Chapter 33 #2
“And he left? Just like that?” Fuck, I need to talk to Shaun like I need air. He could barely stand two days ago. Where the hell would he even go that fast? “What about his wife, what does she say?”
Brad shakes his head. “She’s gone too. And the baby. They must have been tipped off. Abandoned everything. His car is still in the driveway. He had to have it planned.”
“Credit cards?” I ask, because we both know that’s the easiest way to track somebody.
“Wiped.”
“Fuck.”
“I know.” Brad winces. “I’m sorry. This is my fault.”
I put my hand up. “It’s nobody’s fault except Shaun’s. And whoever he’s working with.” I take a deep breath, tension knotting in my spine. “What about his background? We vetted him when we took him on, right? Ran a full check?”
Brad shakes his head. “That’s the thing. It’s like he never existed. All the HR files are corrupted. Even the stuff we had on hard copy is missing. I had Sanjay search everything, and it’s just… gone.”
A beat of silence stretches between us.
“But he no longer has access to our servers, right?”
“They’re locked down so tight it hurts. But that doesn’t mean he didn’t make a copy of everything before we found out what was happening.”
I swallow hard. Because that includes the videos I had on my laptop.
“We also found this,” Brad says, placing a piece of paper on my desk. “It was in the middle of his dining room table. I have no idea why.”
It’s a printout of a still image. Grainy, blown up. Slightly pixelated.
But I’d know that face anywhere.
It’s Francie. My stomach tightens as I take in her expression. Her head is tilted back, her lips parted, her eyes half lidded. You can’t see her body but I know exactly what she’s doing.
It’s a still image from one of the nights she touched herself for me.
Rage crackles through my chest. This isn’t just a threat, it’s a declaration. He knows. He watched. He has her, even if only on screen. And he’s telling me he’s not done.
Fuck.
I run a hand over my mouth, pressing my fingers hard enough to hurt.
“It’s getting late,” I say, my voice tight. “We can’t do anymore today. Send everybody home and I’ll lock up.”
Brad catches my eye. Like he wants to say more. But then he thinks better of it and nods.
He leaves and I sit at my desk for a long moment. Staring at the printed image before turning it over and sliding it into the drawer.
When I hear them all leave, I stand and grab my coat, pushing through the empty corridor to the main door. Making sure it’s locked up and the alarms are on – even though it feels pointless right now – I head for the stairwell and outside into the cool night air.
I close my eyes for a second, trying to breathe through the pressure building in my chest. Then I reach for my phone. I need to hear her voice.
Just for a minute. To remember what she sounds like when she doesn’t know what a fucking idiot I am.
The line connects after the second ring.
“Hey you.” Her voice is soft and warm and makes my chest ache. “How was your day?”
Of course she’d ask about me first. “Tiring. But more importantly how did yours go? Are your brothers still talking to you?” My car pulls up at the sidewalk and I hop in, giving the driver a nod.
“They took it really well, actually,” she says. “Even Myles. Who now knows what spicy means and wishes he didn’t.” She laughs and I want to join in. I want to trace her lips with my fingers.
I want to disappear in her.
I let out a quiet breath that might almost pass for a laugh. “I bet that was interesting. And I’m not surprised they took it well. They love you.”
“Still,” she says. “It was scary. But… kind of amazing. For the first time I felt like I belonged.”
My throat tightens. I want to tell her everything. About Shaun. About the cameras and the image.
But instead I say, “I’m proud of you.”
And I mean it.
There’s a pause. Then her voice drops. “I miss you,” she tells me.
God, I miss her too. The scent of her hair against my face. The sound she makes when she’s half asleep and I brush her skin with my fingertips.
The way she looks at me like I’m not the dipshit I know I am.
She keeps talking, telling me about her brothers’ offer to help her build a cabin by the lake, and how happy and free she feels now that everything is in the open.
Her voice soothes me as the car drives me to my apartment building, as she tells me they’re all having brunch tomorrow before her brothers have to leave.
“So I’ll head back to New York instead of Liberty,” she says. “I can write there as easily as anywhere else, especially now that my apartment is back to normal.”
“You should head back to Liberty,” I say, my voice thick. “Things are still… going on here. It’s going to take a few days for me to straighten things out.”
“Oh.” She sounds sad. But the thought of her being here, so close to everything that’s going on, makes my stomach sick.
There’s a soft pause on the line. Then, “Okay, Liberty it is. I’ll head back to the lighthouse and finish the book.”
“We can celebrate when you’re done,” I murmur.
“We’d better.”
I huff a quiet laugh. “And Francie?”
“Yeah?”
“I miss you more.”
She doesn’t reply right away. But I can hear her breathing, feel her presence like a thread pulling me to her across the miles. “Go to bed and get some sleep,” she says gently. “You sound wrecked.”
I feel it, too. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” I promise her. We say our goodbyes and she hangs up right as the driver parks outside my apartment.
We arrange for him to pick me up first thing in the morning and say our goodbyes. Then I slide my phone into my pocket and step out of the car.
The city hums around me, the breeze cool against my face. The car pulls away from the curb, its red tail lights disappearing into the night.
And that’s when I feel it.
A prickle at the back of my neck.
Then a figure steps out from the shadows. And just like that, the night turns colder.