by Lane Hart
“If I hadn’t worn a fucking condom to make sure there was no DNA traced back to me, that baby would be mine!” the asshole asserts, alleviating my concern that he could be Adalyn’s father. Not that I would ever care or be upset if so, only because I wouldn’t want Sam to be faced with the reminder of that night. Has she always known the baby was mine? My chest aches thinking of her during the pregnancy, having that doubt…
“Maybe she is yours,” I lie even though I know in my heart that Adalyn is mine. Mainly I’m just trying to distract him to give Sam time to grab the knife or something else to use to disarm him. “The condom could have leaked. There hasn’t been a DNA test. We could get one, right now. And if she’s yours, I promise to leave for good.”
“You think maybe…” the fucker asks, lowering his arm that still holds the gun so that it’s now pointing to my legs and no longer on Adalyn.
“There’s a fifty-fifty chance, right?” I say when Sam slowly and silently picks up the knife I had been coveting.
“Yeah, I mean, Sam was so sure she was yours…” Hunter’s eyes widen when the blade sinks into his back. The phone and thankfully the gun in his hands both clatter to the kitchen floor. Holding Adalyn to me, I grab for the firearm and then turn it on the psycho.
When Hunter spins around to face Sam, I see the long gash right through his trapezius muscle, a few inches away from his spine, blood pouring out of it. He loses his balance and barely catches himself on the edge of the counter.
“Sam?” he croaks.
“How could you?” she hisses at him, tears streaming down her cheeks, the bloody knife still raised in the air, clutched tightly in both of her hands.
I plow my foot into the back of Hunter’s left knee, causing him to sink down to a kneeling position.
“Get your face on the floor, and I will pull the trigger if you even fucking flinch!” I warn him. Glancing over to check on Sam, she looks so lost, her eyes wide, face pale as she sobs.
“Sam, baby. You’re so damn brave…I don’t even know what to say. Right now, though, I need you to take Adalyn from me, go to the bedroom, lock the door and call nine-one-one. Okay, sweetheart?”
“Okay,” Sam replies with a nod, but she doesn’t move.
“First, go ahead and put the knife down in the sink,” I instruct her, and she slowly walks over to follow the order. Not wanting her to think too much about the blood on her hands I tell her, “Now use the soap to wash up real quick.”
I notice her hands trembling first, and then the rest of her body joins in. All I want is to put my arms around her and hold her, but that will have to wait.
“That’s good, baby. Dry off and take Adalyn from me,” I tell her, wanting to hurry up and get the police here to remove this asshole from our apartment. Honestly, I couldn’t give two shits about his injuries or whether he lives or dies, but he does need medical attention. Besides, Sam would hate herself if the injury she inflicted kills him, even if he fucking deserves it.
Once Sam dries her hands on a dishcloth, she reaches for Adalyn, who’s still fussing because of all the racket going on.
“You got her?” I ask before I remove my hand.
“Yes,” Sam assures me, her voice trembling.
“Where’s your cell phone?”
“In my back pocket.”
“Good, go lock yourself in the back and call for help. Don’t come out until the police get here.”
“The police?” she asks, looking up at me with frantic, worried eyes.
“We can trust these police,” I promise her, understanding her hesitancy after seeing that video. “It won’t be like before.”
“Are you sure?” she asks, her chin trembling.
“Yes,” I say even if I have no fucking idea what will happen next. All I know is that this is going to look bad and come down on me since I’m the one with a felony record. I’ll use the fucker’s phone in here to call Ben and ask him to come over. That way we’ll at least have an attorney as a witness to everything.
“Okay,” Sam eventually says before she starts down the hall. I wait until I hear the bedroom door shut and the lock click before I move.
“Just kill me,” Hunter says while I’m punching numbers on his phone.
“Oh, I wish I could,” I tell him. “But you don’t deserve to get off so easy. No, I think you need to see exactly what you put me through. Endless days in hell with big, angry men who want to beat you for fun. Maybe karma will give you a taste of what you did to Sam.”
When the asshole starts to get up as if to run, I fire a shot into the floor beside his head.
“You might want to reconsider your next move,” I warn him and then yell to Sam that everything is fine.
Pretty sure that he won’t try and go anywhere, I hit send on the phone. Putting it up to my ear, I listen as it begins to ring, hoping I catch him and it doesn’t go to voicemail.
“Hello?” Ben finally answers.
“Hey! Glad I caught you. Is this a good time?” I ask while keeping my eyes and the gun on Hunter’s backside.
“Ah, yeah, sure. What’s up?”
“Could you jump in your car and head to Sam’s like right this second? There’s been some…drama here tonight. The cops are on the way –” I start.
“The cops! What the hell, Grant? You’ve only been out for, what, a week?” Ben yells through the phone.
“This wasn’t my fault. And it’s sort of a long, horrendous story. I’m afraid the police will misinterpret everything too when they get here and find out I’m a felon.”
“You think?” Ben huffs. “I’m on my way. Don’t say a word until I get there!” he warns me.
“Thanks. I owe you,” I tell him before we hang up.
Way off in the distance I can just start to make out what sounds like sirens, which is a relief even if it simultaneously makes me nervous. The cops in Edson were shady. It was a small town where everyone knew everyone. Here things will be different. I assume that these are officers with actual ethics and shit.
The sirens get louder until I’m certain they’re right outside in the parking lot. Even though I’m expecting it, I still jump when I hear them banging on the apartment door. Fuck, it’s like déjà vu all over again.
“Come in!” I call out despite the fear of everything going to hell in the next few minutes. When the first cop steps over the threshold, I say, “I’m holding him at gunpoint, so he won’t hurt my family. Now I’m dropping the gun and letting you guys take over!”
I let the firearm fall to the floor behind me, out of Hunter’s reach and then raise my arms straight up in the air over my head as another officer steps into the foyer.
“This boy came in uninvited with a gun and pointed it at my six-week-old daughter and me. She’s in the back with her mother, who came in and stabbed him with the knife that’s in the sink when she realized what he was doing,” I explain in a hurry.
“He’s lying! I live here! He broke in and he just got out of prison!” Hunter says as he starts to get up.
“Everyone calm down. Both of you shut up and get face down until we figure out what’s going on,” the officer says.
Shit.
I do as I’m told since I don’t want to get tasered or charged with resisting arrest. If I get any new charges, my ass is right back in prison. The first time was miserable, but there’s no way that I can leave Sam again now that we have Adalyn.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Sam
“Shh, it’s okay, sweetie. It’s okay,” I tell Adalyn as I rock her back and forth from my seat on the bedroom floor. She’s quieted down, and now I’m pretty sure that I’m way more upset than she is.
It was Hunter.
This whole time that I’ve been trying to cope with the same recurring nightmare, day after day, night after night, and he was the bastard who hurt me. And all this time he’s been living in the same apartment, right across the hall, pretending to be the good guy when he’s the villain.
A fist poun
ding on the bedroom door causes a scream to escape from my lips.
Grant said this time would be different. The police won’t leave me restrained while standing by and allowing someone to hurt me in the most awful way.
“Hello? Ma’am? Are you in there? This is Officer Turner with the Raleigh Police Department.”
I can’t make my limbs move to get up or my mouth form a response.
“Ma’am? Are you the one who called us? Can you let me in and tell me what happened between these two men?”
Oh shit! I left Grant holding a gun on Hunter, who had a wound in his back. If I remember anything from my legal research, it’s that Grant can’t be caught with a gun now that he’s a convicted felon.
Worrying myself sick about what will happen to Grant is how I find the courage to get off the floor and unlock the door. I hold Adalyn to me tighter as I take a step back from the door when it opens.
“Ma’am, are you okay?” the short, unassuming man in a blue uniform asks with obvious concern on his pinched face.
“I’m fine,” I assure him. “We’re fine.”
“And you’re the one who called for assistance?” he asks, pulling out a notepad and pen.
“Yes. I walked in and found my boyfriend and daughter being held at gunpoint by Hunter.”
“And which one is Hunter?”
“The younger, blond-haired one,” I tell him. “The one that has the cut on his back.”
“Who gave him the cut?” he asks.
“I did. When I came in, I…I was able to sneak up behind him. I grabbed the knife from the kitchen counter and stabbed him, hoping it would make him drop the gun.”
“Did it work?”
“Yes. Then Grant grabbed the gun to make sure Hunter couldn’t hurt us. And…and then he told me to bring Adalyn back here and call the police.”
“An ambulance is on the way for the injured male, but we’ll need you and the other gentleman to come down to the station to give your statements.”
“Okay,” I agree. “Will I be able to stay with Grant the whole time?”
“You can ride in the patrol car together. But you can’t talk to each other alone until we get each of your individual statements.”
God, I just want this whole nightmare to be over and done with. Which reminds me…
“Sir, could I also report a prior…assault while I’m there?”
“Yes, of course,” he replies with a nod.
“Good, then make sure you get Hunter’s phone for evidence before he deletes it,” I tell him, going to check on Grant.
I stride past the medics putting Hunter on a gurney and find Grant in the living room sitting on the sofa, his hands behind his back.
“They handcuffed you?” I exclaim indignantly, glancing toward the other officer in the room. “Why is he in handcuffs? He was the one almost shot!”
“Just following protocol, miss,” the cop replies.
“It’s fine, baby. How are you holding up?” Grant asks me.
“Worried about you,” I tell him, reaching out to push his glasses up his nose since they’re starting to slip.
“I’m going to be okay,” he assures me. “Ben is on his way.”
“Good,” I reply even though I don’t know who Ben is. I assume he’s one of Grant’s friends that lives in the area.
“Ben’s an attorney,” Grant tells me. “He just doesn’t practice criminal law.”
“Better than nothing, I guess.”
“Can I go get a bag together for her?” I ask the officer when I heft Adalyn up my shoulder.
“Sure, just hurry. As soon as they load him into the ambulance, we’re leaving.”
I rush down the hall and lay Adalyn in her crib to throw some diapers, wipes, a change of clothes, blanket and burp rags into a backpack since I don’t know how long we’ll be gone. My mind is racing a mile a minute, unsure what will happen next.
While I feel a little guilty for hurting Hunter, I didn’t have any choice. I tell myself that he deserves the pain for what he did to me, but that doesn’t mean I enjoyed putting the knife through his back. Oh my God! Will they charge me for stabbing him? Surely, the police will see that it was self-defense. What else was I supposed to do?
“Ma’am? Are you ready?” an officer asks from the doorway.
“Yeah, yes,” I say before throwing the bag over my shoulder and picking Adalyn up from her crib to put her in her car seat.
“It’s gonna be okay,” Grant says when he sees me again, this time standing in the front doorway, his cuffed hands even more noticeable.
“The officer said we could ride with you,” I tell him. “Is Ben here?”
“He just pulled up,” he says, nodding to a tall, slender man walking down the sidewalk towards us in a suit just as the ambulance pulls away.
“What’s going on? Where are you going?” Ben asks Grant. “Why are you in cuffs?”
“Protocol, so they say,” Grant informs his friend. “And we’re going to the station to give a statement.”
“Not without me!” he says. “Excuse me, but these are my clients. My name is Benjamin Walsh. I’m a licensed attorney, and I’ll be assuming responsibility for transporting them to the station,” Ben tells the officers as he pulls out business cards from his pocket and hands one to each man.
The two cops look at the card and then each other silently a moment before one shrugs. “Fine. But the cuffs are staying on. We ran his driver’s license and know he’s a convicted felon. One who we saw holding a handgun when we walked in.”
“It wasn’t his gun!” I exclaim.
“Let’s not talk about the situation until I have a moment to consult with you both,” Ben says to me. “Ready?”
“Yes,” Grant asks. “Ready to get this over with.”
…
“Could I give my statement to a female officer?” I ask one of the officers who originally came to the apartment when we sit down with Ben in one of the conference rooms. After giving him a quick overview of everything that’s happened, Ben suggested it might be easier for me to explain everything to a woman rather than a strange man.
“That can probably be arranged,” the officer says with a nod before getting to his feet again. “I’ll be right back.”
“This is good. Just relax and start from the beginning. I verified when we got here that Hunter’s phone is in evidence,” Ben whispers to me from his seat next to mine. “All they need is your statement, and that bastard won’t have a chance of getting out anytime soon.”
“I should’ve told someone sooner, shouldn’t I?” I ask him.
“Who did you have to tell? The police in that town would’ve covered it up since they participated. Grant was locked up. And I can’t imagine it was easy to tell your parents even what was going on with him.”
“It wasn’t,” I agree, wrapping my arms around myself and missing having Adalyn in my arms. Ben asked if Grant could watch her while we were giving my statement. It forced them to uncuff his wrists, and I know she’ll be fine with him. I just miss the comfort holding her always provides for me.
“Do you want to call them?” Ben asks, offering me his cell phone.
“I don’t think they’ll care,” I tell him honestly. “They were so angry when I told them I was pregnant. And then when Grant’s photo and story came out on the news, they remembered seeing him at my track meets. They knew it was his and couldn’t believe I had been so careless.”
“That’s a normal initial reaction for a parent to have. But I’m sure they love you and care about you. They were probably just worried about you and your future.”
“I tried calling them when Adalyn was born. I left a message on the house phone, and they never called me back. I haven’t spoken to them since I moved into the apartment in Raleigh.”
“I’m sorry, Sam. But maybe reaching out to them now that they’ve had time to come to terms with everything will make it easier.” Ben holds the phone out to me; and in a moment of weakness, I take i
t and dial the number that I know by heart.
The room spins, and I feel sick to my stomach as I wait for it to ring.
“Hello?”
My little sister Stacy answers, causing tears to well up in my eyes. I’ve missed her so much and thought that even if my parents were angry at me that she would at least stay in touch.
“Stacy? It’s me, Sam,” I say around the stinging of my throat.
“Sam! Mom, Dad, it’s Sam!” she yells on the other end. “Oh my God. We’ve been so worried. Why haven’t you called us?”
“What?” I ask in confusion.
“We’ve been trying to call you back ever since you left a message about the baby, but it would only ring once, and then a message came on saying the recipient is unavailable! How is she? How are you?”
“She’s good and I’m…I’m okay,” I lie through the sniffles.
“You don’t sound okay!” Stacy argues. “Hold on; Mom wants to talk.”
“Samantha? Samantha, are you there?” my mom asks.
“I’m here.”
“Oh, honey. We’ve been so worried about you! We called and called but couldn’t get you, and you never told us where you were gonna live. Hunter’s parents said they didn’t know either.”
Now that I think about it, it was sort of strange that Hunter’s mom and dad never came to visit all year that we’ve been away. And he never went home, not even at Thanksgiving or Christmas, which I thought was because he didn’t want to leave me alone since I thought my parents weren’t speaking to me.
“Is this your new phone number? How’s my granddaughter? When can we see her?” my mom asks one question after another, not sounding the least bit angry at me.
“You…you want to see us?” I ask.
“Of course we want to see you! That’s why we’ve been trying to reach you! Didn’t Hunter tell you we called?”
“No,” I reply since this is the first I’ve heard of them trying to talk to me.
“He always said you were in class or didn’t want to talk or see us, so he wouldn’t give us your address. We’ve missed you so, so much.”
