How has my life come to this?
A knock at the door startles me out of my pity party. Then Van’s mumbled voice kick-starts me into rushing to get dressed.
It’s nice to wear something new and clean. However, the sweats are too big, so I roll them where needed so my feet are free. I also pull the drawstring as tight as I can make it, causing the pants to bunch up, but better that than fall down. They cover everything and are warm. I can’t ask for much more.
There is no underwear with them, which is not surprising.
I soak my old clothes in the shower, using the body soap to rinse them off, then hang them over the glass door. Hopefully, they will be dry by morning, assuming I am going to be able to stay the night.
What if Zander kicks me out? What if he hears my story and thinks I’m crazy? Or thinks this is too dangerous for him to get involved in and needs me gone immediately?
Another strong knock forces me to leave. And as soon as I’m out of the bathroom, Van cuts in to brush his teeth.
I force myself to make my way back out to the living room and find Zander straightening up the papers on the dining room table.
The setup is small but cozy. The front door opens into the living room, which is just to the side of the kitchen and dining room. The open living area makes the place seem bigger and would be ideal if you had several guests over—everyone able to interact easily.
Is that why Zander likes it? Does he have many people over?
I glance at the few photos he has around the place on walls and shelves, and while many are obviously his parents and Van, there are a few who must be Zander’s friends.
Forcing myself to look away from the photos before it is too obvious that I’m snooping, I glance back the way I came.
There are two bedrooms that are self-explanatory. Next to Van’s room is the bathroom, but opposite that and next to Zander’s room is a tiny office, which I peeked in before. It is the smallest room here, with just enough space for a desk, chair, and a few piles of boxes piled as high as the ceiling in the corner.
“You can sit. I’ll be right with you,” Zander says distractedly.
I get the strangest feeling like I’m about to be interviewed. He’s probably going into work mode now. I guess I’m a prospective client for him, except I can’t pay him unless this whole mess gets straightened out. If I try to access my money now, I’m positive it will be traced.
“Ava! Have you seen my bedroom? Come see!” Van calls out before quickly disappearing into his bedroom after doing the world’s quickest teeth brushing.
I quickly glance at Zander, who rolls his eyes but gives me a quick nod. Then I make my way to Van, who is dressed in Transformer pajamas.
He quickly shows me around his room, pointing out toys and figurines he loves and explaining where some of them are from, since I am clearly out of the loop. He takes his time, and though I’m sure he’s just delaying his bedtime, I’m happy to delay the conversation I’m supposed to have with his brother.
We only get another five minutes of distracted bliss before we are called up on it.
“Van, that’s enough,” Zander growls from the doorway, and Van’s shoulders slump at his words.
I see it as an improvement, though, since he said Van and not Vaughn.
“You’ll still be here in the morning?” he asks, and I look to Zander for an answer.
“She will be, buddy. Now get to bed.”
As Van energetically hops under the covers, I begin to leave, when he calls me back.
He waves at me to get closer, and I crouch down and lean in until I’m only inches from his face so I can hear his whispers. I assume Van doesn’t want Zander to hear his request.
“Can you please tuck me in?” he begs.
I glance over at Zander, who is looking at me expectantly.
It breaks my heart to realize what Van wants from me. He might talk the tough talk, but he’s still a little boy who has recently lost his parents.
I look down at him, moving his hair to the side and away from his forehead. “Goodnight, Van. Sweet dreams,” I tell him, flattening out the blanket and tucking it into the sides, trying to not make it obvious that I feel a little awkward doing this.
Van smiles, though, snuggling down the bed farther until the blankets are sitting at his chin.
When I am done, I walk past Zander, who turns out Van’s light and leaves the door ajar.
“Thank you for doing that,” he tells me, his voice a little gravely.
“No problem. Van is a good kid.” I brush it off, but truthfully, I feel an ache somewhere inside me after doing that. Whether it’s because I didn’t have someone to tuck me in after Mom got sick and Dad took off and I feel for Van since he’s lost that now, too, or if it’s because I someday want kids to be able to do that for, I don’t know.
“He is. I don’t think I’ve seen him so lively since …” Zander trails off, seeming lost in his own thoughts.
“I hope I haven’t overstepped by talking to him. I mean, I obviously overstepped by stealing your car …” I wince at just recalling how badly this night has gone.
“Forget it. Let’s just get this conversation started.” He pulls out a chair for me, and once I am seated, he takes the seat across from me. Then he turns on the voice recorder app on his phone, places it on the table between us, and presses record.
Nerves eat away at my stomach. I sit on my hands to stop fiddling and tapping the table. I like to move when I’m nervous.
“So, start at the beginning and leave nothing out. The more details, the better.”
Taking deep breaths, I decide quickly that I really have no other choice but to trust Zander with this and hope for the best. What else can I do?
“Brian lives next to an older man named Conner Forbes. With Brian being so busy all the time, I sometimes spend time in front of his house, waiting for him to get home. He was constantly running late. Anyway, I didn’t have a key to his place, so I would just sit outside, usually on his front step if the weather wasn’t too awful.
“I ended up striking a bit of a friendship with Mr. Forbes. Then he asked me if I wouldn’t mind feeding his cat and fish while he was away for a long weekend. I said yes and everything went fine. Then it started to become more regular. Sometimes, Brian would be gone for weeks on top secret missions, but I would still go next door to feed Mr. Forbes’ animals. I never really mentioned it to Brian because it wasn’t a big deal. But three days ago, I went around there to feed them for the final time before Mr. Forbes returned and realized the cat had gotten out. It’s an inside cat, usually.” I look up to see Zander waving his hand to keep me talking.
“Anyway, I searched outside and could hear him meowing, so I knew he was close. Then I realized he was in Brian’s backyard. Except, when I went around to his side, I saw one of his side windows was open enough for Whiskers to have gotten in. I knew I couldn’t just leave him in there—Brian is allergic to cats—so I used the open window to get in myself.
“I entered his office and noticed his laptop was on. I thought that was weird because he was away. I figured he must have just accidentally left it on. I moved the mouse and discovered a video was paused. The image was blurry, but I pressed play. I don’t know why, and I wish to God I hadn’t.” I stop speaking because this is the part that, once said out loud, can never be unsaid. Once Zander knows this part, he’s going to quickly decide what to do with me and the information.
“What was on the video?” Zander prompts.
I glance around nervously, fearing Van might have gotten up to listen to us. But he is nowhere in sight, and we are speaking quietly enough that Van won’t be able to make out our words.
My mouth dries. It becomes hard to swallow.
“There was a woman. She looked young, maybe twenty. She was naked and being tortured by men in masks. I only saw a few moments of it before I quickly closed it. I thought … I thought it must be some case Brian is working on. I felt sick. And then I realized th
ere was an entire library of them. They were titled under dates, just sitting in a playlist, hundreds of them. I told myself they had to be part of a case Brian was working on. He always told me he couldn’t discuss his cases. I hoped this was just all part of an investigation.
“I tried to tell myself he had them at his home because he was searching for clues or something. Then I noticed the play counts on the side. He had watched these videos hundreds of times. All of them. Why would he have to watch them that many times?”
I take a shaky breath, looking down at my lap before I continue. I can’t look at Zander while I describe realizing I had been with a monster.
“I wasn’t sure what to think. I panicked. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I was certain I was just overthinking this. Maybe the laptop isn’t even his. Maybe it’s part of his investigation, too. Maybe it’s evidence he just brought home. I tried to believe this, even though that didn’t make sense, either.” Anything seemed more reasonable than believing my boyfriend of eighteen months was some sicko who was into watching women being tortured!
I recall that moment, remembering when I felt like I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see. I stumbled around his office as I started to wonder if I even knew him at all.
I try to hold back my tears, hoping to get through this without breaking down.
“He’s always been a little distant with me. We’ve always been distant from each other. I mean, at least half of our relationship, he’s been away for work. The other half, we would only see each other occasionally. I don’t even have a spare key to his house. That’s probably weird, right?” I look up at Zander, but he doesn’t give me any response, just narrows his eyes as he takes in what I’m saying.
“After eighteen months, I don’t have a drawer or any things at his place. I’ve met his family and many of his friends, but we’ve never talked about moving in together. Never mentioned marriage or a damn thing about kids. I know basic things about him, but obviously, I had no fucking clue about what type of man he is. So, I decided to search his home.”
I had seen him turn off his alarm enough to know the code. Whiskers hadn’t tripped it, and there was no motion sensor in the office.
“I rifled through his entire house, not finding anything, until I discovered a false bottom on his desk drawer.” I recall how hard I was shaking as I held the photos in my hands. They were facedown, but I knew it wasn’t going to be something good. “I found photos he had printed off. They were awful. A woman being hurt. In one, it was clear she was dead.
“Why did he have these photos? Why did he enjoy seeing this? If it was for an investigation, why would he have hidden photos in a secret part of his desk? Why did they look crinkled like he’d touched them a lot?” I look to Zander, tears in my eyes. Apart from a clenched jaw and permanent frown, he doesn’t say a word. What is he thinking? Did he expect this to go where it has?
He clearly has no answers for me, and I doubt anyone ever will. None that would explain why Brian liked to look at photos like that. Nothing that could make me understand.
“I found an unopened packet of USBs in a drawer. I opened them and decided to copy every video onto one of them. There was so much that I only got half. I used another one to get the rest. I don’t even know what else is on there. I didn’t want to see more. I just straightened things up as best as I could and got out of there with Whiskers.
“As soon as he was safely back at home, I decided to go to the police. If this was all some sort of weird misunderstanding, then fine, I would look like a fool and possibly ruin my relationship with Brian. But if he was as sick as I suspected, as much a monster as my gut was telling me, then I knew I couldn’t ignore this.
“I went to the nearest police station and handed over one of the USBs and told my story. The officer listened, wrote things down, and took the USB. I waited, and then waited some more. Finally, I was told I could leave and they would be in touch.
“When I left, hours had passed. I was tired, sore from sitting on a hard chair for so long, and exhausted. I wasn’t expecting Brian to be outside the station.
“He grabbed me, forced me into his car, and told me that the police officer had called him and told him what I was saying. He was furious with me and wanted to know where the other files I copied were. I had only given the police officer one of the USBs, but I mentioned having another one. I wouldn’t tell him, though. He told me he didn’t want to hurt me, but he would.” Subconsciously, I rub my arm where he grabbed me. “He punched me in the stomach. He grabbed my hair and knocked me into his glovebox.” My voice and body shake as I recount this. I felt so helpless, so terrified.
“He wasn’t even concerned that we were in the police parking lot. He was fearless as he hurt me. I knew then and there none of those cops were going to help me. Even if there was no one around, or the cameras didn’t face where he was parked, Brian was confident enough that, if someone stumbled on us, he would get out of it.”
“That asshole!” Zander’s outburst shocks me out of my bubble, but it’s a welcomed distraction.
I take a few calming breaths before I dive back in.
“He said he was going to take me back to his house where he could make me talk. I assumed he was going to … do what I saw in the videos … to me.” A chill creeps down my spine. “I knew I couldn’t let that happen. So, at a busy intersection, I managed to escape out of his car. I think he didn’t chase after me because it would have gained attention, and he probably didn’t want that in a crowded area. He also knew I couldn’t run forever. I have no experience surviving on the streets.
“I had to leave my handbag in his car. I have nothing now, just a little cash in my pocket, which I’m down to a few coins now. I have nowhere safe to go.
“I went to a homeless shelter on the first night, hoping to find a place to rest, but I saw a man I recognized out front. He was at a barbeque Brian took me to once.”
Just saying this all out loud is making me feel ten times more exhausted than what I felt when I first sat down. My entire body sags. I’m not sure I have much left in me. I’m tired, disheartened with the world, and am pretty close to just losing it.
“Shit, you weren’t kidding when you said this was messed up. Where is the second USB?” Zander asks, pulling out a notepad as he makes some notes.
“I hid it,” is all I say.
“Is it somewhere you can get to?” he pushes.
“Yes.”
He nods, not asking me where it is, which I appreciate.
He must realize my only leverage is that USB. I will eventually have to hand it over to the right person, but since the last person I handed one over to was the wrong person, I can’t afford to screw this one up.
“I have a guy I trust on the force. He was my best friend’s father,” Zander finally says once the silence becomes too much for me.
“Was?”
“My friend died a few years ago,” he explains quietly, another flare of grief lighting his eyes before he hides it away.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I murmur, wondering how many losses this guy has been through recently. How is he still functioning?
“I’ll talk to him in the morning and get his take on it. I am going to need to see what is on that USB so I can get a good idea of what we’ve got here. For now, until we have a handle on this, you will need to keep a low profile. Your ex is likely to know your friends and family and where they are, but is there a safe place you have that he doesn’t know about? Maybe one you couldn’t get to before, but can with the use of a car?”
I shake my head. Really, all I had in my life was my home and online friends. After both my parents’ sides abandoned Amanda and me after Mom got cancer, we stopped seeing them. They are basically dead to me, and I haven’t heard a peep out of my dad. For all I know, he is dead.
“Okay, then for now, you stick with me,” Zander announces.
“Really?” My heart leaps into my throat as hope begins to choke me.
“O
f course. I’m offering you my help.” His shoulders are stiff, his jaw locked, telling me he is dead serious.
I get the feeling, once Zander commits to something, he goes through with it no matter what.
This doesn’t feel so much like a promise as it is a vow.
“Why?” I can’t help asking. “Why help me? I stole your car, kidnapped your brother,” I unhelpfully remind him. Why am I trying to talk him out of this?
“For many reasons. One is that I’m a decent person. You need help, and I have the ability to do that.”
I nod as I wait for him to continue, but he appears to be finished.
“You said many reasons? What else is there?”
He still doesn’t answer me, taking his time staring me over. I’m not sure how to read this. Still, I try to wait him out, hoping he has an answer for me if I’m patient enough.
I take this opportunity to sweep my gaze over him. I ogle his wide shoulders, his strong arms, and chiseled face. I can’t help noticing again how striking Zander is. With tanned skin, deep blue eyes, wavy chocolate brown hair, and some stubble covering his jaw, he’s a good-looking man.
I’m not stupid enough to think I’m in the same league as him. I have seen enough movies and read a few books where situations like this evolve into something more. A protective hero and a helpless heroine isn’t exactly the plot I want my life to be in. I would take it, though, if it meant a night it Zander’s arms. I get the feeling there might be no safer place than by his side.
And what does that make me? Only three days running from Brian and I’m thinking about Zander in a romantic way? What is wrong with me?
As usual, my thoughts have completely gotten away from me and led so far down the wrong road that I can’t help blushing at how ridiculous I am being.
I Stole His Car (Love at First Crime Book 1) Page 6
