27. Elyse
CHAPTER 27
Elyse
WRITE IT DOWN
PRESENT
M y car is fucked.
Waking up to the sound of glass violently shattering is not how I thought my day would start.
I’m standing outside, waiting for the cops to show up, when a pair of headlights crest the hill in front of my townhouse, cutting through the dark morning. My hands tremble, and despite the cool temperature, I know it has everything to do with the adrenaline racing in my veins.
The car slows, my pulse spiking as it seems about to stop completely. But then, as quickly as it appeared, it picks up again and turns onto the main road. Just a passerby, probably on their way to work.
Tapping the screen of my phone, I check the time. Again . Where the hell are the cops? They should’ve been here by now. I called 911 over ten minutes ago.
Ten very long minutes ago.
Feels like an eternity .
When I realized the source of what jolted me awake, I ran outside—a stupid move on my part. By the time I reached my car, whoever had decided to take a beating to it was long gone.
Glancing around, my eyes search for something out of place. Someone who might be watching me. But there’s nothing—no one.
I walk up to my car, inspecting the damage.
Every window is gone, reduced to shards scattered everywhere, sparkling like glitter over the asphalt. The doors are dented and the hood is caved in, as if someone took a bat to it.
A breeze sweeps past me, causing goosebumps to prickle my skin. It’s eerily quiet, only adding to the knot of anxiety in my chest. Every sound—branches creaking, leaves rustling—feels amplified. The desire to jump out of my skin is incessant. My car is a wreck, and now my nerves are too.
Wrapping my arms tightly around myself, I try to stop the overwhelming feeling of violation from consuming me. It’s just a car. No one was hurt, but that doesn’t stop the creeping sense of vulnerability. My sense of security is as broken as the glass surrounding me.
I stare at my phone, my thumb hovering over Dominic’s contact.
It’s a bad idea.
He’s probably asleep.
But I need someone to be here now.
And for reasons I’m too overwhelmed to question, he’s the only person I want to call.
I press the call button before I lose the nerve.
The phone rings three times before a groggy voice answers, “Ellie?” His tone carries a hint of disbelief, as if he never expected to hear from me, let alone at this hour. I don’t respond immediately—words are hard to find when my brain feels scrambled.
He clears his throat. “What’s wrong?” His voice turns serious, a stark contrast to hisgrogginess a moment ago.
Hearing his instant concern creates a burning ache through my chest.
“Sorry for waking you up,” I crack.
I was aiming for an air of detachment, maybe even professionalism. Instead, his voice is all it takes for tears to blur my vision. I blink them back, causing a painful pressure to build.
“What’s going on? Talk to me.”
Either he detected my veiled panic, or he’s smart enough to know I’d never call him unless I absolutely had to.
“My car…someone smashed in the windows. I?—”
“What?!” The sound of rustling blankets and his sharp intake of breath fills the line. “Are you okay? Where are you?”
“I’m fine. I’m home, waiting for the police, but they’re taking forever. I just…I didn’t know who else to call.”
“I’m on my way,” he declares, already sounding fully awake. “Stay put. Lock your door if you’re not already inside.”
“I’m outside,” I admit, weakly.
“Well, go inside. Now. I’ll be there in ten minutes, fifteen tops.”
“Okay,” I tell him, even though I have no plans to go inside.
The call ends, and I tuck my phone into the pocket of my robe, looking up at the empty street again.I pace along the sidewalk in front of my townhouse. The idea of being cooped up while someone out there has violated my space makes my skin crawl.
The headlights that passed earlier replay in my mind. What if it wasn’t someone on their way to work? What if they were the vandal checking to see if I’d noticed their destruction?
Another chill races down my spine. I pull my robe tighter around me, but it doesn’t help .
When I finally hear the low rumble of an engine approaching fast, I whip my head around. Dominic’s patrol SUV barrels up the street, red and blue lights blasting through the dark. He parks haphazardly at the curb, barely shutting the engine off before he jumps out.
He said fifteen minutes, tops. He made it in five.
“Ellie!” He’s out of the cruiser and closing the distance between us in seconds
“I’m fine,” I say quickly, though the wobble in my voice betrays me.If I wasn’t so shaken, I’d make sure to keep some space between us. But at this point, resisting the pull to seek comfort from Dominic is pointless.
His eyes sweep over me, searching for any sign that I’m not telling the truth. Only when he seems satisfied does he turn his attention to the car. His jaw tightens as he takes in the shattered windows, his hands curling into fists at his sides.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. He crouches to look closer, his flashlight illuminating the shiny glass.
“I should’ve taken the note more seriously,” I say under my breath. “Or at least reported the flower and picture. I knew it was weird, but I didn’t take it seriously.”
Dominic straightens and moves back to me, his expression strained. “What note? What flower? What are you talking about?”
I tell him about the note left on my windshield and then the picture and the flower.
The muscles in Dominic’s jaw twitch with thin restraint, while his nostrils flare like a bull ready to charge. His eyes blaze with an angry intensity I’ve never seen in him before.
“I didn’t think it was a big deal.” I look down, ashamed.
Each instance raised alarm bells in my head, but enough time passed between them, I convinced myself they were nothing. That they were harmless.
I was wrong .
I’ve worked my whole life to not be that girl . And I became her in an instant—the brainless one in slasher films who runs toward the danger instead of away from it.
Tension radiates off Dominic, a vein pulsing at his temple. His voice is low, almost too calm, deceptive. “You didn’t think it was a big deal?” Each word is clipped, like he’s barely holding back the full force of his frustration.
I fold my arms defensively, my gaze darting away. “It was just one flower. A silly note. I didn’t want to overreact.”
He takes a step closer, his broad shoulders practically vibrating. “Ellie! Overreact. Always overreact.” He runs a ragged hand through his hair. “This is someone crossing a line—a line they don’t get to cross. You didn’t think to tell anyone? To tell me?” His voice rises slightly, but it’s not anger at me—it’s fear, frustration, the protector in him.
I flinch at his tone. “I didn’t want to bother anyone. I thought it would stop.”
Even I can hear how idiotic I sound.
He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “Bother me! Call me! Come to me! Ellie, someone is threatening you. They’re testing boundaries. That doesn’t stop—it escalates. You’ve got to take this seriously. What if something happened to you?” His eyes search mine, desperate for meto understand the gravity of the situation.
Before Ican respond, the distant sound of tires humming softly against the pavement has us both turning. A police cruiser finally pulls into view.
Two officers step out, their gait slow and casual, as if they’re arriving to a non-emergent event. Dominic storms toward them, his entire frame morphing into someone I don’t recognize.
“Thirty minutes!,” he barks, his voice sharp and biting. “It took you thirty fucking minutes to respond to a call!What if something had happened in the meantime? ”
I never told him when I called the cops.
The first officer, a middle-aged man with a slightly rumpled uniform, raises a placating hand. “We were tied up with another call. A neighbor dispute. Low resources tonight.”
Dominic’s nostrils flare. “A neighbor dispute?” I can see the effort it takes for him not to completely explode. “You couldn’t have split up? There was a targeted attack against a woman, and instead of responding immediately, you two left her defenseless, in the dark like a sitting duck.” He looks between the men, disgusted. “Your captain will be hearing from me. Completely inexcusable.”
The older officer stiffens. “Look, man?—”
“Debuty Alvarez,” Dominic snaps, cutting him off. “Deputy Dominic Alvarez. Write it down and don’t fucking forget it.” He steps closer, his height and commanding presence making the officers shift uncomfortably. “And let me make something very clear; this case falls under our jurisdiction now. It’s directly tied to an ongoing investigation.”
It is?
The officer’s lips curl down, clearly irritated. “This is city property. Our territory. We’ll handle it from here.”
“Your territory?” he huffs. “For someone suddenly feeling territorial, you failed to prioritize a clear and immediate threat. This isn’t just a random act of vandalism. There’s a pattern here, one the sheriff’s office has been tracking. So no, you’re not handling it.”
The second officer clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the escalating tension. “Maybe we can coordinate?—”
“Coordinate all you want,” Dominic cuts in. “But the case is mine. You can file your reports, collect your data, and send it my way. But from this moment on, we’re the lead agency. And if I hear even a whisper of someone dragging their feet again when her safety is at stake, I will personally make sure it doesn’t happen twice.”
The lead officer glares but doesn’t argue further. “We’ll be in touch.”
Dominic turns his back on them without another word.
I think I’m having an out of body experience. I’ve never witnessed this side of him.
It was…It was really hot.
I must be in a state of shock, not thinking clearly. I’ve heard shock can do funny things to people. Like make them lose their minds.
Dominic approaches, close enough for his scent to travel around me. “Let’s get you inside,” he says softly. A gentle hand presses to my shoulder, steering me toward my front door. “Change into something comfortable. We’re going to the station.”
The sheriff’s station is dimly lit, the flickering fluorescents casting uneven shadows across the cold, impersonal room. Though the space is packed with people, the noise feels distant, muffled, as if I’m submerged underwater. Dominic’s pen taps sharply against the desk, snapping me back to the present. Suddenly, the sounds rush in—keyboards clacking, a printer humming, coffee dripping from a Keurig, voices overlapping in chaotic layers. The urge to rush for the exit churns in my stomach. What the hell is happening?
“Before we get started, can you think of anyone that would want to hurt you? Anyone that has it out for you?” He hesitates for moment, swallowing harshly. “An old boyfriend?”
I can’t seem to concentrate. There are too many thoughts racing and crashing together. My knees bounce frantically with my hands beneath my thighs to keep them from shaking.
“Ellie? Did you hear me?”
I take a breath. “Yeah—sorry. There was this guy…”
Months ago, on a dare from Scottie, I downloaded a dating app.
One date was all it took for me to swear them off completely.
The guy was…weird. Not cute-nerdy, anime-and-D&D kind of weird. Just weird.
“I’m such a nice guy” weird. “I’m a high-value man” weird.
He made me uncomfortable.
And the worst part wasn’t even the date—it was everything that came after.
He was relentless. Harassing me. Blowing up my phone.
I had to block him— multiple times —because he kept getting new numbers.
I think the last time I blocked him was after my dad picked me up from jail.
Honestly, I forgot all about him.
Until now.
I tell Dominic any details I can think of and he writes them down, listening intently. Not judging me. Not angry.
“I’m going to record our interview for the report.” Dominic sets the body cam usually attached to his vest on the table between us, lying face up.
The worry is written all over his face, and I hate it.
A wave of discomfort creeps over me, prickling my skin. I cross my arms tightly, resisting the overwhelming urge to scratch. If I could crawl out of my body, I would. This feeling—it’s familiar. Too familiar.
I was twelve the first time I felt it, sitting in a restaurant with my mom. It had been one of those rare, special days— just the two of us. While she was in the restroom, a man at the next table leaned toward me. His smile was too wide, his eyes lingering too long. He asked questions that made my stomach twist: Did I have a boyfriend? Was I the prettiest girl in my class? I was always taught to be polite, so I answered as best as I could, even though I wanted to disappear. When my mom returned, the man straightened, pretending nothing had happened. I didn’t tell her about it, not then or ever. But that encounter left a mark, a sour, exposed feeling I couldn’t comprehend, yet knew it felt wrong.
Now, sitting in this sterile metal chair, surrounded by deputies in uniform, that same unease creeps over me again—violated, raw, and this time, unable to convince myself nothing happened.
“Ellie,” Dominic says, drawing my attention back to him. “Do you agree? We can wait until tomorrow, but it’s better to do this while it’s fresh.”
His tone—even, cautious—only makes me feel worse. I nod, blinking rapidly to fight back tears. When one escapes, sliding hotly down my cheek, Dominic pushes a tissue box toward me. “It’s okay to cry,” he says so gently it makes by tears burn hotter.
“I don’t cry.” My shaky voice betrays me. Another tear falls. He pulls a tissue from the box and presses it into my hand, knowing I’d never reach for one myself and admit defeat.
Dominic flicks a button on the cam. “This is Deputy Sheriff Dominic Alvarez of the Clore County Sheriff’s Department. This will be a recorded conversation with…” He hesitates, his eyes flicking to mine. “With the victim, Elyse Ledger.”
The word crashes over me like a tidal wave. Victim. It burns, stripping away the last threads of my composure. A gasp escapes me, and Dominic stops the recording in an instant. He’s at my side, pulling me out of the chair and into his arms.
It’s been so long since he’s held me, a different surge hits me, spreading across my chest. And this time it has nothing to do with the situation at hand and everything to do with feeling like I’ve landed exactly where I belong.
His embrace is safe, grounding, his warmth pressing against my trembling body. He steers us into a vacant interview room, kicking the door shut. In the darkness, his arms stay wrapped around me, his hand running soothing circles on my back.
“You’re safe,” he whispers. “You’re always safe with me.”
And for the first time all night, I believe it. Wrapped in him, I’m safe.
I let go, my sobs breaking free as I cling to him. He holds me tighter, absorbing every tremor, every tear, until the overwhelming weight begins to lift.
Eventually, I step back, wiping my face as I try to collect myself. But his steady gaze tells me he’s not letting go.