Chapter 5
Linsey
It’s the day after the banquet and my phone will not stop ringing.
The restaurant owner calls to make sure I’m okay.
She also tells me they’re taking some down time, and the restaurant won’t reopen again until Thursday.
A detective from the Las Salinas PD calls to schedule my formal statement, just like Sabre said he would.
My contact person at the civic center calls, crying a little.
She reports the police still haven’t released the room.
Their lab guys are there. The detective told her this is a high-profile case, and they can’t take any chance of the perp getting off on a technicality.
Members of my crew check in and it’s a lot to deal with in one morning.
Aunt Carol has been fussing over us this morning. She made coffee and carried it to me for the first time ever. Then she made Noah’s favorite breakfast. She keeps finding reasons to anxiously walk past whatever room Noah is in.
Noah stayed home from school. He’s handling the whole thing the way he handles everything, which is to ask a million questions.
“Mom,” he calls, finding me folding towels. “Do you think Sabre was scared last night when he threw that knife at the bad guy?”
I swallow thickly, remembering him standing there in his suit with the knife poised over his head. He didn’t look scared to me. He looked determined. I don’t tell Noah that, though. Instead, I say, “I think anybody would be scared in a situation like that, bug.”
He considers my reply for half a second then asks, “Do soldiers really use knives? Like in real life, not in movies?”
“Sometimes, I think they might. You’d know better than me with all the military books you read.”
“Knives are mostly used as tools,” he states confidently. “Soldiers use them to cut rope and open rations. Sergeant Rock says every good soldier has a knife and keeps it close. Sabre saved our lives, right? I mean everyone who was there last night, right?”
I force myself to keep folding, although this conversation is making me uncomfortable. “Sabre and his team stopped the shooter. That’s what they were hired to do, keep everyone safe. That’s exactly what they did.”
“He said he’d teach me throwing techniques but not with real knives. What does that mean?”
I respond lightly, “Maybe it means you throw bananas or boomerangs. I don’t know.”
“This isn’t a joking matter. He said he’d teach me but only if you said it was okay.” After a short pause, he asks, “It’s okay with you, right?”
“We’ll have to see,” I respond diplomatically.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s been one day, Noah. Let me get the towels folded before we talk about scheduling knife throwing classes for you, alright?”
He accepts my response, but he doesn’t like it. I can tell by the little frown on his face. Once he heads for his room, I sit down on the edge of my bed with a towel in my lap and wring my hands for a bit. Sometimes I feel so overwhelmed that I don’t know which way to turn.
Noah’s not wrong to be curious. Fear and anxiety turn into questions for him.
It’s always been that way. And I’d rather my son ask a hundred questions than have one nightmare.
But he’s becoming interested in Sabre way too fast. I know he craves a father figure more than anything but that’s not what Sabre signed up for when he agreed to teach him.
By ten, Noah and Aunt Carol are fast asleep. I’m restless and can’t even think about crawling into bed. I end up on the front porch wrapped in my favorite spread with a mug of chamomile tea warm in my hands.
Then I hear the sound of a motorcycle engine turn onto our street. My heart rate picks up, and I feel a tiny surge of excitement to think it might be Sabre. I grip my mug tighter, as I wait to see who it is.
The motorcycle coasts the last stretch and a big familiar shape swings off and walks up my sidewalk.
“Sabre, you’re out late.”
“I wanted to drive by and check on you.” He stops at the bottom of the steps with his helmet tucked under one arm.
Even in the yellow porch light I can see the dark circles under his tired blue eyes.
He’s also carrying a lot of tension in his broad shoulders.
“I saw the light on. Figured if you were still up, I’d rather knock than send a text at this hour. ”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“It’s been a long day for me too. I didn’t want to let it slip by without checkin’ on you.”
“You didn’t have to come. You could have texted. You have my number from when I messaged you for my next class.”
“Wanted to see for myself that you and your boy were all right. A text or phone call seemed like bullshit after what happened last night.”
I know I should send him home. But instead, I find myself saying, “The tea’s not great, but there’s more of it in the kitchen if you want a cup.”
He sets his helmet down on the step and drops down on the top stair, close enough that we can talk in low voices.
“Noah’s okay,” I tell him after a moment. “Better than okay, actually. He’s been asking questions all day. That’s how he processes anxiety. As long as he’s asking questions, I know he’s dealing with it, you know?”
“Yeah, what kind of questions has he been asking, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“He wanted to know if you were scared.”
“Tell him, yes.”
“I didn’t think you looked very scared, but I told him you probably were because anyone would be in that situation.”
“I wasn’t scared of the danger. I was scared that I wouldn’t be able to stop him in time, and someone would get hurt.”
He runs one finger over the seam in his helmet. “You just have to shove all the fear and doubt aside and do what needs to be done, if that makes any sense.”
I glance at him sideways. I’m not used to men being so candid about their feelings with me. Most men I’ve known in my life spent all their energy on making sure I thought they were in control and macho.
“He’s also been talking about you teaching him to throw knives.”
“That’s your decision, Linsey. I meant what I said last night. I’ll do it with practice knives. They’re made of metal, but they don’t have a sharp point. You throw them into foam. No is a complete answer. If you don’t want this, you don’t even have to explain.”
“He’s eager for anything he sees as related to his main interest in life, which is anything to do with the military.”
“He might be more focused because of what happened last night. Kids sometimes get more obsessed about protectin’ themselves after a scare like what happened at the mayor’s event, especially for a boy who already has an active interest.”
I think it over for a bit and Sabre doesn’t pressure me at all. While I’m lost in my thoughts, there’s the loud bang of a car door. I jump before I can stop myself. It isn’t much, just enough to embarrass me.
A big, warm hand covers mine, steadying me. “Hey, I’m not surprised you’re jumpy, Linsey.”
His voice softens. “Is this all because of what happened at the banquet last night?”
I open my mouth to say yes but stop myself. Turning my hand over in his, I explain, “It’s more than that. I found out the other day that my ex was released from prison a couple of years early for good behavior.”
“He was in prison?” Sabre asks.
I nod. “He tried to kill me.”
Sabre goes very, very still, his hand gripping mine harder. “Do you think he’s gonna come for you, Linsey?”
I find my bottom lip trembling slightly as I struggle to answer. “Realistically, no. He’s in Montana. That’s where we’re both from. It’s also where he was locked up, which means his parole officer is there and he likely isn’t allowed to leave the state.”
“Are you sure about that? Convicts are notorious for jumping parole and doing stupid shit they shouldn’t.”
“I’m as sure as I can be, given the situation. It’s worrying me though. When he was locked up I felt safe.”
“All that was already eatin’ away at you and then the banquet shit just heaped on an extra level of stress, right?”
Glancing away, I tug my hand from his. “Yeah, that’s about the size of it.”
“If I had a son, I’d stop at nothing to have him back in my life.”
“I was pregnant when I left him. I wrote him in prison that I had a miscarriage and that I never wanted to see him again. I blocked him on everything and went no contact with everyone back home.”
“You said he tried to kill you? I’m surprised they let him out early.” Sabre looks pissed. “Sometimes I can’t believe the fuckin’ system.”
“They said it wasn’t premeditated, that there were mitigating factors,” I say quietly.
“He caught me gassing up to leave town and gave me a beatdown in the parking lot, right in front of the neighbors. Someone called the police. By the time they arrived, I had gotten beaten up pretty badly. The police had to drag him off me. I ended up in the hospital and there were enough witnesses to put him away for a long time. But his minister and members of the church all vouched for his good behavior, and I guess the parole board bought it.”
“He sounds like a sick fuck.”
“He is,” I acknowledge. I can’t talk about this with Sabre. I just can’t. So, I just say, “Dylan Everett is the bane of my existence. I don’t want him anywhere near my son.”
He nods slowly and turns to look back out at the street. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, Linsey. Just know that me and my club are here for you if he shows up. You’re not in this alone anymore.”
“I’m embarrassed you noticed how jumpy I get.”
“Don’t be. Noticin’ details is a holdover from my time in the military.” A tired little grin catches at the corner of his mouth. “It’s about all I’m good for. That and making sirloin tips.”
I smile, because Sabre has a nice way about him. He’s a kind, caring man who really pays attention to the world around him. I like how he interacted with Noah and how he talks to me. Spending time with him almost makes me wish we could fit our lives together somehow.
“So, when do you want me to give your son his first class?”
I freeze, my mind racing. “Before answering that I want to say something.”
“Go ahead. Say what you gotta say, Linsey.”
“My son has never had a male authority figure in his life. He’s always searching for someone to latch onto.
I know you didn’t sign up for anything like that.
I understand this is just a knife throwing class and nothing more.
I want to ask you to be careful about leading him to believe this is something that it’s not. ”
“You want me to set clear boundaries. Is that what you’re sayin’?”
I nod. “Yes. I just don’t want him to get his heart broken by thinking you’re his new scout leader or anything like that.”
Sabre comes abruptly to his feet, scoops his helmet off the pavement, and looks down at me. “I can do that, Linsey. It’s not a problem.”
“Thank you, Sabre. I appreciate you understanding where I’m coming from on this one.”
“Of course I understand. How about every Sunday, say about three in the afternoon? I’ll text you the address. Would that work for you?”
I stand up and pull my spread more fully around my body. “We’ll be there. Thank you for befriending my son. I appreciate it more than you know.”
“You’re more than welcome.” Before I can respond, he’s strolling back down the street towards his bike. “Night, Linsey,” he calls over his shoulder, leaving me feeling strangely hollow inside.