Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
WINTER
It should be a relief.
I’m not trapped in Thomas’s house anymore.
I’m in the hospital, surrounded by people. Nurses. Doctors. Security guards. Police officers. There’s no way Thomas would try to get to me here.
When I’d think about escaping—during those long, nearly eternal nights when I’d lie in bed, exhausted but too scared to sleep—I imagined the tremendous relief I’d feel when I finally got free.
But it’s not that simple.
I may be safe for now, but Thomas is still out there. He’s still furious with me. He might even be plotting to kill me.
God. As if the nausea from my concussion isn’t bad enough, my stomach keeps clenching and flipping from fear and anxiety.
His face . I can’t stop seeing it.
There was so much rage.
What if the police don’t catch him? What if they don’t believe me? Will I be thrown in jail as an accessory? Or if there’s no evidence against Thomas—he had the mask and gloves, while I was found right at the scene—they could blame it all on me.
My fingerprints are on the crowbar. Could the proof be any more damning?
Is there any way for me to convince them I was being held hostage? Something at Thomas’s house? Will they let me explain how I wasn’t at the store willingly, and I only went inside in an attempt to help?
How can I feel relieved when there’s so much uncertainty? So much fear?
And it’s hard to think past the incessant throbbing in my head. My forehead is hot and tight from the swelling, every movement sends a sickening wave of pain rushing through me, and even the slight light from the bedside lamp hurts my eyes. But I don’t want to turn it off because then I’ll be in the dark, and I’m not strong enough to handle that right now.
I’m on the verge of tears as a hurricane of emotions keeps slamming into me. The ever-present fear. Shame that I let myself get in this situation to begin with. Guilt that I didn’t stop Thomas sooner. And a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, things will be okay.
Maybe the police will believe me, and they’ll catch Thomas, and I can get back to rebuilding the life I started when I moved here eight months ago. I’ll get back to fixing up my house, installing a much better security system this time around. I’ll find new clients for my graphic design business, since my old ones most likely gave up on me.
Maybe I can still get a kitten. Not the calico one—I’m sure she’s been adopted by now—but there have to be plenty more looking for a home.
Maybe, one day, I’ll even feel safe again.
Or maybe I’ll end up in jail, Thomas will go free, my aunt will have to go into hiding, and this nightmare will never end.
Crap. Now I’m crying, which makes my head ache even more.
I’m brushing away the tears as a light rap sounds on the hospital room door. It’s not a threatening sound, but I’m so on edge I let out a scared yelp and hunch into myself defensively.
“Miss Clarke?” A uniformed woman stands in the doorway, a male police officer flanking her on the left. She gives me a small, sympathetic smile, and the tight band of fear around my chest eases just the slightest bit.
She doesn’t sound accusatory as she says gently, “I’m Officer Nelson. And this is my partner, Officer Quillian. We’d like to talk to you, if you’re feeling up to it.”
The idea of talking about everything that happened—the robbery and the terrifying events that led up to it—makes me feel like throwing up. But I know I have to. It’s the only chance I have of putting an end to all this.
And I’ve seen enough police shows and docuseries to know this is the nice part of the interrogation. They aren’t treating me like a criminal yet, despite the fact I was found practically red-handed at the scene of a break-in and robbery.
Honestly, when they brought me to this room, I was half expecting to be handcuffed to the bed.
By the time the police arrived at the store, I was crying and dizzy and so terrified I don’t think anything I said made sense. I was dimly aware of repeating the same things over and over— Thomas did it, he held me hostage, I’m sorry, I just wanted to stop him.
One of the police officers kept firing questions at me until Enzo finally snapped at him. With a dark glare, he bit out, “She’s hurt and probably concussed and scared out of her mind. Obviously, Winter isn’t going anywhere. This can wait.”
Enzo. He should have treated me like a criminal, but instead, he was kind and gentle. He held my hand. Stayed with me until I was loaded into the ambulance. Reassured me that everything was going to be okay.
His store—his uncle’s store—had just been broken into and damaged, but he was more concerned about me.
No matter what else happens to me, I’ll never regret sneaking inside and calling 911. There may be damage and some loss at the store, but at least it’s still standing. Thomas didn’t get a chance to burn it down and destroy Enzo’s uncle’s legacy.
“Miss Clarke?” The female officer—Officer Nelson?—takes a step into the room. Her features are creased with concern. “Are you okay? Do you need a doctor?”
Crap. I need to stay focused instead of drifting off. “I’m okay,” I reply, but it comes out more like a croak. Swallowing, I try again. “I’m okay. Sorry. Just… I can talk. I… I want to.”
She gives me a quick nod and glances at her partner before coming the rest of the way into the room. Once they get a few feet from my bed, they stop and stare at me for a second, their gazes sharp and assessing.
Even though I didn’t do anything wrong, at least, I don’t think I did, I still feel myself wilting. My chest goes tight and my skin feels all hot and prickly. My heart rockets to double speed, which makes the monitor I’m hooked up to beep faster, and now I’m panicking, convinced they’re going to immediately think I’m guilty.
My breath is coming in quick, uneven gasps, and those persistent tears are threatening again.
“Hey, it’s okay.” It’s the male officer this time; his voice low and reassuring. His expression softens as he looks at me, his eyes lingering on my forehead and arm before meeting my gaze. “We’re just here to talk to you. There’s nothing to be scared of.”
“Absolutely,” agrees Officer Nelson. She pats my hand before continuing. “We just want to hear from you exactly what happened. From what you were saying at the scene, it sounds like a very complicated situation. And obviously, we know you weren’t alone there.”
“You said something about being held captive,” prompts Officer Quinlan? Quinton? Quillian? “And you tried to stop someone? Can you take us through everything?”
What is his name? I can’t answer his questions if I’m wondering what his name is.
“Officer…”
“Quillian,” he offers with a tiny smile. “I know. It’s not the easiest to remember. Especially in a stressful situation like this.”
I nod at him, sniffling back tears. “I’m sorry. Usually I’m good with names. It’s just…”
“It’s fine,” Officer Nelson interjects. “We understand. You have a concussion, and you’re in pain. Take your time with this. If you need a break, that’s okay, too.”
A fleeting thought races through my head— I wish Enzo was here to hold my hand —but I shove it away.
I’m on my own for this.
So I take a deep breath and exhale it shakily. “It all started five months ago.”
From there, I tell them everything. About meeting Thomas when I hired him to fix a leak in the roof, and how he came back to ask me out a week later. How he seemed nice at first. Thoughtful. He was always offering to fix things at my house—the leaky sink in the bathroom upstairs, the wobbly porch railing, the clogged dryer vent he insisted was dangerous.
It wasn’t until the second month of dating that I started to have second thoughts about him.
“Thomas always wanted me to cook dinner,” I recall, “even if I was working late on a deadline. He’d insinuate that I had the time since I worked from home.”
In hindsight, I wish I could go back and slap myself silly.
“Then he asked me to move in with him. I told him no—we weren’t that serious yet—but he kept trying to convince me. He’d say things about how I was a beautiful woman and it wasn’t safe for me to live on my own.”
“By then, I think I knew we weren’t a good match. But… I thought maybe I was being too picky, like my friend always said. I convinced myself to give it a little more time.”
My throat gets tight and my nose prickles. “I should have ended things sooner,” I tell Officer Nelson. “I know I should have. It was so stupid.”
“No, it wasn’t.” Her lips press into a thin line, and a line etches into her forehead. “Trust me. I hear that more times than I’d like. But it’s not your fault. I promise.”
I’m not sure I agree, but I just give her a tight nod and force myself to continue.
I tell them about Thomas hitting me after he accused me of flirting with one of his friends. How I broke up with him immediately and told him never to contact me again.
“What happened then?” Officer Quillian asks, his eyes narrowing as he looks at the finger-shaped bruises on my arm again.
“At first, he tried to get me back. Apologetic calls and texts. Flowers. But I told him there was no chance, and it seemed like he got the message. And for a few weeks, it was okay. He left me alone. I thought Thomas had moved on.”
The memories come rushing back, so heavy and suffocating it’s hard to breathe.
It was a cheery spring day, one of those days when everything just seems brighter. Happier. More hopeful.
I’d gone to Rossi’s Outfitters and bought a few things to go hiking that weekend. My mind was full of plans and the conversation I’d had with Enzo was still lingering. I was making progress on my house, and I had a lead on a new contractor.
That evening, I’d been debating whether to bring some cookies over to Enzo to thank him for all his advice, wondering if it was too forward or if he’d appreciate it.
And then everything fell apart.
I have to grit my teeth to get through this part without sobbing.
Reliving the awful moment when I woke up in the middle of the night with a masked man standing over my bed. Being pinned down, a sweaty hand covering my mouth, and a needle stabbing into my arm. The terror. Everything going fuzzy before the blackness closed over me.
And then waking up in a small room with Thomas looming over me. His teeth bared in a rictus of a grin; he took great pleasure in telling me how things were going to be from now on. That I’d clean and cook and do whatever he wanted. That I wasn’t leaving, and if I tried, I’d regret it.
Officer Nelson looks furious as I recall the first awful days when I searched in vain for a way to escape, and how Thomas would hit me every time he caught me doing something he didn’t approve of. “Stopping to use the bathroom, sitting down, looking out a window… he hit me if I did any of those things.”
“And you couldn’t escape?” asks Officer Quillian, frowning. “A window? A key left in a drawer somewhere? Or call for help? Signal to a neighbor?”
“I looked,” I answer through a tightening throat. “Whenever I could. But the windows were all locked with a special key. The doors had deadbolts on the inside. He never left his keys or his phone unattended. And the neighbors…”
Another sob tries to force its way out, but I swallow it down. “He lives outside of town. So there weren’t many neighbors around. One day, I thought about the mailman… but Thomas knew somehow. And he locked me in the bedroom and said if I tried anything, he’d beat me and then track down my aunt and kill her.”
“Shit,” mutters Officer Nelson. She scowls at the notebook in her hand before raising her gaze to me. “I have to ask, Winter. What about when he was at work? How did he keep an eye on you then?”
“Security cameras. And his friends.” I pluck at the thin hospital blanket before continuing. “He’d have his friends come over to watch me sometimes. Especially in the beginning. Later… I was trying to act more… passive. Agreeable. I thought if I did, he’d let his guard down and I’d find a chance to get out. Get to the police. Warn my aunt before he could get to her.”
“I don’t understand,” Officer Quillian says. “No one reported you missing. I checked. How is that possible if you were held captive for a month?”
“I just moved here. Eight months ago. And with everything… I didn’t get a chance to meet anyone who would worry. My neighbors saw me with Thomas before. They probably assumed I moved in with him. My best friend Violet… he sent her messages before he took my phone. Terrible things. She didn’t want to speak to me after that.”
“And your aunt?”
“Thomas let me call her occasionally. On his phone, and only when he was there. He said he didn’t want her getting involved. So I had to tell her everything was okay and come up with excuses why I couldn’t visit. If I didn’t, Thomas would…”
Crap. I’m crying again.
“Okay, Winter.” Officer Nelson hands me a handful of tissues and waits for me to dab away my tears. “I think we can move on for now, though we’ll have more detailed questions for you later. Can you tell us about how you ended up at Rossi’s Outfitters?”
My head is pounding in rhythm with my pulse and I want nothing more than to burrow under the covers and hide. I wish Enzo was here to hold my hand. I wish Violet could be here. My aunt. I wish I didn’t feel so alone and small and scared.
But this part I have to get right.
So I tell them everything in meticulous detail, even as I’m swallowing down bile and willing my stomach to settle. I tell them about being in the car, not having a choice about it, feeling horrified and helpless when I found out Thomas’s plan.
I recall the moment I knew I had to do something. “I couldn’t let Thomas burn down the store. I couldn’t. I’d met Enzo and he told me how it was his uncle’s store and how much it meant to him. I couldn’t sit by and watch as it was destroyed, no matter how scared I was.”
My heart in my throat, I tell the officers about Thomas forcing me to touch the crowbar. How he grinned as he said I was an accessory now, too.
And then, finally, I go through those last few minutes—when I snuck into the store and called 911, hoping I wasn’t too late to stop Thomas. “I didn’t know what else to do,” I explain. “He had the car keys. I couldn’t get to help on my own. Calling was the only thing I could think of. And then he found me. Hit me. That’s the last thing I remember until Enzo was there.”
Officer Quillian stares at me for a second, his jaw tight and working. Then he says, “You did a very brave thing, Winter. And you saved the store. There were items stolen, and some damage, but nowhere near as bad as it could have been.”
“Yes,” agrees Officer Nelson. “The safer thing would have been to do nothing.”
They don’t seem upset or like they’re doubting my story, but I can’t let go of the fear of being arrested. “Am I… going to jail?”
She shakes her head. “No. We’re obviously going to investigate further, and we’re going to bring Thomas in for questioning. Search his house. Make sure your story lines up.”
“Do you believe me?”
Her face softens. “I do, Winter. I wish I could tell you it’s cut and dry, but you are still a person of interest until you’re fully cleared of wrongdoing. Hopefully that will happen quickly—” She stops as she sees something in my expression. “You’re safe now, Winter. I can promise you that. And I do believe you. Truly. I’ll be fighting for you.”
“I believe you, too,” echoes Officer Quillian. “What you told us…” Anger darkens his gaze. “We’ll figure this out. Okay?”
But what about in the meantime? “But what do I do? Where do I go? You don’t have Thomas yet. I’m sure he didn’t go back to his house. He’s awful, but not stupid. He has to know I’d turn him in. If I go home, it’s the first place he’ll look.” My voice pitches up as the panic surges. “You didn’t see how he looked at me. He’ll come after me. I know he will.”
“Once you’re discharged, we’ll set you up at a hotel,” he replies. “Put a patrol car out front. We’ll have someone there twenty-four-seven until we have Thomas in custody.”
“Okay…” I’m so exhausted, it takes a minute to sort through everything, to figure out if their solution will really keep me safe.
Do I have another choice?
Not really.
“I need to call my aunt,” I blurt out. “She’s in New Mexico right now, but she needs to know. I don’t think Thomas would go out there or even know where she’s staying. But she’s supposed to come home next week, and if he’s not?—”
“I’m sure we’ll have him much sooner than that,” Officer Quillian replies quickly. “But absolutely. We’ll figure out long-distance calling for you.”
“It’s okay, Patrick.” Officer Nelson turns to her partner. “I’m sure Winter wants to talk to her aunt right away.” Then she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a phone. Holding it out to me, she says, “I know how much you must need to hear a friendly voice right now. You can use my phone.”
For a moment, I just gape at her, too shocked to speak.
“I believe you, Winter.” Her dark brown eyes hold mine, not just sympathy in them, but understanding. “You need to talk to your aunt. Now you don’t have to wait. I’ll be right outside the room, so you can let me know when you’re done.”
Swallowing against tears, I take the phone from her. “Thank you. So much. I won’t do anything else. Just call her. But… thank you.”
The faint embers of optimism kindle again.
First Enzo. Now this lovely officer who doesn’t just believe me, she trusts me.
Maybe things still can work out.
I hope.