Chapter Eleven
Maggie handed the customer’s credit card back to her with a smile. “Thanks so much for coming in,” she said, her voice cheerful and welcoming.
The woman returned the smile, her eyes glinting with enthusiasm. “You’ll see more of me, I’m sure. I love antiques.” With a gentle nod, she picked up her shopping bag and gracefully walked out, the bell above the door chiming softly as she left.
Maggie took a moment to glance around the quaint and now silent shop, its shelves adorned with treasures from bygone eras. The soft afternoon light filtered through the windows, casting a golden glow on the antiques that lined the back wall. Deciding to clean up before she closed for the day, she picked up a dust rag and headed to the backroom where the dollhouses were. The tourist season had officially drawn to a close, leaving the streets eerily quiet. It was the last Saturday they’d be open until spring returned. Maggie relished the thought, for it meant uninterrupted weekends with Rafe.
They did manage to catch up once in a while, but she rarely left the shop before two on Saturdays, and some days, fatigue took over, leaving her with little energy for anything else. But tonight, she and Rafe had plans. The dream of closing up on Fridays and heading straight to his place for a leisurely weekend filled her thoughts as she gently dusted a miniature mansion.
Earlier that afternoon, Vanna had gotten sick and went home, leaving Maggie alone to walk to her apartment.
“I’m so sorry, Maggie,” Vanna’s voice crackled weakly. “I know there’s a bug going around and it looks like it found me.”
“It’s not your fault you’re sick, Vanna. I’ll be fine.”
“Call the sheriff’s office,” Vanna insisted. “They can send someone to walk you to your apartment.”
“I might do that. Promise me you’ll rest,” Maggie said softly. “You take care of yourself.”
“I will, just be damn careful, okay?”
“I will, I promise.”
Just then, the familiar chime of the door interrupted her musings. She sighed softly, setting the dust rag aside. “So much for getting a little cleaning done,” she murmured to herself as she walked toward the showroom. Upon entering, she stopped abruptly, her heart skipping a beat. Frederick!
“Get out of here,” she commanded, her voice firm and unyielding.
He shrugged nonchalantly, his eyes roaming over the carefully curated displays. “I’m just looking,” he replied, his fingers grazing objects as he wandered aimlessly.
“Yeah, well, I can refuse service to anyone, and I’m refusing you,” she declared, her tone unwavering. “Now get out before I call the sheriff.”
“I’m not doing anything, Maggie. I’m just admiring the antiques,” Frederick said, his eyes scanning the room with a feigned innocence.
“You’re here to try to intimidate me, and it’s not working,” Maggie snapped back, her voice edged with defiance.
Frederick sauntered toward her, his footsteps deliberate and heavy on the wooden floor, forcing her to retreat. A sly smirk curled his lips. “Are you sure about that?”
Maggie lifted her chin defiantly, her eyes narrowing. “Yes, now get out.” She moved swiftly behind the counter, pulling her phone from her pocket with a determined grip. “I will call them right now.”
“I’m surprised you’re not calling Marshall,” Frederick taunted, leaning casually against the counter’s edge.
“Why would I call him?” Maggie retorted; her voice steady but laced with tension.
Frederick leaned closer, his eyes glinting with accusation. “Because you’re fucking him. I knew you two always had something going on.”
“You’re wrong!” Maggie protested, her voice rising with a mix of anger and disbelief.
“About which part?” Frederick challenged, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Fucking him now, or always having something going on? Were you having sex with him when we were married?”
“Are you crazy?” Maggie shot back, her voice trembling slightly with suppressed emotion. “I know what kind of man you are, and I know what you would have done to me if I had been seeing Rafe.”
“I don’t believe you.” Frederick’s voice escalated, echoing off the walls. “I’d see the way you two looked at each other. I knew he wanted you!” he shouted; his face flushed with anger.
Maggie clenched her teeth. “Get out of here! Now!” She held her phone up, the threat of calling the sheriff clear in her eyes.
“I’ll go for now,” Frederick conceded, his voice a low growl, “but I’ll be around. I’m not happy with you at all, Maggie.”
“Well, now you know how I felt being married to you. Go!” Maggie’s voice was firm, her resolve unshakeable as she watched him turn and leave, the tension lingering in the air.
She sank onto the stool behind the counter, her heart pounding in her chest as she took deep, steadying breaths to calm herself. Her hands trembled slightly, and she clenched them into fists to stop the shaking. He was right; his presence filled her with an unsettling mix of fear and anxiety. She wished with all her heart that he would just leave and never return, but deep down, she knew that was just a hope in vain. His eyes burned with a relentless determination, a clear sign that he was fixated on making her life a living nightmare as retribution for her role in sending him to prison.
First it was Fred, then Rafe, and now her. Frederick was toying with all of them.
Maggie turned the sign on the door over to ‘Closed’ and locked it. She then counted the money in the cash register and put it in a small envelope, then placed it in the safe. She removed her purse from the filing cabinet, shrugged into her coat, pulled down a wool beanie over her head, and zipped the coat up to her chin.
She made her way toward the delivery door in the back and stared at it. What if he was out there, waiting for her? She was terrified of what he’d do to her.
“You can’t stay in here,” she murmured.
Taking a deep breath, she opened it, stepped out, then let it close behind her and was instantly swallowed by a swirl of icy wind and drifting snowflakes. She scanned the deserted alley, her boots crunching on the thin layer of fresh powder. Even for the short walk to her apartment, she would feel the prick of cold through every layer.
She inhaled the biting air, her heart thudding as snow slapped her face and wind whistled down the corridor. Tilting her head down, she slowly made her way toward the stairs.
“Maggie.”
She froze. The words cut through the wind like an icicle. Maggie’s pulse hammered as she looked up to see Frederick emerging from the flurry, his frame draped in a long black coat dusted with snow. His eyes glinted with something like triumph.
“Get away from me,” she snapped, as she backed up, her voice trembling.
He took a step forward, a smirk curling his lips. “I’m not doing anything.”
Maggie’s fingers curled into fists at her sides. “Do I have to get a restraining order?”
Frederick shrugged. “Do what you want. But nothing’s going to stop me from taking you with me when I’m ready to go.”
“Why can’t you leave me alone?” Her words came out harsh, brittle, like breaking ice.
“Because you belong to me.” His voice was low, authoritative.
A wave of revulsion formed in her chest. “I hate you.”
His nostrils flared. “I couldn’t care less. You’re my wife—”
She laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. “I am not your wife! I divorced you.”
His shoulders stiffened; the air between them crackled. He took another step closer, and Maggie instinctively backed up, her boots slipping on ice. “Do you think that makes me want to leave you alone? You ran off, you betrayed me to McCallister, and the moment I was arrested you divorced me. Oh, and let’s not forget how you’re fucking Marshall. That alone makes me so pissed. Payback time is coming, Maggie. Both you and Marshall will pay.”
“I had to get away from you,” she hissed, voice shaking with anger and fear. She reached for the handle of the delivery door, knowing it locked automatically, but he didn’t know that.
“I always knew you were fucking him.”
“I wasn’t! Do you honestly think I would have done that while still married to you? You would have killed me, but in all honesty, that would have been better than living with you. You disgust me. Why are you staying here? There is nothing here for you.”
“I won’t be here long, but like I said, when I go, you go with me.”
“I’d rather die than go anywhere with you.”
He lifted one gloved hand as if weighing her words. “That can easily be arranged,” he murmured. “Just remember, I know people who’ll do anything, for the right price.” With that, he turned, receding into the white blur, leaving Maggie’s heart pounding as the wind whipped around her.
As soon as she was sure he was gone, she ran to the stairs, slipping on the ice and snow as she did, but she made it up to the stoop, unlocked her door, then entered the apartment. After locking the door, she leaned back against it, slid to the floor and cried.
After a few minutes, Maggie pushed herself upright, shrugging off her woolen coat and removing her knit cap. She double-checked the deadbolt before slipping into the bathroom. She needed a long, hot soak to settle her rattled nerves before Rafe arrived.
At least she hoped he’d make it. Through the frosted window, the roads lay cloaked in a thin blanket of snow, glinting with ice in the streetlamp’s glow. It was still early afternoon, but with the cloud cover, it seemed later. She didn’t want him risking getting hurt just to get to her, but she had to tell him about Frederick.
Maggie turned on the faucet, watching the rose-scented bath salts swirl into the water, then set her phone on the marble ledge. She peeled off her clothes and eased into the steamy tub. The warmth seeped into her shoulders, but it couldn’t thaw the chill clenching her chest. Leaning her head back against the cool porcelain, she closed her eyes as tears pooled at her eyelashes and trickled down her cheeks. Frederick frightened her more than anyone else.
At last, she sat up, water sloshing over the rim, and reached for her phone. Fingertips trembling, she tapped Rafe’s number and put it on speaker. His deep, familiar drawl filled the room: “Hi, darlin’.”
“Rafe… are you going to be able to make it here tonight?” Her voice quavered.
“Are the roads bad in town?”
She exhaled. “They’ve got a dusting of snow, probably slick in spots.”
“Maggie? What’s wrong?”
Her throat tightened. “Frederick—” she choked on his name, then steadied herself. “He was here.”
“At your apartment?”
She stared at the rippling water. “He came into the shop earlier. I made him leave. I was alone. Vanna went home sick today, so after I locked up the shop, I slipped out the back delivery door… and there he was, waiting for me.”
A low growl rumbled through the phone. “Did he touch you?”
“No,” Maggie whispered, voice brittle as ice. “But he said he wasn’t leaving Clifton without me.”
“Over my dead body,” Rafe snapped, fury sharpening his tone. “I will fucking put him in the ground.”
Her chest tightened. “I’m scared,” she admitted.
“I know, baby. I know.” His voice softened. “I’ll grab a quick shower and be on my way. Pack a bag, you’re coming home with me. Do not argue.”
“I’m not going to.”
“I’m sorry. Did you say you weren’t going to argue with me?”
“Yes, not this time.” She hugged her knees to her chest. “Are you sure it’s safe enough to drive?”
“I’ve driven these roads my whole life. I can handle a little snow. You just relax. I’ll be there soon.”
Maggie managed to make a small laugh. “I’m in a hot tub of water right now, trying to ease my tension.”
A teasing note entered his voice. “So, you’re talking to me naked?”
She felt heat bloom in her cheeks. “I am.”
“Damn. Do you want me to pick up dinner?”
“That sounds perfect.”
“Burgers?”
“Yes, please.”
“Don’t open the door for anyone else, okay?”
“I won’t.”
“Alright, sweetheart. I’ll see you soon.”
“Okay.” She set the phone on the closed toilet lid. The steam curled around her as she sank back into the water, clutching Rafe’s promise like a lifeline against the dark.
****
Once Rafe hung up, he hurriedly made his way to the bathroom to shower. The urgency in his movements was intense, as if the very air around him buzzed with anticipation. Needless to say, it was going to be the quickest shower on record. He had to get to her as soon as possible.
“Damn you, Hancock. You touch one hair on her head and you’re a dead man,” he muttered under his breath, the words laced with a dangerous promise.
Stripping off his clothes with swift, determined motions, he turned the shower on, stepping into the stall as steam began to fill the small space. The hot water cascaded over his skin, a comforting embrace that he could not afford to indulge in. He had to get to Maggie.
Rafe’s mind was a whirlwind of worry and anger. He knew she had to be terrified, her fear a tangible shadow lurking in the corners of his thoughts. How many days he wondered, since being back in Clifton, had Junior been watching her? The idea slithered into his mind, making his skin crawl with disgust. The thought of that prick watching her, threatening her, made his blood boil, a fierce heat that even the soothing stream of the shower could not quell.
After his shower, he toweled off briskly, the chill of the day already nipping at his damp skin. Slipping into jeans and a thick flannel shirt, he tugged on his sheepskin coat and pulled his felt hat low over his forehead. Outside, snow fell in heavy, lazy flakes, piling against the doorframe, but he didn’t hesitate, nothing would keep him from getting to her.
Booker barked and ran to the door, but Rafe shook his head. “Sorry, buddy, not this time. I’ll be back soon, though.” Then he pulled the door closed behind him.
He climbed into his pickup, and turned the key, the engine growled to life, and he watched gray skies blur as the truck rumbled out onto the main road. He thumbed his cell phone and dialed the diner, placing an order. That would save precious minutes.
The roads were slick, but passable. He edged the truck behind the neon-lit diner, its windows fogged from dozens of meals served. Warm light spilled out onto the drifting snow. After paying, he scooped the paper bag of burgers from the counter and ducked back into his truck, tires crunching on the narrow alley’s snow. At the end lay the iron steps up to Maggie’s apartment. He hoped she was ready, packed and waiting, because as soon as they ate, they’d be on the road.
He shook his head. First Nate had to handle Markie’s mother’s husband who couldn’t keep his hands to himself, then Jack with Randi’s stepbrother, and now this mess with Junior. “Can’t some men just take a fucking hint?” he muttered; teeth set. “If she shows no interest, move the hell on.”
He parked, cut the engine, and grabbed the still-warm bag. He hit the fob to lock the truck—he didn’t trust Junior, not one bit—and climbed the steps. He rapped on Maggie’s door until it swung open.
She stood there, pale and trembling, and as soon as she saw him, she sank into his arms. She let go of a single, relieved sob into his chest. He closed his eyes, pressing his cheek to her hair.
“Let me get out of my coat, baby.” He handed her the bag. “We’ll warm up inside.” He peeled off his hat and coat, hanging them on the pegs by the door. “After we eat, we’ll get going.”
She brushed a loose strand of hair from her face, eyes rimmed red. “Are the roads okay?”
He offered a half-smile. “Not too bad. The radio said it’ll warm up tomorrow, this is just a teaser.”
She sank onto the sofa. He set the bag between them, and she peeled back the top. Two foil-wrapped burgers sat beside a cardboard container of fries and a pile of golden onion rings. Steam curled up, carrying the scent of sizzling onions and melted cheese.
He shrugged, easing onto the sofa across from her. “I didn’t know which you’d want, so I got you fries.”
She reached for an onion ring. “We could’ve shared.”
“Oh hell no. I don’t share my onion rings with anyone.” He laughed.
Her lips curved. “I bet I could make you.”
He leaned forward, picking up his burger. He bit into it and groaned, a perfect blend of juicy beef, soft bun, tangy sauce. “No doubt, maybe I’ll share, but first we eat, then we go. Did you pack a bag?”
She set her burger down and straightened. “I did. I hope I don’t have to stay too long.”
His jaw tightened. “Is there some reason you don’t want to stay with me?”
She shook her head. “It’s not that. It’s just… I’m supposed to be at work Monday.”
“There’s no way you’re going back to work.” His voice was firm, protective.
She lifted her burger again, voice soft. “I have a job, Rafe. I won’t let him keep me away. You know how I feel about him, but he wouldn’t dare try anything with people around. He’s a chickenshit—acts tough but runs from anyone who stands up to him. No one knows how truly evil he can be. He showed his real self to me, and they’d never suspect.”
He chewed slowly; brow furrowed. “I still don’t like it.”
“There’s nothing we can do until he actually tries something.” She pressed her palm to her chest, steadying her breath. “Even if he threatened me, that’s not enough for the sheriff to act. He’d say there’s no evidence, just words. Even if Frederick were confronted, he’d say I was lying.”
Rafe set his burger on the low table and faced her. The glow from the single lamp cast soft shadows across his dark features. “You want him to make a move?” He shook his head. “Because if that’s what you’re saying, it’s a big no.”
She traced the rim of her soda cup. “Even if I told Sam he threatened me, he’d say it’s my word against his. Frederick’s patient. He’ll wait.”
Rafe sank back into the cushions, running a hand through his hair. “You’re right. Until he actually tries something, our hands are tied. Damn it—it’s infuriating.”
They ate the last of their burgers in silence. He crinkled the empty foil and tossed the fry and onion rings cartons into the bag.
Bundled once more in heavy coats, they stepped toward the door. He picked up her suitcase and she locked the door behind them. The wind had whipped the fallen snow into drifts as they descended the iron stairs. Rafe took her hand, fingers curling around hers like an anchor.
He tossed the bag of trash into the dumpster, then led her to the truck. She climbed in, brushing snow from her boots, and he slid behind the wheel. The heater roared to life, thawing their cheeks. He eased onto Main Street.
“It looks like the snowfall’s slowing,” he observed, headlights illuminating swirling crystals.
She exhaled, relief in her breath. “I’m glad I don’t have to worry about coming back until Monday. Weekends off are a blessing.”
He glanced at her, then back to the road. “Me too. Though sometimes I get called in if someone’s out sick or takes off.”
“Has Fred talked to you about Junior?”
“Not since our last talk.” He tapped the steering wheel. “He doesn’t buy a word Junior says anymore. He sees right through him.”
“That had to hurt—knowing his own son turned out like that.”
Rafe’s knuckles whitened on the wheel. “Fred is a wonderful man, and it pains me to see him hurt by his own son.”
She shook her head. “I just think it’s awful, stealing his own father’s horses, treating people like garbage.”
Rafe flicked on the windshield wipers, clearing a stripe through the flakes. “It’s more than that. Fred knows everything Junior did to you. The lies, the hits, the rape…” His voice cracked, and he reached for her hand on the seat between them. “He loves you like a daughter. Knowing that son of his hurt you in every way possible tore him apart.”
Maggie swallowed, voice trembling. “I never wanted Frederick to touch me. I hated telling Fred what really happened. He knew Frederick hit me, but the rape devastated him.” She shook her head. “He cried and I hated making him do that.”
Rafe lifted her hand and kissed her palm. “I know. And for that alone, I want to knock the living shit out of him.”
She squeezed his hand, and he grasped hers tightly, the warmth of the truck held them as the storm slowly eased outside.
As Rafe pulled the truck to a stop, he shut it off and looked at her.
“Are you okay?”
“I will be. As long as I’m with you, he won’t bother me.”
“He can try.”
“I just want to forget him for the weekend. Let’s just relax. He won’t bother us here.”
“Alright. Whatever you want, darlin’.”
“I want to be with you, Rafe.”
“I want that too. Let’s get in out of the cold. At least he won’t come here in this weather.”
They entered the house, removed their coats and hats, then Maggie sat on the floor to hug Booker. The dog tried to get in her lap, making her laugh.
Rafe put his hand out to her to help her up. She kissed his lips, and he pulled her tight against him.
“I miss you all week,” she whispered.
“I miss you too, but we do get together when we can.”
“I’m glad the tourist season is over.”
“Me too. We’ll have all weekend together.” He kissed her forehead.
“Do you mind if we just relax on the sofa?”
“Sounds good. I’ll get the fire going again.”
“I’d like that.”
Rafe stared at her. “Anything for you, Maggie. Anything.”
She blinked her eyes quickly then wrapped her arms around his waist, and whispered, “Thank you.”
Rafe moved from her to make a fire in the hearth while she took a seat on the sofa. As he added the logs to the kindling, he glanced out the window to see it still snowing. He hoped he was right about Junior not being out in this, but he trusted that man about as far as he could throw him, and knew he’d do anything to get to Maggie.