by Conley, Anne
“Okay. Thanks.” She didn’t know what else to say. Shuffling her feet awkwardly, she asked the question she hadn’t been able to keep from coming back to her. “Is he getting any better?” She swallowed, “Staying clean?”
“A little better. Still clean.” Les grinned at her. “He took a walk yesterday. It was nice to see him out of bed for a change. But he’s healing slower than he normally does, and I think it’s because he’s in there feeling sorry for himself.”
A pang of something akin to guilt shot through Casey’s system. She squashed it, vowing to not feel guilty. She hadn’t done anything besides live her own life. Brent was the one who’d pushed her away in the first place by not being honest. He was paying for his mistakes, and she couldn’t take ownership of that.
“Thanks for letting me know, Les. Um, I probably don’t need you to sleep on my sofa anymore, I think I know who’s doing all this. But I’ll call you later, okay?” She turned and scurried out the door, hearing Les’ booming voice as he approached the bank of tellers.
“Hey ladies! How are y’all doing today?”
Back in the solitude of her car, Casey looked at her trembling hands. She had a choice to make. She could go to Brent’s house and try to talk to him. She could forget everything she’d ever thought she knew about addiction and try to have a relationship with the only man she’d ever loved. Or she could go home, and face reminders of her stalker ex-husband everywhere she turned.
Making her decision, Casey started the car and drove out of the parking lot.
Chapter 20
The police station was a stark affair, not at all what she imagined. A woman behind plexi-glass was the only person she saw when she entered. Casey could hear voices behind closed doors, but they were locked with a numbered key pad, and she couldn’t see anybody else. Down a hallway was some sort of lounge or break room, judging by the laughter coming from the area.
After telling the lady behind the glass who she needed and why, she was instructed to sit in one of four hard plastic seats in the room. Other than that, it was empty, and Casey idly looked at the posters of people with warrants out for their arrest, curiosity mingling with a civic duty to look for recognition of faces so she could help put bad guys behind bars.
She felt a little silly sitting there, ready to give information about her ex-husband, and probably make another statement. This would most likely be considered a domestic dispute, and Casey felt a little like she was wasting the time and resources of the police force.
She honestly didn’t think Kevin was capable of doing anything dangerous to her, but enough was enough. She didn’t want him chasing her and her mother out of their home. While she waited, she called the lawyer that had handled her divorce and filled her in on her suspicions.
“I think he’s having trouble in paradise and is just looking for attention. Unfortunately, I was too distracted to realize it was him, so that failed.” She spoke into the phone. “I’m at the police station now, getting ready to file another report, I’m sure. Am I doing the right thing?”
“Absolutely.” Her lawyer, Melissa Chatwell, was an efficient woman, who spoke with a clipped accent, as if always in a hurry. “Every bit of documentation you can have against him will cast him in a negative light. I wouldn’t be surprised if the police wanted you to file a restraining order against him. In fact, that’s what I would recommend you do. That way, any contact he has with you can be through me, or else he’s in violation and can go to jail.”
“I don’t necessarily want to put him in jail, though.” Casey actually still sort of liked Kevin, even if he was an ass. He was still the man she’d married, and wasn’t all bad.
She heard Melissa sigh. “Don’t go easy on him based on some misconception. This is classic stalker behavior, Casey. It escalates, and you could be in danger. If this is Kevin, he’s coming un-hinged somehow. File a restraining order. I’ll call Officer Sanchez. Do you need me to come up there?”
“No. I can handle this.” She shuddered at how many hours she would be billed if her lawyer drove all the way up here to talk to the cops.
When Officer Sanchez finally came into the waiting room to get her, she had hung up with her lawyer, and Melissa had had enough time to call him and tell him every sordid detail of their divorce. She’d also had enough time to memorize some of the faces on the wanted posters for future reference, in case she saw one of them in a convenience store or something. Her butt was numb and she had just about decided to leave and call him later.
“Mrs. Conway? I’m sorry to keep you waiting. Follow me, please.” He led her into a room in a different direction from where he’d come. Obviously not his office, but a multi-purpose room. There was no one-way glass, just old worn out office chairs and a desk with stacks of blank forms on them.
Officer Sanchez sat and gestured for her to follow suit, while he unobtrusively took his notebook from his front pocket. “Okay, I just talked to Ms. Chatwell, and she updated me on your suspicions, but I’d like for you to tell me again. Why do you think now this is your ex-husband?”
So Casey told him the entire story, from the beginning, her cheeks warm with the blush she knew was there when she mentioned her underthings, and the shoes. All the things she’d left out of her first accounts.
“Why didn’t you tell me all of this to begin with?”
She sighed, an all too familiar reaction now. “Because I never thought Kevin would be capable of something like this. I had noticed the stuff was missing, but just assumed he went through my things before I left the house in Houston. That was more his style, to pilfer through my things and take what he didn’t want me to have. I never really noticed they were missing specifically from Mom’s house in Serendipity. I just knew I didn’t have them now.”
The officer leaned back in his chair, lacing his hands together and resting them on his stomach. “Well, let me tell you, this doesn’t look good. I’m not trying to scare you, but you need to see reality here. You’ve divorced this man, and whether or not he has a new life with another woman, you are his past. And he’s been sneaking into your mom’s house and taking things that were an important part of y’all’s past: underwear, a comb, wedding photo, shoes he liked. And he’s purposely left evidence of being there. He wants you to know he’s been there. That’s a behavior of trying to instill fear. Whether or not it worked is irrelevant. This is classic stalking behavior, and the messed up sheets, indicating he’s slept in your bed, show it’s escalating. I must advise you of the danger you’re in, and suggest you find somewhere else to stay. Your mother as well. I’ll see the area gets patrolled more often, but we don’t have the resources at this point to keep an officer there twenty four hours a day. Stay elsewhere, for now.”
Casey sat silently, chewing her bottom lip in thought. She didn’t really have anywhere else to stay, except with Summer. She’d called her old friend a few times, and they’d managed to catch up. But she knew her friend was getting ready to leave the country.
Then there was always Brent. She’d rather stay with him and the safety of his arms, but they had a lot to get through first. They had at least one serious discussion before she could make the decision to stay with him. She needed to know he wasn’t going to be like her dad.
Although, deep down, she already knew the answer to that, didn’t she?
Officer Sanchez interrupted her thoughts, speaking slowly and meaningfully, “We’ve called the number you gave us, and his cell phone has been disconnected. I have an officer with the Houston Police Department going by his house later this evening to talk to him, but I suspect he won’t be there. You need to fill out a restraining order against Mr. Conway. That way, you have a reason to press charges if something else happens, something that may seem harmless, but isn’t.”
“Okay.” She felt defeated. Kevin had pushed her into a corner, and she felt like she didn’t have a choice. Her lawyer advised it, the police advised it. She honestly didn’t feel like Kevin meant any harm, he’d alway
s just wanted attention, and this was yet another misguided attempt at it. Patricia must not be giving him enough, now that the baby was around.
Filling out the paperwork, Casey set her mind to forgetting about Kevin and fixing things with Brent. She needed to let go of this whole negative chapter, and if filing a restraining order against him would allow her to move on, she was willing to do it. Now if only things with Brent would be as easy as filling out a form.
Chapter 21
Brent inhaled as deeply as his ribs would allow and surveyed the pasture around him. It was almost dusk, and Mooch was sitting on Brent’s feet, snapping his jaws at the June bugs that were buzzing around them, remarkably accurate. The crunch of his jaws signaled he’d caught one, and Brent smiled wryly. His snack wouldn’t deter the dog’s appetite any.
The dry summer heat had taken its usual toll on the grass and the greenish brown blades crackled under his feet when he walked. He’d done a good job getting rid of the weeds though, and the horses seemed content to munch lazily on the dried grass. The six horses seemed to be getting along nicely since he’d moved two of the new rescues in with the Colonel and the others.
He’d taken to calling one of them Lady, as she was more dainty with her feed bucket, not shoving her face in and inhaling the food like the others, she sucked up the grain with her tongue and lips before moving it into her mouth, lifting her head and looking out at the barn while chewing. She savored her food and took longer to eat. She also had a prancy bounce to her step, which Brent found endearing. He would try to saddle her as soon as his ribs healed and he was able to ride again.
The other mare that the Sheriff’s Department had brought out was more skittish, although not nearly as skittish as the one still in the quarantine stable. He thought about moving her back out there to keep the other one company and trying to socialize them both together a little more before bringing them back with the Colonel and Sugar.
He hated to ask Max or Les to do it for him, but he wanted to get better so he could work on rehabilitating these horses. Success stories were a basic requirement for his business.
He needed to feel like he was good for something. He’d been walking around the yard the past two days, stretching his muscles as they healed, and was getting better. The pain was lessening, physically. But he was still stuck with his thoughts.
Brent whistled softly, and the Colonel came trotting over to him, while the other horses raised their heads and watched, ears perked forward, alert.
“Hey there, buddy.” The stallion nudged his shoulder with his nose, and Brent brought his arms up to scratch the huge horse behind his ears. He snorted in reply, and started sniffing his pockets for a treat. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking when I left the house. I’ll be sure and bring you something later, okay?” The Colonel snorted again, harder, and Brent chuckled, leaning his face into the earthy scent of the animal.
“Life’s so simple for you, isn’t it? Food, water, a place to run, and some female companions, and you’re just happy as a pig in slop, aren’t you?” His soft words brought the horse forward, and it rested its head over Brent’s shoulder, the equine equivalent of a hug. “Animals are pretty smart, huh? You’re certainly not a dumb beast.”
A soft nicker brought Brent’s gaze behind the Colonel to see Sugar sidling up. “You want some lovin’ too, little lady? Well, come get some.” He held his hand out, palm up, and Sugar walked over to lay her head over his other shoulder, not even trying to sniff for treats.
Brent was overwhelmed. These animals somehow knew he was hurting, although his wounds weren’t totally physical, and they were trying to comfort him. They were trying to impart comfort on him, who was solely responsible for their well-being and survival. At least he had someone in his corner, even if they were all four-legged creatures.
A thunderous voice cut into his melancholy. “Hey man! I come to muck!” Les interrupted Brent’s bonding moment, and both horses raised their heads and backed away to follow Les to the barn. They knew when feeding time was, and since Brent wasn’t currently doing it, their new best friend was Les.
“Thanks man. I think I’ll be able to help a little tomorrow.”
“No worries.” Les trotted over to him. “Um…I wanted to talk to you about Casey.”
Brent rolled his eyes. Les was worse than his sister, butting into his business. But he’d been sleeping on Casey’s couch, Brent had made sure, so he might have some inside information. His interest level peaked, as much as he wished it didn’t.
He hadn’t heard from her since the day before yesterday. He’d started to call her at least six times since she’d left, but he kept stopping himself. He couldn’t handle the rejection.
Les was still looking at him, a question in his eyes, waiting for the go-ahead to keep talking, even though Brent knew Les would talk to a brick wall if given the chance. He nodded slowly, allowing permission.
“She looks pretty bad, man. She’s dealing with some heavy stuff, you know?”
“Yeah…” Brent didn’t know what to say when somebody stated the obvious. Of course, Casey was dealing with some heavy stuff. At least she was trying to deal with it, and hadn’t written him off completely. He hoped.
“I think all it would take is a phone call. She looks miserable.”
“Yeah, you said that.” He didn’t want to think about Casey feeling awful because of him.
“And she told me not to sleep on her couch anymore. She thinks she knows who it is.” With that nugget of information mysteriously laid at Brent’s feet, he turned and trotted off to the barn, while Brent made his way back to the house.
Thinking about what Les said, he made himself a sandwich, took some ibuprofen, grabbed his notebook and walked out onto the porch. His injuries had set back his timeline of ranch work, and he needed to make some alterations. Mooch settled himself at Brent’s feet again. The dog hadn’t left his side since the night of the accident. Brent knew the canine was torn every time somebody went out to the barn, between staying with his master, and being the typical busy body he was, and making sure things with the horses were taken care of.
Who did Casey think had been breaking into her house? Brent still thought it had to be her ex. Who else could it be? Irritation surfaced, as he remembered Casey’s offhanded way of dealing with his suspicion. That Kevin wasn’t capable of something so sinister. Any man would be capable of something sinister when it came to losing Casey. He had to tamp down murderous thoughts when he recalled Casey’s words of how Kevin had treated her, disrespecting the sanctity of their marriage. Hell, he wanted to kill the guy just for marrying her in the first place.
Fruitless thoughts. Casey didn’t want him in her life, and he couldn’t blame her. So he turned his mind to the sanctuary.
He needed to get on the tractor as soon as possible and mow. The horses needed their pastures mowed regularly, and that wasn’t something he could ask Les or Max to do for him. It was a long job, one that would take a couple of days. He also needed to fertilize the back pastures for hay cutting in the fall. He already had the fertilizer purchased, he’d been planning on doing that last week.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a car coming up his driveway. He raised his head, and a tentative smile stole across his lips at the sight of Casey’s Acura bumping up the dirt road that led from the highway.
His stomach did strange things as he saw her step out of the car, his eyes going immediately to her black flip flops, trying not to imagine what she was wearing under her capri pants and tank top. He watched Mooch run out to greet her with his obligatory goosing, and saw Casey smile at the canine warmly before reaching down to stroke him.
“Hey,” he offered weakly, when she walked to where she could hear him.
She smiled a small smile at him, and he wondered what it meant. Her last words to him echoed in his mind, “Goodbye.” Those words had wrenched his heart, squeezing it harder than the searing pain in his ribs. She had come over here, presumably to talk, so h
e would let her say her piece. But she was here, and that was a start. He looked at her hopefully, as she climbed the two steps to his porch and stood in front of him.
“I have some things to say to you.” He watched as she took a deep breath and ran her fingers through her hair. It was long and brown, and fell below her shoulders. He turned his thoughts away from her hair, as it just brought to mind things he couldn’t do right now.
“I’m listening, Casey.”
“The other day, I watched you sit on your couch and tell me that your problems are my fault.” She held her hand up to stop his protest. “If I had read your mind and followed you off to school your life wouldn’t have turned out like this?”
She swiped her hand through her hair again, and started pacing the small porch, two steps one way, two steps back, her shoes flipping in the silence. “Well, that’s not the way the world works, Brent and you know it. You tell me that you’ve loved me your entire life, and all I have to say is DITTO!”
Her words shocked him. Stunned, he stared at her, unable to find the words to respond. “If you hadn’t run away, I wouldn’t have married Kevin! I’d have been with you, and you wouldn’t have done any of that stuff.”
She stopped pacing and turned to him, as her words sank in. “So you can’t blame this shit on me, Brent fucking Baum! Because it’s not my fault! Now, I’m glad you’re getting clean, but you of all people know it has NEVER been a part of my plan to give my heart to another loser addict like my dad. Never.”
His heart plummeted to see her eyes shining with tears as she said her final words. “So I’ve got to figure out what the hell I’m going to do with this, because you have my heart, and I don’t even know if I want it back!”
She threw herself into the seat next to him, not touching him, but still sitting next to him. He swallowed thickly as he tried to digest her words. Finally, he drew up the courage to speak.
