Chapter 17
CHAPTER 17
COLE
“ N othing?” I ask.
I misunderstood Sydney. I must have.
“No shadows, no light plays, no nothing. One second the camera was working and the next it fuzzes out. But whatever caused that isn’t visible in any of the frames, and I analyzed each one frame by frame for the five minutes before it stopped,” Sydney explains again.
It doesn’t sound better the second time around.
“Fuck.” I hit the steering wheel with my fist.
Double fuck. This is Hannah Grace’s car.
Luckily, I didn’t do any damage. The bad news is that I’m no closer to figuring out what the hell happened with those cameras.
“Did you find anything with the actual cameras?” Sawyer asks.
“They were in enough pieces for it to be considered a jigsaw puzzle. Maybe if I could find all the pieces I could probably reassemble them. But I swear to God I’m missing shit. And I combed through the backyard and the porch to make sure I got them all.”
That was before I called Detective O’Connell and told him about what happened. After he lectured me for contaminating evidence, he agreed to have the pieces checked for fingerprints and to send officers to talk to neighbors for the second time. This was starting to draw more attention than I wanted it to.
I shared with Hannah Grace that I thought pieces were missing, and she assumed they either went flying into the neighbors’ yards or got tossed somewhere else. But we both knew that the cameras didn’t destroy themselves.
“What about the security system?” Sawyer asks.
Over the weekend, I had finally convinced Hannah Grace to order the system he recommended.
“Back-ordered thanks to Black Friday. Who buys security systems on a shopping discount?”
“Me,” Sawyer responds.
“Me too,” Sydney adds.
“Fuck both of you. The soonest the installer can be here is two weeks because the parts are back-ordered that far out.”
“But you got it for a good deal,” Sydney says.
“I’d rather have gotten it sooner than cheaper.” Even if Hannah Grace had made me swear she could pay me back.
That was never going to happen.
“Where are you at with all the background checks?” Sawyer asks.
“Well, first things first, I got ahold of pageant lady. Pervy Pete’s real name is Peter Lawrence. According to her, he is no longer with the organization and hasn’t been for several months.”
“Was that his decision?” I ask.
She snorts.
“She didn’t want to say. So I took it upon myself to find out. Peter was fired after multiple women came forward indicating that he used his position as an employee of the organization and judge of the preliminary rounds to sexually harass six different women over four different pageant years.”
“Hannah Grace’s year?” My stomach cramps as I voice the question.
“Two women. One was the runner-up and the other was top five.”
“Where is he now?”
“Once I got a last name I was able to do a search. His address on record is less than a mile from Hannah Grace’s. He lives in the same neighborhood.”
Fuck. Way too close for my comfort level. But even danger on the same planet is too close for my liking.
“Anything else on Lawrence?”
“He’s deactivated all his social media, but not deleted them. He’s also subscribed to about a dozen OnlyFans accounts, and based on what he subscribes to, I can understand how he got the nickname Pervy Pete. I can’t unsee that shit.”
“I don’t care what kind of porn he watches. He just better not cross my path.”
Or Hannah Grace’s.
“Sydney, keep an eye on Lawrence. What about the rest of the suspect list?” Sawyer asks, refocusing us on the task at hand.
“Michael Campbell, a.k.a. Grocery Guy, got arrested last year—had to have been after he followed Hannah Grace home—for violation of his parole. He?—”
“What is he in jail for?”
“Was. What was he in jail for. He got out a month ago. Stalking and domestic violence.”
“And they let him out?”
“Cole, you know just as well as we do that once someone serves their sentence, there isn’t much more to do.” I hate that Sawyer can be rational right now.
“He could be scaring Hannah Grace!”
“If he is, we’ll find out. And we’ll find him,” Sawyer points out.
“And in the meantime we have to deal with someone terrorizing Hannah Grace?” I ask.
“What if it isn’t him?” he argues.
“It might be.”
“But it might not be too. Think, Cole. We still have several suspects. Including the second man who had a second date with Hannah Grace.”
“Actually, he’s clean.” Sydney’s words are even more frustrating, and I’m struggling with all the emotions bubbling up.
Fear for Hannah Grace.
The overwhelming need to protect her.
Every single sensation is lumped in a ball sitting in my throat, making it hard to breathe.
“What do you mean ‘clean’?” Sawyer asks.
“Well, he may be an asshole, but that’s not illegal. He took a job overseas after Hannah Grace got him booted from the dating app he was on. He lives in Qatar now.”
“It sounds like Lawrence and Campbell are our two remaining suspects,” Sawyer says.
“It could be someone else entirely. Someone new,” Sydney suggests.
“The likelihood of that is small.” I finally find my voice.
“Small but not impossible,” she counters.
“We need to dig up more on both Lawrence and Campbell,” Sawyer says.
“I can do some more digging.” Sydney’s reluctance is clear in her tone. “But I also want to keep looking and see if there’s anything more I can find. Something about both of these guys isn’t sitting right.”
“You don’t need my permission,” Sawyer tells her.
“I’m open to any ideas you’ve got,” I add.
Something. Anything to keep my girl safe.
Because that’s what she is.
My girl.
“I also want to review everything from the beginning. I agree with Sydney. I feel like we’re missing something,” Sawyer says.
“We’ve gone over everything already.” I hate to be the bearer of bad news.
But this is different. We haven’t had this much personally tied up in a case since Evie’s stalker.
Why is it the hardest jobs we have are for the ones we love?
I jolt, but I’m not sure why. I do love Hannah Grace. I never stopped. I’ve told her that. So why is it still surprising to me?
“I want to start brand-new files like we’re getting this case for the first time. Sydney, I’ll send you the original notes I took from my call with Ms. Smith Chabert.”
But there’s a difference from the original beginning to now.
Because your mind is too focused on Hannah Grace. And not on the professional part. On the being in love with her part.
“Cole.” The tone of Sawyer’s voice tells me it’s not the first time he’s said my name.
“Sorry, what?”
“Are you willing to go back through the original letters again? See if there’s anything we’re missing?”
“Of course. Whatever it takes.”
“Text me as soon as you’re done. Sydney, you know what you need to do?”
“On it.” The clack of the keyboard is already moving in the background.
“Let’s talk Wednesday if not before.”
We end the phone call and I get out of the car, taking a deep breath as I tilt my head back. The sky is a fathomless baby blue, reminding me so much of Hannah Grace’s eyes that I close mine. The sound of kids on the playground rides the wind, urging me to relax. To soak in the innocence.
But the world is not all innocence.
Am I too close to see something? Should I ask Sawyer to step in?
No !!
But the part of me pounding my chest and screaming no isn’t rational. I need to think about the overall goal—keeping her safe. Sawyer must have a direct connection to my brain since my phone vibrates with his name across the screen.
“I figured you would appreciate this conversation between the two of us,” he says by way of greeting when I answer.
There’s only one conversation I don’t want to have with Sydney able to add her two cents.
“Am I too close?” I have to fight to say the question out loud.
“We’ve had close jobs before. She’s your ex?—”
“That’s the thing. She’s not my ex.”
The silence on the other end of the phone is deafening.
“I take it you all have shared more than a kiss at this point?” Sawyer asks after several moments of awkward silence.
“Yeah.” I lean against the car and tuck my free hand into the pocket of my pants.
Another long silence lasts long enough that I check the connection on my phone.
“You there?” I ask.
“Yes. I’m thinking.”
“Thinking about replacing me?” I brace myself for the news.
“I’m going to make that your call, Cole.”
“My call?” I’m not used to getting an option, and I’m not sure I like it.
“I’ve thought about what I would do if our situations were reversed. Fuck. What I did do with Evie.”
It’s not the first time we’ve compared the two situations, but usually it’s me using that as my reason to stay.
“You said I was too close before.”
“No, I voiced my concern that you were too close. More because I was concerned your physical attraction to Hannah Grace was going to blind you to everything else. But then I also thought about how every time I brought up my concern, you brought up Evie. You love her, don’t you?”
I don’t need to ask who he’s talking about.
“I never fucking stopped,” I choke out around the lump in my throat.
“Then I’d say you’re perfect where you are. That love is going to drive you to solve this better than any other motivation I can give you. Long beyond the point where you would give up otherwise, you’ll keep going. For her.”
“What if I miss something?”
“That’s what I’m here for. You’re not in this alone. Even Sydney is all in on this one. She’s reassigned the remainder of her workload to the rest of her department so she can focus on this. We will find who’s doing this. Even if it means I spend Christmas with you.”
I snort, his comment lightening the mood.
“I’m sure Evie would love that.”
“We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it. For now, let’s see what we can find by going back to the beginning,” he says.
“Thanks, Sawyer. Not just for this. But for everything.”
“You’d do the same for me.”
The line beeps in my ear. In typical Sawyer fashion, he hasn’t said goodbye, not that I needed him to. Instead, I got something better.
His reassurance that I’m doing the right thing.
???
I’m not sure what happened at lunch, but something is different about Hannah Grace. Now that school is out and the kids are gone, she’s quiet. Distracted. Not the same woman I kissed this morning and I haven’t even had the chance to tell her about the lack of movement in the investigation, so I can’t blame that.
“You alright?” I ask as we finish picking up baskets of crayons from the middle of each pod of desks.
“Fine.” The word is quick, but her gaze stays fixed downward.
Until I stand in her way, using my fingers to lift her chin.
The doubts in the guarded expression of her eyes—the ones I thought we had worked on—swirl in the blue depths, making them more gray than the sapphire blue I’m used to.
“Honey Girl, what is it?”
She shakes her head, freeing my light grip on her chin.
“I’ve been thinking.”
“About what?”
“You. Us.” She tries to walk away but my hand on her wrist keeps her from going too far.
“The other day I promised not to hide stuff from you. To talk through things. Especially if we were going to give this a real chance. Don’t I deserve the same courtesy?”
She sighs but doesn’t say anything.
“Hannah Grace?”
“You do,” she mumbles.
“What was that?” I press.
“You do!” Her voice echoes off the wall as she tugs her wrist free and stalks away.
“So why don’t you clue me in to what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”
“You didn’t come back.”
Her words pull me up short.
“What do you mean?” I understand each word, but all together they make no sense.
Only they do.
“Before. You said you didn’t come back, you didn’t reach out to me because you were afraid I hated you.”
“I thought you did,” I tell her, closing the distance between us.
She glances up, lip caught between her teeth. She says a lot with that look, so much that tugs at my heartstrings that I want to reach up and rub at my chest. At the physical ache there.
Instead I reach out, tugging her against me and wrapping my arms around her.
I breathe a sigh of relief when hers wrap around me.
“What?” I ask. “I can’t fix it if we don’t talk about it.”
“I’m not asking you to fix it.”
“Then let’s talk about it and see what we need to do next. Together.” I brush my lips against her hair and try not to hold on to her too tightly.
“You know me really well,” she says.
“I do. Better than anyone.”
She looks up, arms still locked around me.
“If that’s true, then why would you think I would hate you? I don’t hate anyone. It’s never been something I’ve done. And if you knew me as well as you say you do, you would understand that. Which makes me question, why didn’t you come back after you were able to work through everything? Did you really not care enough? Did you not want to come back? If so, that’s fine. But just tell me that. Be honest.”
The vulnerability in her words, in her expression, is strong enough to cripple me.
Fuck.
“I…I never thought about it that way. I swear to God. I wanted to come back. The part of my brain—of my heart—that knew you couldn’t hate didn’t connect with the other part. The less rational part that feared something even worse.”
“What?”
“Your pity. Hannah Grace, I’d love to be able to say that I could explain the decisions I made then. Maybe it was self-sabotage. Maybe it was thinking you deserved better.”
“So what’s different now?”
I need the doubts written in the lines between her eyebrows to go away. Permanently.
“I’m tired of torturing myself. Of depriving me of you in my life when you’re already embedded here.” I lift a hand to my chest. “I’ve loved you since I was fourteen years old, Honey Girl. And that shit hasn’t gone away. It’s not going to. Not now, not ever. And I don’t need you to say it back—I don’t want you to until you’re one hundred percent sure. Until I’ve erased those doubts of yours. Until then, be with me. Be secure in the fact that I love you. And that that’s never going to change.”
“I…”
She wants to reciprocate the words. That’s as clear as day.
“It’s okay,” I tell her and lift a finger to her lips. “When you’re ready, I’ll be here. I’m not going anywhere.”
She stands on her tiptoes and slides her lips along mine. My arm anchors her in place, holding her up when she tries to drop to her feet again.
“Maybe we should go somewhere,” she murmurs against my lips.
“Grab your bags. Let’s go home.”
“’Kay.”
Only then do I release her. At least long enough for her to grab her stuff. Once we’re walking out of her classroom, I lace my fingers with hers, squeezing gently.
“How did your call with Sawyer and Sydney go?” she asks.
“I’ll tell you once we’re in the car,” I murmur.
There’s no sign of Zach or his car when we leave, so nothing stops us from leaving the parking lot.
“We’re in the car. Tell me,” she demands, turning in my direction.
This time it’s my turn to sigh.
“It’s not great news.”
“I didn’t think it would be.” Her words are so matter-of-fact, I can’t help but turn my attention off the road and onto her for a moment.
“How are you so calm about it?”
She shrugs and I have no choice but to shift my attention back to the windshield.
“Good news would be you found whoever it is we’re looking for. And something tells me you wouldn’t have been able to hold that information until now. The only news that I don’t want to hear is that you’re leaving.”
“I’m not going any-fucking-where,” I growl, tightening my grip on the steering wheel.
“I know . I believe you. So what is the plan?”
“Well, first, tell me about Peter Lawrence.”
“Peter? Pervy Pete? Is that his last name?”
“Yes. Did you know he lives a mile from you?”
She shudders. “Ew.”
“Did he ever…try anything?” I manage to get the words out and hold my breath, waiting for her answer.
“Try anything? Like with me? No. I mean, he flirted. He told me I was pretty. Asked me out and I declined. But I caught him cornering Kelly at the last luncheon I went to. She’s the one who won the year after I did.”
“But he never made a move on you?” I ask.
“No way. I think he realized I was just as likely to punch him in the junk as all the other girls were to burst into tears. You and I both know I was never the true definition of what my mama considered the best-behaved beauty queen.”
I can’t fight the smile that lifts the corners of my lips. Because she’s right. How many times had we heard the refrain from her mom about Hannah Grace’s chances if she would only behave better?
“I don’t like how close he lives, Honey Girl. So I’m going to need you to tell me if you so much as even think you see him.”
She reaches over, lacing her fingers with mine and squeezing.
“I promise. Is he the only person you’re still looking at?”
“No, but it’s not like that pool is very big anymore. It’s either him or that guy that bothered you at the grocery store. Apparently right after he followed you home, he ended up violating parole and was sent back to jail for stalking and domestic violence. He just got out right before all this shit started happening to you.”
“You think it’s him?”
I lift my shoulder and let it fall.
“We’re not sure. Which is why Sawyer also wants us to go back to the beginning. Square one when we first got the call from the pageant person.”
“Why?”
“It’s not the first time we hit a wall trying to figure something out. Sawyer is convinced we’re missing something. He wants Sydney to start all the background analysis again.”
“Background analysis? Like on me?”
I nod. “You, the people closest to you, people you work with, anyone you have regular interactions with.”
“You think it’s someone I know?”
I coast to a stop at a red light and take the opportunity to shift my attention back to her.
“It might be.”
She shakes her head so hard her hair creates a golden veil around her. “No way.”
“Forty percent of stalking victims are stalked by a current or former significant other. Forty-two percent by an acquaintance.”
Her eyes widen at the shocking statistic.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you think that’s the case with me?”
“I wish I could tell you that, Honey Girl. Honestly, the last time we were this frustrated was when we were helping Sawyer’s wife. Only she wasn’t his wife then.”
“And starting over helped?” she asks.
“We didn’t do that in her case.”
“What did you do for her?”
“In her case we knew who was trying to come after her. We ended up setting up a plan and leaking her location where she was with Sawyer. Only the bastard almost killed Sawyer and attacked Evie.”
A shiver overtakes her body despite the warmth of the car, and I squeeze her hand.
“That situation was different,” I say, trying to reassure her.
“I…did…what happened to the guy who attacked her?”
A car horn honks behind me and I realize the light turned green. Shit.
Pressing on the gas, I shift our joined hands to my thigh.
“He’s in jail. Where he’ll be for a long time.”
“Oh.”
“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” I say after several blocks of silence.
“I believe you. I…guess I never really thought about all of this as stalking. I just always figured someone wanted to scare me.”
“Is there anyone who we should look at harder? Another teacher maybe? A parent? Anyone?”
“No one comes to mind,” she says.
“So we go back to the beginning,” I reply, pulling onto her street.
“How can I help?”
Pride at her strength, at the fact that she’s mine, swells in my chest.
“You’re pretty fucking amazing, you know that, right?”
I pull into her driveway, shifting the car into park so I can lean over and press a kiss to her cheek.
“I don’t want to be a victim, Cole. If I can help, I’ll do whatever I can.”
“Sawyer wants me to go through the letters you got when you were Miss Tennessee. See if I can find any connection, any new clue that tells us who it was before to see if it’s the same person.”
“But it’s been years between incidents.”
“With Evie it was five years between events.”
She takes a deep breath and squares her shoulders.
“So those letters,” she says.
After reading them on the plane on the way out here, I never wanted to read them again. I damn sure didn’t want her to have to relive them. But I promised not to hide anything from her.
Which means I need to trust in her strength as much as I am asking her to trust my ability to protect her.
“I hate that I’m asking you to help,” I admit.
“You didn’t ask. I volunteered.” She opens her door before turning back to me. “So what are we waiting for? Sounds like we have a job to do.”
Only now it’s not a job. It never has been to be honest.
This is her life.
Her future.
With me.