“That’s what we’re here for, to find out more information about what happened tonight.” He’s an older man with a gruff voice and his partner comes off much the same. As if they’ve been drinking black coffee for forty years, with tired eyes and weighted down shoulders. They don’t exactly give me confidence.
Still, knowing they are the guys we got on the case, I explain the conversation I had with Charlie, telling them what she told me. The car, the hooded man, the sweatshirt with the stain. I don’t mention Charlie’s suspicion about it being Tatum, knowing deep down that there’s no way he was involved.
Delacorte and his partner Mitchell dutifully take notes, but I don’t have much faith that they are going to find the guy who tried to kill the woman I love.
If Charlie’s stalker is going to be found, I have a feeling it’s going to be because of me.
No one else loves her like I do. No one else needs to protect her the way I must.
The way I promised I would.
“We’ll wait until she wakes up to get her story, but thanks, Spencer, for the information,” Delacorte says.
“That’s it?” Tatum growls out.
Delacorte gives him a hard look. “Without any witnesses and considering that the other car never hit Ms. Hayes’, we’re doing the best we can working off little information.”
“And the dorm rooms?” Tatum isn’t backing down. “And the blog posts. The threats. You’re really going to do nothing?”
“We’re doing our job, son.”
Tatum points a finger at him. “Well, you’re doing a really shitty one.”
Prescott pulls him back as I move to shake the officer’s hand. “Thank you.”
Delacorte takes my hand, his features tight. “We’ll be in touch.”
I nod, my heart racing as I look over at Tatum. He looks like a bull ready to fight. He loves Charlie, not the way I do, but he loves her all the same.
I’ve got to find the person who did this, and even though it kills me, I know Tatum is going to be the person to help.
2
Charlie
Trying to wake up is like digging through a thick fog that wraps around me, heavy and warm and somewhat comforting. Sounds are what come to me first. A machine beeping steadily, people talking in the distance. And then scent. Something harsh, chemical - I know the smell, it’s familiar and reminds me of my mom.
I’m in the hospital.
Memories rush back. Someone following me. The car coming from nowhere. Me trying to swerve and miss it. The tree. Then pain.
And Tatum...
I groan, not wanting to believe it.
“Hey, kiddo,” my dad’s voice fills me, and when I blink, his face is above mine, eyes filled with love and concern. “I’m here baby girl.”
“Da-daddy,” I choke out, my throat dry and scratchy, but so glad that he’s here. But he’s not the only person I need right now. “Where’s...” I swallow, but it hurts to do so, and look around the sterile room. “Where’s Spencer?”
“He’s in the hall talking to the police again. Your friends are here too.”
My friends?
“Your roommate Daphne, and Jill, and I met Spencer’s sister Ava. I’m not sure about the boy she’s with, but—”
“And Tatum?” I ask.
My dad nods. “He’s here.”
I don’t know how to feel about that. I still don’t know if what I saw was real. It doesn’t make sense. Why would Tatum want to hurt me? But I know without any doubt that the man outside my car was wearing his sweatshirt. Because I’m the one who put the bleach stain there. I’d been so upset with myself for ruining it, knowing like me Tatum didn’t have a lot of money. But he’d just laughed about it, and shrugged it off.
“Just makes it more authentic,” Tatum had joked.
How could that same man be the one who tried to hurt me?
I try to shift in bed, but it hurts, and I’m bogged down with wires and tubes that seem to be everywhere.
“Careful, now,” my dad says, helping me raise the bed so that I’m sitting up slightly.
“Wha-what happened?” I’d been fine. I was talking to Spencer, and then Tatum came in. They were arguing, and Spencer had hit him. I’d felt something tighten in my chest, a sharp pain, and I couldn’t breathe...then everything went dark.
“You had a blood clot from one of your injuries. But you’re going to be all right.” My dad squeezes my hand and kisses my forehead. He looks tired, haunted, like he’s trying to be strong, but barely holding on by a thread. He’s already been through so much. I can’t imagine what he must have felt when he got the call that I was in the hospital.
Emotions strangle me, and I choke out, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” He rests a hand on my forehead, stroking my hair back like he used to do when I was a little girl.
“For scaring you like this.”
He sighs softly. “I’m just glad you’re okay, and I can be here. That boyfriend of yours...he really cares about you.”
“I know.” I smile, feeling some of the anxiety leave me.
The door opens and Spencer comes in. His dark blond hair sticks up at odd angles, and I know he’s been tugging at it like he does when he’s worried or stressed out.
“You’re awake.” Relief fills his eyes, and he moves to the opposite side of the bed from my dad and leans down, then presses a gentle kiss to my temple. Dark scruff coats his jaw, and there are bruises under his eyes. He looks like he’s been through hell and back and I realize that my dad must have given me the sugar-coated version about what happened.
“Hey,” I whisper, twining my fingers with his.
My dad clears his throat and stands. “I’m going to go get some dinner. I’ll be back soon.”
“Dinner?” I ask Spencer when my dad is gone. “How long have I been out?”
He sits beside me, and lifts my fingers to his lips, kissing my knuckles. There are tears in his eyes that I can tell he’s trying to hold back.
“Spence?” I say when he doesn’t speak.
“I... shit... I lost you, Charlie,” he finally chokes out. “You left me.”
I frown at him, not understanding.
“Your heart stopped, and I thought...” He takes in a breath and it’s ragged, tortured. “You need to promise me you’ll never leave me again. Can’t...can’t live without you, Charlie.”
“I promise.” I want to gather him in my arms, take away all the torment I see in his eyes, but I’m too weak, so I just squeeze his hand, and tell him, “I love you, Spencer.”
He leans over and kisses me. His lips are soft, gentle, but there’s something almost desperate in his touch, like he needs proof that I’m really here. I can tell he’s holding back, can feel his anguish.
“I love you so much I think it might destroy me,” he murmurs against my mouth, pressing his forehead to mine, his palm resting on my cheek.
We stay locked like that for a long moment.
Finally, he pulls back, and his voice is rough when he says, “There are police outside. They want to take your statement once you feel strong enough.”
“Okay,” I say, even though talking about what happened is the last thing I want to do right now. Especially if it means having to tell them about Tatum. I don’t think I can do that.
I blink back tears, confused and hurting.
“Hey. You’re okay. I’m never going to let anything happen to you again. And we’ll find who did this.”
“Tatum,” I whisper, feeling like I’m betraying him, just by saying his name.
“Yeah...there’s something you should know.” Spencer’s brows form a deep V and he brushes my hair away from my cheek, his thumb stroking my jaw. “It wasn’t Tatum, Charlie. He was with Jill all night. Whoever was wearing his sweatshirt, it wasn’t him.”
It wasn’t him?
Of course it wasn’t.
A mix of emotions floods me, the most poignant - guilt.
“Does he...” I lick
my dry lips. “Does he know I thought it was him?”
Spencer winces and nods.
Oh god.
“He’s still here. He wants to see you. But the cops need to speak with you first.”
I close my eyes. “I don’t want to replay it, Spence.”
“I know, babe, but you need to. If we want to find who did this, we need to follow every lead. And telling them what happened might spark a memory.”
I nod, a tear falling down my cheek, which Spencer wipes away. “Tell them to come in. Let’s just get this over with.”
Spencer leans over me, kissing me softly, and cupping my cheek with his hand. “I hate that you’re here, hooked up to IVs. I wish you were home, in my bed.”
His words cover me with a warmth I need. “I wish for that too. Soon.”
“Not sure I’m ever going to let you leave it once I get you back there,” he says, but it’s not desire that fuels the comment, I can hear the possessiveness in his voice, the need to protect me. He walks away, looking at me before opening the door. “I love you, Charlie Hayes.”
“I love you more, Spencer Beckett.”
And I do. So much.
I thought I was gone. The light came for me and I thought it was over. I’d felt my mother’s love, her soft hands and her big hugs...and for a moment I’d wanted to stay there. But then she brought me back. Carried me through, filling me with strength to fight. It sounds unbelievable, but I know it’s the truth.
I’m alive.
Here.
Breathing.
And I will never, ever take it for granted.
When the officers, Delacorte and Mitchell, come in to speak with me, I recount the night before. Tearing up as I tell them about the aggressive driver, how he kept getting closer, and closer, how the car disappeared and then seemed to come out of nowhere and I had to swerve, sending me spinning across the black ice and into a tree.
By the time I finish explaining everything, I’m shaking and exhausted. I’m grateful when a nurse comes in and tells them I need to rest.
I wrap myself up in the flimsy hospital blanket as best I can, but I’m still cold. I want my own bed, my own things.
As if reading my mind, Tatum comes in with my favorite blanket tucked under an arm, the quilt my grandmother made for me.
“I know you aren’t supposed to have visitors, but I knew you’d want this,” he says, spreading the blanket out over me, avoiding making eye contact. “Somehow this escaped being ruined. It was actually Daphne’s side of the room that took the brunt of the damage.”
I’d forgotten about my dorm room being vandalized, and I’m glad that I didn’t see what was done.
“Thank you, I was hoping someone would bring me this,” I say, emotion washing over me. “You know me so well.”
His shoulders tense and his hands still, but he recovers quickly. “I know you like to be cozy. Thought this would help.”
“It does,” I say, reaching for him. He flinches and tears streak my cheeks. “Look at me, Tatum.”
He shakes his head, trembling.
“Look at me, please,” I plead with him.
Finally he does. His eyes are glassy, his emotion on display. “I thought I was losing you all over again, Charlotte.”
“You didn’t. I’m right here.”
He swallows, and I want to reach out and pull him to me. I want to breathe in his familiar smells and be reminded of home, where I come from, where I always thought I’d want to be. He’s been my best friend since I came to Princeton, and I don’t want to lose him. But he’s pulling back even now, wiping his eyes and stepping away.
“Tatum—”
“No, Charlotte. That’s just it. I did lose you. I thought...fuck...I love you.” He takes in a ragged breath. “You know that, and yet...” There’s so much pain in his eyes when he looks at me. “You thought...God, how could you really think that I’d hurt you?”
“I know,” I say, tears spilling from my eyes. “I was wrong. But I was scared and in shock and I thought...” I shake my head, shame flooding me. “I’m so sorry Tatum.”
He stands at the end of the bed, fingers curling around the steel frame and closes his eyes. “I didn’t come in here to upset you.”
“I just want us to be good. I’m so sorry.”
He shakes his head. “You don’t have to apologize. You believed what you saw, the Taurus, the sweater—” His mouth clamps down on the words and his nostrils flare, and there’s a flash in his eyes, a spark like he remembered something. Then he pins me with a look that sends a shiver down my spine. “You said the guy was the same size as me?”
“I know it wasn’t you. That you’d never hurt me.”
His eyes go dark, and a vengeance covers him, in a way I’ve never seen before. “You’re right, Charlie. I wouldn’t hurt you, but I think I know who would.”
Not even my grandmother’s quilt can take away the cold that fills me.
“Who?” I ask, both scared and desperate to know who he thinks would be so hateful to spread pig’s blood all over Ava’s and my room, who would send a rock hurtling through my window, who would write blog posts and send threatening texts. Who would use Ethan’s death as a tactic to scare me.
It worked.
I’m terrified.
I can’t trust anyone but the people who are here with me now. My world is small, and that’s fine by me. I don’t want to let anyone in that might want to hurt me. Hurt the people I love.
“Tatum?” I ask again when I watch the tick in his jaw increase.
“Decan,” Tatum finally says, his voice fueled by anger. He turns then, but not before I see the resolve in his eyes. He has a plan. One that will probably get him in trouble, or worse.
“Wait, Tatum, talk to the cops, they might—”
But he’s already gone.
“What’s with him?” Spencer asks as he comes into the room, glancing over his shoulder where Tatum just disappeared.
“He thinks the person who did this might be Decan. You have to stop him from doing something stupid.” I barely get the words out before Spencer is darting out of the room in the same direction as Tatum.
3
Spencer
“You ready to do this?” Tatum asks me as we pull up to the three-story apartment complex where Decan lives.
I park my Mercedes and look up at the building, knowing we’re about to break a dozen laws, if we follow Tatum’s plan. But we’ve given the police two whole days, and they’ve done nothing.
“Can’t risk him striking out at Charlie again,” I say, opening my door.
The police have already questioned Decan, and from what they told me, he had a solid alibi for the night of Charlie’s accident. But I need to look him in the eyes when he says it. See for myself if the guy is lying. Because at this point, he’s our only lead. And I want...no, I need someone to pay. Need someone to hurt like they hurt Charlie. And if we can’t trust the police to do their job, then we’ll do it for them.
“His car is here.” Tatum nods to the rusted old Taurus in the parking lot. If that was our only lead, I wouldn’t feel as confident about what we’re about to do. But Tatum is confident that the bastard stole his sweatshirt at the end of football season, and the guy is close to the same height and stature as Tatum.
Plus the asshole is sketchy as fuck.
He was all over Charlie at the stoplight party back in the winter. I wasn’t there, but I saw the pictures, and I’d suspected she’d had something slipped in her drink. I should have done something about him then, but I had no proof, and even if she had been given something, there was no way of knowing if it had been him.
I still can’t think of a motive, why the guy would have it in for Charlie, but he’s got enough strikes against him to make the douchebag my number one suspect. Alibi or not.
“Let me talk,” I say as we walk into the building.
Tatum rubs his fist. “Trust me, I don’t plan on doing any talking.” He wants vengeance as much
as I do, but violence isn’t going to help, not until we know he’s our guy.
“We need a confession from him.” I narrow my eyes at Tatum, hoping it wasn’t a bad idea bringing him with me.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get one.” Tatum bangs on the apartment door, hard and continuously, until it opens.
When it opens, Decan looks momentarily shocked to see us, before a snarl tugs at his lips and he spits out, “What the fuck do you want?”
Tatum wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t plan on talking, the guy barely has the words out before Tatum has pushed into his apartment and has Decan up against the wall. I let him get a few punches in before I stop him.
“Enough,” I say, pulling him back by the shoulder.
Decan stumbles when Tatum releases him, but his hard gaze is directed at me. “I’ll have you both locked up for this.” He runs his tongue over his teeth like he’s checking if Tatum knocked any out.
“It’s you who’s going to be behind bars. Attempted manslaughter, vandalism, stalking,” I say, shoving my hands in my pocket and going in for the kill. “Even without any priors, I’m thinking that’ll get you at least five years.” I let a vicious smirk play on my lips. “You know who I am, right?”
“Yeah, Beckett. I know who you are.” There’s deep-rooted hate in his eyes. “You’re a pathetic excuse for a human. And I’ll be there cheering when you finally burn.”
It’s not a confession, shit, it’s not even a motivation, but there’s something in his words and the way he’s glaring at me that sends out all types of warning bells.
“Then you know my family has the power to lock you up, for a long time.”
Decan spits blood. “The police already came here. I have an alibi. You have no proof—”
Tatum moves toward him again, looking ready to beat the proof out of him, but a small gasp from down the hall stops him.
“What’s going on?” A skinny blonde, wearing only an extra-large t-shirt, her hair a tousled mess steps out of the bedroom, eyes wide when she looks at Decan and sees his busted-up lip. “Should I call the cops?”
Forever Princeton Charming Page 2
