Chapter 11 – Beth
A week later, as we’re sitting together on the sofa after putting the kids in bed, Shane receives a phone call.
He picks up his phone to check the screen. “It’s Troy,” he says, accepting the call. “Troy, you’re on speaker. Beth is here with me.”
“Hi, Beth,” Troy says over the line. “I just received word that Andrew is going to be released Monday morning at ten.”
My stomach knots.
On Monday morning my life unravels at the seams.
“I’m sorry,” Troy continues. “I wish we’d gotten a different outcome on this. I’m still hoping Tyler can come up with something that will make a difference. In the meanwhile, I’m still pursuing an appeal of their decision, but I’m afraid that process takes time.”
“Thanks for the update, Troy,” Shane says, never taking his eyes off me. “I’ll talk to you later.” He ends the call and quickly sends a brief text message. “I let the guys know—Sam, Cooper, Tyler.” He sets his phone aside. “Are you okay?”
I shake my head. No. Before it was just talk, but now it’s really happening.
“Come here.” He pulls me into his lap, holding me in his arms and kissing my temple.
I lay my head against his chest, wondering how I can possibly function knowing there’s someone out there, walking free, who might want to hurt me and my family.
Shane runs his hand up and down my arm, doing his best to comfort me. “I promise you, if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll make it okay.”
* * *
Now that we know the day and time of Andrew’s release, everything feels so much more real.
I do my best to hide my anxiety from Shane and our kids.
The stress is definitely getting to Shane.
More and more often I find him off by himself at home, holed up in his office or sitting alone on the back patio staring at the trees behind our house.
He seems distracted and distant, and I can’t blame him because I feel the same way.
Luke is starting to take notice. Our son may be only three years old—going on twelve—but he’s very observant and intuitive.
“Where’s Daddy?” he asks me one night after dinner.
After we finished eating that night, Shane and I cleared the table and put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher, as we normally do, but he seemed distracted.
He didn’t say a word the entire time, just stared out the kitchen window, lost in thought.
And instead of hanging around to play with the kids afterward, like he always does, he disappeared from sight.
“I can’t find him,” Luke says. “I looked everywhere.”
“Maybe he’s in his office,” I say, not entirely sure. He usually tells me where he’s going.
Luke runs down the hallway to Shane’s home office. “Daddy?” A moment later, he returns. “He’s not there.”
“Here.” I put Ava in her playpen. “Entertain Sissy while I go look for Daddy.”
As I’m leaving the room, I notice Luke picking up one of Ava’s stuffed animals and making it dance along the railing of her playpen. I can hear her giggling in response. Luke has such a good heart. He’s so much like his daddy.
I check our bedroom, but Shane’s not there.
After peeking in once more on Luke and Ava, to make sure they’re safely occupied—Luke is now improvising as he reads the story, from memory, about the green caterpillar to his sister—I head down the stairs to the lower level.
Down here, we have a workout room, an arcade, and a playroom for the kids.
As soon as I reach the lower floor, I hear the telltale sound of someone hitting the punching bag. Instantly, I’m relieved to at least know where Shane is, but my relief is short lived when I try to open the door to the workout room and find it locked.
A chill runs down my spine. Shane has never locked me out.
I look through the glass door and watch him pummeling the heavy black bag, his punches relentless. He’s so focused on hitting the bag he doesn’t realize he has an audience. It takes me a moment to notice he didn’t bother to put on gloves. Instead, his hands are taped.
I gasp when I see blood on his knuckles.
He’s in there all alone, hurting himself, punishing himself for something that’s not his fault. My heart starts pounding as I try to think.
How do I help him?
Better yet, who can help him?
The fact that he locked the door tells me he doesn’t want me to see him like this.
I would call for Cooper, but he and Sam aren’t home right now.
I step back from the door and pull my phone from my pocket and make a call.
“Hey, Beth,” Jake says when he picks up. “What’s up?” He’s in a good mood. I can hear their three kids making a ruckus in the background. “Aiden, put your sister down, right now. Not on her head!”
“Jake—” My voice shakes. “I need your help. Or, rather Shane does.”
His voice sharpens instantly. “What’s wrong?”
“Shane has locked himself in the workout room, and he’s hitting the punching bag without gloves. His knuckles are bleeding. He’s hurting himself.”
Jake muffles a curse over the phone, and then he speaks quickly to Annie. A moment later, he says, “I’ll be right over.”
I run back upstairs and wait by the front door. Less than a minute later, Jake is there, standing beneath the porch light. He’s dressed in workout clothes—black biker shorts and a black muscle shirt. I open the door and step back for him to enter.
Jake squeezes my shoulder as he passes me on his way to the lower level. He disappears down the stairs, and I follow. As I reach the bottom of the stairs, I hear him knocking on the glass door.
“Open the door, Shane!”
I can still hear the hollow, rhythmic thuds of Shane hitting the bag.
Jake knocks again. “Hey, pal, you’ve got company. Let me in.”
Again, that rhythmic pounding continues.
Jake pounds on the door. “I didn’t bring my lockpick, but I can sure as hell break this door down if you don’t unlock it.”
From where I’m standing, I can just make out Jake standing outside the workout room.
The thuds stop, and Shane appears at the glass door, looking disheveled. His skin is glistening with sweat, his face is flushed from exertion, and his damp hair is matted to his head.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, mostly sounding curious and a bit surprised.
“I could use a good workout, and I thought maybe you’d be up for one.”
Shane shakes his head as he unlocks the door and opens it. “Let me guess. Beth called you.”
Jake muscles his way into the room, leaving the door open. “You bet she did. What the hell are you doing, scaring her like this? Consider this an intervention.”
“I don’t fucking need one.”
“Then what’s all this about?” Jake gestures to Shane’s bloody knuckles.
“The pain is a good distraction.”
“If you want pain, I’ll give you pain. How about we spar? You can punch me instead of an inanimate bag. At least, I hit back. You’ll get all the pain you want.”
I’m close enough now I can see inside the workout room. If they know I’m here, they’re not showing it.
The two brothers face each other beside a padded black floor mat. Jake is taller than Shane, and he outweighs his older brother by about forty pounds of solid muscle.
Jake grabs Shane’s hands and holds them up for inspection. He tsks. “Rookie mistake, dude.”
When Shane grins, I know I did the right thing by calling Jake.
“Come on,” Jake says. “Let’s get you cleaned up and put some gloves on you.”
They disappear into the locker room. I can hear their muffled voices, but not make out what they’re saying. Before long, they return, Shane’s hands properly gloved. Jake’s are gloved as well.
“Let’s see what you remember,” Jake says as they take their positions on the mat.
“I’m not that much out of practice, you know,” Shane says as he bounces on his feet, limbering up.
Jake chuckles. “I beg to disagree.”
Shane makes the first move, throwing a right hook that Jake easily dodges and returns with a punch of his own. Shane dodges that as well, and they dance around each other as they warm up.
“So, what’s eating you?” Jake asks. “As if I can’t guess. I’m sure it has something to do with that little pyscho prick, Morton.”
Shane throws another punch, catching the edge of Jake’s chin. Jake retaliates with a right hook.
“She’s been through so much already, first with Andrew, and then with Howard Kline. She shouldn’t have to deal with Andrew walking around freely.”
“I thought Andrew was homebound for the most part.”
Shane scoffs. “I’m sure he can slip out from underneath his parents’ supervision if he tries hard enough. You didn’t see him at the hearing, Jake. He stared at Beth. There wasn’t a single ounce of remorse in his expression. He’s a fucking monster, and I won’t let a monster terrorize my wife.”
“What do you suggest we do then?”
Shane chuckles. “We?”
“Yeah. We’ll handle this together, just like we handled Howard Kline.”
That’s right! Jake was there at my townhouse the night he and Shane orchestrated a sting operation to catch Howard Kline in the act.
When Kline broke into my home, intending to kidnap me again, or perhaps kill me—he was armed and ready for both—Shane was waiting for him upstairs in my bedroom.
Shane fired in self-defense, ending the threat to me once and for all.
“I’ll have to do something,” Shane says cryptically. His words hang heavily in the air. He doesn’t need to elaborate for Jake to understand him.
“I hear you, brother. Just say how and when.”
I quietly slip back up the stairs and leave them to it. Shane’s in good hands now, and no matter what demons were driving him to hurt himself, I’m sure Jake can handle it.
* * *
An hour later, just as I’m done putting the kids in bed, Shane appears in the hallway as I’m stepping out of Ava’s bedroom. He has showered and changed into a pair of gray sweatpants and a T-shirt.
He catches one of my hands as he looks me in the eyes, his own eyes filled with guilt. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize to me.” I take both of his hands in mine and gaze down at his knuckles, which have been freshly bandaged. There’s no more sign of blood.
My heart cracks wide open, and I feel ashamed. I’ve been so focused on my own fears regarding Andrew that I haven’t stopped to consider how Shane feels.
I cup his face and tilt his head down so he’s looking at me. “I’m the one who is sorry. I’ve been so focused on myself, I didn’t consider how you might be feeling.”
“It’s not your job to worry about me.”
“We’ll be all right,” I say. Now I find myself in the uncharacteristic position of comforting him, when he’s usually the one comforting me. “Somehow, we’ll figure out how to live with this.”
He reaches out to touch my cheek. “Maybe you won’t have to.”
Again with the cryptic words. I have to wonder exactly what it was Shane and Jake discussed downstairs. I know they’re not afraid to take matters into their own hands, like they did with Howard Kline.
* * *
Monday comes and goes with little fanfare. I decide to stay home from Clancy’s that day, a decision that makes my husband very happy. He opts to work from home. Mom comes over to keep me company and distract me. Annie stops by with her kids, too, which is a big help.
That evening, after the kids are in bed, there’s a quiet knock at the door. I nearly jump out of my skin.
“It’s okay,” Shane says as he gets up to go to the door. “I’m expecting someone.” A moment later, he reappears in the family room with Philip Underwood at his side.
Philip, who’s around my age, has worked for McIntyre Security for a while now. He’s part of Jake’s team, and his specialty is surveillance. He’s dating Mack Donovan’s daughter, Haley.
“Hi, Philip,” I say as I rise from the sofa. “It’s nice to see you again.”
At well over six feet, Philip towers over Shane. He’s a big guy. He’s also a teddy bear.
“Hi, Beth,” he says. “I wish I was here for a happier reason.”
“How’s Haley? How’s she liking school?”
After a harrowing start to her freshman year at her university, Haley has now settled into a university dormitory. She’s studying political science and history in preparation for a career one day in law, following in her mother’s and stepfather’s footsteps.
“Philip is heading the team that’s going to run surveillance on Andrew,” Shane says. “Charlotte Mercer will be assisting him, along with Derek Holder.”
“I just got off duty a little while ago,” Philip says.
“Charlotte’s on duty now. As I was telling Shane, Andrew’s father picked him up from the psych hospital at ten A.M. this morning and took him home to the parents’ house, where he’s been ever since.
We’ve got a surveillance van parked down the street with cameras viewing on the Morton residence.
We installed some stealth cameras around the perimeter of the house.
There’s no way he can leave without us knowing. ”
“Thanks, Philip,” Shane says. “Coordinate with the others on your team so that Andrew is watched twenty-four-seven. I don’t want any surprises. If he leaves that house, I want to know about it.”
“Understood,” Philip says before he says goodnight and leaves.
* * *
That night, while Shane’s in the shower, I go to the kitchen to make myself a cup of chamomile tea to help soothe my nerves.
Sam joins me. “I thought I saw a light on in here. How are you doing?”
The tea kettle whistles, and I remove it from the stove and pour hot water into my cup. “Do you want some?” I ask.
“Thanks, but I’ll pass. I don’t see the point in drinking something that lacks caffeine.” He hops up on the kitchen island. “So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?”
“I think I’ll stay home again tomorrow. I’m not quite ready to go out and face the world.”
Cooper walks into the kitchen wearing worn blue jeans, his chest and feet bare. “There you are.” He walks up to Sam and brushes his hand over Sam’s hair. “I wondered where you’d gotten to.”
“I saw a light on in here and thought I’d check on Princess.”
“You doin’ okay, sugar?” Cooper asks me.
I nod. “As well as can be expected, I guess. Welcome to our new reality.”