Get over here so you can see for yourself. I’ll text you the address,” I add before hanging up. I’ve got no interest in explaining this to him, not when it’s blatantly fucking obvious this is her.
It takes Detective Greenwood nearly forty minutes to get to my house and for the first time in forever, I’m actually glad Sarah works long days. As much as I know he needs to process this scene and gather evidence, I’d really like to get it cleaned up before Sarah gets home.
Although as it stands, I have no desire to be in my house at all anymore, not when Carla has so obviously invaded it.
He brings two guys with him, whose names I forget as soon as they’re introduced to me. Instead, I lead them down to my bedroom, show them what she’s done.
“Can you tell if anything’s missing?” Detective Greenwood asks me.
I glance around. “I’m not sure,” I say. “I haven’t touched anything yet.”
He nods as though he approves before walking into the ensuite. “And these things in here,” he adds, gesturing around the room. “All of these are…?”
“Sarah’s, yes,” I confirm. “She hasn’t touched anything of mine in here. And it’s only Sarah’s clothes that have been destroyed.”
“Hmmm,” he replies before instructing one of his guys to process this room and then walking back out into my bedroom. “And the rest of the house?”
I let out a long breath. “The other rooms seem untouched,” I tell him. “I haven’t looked at the garage yet,” I admit.
I’d deliberately left my car out because I was planning on doing some work out there while I waited for Sarah to come home. My heart sinks as I realize what’s in there, all the things I’ve spent months working on. The wedding present for Beck and Kelsey, the gift for Erin and Ryan’s baby. The thought that Carla might have destroyed all of it actually makes me feel sick.
“Alright, let’s take a look,” Detective Greenwood says, before instructing the other guy to process my bedroom.
We head out toward the kitchen, through to the laundry room and to the door that leads out to my garage. It’s still locked, but that means fuck all if Carla was inside my house. She could have unlocked it, gone in there, trashed the place and re-locked the door when she was done.
Turning the lock, I grip the door handle, my heart pounding as I twist it, push open the door and turn on the lights.
“Oh thank fuck,” I breathe out when I see all the furniture, in different stages of completion but untouched by Carla.
“Um, Finn?” Detective Greenwood says.
I turn toward him, following his hand as it points to the far wall of my garage. As soon as I see it, my stomach sinks, a heavy weight settling over me even as a rush of anger surges through me. “Fucking hell,” I say as I step closer, immediately reaching for the large photo of Sarah that’s been tacked to the wall, held in place by the screwdriver that’s jammed between her eyes.
“Don’t,” Detective Greenwood immediately says.
“She can’t see this,” I say, looking back at him.
He shakes his head. “You know we need to process this. Dust for prints and make sure we get everything.”
“What the fuck am I supposed to say to Sarah?” I ask, even though I know it’s a stupid question and of course they have to process everything. My house is a fucking crime scene.
Detective Greenwood shrugs. “I’m gonna call in a couple more guys,” he says, pulling his phone from his back pocket. “See if we can’t get this done a little quicker,” he adds. “In the meantime,” he pauses, looks up at me from his phone. “Is there anything else you can tell me. Anything you’ve left out, forgotten, noticed isn’t right? Anything, Finn?”
I shove a hard hand through my hair, gripping the back of it as I stare back at him, knowing that as much as I don’t want to do this, I have to. This has all gone too far now and while it’s one thing to stalk me, to accost Sarah or take pictures of us when we weren’t aware of it, it’s something else to break into my house. To violate a space that is private and meant for no one else but me and Sarah.
Exhaling hard, I step toward him, pulling my own phone from my pocket. “I need your word that this stays private,” I tell him. “That it’s only shown to the absolute minimum number of people.”
“Okay,” he says slowly, lowering his phone as he registers my seriousness.
“I mean it, Greenwood,” I tell him. “Because what I’m about to show you is personal and private and it doesn’t just involve me.”
“You have my word, Finn,” he says.
Swallowing, I open up the text and show him the video I never wanted anyone to see.
Twenty minutes later, I’m on my way to the pub in desperate need of a drink.
Detective Greenwood now has a copy of the video Carla sent me, and as much as the thought of that video being in anyone else’s hands makes me feel sick, he’s given me his word that aside from him and his tech guy, no one else will see it.
He’s also told me that after he’s finished at my house, he’s going to pay Carla a little visit. I’m not sure in what capacity, especially given so far, we have no proof that she’s the one who broke into my house.
Of course I know it was her, who the fuck else would have done all of those things, taken all those pictures and obviously had a grudge against Sarah?
Part of me wants to march over to Carla’s house myself. Finally have it out with her about all of the things she’s doing to ruin my life. But I know that would be just about the dumbest thing I could do and as much as I need this whole thing to be over with, the last thing I want to do is jeopardize it.
Because when Detective Greenwood finally proves it is Carla who’s doing this, I really want him to be able to nail her for it.
I walk into the pub, surprised to find both Beck and Ryan in there, sitting at the end of the bar nursing a couple of beers. Neither Kelsey or Erin are around, so I walk over and join them, silently signaling to the bartender for a drink also.
“Jesus, you look like shit, you alright?” my brother asks as I take a seat beside
them.
I shake my head, emptying half the beer Jose hands me. “Something stronger?” I ask before finishing off the rest of it.
“What’s wrong?” Ryan asks, glancing at Beck before looking back at me.
I take a deep breath as I try to calm down. Jose walks back over to us, a bottle of Jameson’s and three shot glasses in his hands. Without saying a word, he puts them in front of us and walks away.
I reach over and pour myself a shot, not bothering with one for them.
“Finn,” my brother says, a hand on my shoulder. “What’s going on?”
I pour myself another shot but don’t drink it, instead looking at my brother, then Ryan, before turning back to Beck again. “Carla,” I say, the word like acid in my throat. “She broke into my house,” I tell them. “Trashed my room and destroyed Sarah’s things.”
“What!?” Ryan shouts.
I nod. “Yep. Hundreds of pictures too, of us. All over the bedroom, all with Sarah’s face scratched out.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Ryan says, half standing. “This has got to stop.”
“They’re processing the scene now,” I say, a hand on his arm because he looks like he’s about to march over there. “I just needed to get out of there.”
“Any evidence it’s her?” Beck asks.
I shake my head. “No, not really. I mean aside from the obvious grudge against Sarah. Greenwood’s gonna go talk to her though, after he’s done.”
“Who’s that?” Ryan asks and for a second I forget that he doesn’t know everything that’s been going on between Carla and me.
I glance at Beck who subtly shakes his head as if to say he hasn’t said anything to Ryan. I knew he wouldn’t, not just because he’s my brother and he knows I would hate anything about this situation to get out, but also because he of all people knows what it’s like to be the talk of the town.
And while Ryan is both a friend and a business partner, the brother of my girlfriend, for god’s sake, it doesn’t mean I need him to know about the amateur porn movie starring Sarah and me that’s floating around
But at the same time, he’s an ex-cop and a part of my life now and as much as I hate the idea of people knowing about this, especially when I haven’t even told Sarah about it, I know I can trust him.
“I need your word this stays between us?” say, staring at Ryan.
“Of course,” he says immediately, nodding.
Taking a deep breath, I fill Ryan in on everything that’s happened. The story about Carla and me back in high school, the following, the accosting Sarah at my house, the video and now the break-in.
At the end of it, I feel mentally and physically exhausted.
“Jesus Christ, Finn,” he breathes out. “Fuck man, I am so sorry you’re going through this,” he adds.
I nod. “I can handle the shit she’s doing to me,” I tell him. “But Sarah is off limits. She crossed a line when she brought her into all of this.”
Ryan nods, his jaw tight. “What can we do to help?”
I shake my head, lifting the shot to my mouth and swallowing it. “There’s nothing any of us can do,” I say, my voice flat. “We just have to wait until she fucks up and gives us something to nail her with.”
“Where’s Sarah now?” Beck asks.
I glance at my watch, see it’s late, past the time Sarah has been getting in at. “Fuck,” I half-shout, as I push my stool back.
“Finn?”
I shake my head as I turn and run for the door. “I need to get home.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sarah
I’m at the office waiting for Joe when my phone rings. It’s well past the time that I’d normally be catching the train back to Rockport, and should be texting Finn to let him know, but I need to catch up with Joe.
After our phone call yesterday, I know have a much better picture of what the deal is with Andrew and Eliza Anderson. We kept the conversation brief because of Finn’s presence.
I couldn’t bring myself to tell him what I’d learned, knowing full well not only would he lose his shit and forbid me from going back to work, but he’d also blow the whole thing up by getting Ryan involved. He would then call Joe and anyone else he knows at the Boston PD and get far more involved than necessary.
The unfortunate issue is that Eliza accepted a settlement, something that was out of the hands of the law, and she then had the charges against Andrew dropped. It now means that Joe can’t possibly pursue Andrew on anything involving her or their case.
That case is dead.
But what we can do is set him up.
Joe is meeting me to help formulate a plan, but also to help me figure out how to approach our HR department about it all. I have no other support and given what I’ve learned in the few short months I’ve worked here, people don’t report Andrew McGuire and if they do, they aren’t employed for much longer.
Oddly, I’d like to hold on to my job, if only so I am able to gain some experience and secure myself a different position. But I also understand that reporting Andrew may lead to me having a target on my back, that it may bring an onslaught of judgment from others.
Isn’t that the girl who claimed Andrew McGuire harassed her?
Yep, I’ll be that girl, but I’m trying to convince myself I don’t give a shit as long as someone else doesn’t have to endure what I have. I imagine what I’ve been through is nothing in comparison to Eliza Anderson.
I sit at my desk waiting, and listening to the sound through the wall. Andrew’s office has been silent for quite some time now and I can only assume he’s left for the day. The thought bringing a sigh of relief to my ridiculously tense body.
After this is all over I’m going to need a massage
My phone chimes out with a text from Joe telling me he’s in the office lobby and I head down to meet him. As I pass Andrew’s office I notice the lights are off and he’s definitely gone for the day.
He’s been leaving earlier than usual and I wonder if he’s attempting to salvage his already doomed marriage or if his wife has finally left him and he’s got the house to himself.
Regardless of what it is, hopefully he’s about to watch his career go down too. Honestly, that’s what I want. I want to expose this asshole for who he really is. I want the entire Boston area that has put him on this pedestal, all the people in this office who think he’s a mentor and genius and true leader to know what he’s really been doing.
My hatred for him runs deeper than I realize as I ride the elevator to the lobby to meet Joe.
My hands are shaking and I can feel myself wanting to let go of everything I’ve kept hidden, everything that I have failed to tell people, even the people closest to me.
I’ve watched the sexual harassment videos, sat through the training, but what those videos don’t prepare you for is the myriad of emotions you’ll feel.
I’m consumed with fear of retaliation, of guilt and of stupidity. I’m worried about being called a liar, being told I brought it on myself by being attractive or thin or blonde or young; the list is endless.
But as much as I fear what’s to come, I can’t let it continue.
The elevator doors shoot open to a nearly empty lobby and Joe is waiting in front and steps in without saying anything.
Joe’s really just here for moral support and to see if there’s a possibility of pinning something illegal on Andrew. He wants to dig a little deeper, question some hopefully willing participants in the office.
“Have you had a chance to process everything we talked about yesterday?” he asks, this time he’s not in uniform but in a dark blue suit and a white shirt. He looks tired, like he’s been up for far too long and I’m certain he has.
“Yeah, and I’m ready to take it to our HR department.”
“Not just that,” he says, his voice pushing me toward what he hopes I’ve realized. “Sarah, I’m keeping this from Ryan and he’d kill me if he knew�
��”
“I know,” I say interrupting him because it’s not just Ryan it’s being kept from. It’s also Finn and he’s more my concern, because as much I don’t want to say it, I’ve been lying to him. This could ruin our relationship.
“I think you should quit your job,” Joe says suddenly, and I’m taken aback by his comment.
“No!” I shout, my voice coming out unusually loud and echoing through the metal walls of the elevator. “I’m not going to let him ruin me.”
“Sarah, he’s far more dangerous than I originally thought. If he’s paid off one woman, there are others and like hell if I’m going to let you be another one.”
“I hear you, I do, Joe, but let me see how this plays out with HR. Maybe they’ll finally hear me, maybe I’ll be the reason it ends.”
“I get you wanting to be the face of all of this and that you want to make your workplace a safe environment for everyone, but I don’t think going alone against this guy is the right call.”
I don’t respond because the elevator doors open and Joe and I make our way to the HR offices.
It only takes about ten minutes for the HR rep to take my statement and for Joe to ask her a few questions. She’s tight-lipped and lets nothing go to indicate past issues. He asked all the right questions, trying to get something, anything that would allow him to start an investigation, but it fails to materialize.
“This guy is good,” Joe says on an exhale as we head back to my office. “He’s got everyone in this company covering for him.”
I knew this was how it would play out, but I’m relieved that it’s over even if nothing ever comes of it.
“Yep, and that’s exactly what I thought would happen, but who cares because now it’s out there. People know I’m not with them, but against them.”
“You’ve put yourself in an ugly position, Sarah and again, I’m going to say it, you should quit.”
