by Rebel Farris
“Fuck this shit,” Marcus mutters as he turns and leaves, slamming the door behind him.
“He’ll get over it.” Holly shrugs, waving his exit off with nonchalance. “I gotta get ready for work. The nanny got here just before we came over. I’ll let you know what Jerry says.”
I grab her hand and squeeze it because I know she’s putting on a brave face right now. She has to be scared shitless—I am.
“Let me know if you need anything,” I say. “I’ll get security for Hope if it comes to that. You know I’ll do anything. Money is not, and will never be, an issue.”
Holly nods, but I know she’s holding back. The damn stubborn woman has trouble taking help from anyone. She hugs Bridget and me, and with a nod to Dex, she leaves too.
“Well, where’s this other shit?” Bridget asks after Holly closes the door. “I swear, I need a raise,” she mumbles.
“Done,” I say with a shrug.
She rolls her eyes at me. “I’m not serious.”
“It’s in the dining room,” I say, moving back to my desk chair and opening my personal laptop. “Detective Martinez and the CSI unit should be here any minute. Just make sure not to touch anything.”
I leave her to it as she walks out of the room, then work on pulling up the connection to the security server. I know that’ll be one of the first things they ask. Dex sits across from me, steepling his fingers at his chin.
“Hey, will you go grab my purse and work computer from the kitchen counter and put them in my car?” I ask Dex. “I don’t want them becoming part of the crime scene. I’ve an idea brewing.”
“Sure. You care to enlighten me?” Dex asks.
“Later,” I add, looking at my phone. “We don’t have much time.”
He nods and leaves the room. I pull up the security feed just as the doorbell rings. Crossing the room, I check the window next to the door just to be sure. Martinez stands there with several people behind him, his face marred by a frown. I open the door wide.
“It’s in the dining room,” I say without preamble. “I already pulled up the security feed server on my computer.”
Detective Martinez enters and walks back to the dining room as four crime scene techs follow him in without comment. The last one halts in front of me.
“Can you point me in the direction of your computer?” she says. She’s a petite woman with mousy brown hair who looks to be around my age, if not younger.
I close the door behind her and motion to her to follow me.
Now
Sitting in the corner of the L-shaped sectional sofa in my living room, I’m bored out of my mind. They’ve been at it for hours. First pictures, then dusting everything for fingerprints. That shit’s gonna take forever to clean up. I answered all the detective’s questions, and he disappeared outside with the other cops who had arrived. Voices carry through the open front door as the media shouts questions that’ll go unanswered for now.
Dex sits next to me and pulls me to his side, running his hand over my hair and kissing the top of my head.
“Are they ever gonna get done?” I ask, meeting Dex’s eyes. He shrugs. “You’re a cop. Don’t you know about this stuff enough to say if they’re getting close to finishing up?”
“Hush,” he says, putting his finger over my mouth and looking around. “That’s not common knowledge to everyone on the force, you know? I have very little to do with these CSI guys.” He cuts his eyes to Bridget, who looks as bored as I feel with her chin propped in her hand in the chair across from me.
“Sorry,” I mumble as one of the CSI guys walks by, turning his head to look at us as he passes. “But Bridge already knows.” He opens his mouth to say something, and I hold up a hand to stop him. “For the record, I didn’t tell her. She found out on her own.” He doesn’t say anything back, just looks at Bridget. “I just… we got stuff we need to do before we have to get the girls from the Mad House. We can’t be at this forever.”
“Soon,” he says as he leans down and brushes his lips over mine.
A throat clears on the other side of Dex. I pull back and peek over his shoulder. Detective Martinez is standing there, lips pinched, eyes wandering everywhere but in our direction. Bridget raises an eyebrow at me. Dex turns to face him.
“What’s up, Joe?” Dex asks.
Joe? I feel a bit ridiculous that I’ve known him for years and have never once asked for his first name.
“We found something on the video footage that I want you to see,” Martinez says.
We all follow him back into the office where Martinez—Joe—directs the CSI tech to hit Play. The computer screen displays the view from the camera in the dining room. You can see Dex and me through the archway that leads into the kitchen, but we’re far enough away that you can only see our feet, facing each other. Joe does a little hand signal to speed it up, and the tech fast-forwards. It hits me at that point that there were no birds on the table when we got home. We weren’t that distracted.
A chill runs through me at the thought that he was in here while we were home.
From this view, you can see my purse and laptop sitting on the counter, and I’ve a sick feeling that the stalker may have foiled my plans, but soon a male, wearing a hoodie and a backpack, enters the frame. Joe signals the tech to slow the replay back to normal. The intruder pauses for a moment, then squats and opens the backpack. It’s clear that he knows where the camera is by the way he moves around the room, yet never turns enough to catch a glimpse of his face or even a profile.
He pulls out a can of spray paint and a plastic bag, dumping the dead birds on the table. All of it happens over a few minutes. He paints the words on the back wall, then picks up the plastic bag and paint can, stuffing them back in his bag. He exits through the kitchen, and my mind gets stuck on the fact that he didn’t pause or even look at my work laptop. I was sure he would’ve gone for it, and I let out a tiny breath of relief.
Martinez puts his hand on the tech’s shoulder, and she pauses the recording, just as I walk into the dining room on the video. I’m relieved because I know what happens next.
“That’s enough,” Joe says. “If you got what you need, you can leave us, Julie.”
She pulls a little thumb drive from the side of my computer and shuts the laptop. When she clears the arch, Joe speaks.
“You were in here the whole time and neither of you heard anything?”
“No,” I answer.
“What were you doing?”
“We were… busy,” Dex supplies.
Martinez takes a step and sits on the edge of my desk, clasping his hands together in front of him. “I have to say, I find it odd that you guys didn’t hear anything. What I find more disconcerting… is that there was video footage of the incident on your security system. Up until this point, he was always careful enough to erase all evidence of his presence.” Martinez’s brows dip low as his lips press together. His eyes lock onto me.
“I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” I say.
“Come on, Joe,” Dex says. “You can’t be thinking that she staged this? I was here with her the whole time. I’ve been with her for months.”
“You don’t think you’ve been compromised? We watched the rest of that footage, and honestly, I find it hard to believe you’re able to remain objective in this case.”
My stomach drops as I realize what we almost did. Dex could lose his job. It was so stupid.
Dex leans against the wall, arms crossed in front of him, looking decidedly unaffected by Martinez’s words.
“I’m taking this to the chief. I’m going to recommend you be removed from this case. It’s clear that your interests no longer align with the department.”
“And what interests are those?” I ask. “That you’re trying to build a case against me?”
Martinez looks away but doesn’t deny it.
“Unbelievable,” I mutter as I pin the detective with my gaze. “We’ve
known each other for years. When did you stop believing me?” The answer to that is rather obvious, so I’m not sure why I asked.
“That’s enough, Maddie,” Bridget intervenes, then directs a steely gaze at the detective. “I’m going to need you to leave. If you’d like to come back with a warrant, we’ll cooperate at that time. But I’m advising my client to remove you from the premises, now.”
I fall into the chair across from my desk while Bridget rounds everyone up and shows them to the door. Burying my face in my hands, I can’t help but wonder how I got here. Every step I take turns out to be a misstep that threatens everything I’ve worked for. And Dex. God, Dex could lose his job.
“What are you thinking?” Dex asks, tugging my hands away from my face. He’s kneeled down in front of me, so I see the concern marring his features.
I laugh without humor. “I think it’s clear that once again the cops are leaving me on my own to deal with this freak.” I shake my head. “I should’ve known that trusting them to take care of it while I try to carry on with my normal routine was a mistake.”
Bridget comes back into the room. “Well, they’re out of the house. What’s the plan?”
“I’m thinking we take this to Dawn,” I say, and Bridget pulls a skeptical face. “There’s a video I didn’t tell the cops about.”
“When did you get a video?” she asks.
“When I came into the office this morning. Just before the FBI and US Marshal arrived.”
“What? Why am I just now hearing about this?”
“Because we were distracted, discussing other things. You know?” I shifted my head to the side in Dex’s direction.
“Fine,” she relents. “What is it?”
“Just a collection of mine and Dex’s greatest moments with a warning to look deeper into his motivations.”
She raises an eyebrow at me, her gaze darting to Dex and back. Dex looks unaffected by the turn in conversation.
“Yeah, I know,” I sigh. “He knows. We talked about it. He’s good, I swear.”
Her jaw drops. “Well, if you trust him, I will.” Bridget’s lips pinch together as she stares Dex down. “Just know, if you hurt her, I’ll make your life a living hell and bury you in lawsuits until you can’t breathe. And that’s not a threat. It’s a promise.”
Dex shrugs. “It doesn’t matter because I have no intentions of doing that. I love her. She worked her way into that number one spot next to Audra. I’m here to protect her and help her with anything she needs. You feel me?”
The corner of Bridget’s mouth tips up into the hint of a smile, and she nods.
“Anyway. I’m going to take the video to Dawn and see if she can identify any digital footprint that might help figure out who this is.” I sigh again. “I just need to clean up this mess first. I’m not leaving it for the girls to come home to.”
“That… I can help with,” Bridget says. “You’ll have to pay for it”—she grins—“but I’ll have a cleaning crew and painters here in no time. You don’t have to worry about it or even look at it again.”
I muster up a smile for her. Even if worry tinges all of my emotions at the moment, I’m still grateful to have such a great friend.
Then
It was late, and the girls had fallen asleep during the middle of the repeat performance of the latest Disney movie they’d chosen as after-dinner entertainment. Wide-awake myself, I took in their sweet little cherub faces. They were curled up on the couch between Jared and me. As my gaze traveled up, I met Jared’s eyes. He smiled at me. He seemed so happy and content. My heart melted a little.
“You want to risk it and carry them upstairs?” I asked quietly.
“But I was enjoying the movie. I want to see how it ends,” he deadpanned.
I smiled and rolled my eyes at him. “I’m itching to get into the music room and play right now. Plus, my foot’s asleep.”
“Sounds good.”
He cradled Cora in his arms. She curled into his chest and sighed contentedly. Cat and I followed them up the stairs. A few moments later, we met in the hall after tucking them into their respective beds. I turned to head back down the stairs, but Jared grasped my hand, halting me.
“Thank you.” His voice was near my ear, body close enough that I could feel the heat through my thin nightgown and robe, but not touching.
“For what?” I asked, turning to him. I had to drop my head back to look up at his face.
“For everything. Having the girls, living here, all of it. I’m happy, Mads. You make me a very happy man.” He smiled genuinely and walked past me down the stairs.
I stood there, stunned motionless for a moment before heading down the stairs, too. When I got to the bottom, I could hear the soft strains of the piano as he plucked notes from his mind and played with abandon.
I loved when he did this. For a moment, I leaned against the frame of the archway, listening. Jared was so talented—joining the military was truly a waste of a beautiful mind. He did it to follow in his father’s footsteps, a sense of duty to make his father proud, but music owned his heart. Memories of sitting with him while he played, the day he gave me my first guitar, flitted through my mind. I’d promised to write his music for him. Crossing the room, I grabbed my journal off the shelf and dug into my bag for a pencil. I sat on the bench next to him. I’m not even sure if he was conscious of the fact that he always left a space for me. Closing my eyes, I listened to the music until I started seeing the notes in my head. I started frantically scribbling down each one as fast as I could to keep up.
When he came to a stop, I’d over ten pages of music written down.
His attention shifted to me and a tender expression overtook his face. “You wrote it down?”
I glanced away with a shrug. “I told you I would, one day.”
He stared at me for a moment and then sighed, looking out the window in silence. The bright moonlight from a full moon outside was the only source of light in the room. Shadows played across his face with the movement.
“I was going to wait to do this. I’ve been thinking a lot about us,” he said as he rose and pulled something out of his pocket. “I think the only thing keeping you from me now is fear. Fear that I’ll leave you. That I would ever do something to hurt you again.”
I stared at him, having no idea where he was going with this. He hadn’t bothered me with talk of “us” since shortly after he moved into the house. A creaking sound broke the silence as he set an open velvet box on top of the piano in a strip of moonlight. Inside glittered a diamond ring.
“I bought this for you while I was still in training. I used to pull it out every night and think about the day I got to put it on your finger. I carried it with me every tour. Every time shit felt hopeless, I’d take out this ring and think about that perfect day I had to look forward to. It got me through a lot of rough shit. You got me through it.”
Anger surged through me. “You decided to break up with me and avoid me for four years—”
“I know,” Jared interrupted, his voice laced with regret. “I thought I was doing the right thing, Maddie. I thought it was the only way to give you the freedom to chase your dreams.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “There’s not a day that has gone by that I haven’t regretted that decision. I’m so sorry… for everything.”
“I get that, but why would you tell me this now?”
“I think you’re afraid that I’ll leave again. The only thing that’s holding us back is that possibility. But you should know just how unlikely that is. I want to put this ring on your finger, right now. I’ll do anything to prove to you that I’ll never hurt you again. For as long as I live, you have me. You’ll have me whether you say yes or no. Because you’re it for me, Maddie.” He pushed his hand through his hair and with his other hand pressed a key on the piano, letting the haunting sound echo around us in the quiet room. “Nobody can see into my soul the way you do. No one makes me smile or gets me as angr
y or can keep me on my toes like you do. No one listens to what I say when I’m not talking or is content with just being in a room with me, listening to me play the piano. Just you. Always you. Only you. Will you marry me, Madelaine Rose Dobransky?”
Tears ran down my face, falling silently into my lap. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. It was surreal and very real all at the same time. He brushed the tears off my face with his thumb. It had been nine months since Law and I broke up. Law had never called, nothing, just left town. I’d gone through a whole phase of worry about what was I doing that made it so easy for the men in my life to just walk away from me without a backward glance. I realized, in that moment, that I’d just been refusing to listen to what Jared was telling me. He never walked away; he was trying to do the right thing. Misguided, but still frustratingly noble. I couldn’t deny that my heart still belonged to him. He’d taken away my last good excuse.
“You going to say something, Maddie? I’m dying here.” I peered into his pleading blue eyes, so bright and familiar to me.
I nodded, incapable of voicing my response at that moment.
“Yes?”
I gasped for breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Yes, Jared. I’ll marry you,” I choked out.
He cupped my cheeks in his hands and pulled my face toward his. His lips brushed against mine, gentle and sweet.
“I love you,” he said, relief thick in his voice.
“I love you, too, Jared.”
His lips crashed into mine, and he kissed me with the same abandon he usually reserved for the piano. I stroked my tongue against his, inviting him in. Part of my mind knew that I was jumping back into treacherous waters without a life raft. He could crush me this time, and I’d never recover. But he had more than proven his intentions over the last nine months. There was no reason to doubt him anymore. That didn’t make it any less scary.
He pulled me up to stand between his legs, pushing me back into the piano. The discordant notes sounded as my butt bumped into the keys. He rested his forehead on my belly, gripping my hips with both hands, trembling.
