Chapter 37
Rhett
I back away from him and reach Bailey sitting at the top of the stairs. I wrap an arm around her, then pick her up to her feet while keeping one eye on the guy, still in a heap on the floor.
Once I turn her away from the sight, she presses her face to my chest, shielding the view of the man who’s tormented her while I watch him for any sign of movement.
She gasps and looks up into my eyes. “He had a knife. He wanted to—”
“But he didn’t,” I tell her quickly, before she can finish.
A moment later, the room fills with red light, then blue, then red. She jolts back from my arms.
A siren wails just outside.
“It’s the police,” I tell her. “They got here fast.”
“I told them you were going to kill him,” she whispers, as if she can’t believe it to be true.
“I was never going to do that,” I tell her, quickly, needing her to know.
A fist pounds on the door.
“Police!” someone yells.
Bailey looks up at me. I still have my gun drawn on the man.
“I’ll go,” she says, breathlessly, before glancing at the intruder like he might spring back to life. “Are you sure he’s not . . . ?”
“He’s breathing,” I tell her.
She nods, backing away in shock.
Her bare feet pound down the stairs.
“Coming!” she yells, before adding, “And I live here!” Probably afraid they’ll already have their guns drawn.
The man on the floor stirs, then he rolls to his side, groaning.
“They’re up there,” Bailey says, pointing. I can hear her voice shaking from up here. “Rhett tied him up. He’s got his gun out but—”
“Drop the gun,” the officer says, pushing past her when he sees me.
The officer’s hand reaches down to his holster.
I immediately raise my hands.
“He’s tied up on the floor,” I tell him. Then I set the gun down right beside me, and turn around with my hands up to show them I’m not the one they need to worry about.
Three officers race up the stairs behind him; immediately, their attention is off me and on the man. One kneels to check for a pulse, while the other pulls out a radio to call for an ambulance.
“You live here?” one asks me.
“Our parents own these cabins. We’re staying—”
“Rhett, Bailey,” I hear Roger’s voice before I see him. It’s the old police chief, Savannah’s Uncle Roger, whom we knew when we were teenagers.
“Roger,” she says, throwing her arms around his neck.
“You two okay?” he asks, looking more than concerned. “When I heard the call come in for this place, I sent everyone as fast as possible. Savannah filled me in on what you’ve been going through, so we’ve had units patrolling around this area every night, just in case. Where is he?”
“Upstairs,” I tell him, but Roger is already halfway up, joining the other officers near the man on the floor. They’ve replaced the cord around his wrist with handcuffs, and he’s on his back now, eyes blinking open in a daze.
It’s over. It’s fucking over.
With all the charges coming his way, this guy isn’t going to be out in society again for a long time.
Bailey follows Roger up the stairs, and I hold her against me, giving her a warning glance not to go any closer to the guy on the floor.
When they sit him up, his eyes shoot to Bailey.
One of the officers is taking photos of the knife on the ground, while another is already checking the locks and entry points downstairs.
“Those cameras outside working?” Roger asks. “They look brand new.”
“I’m guessing we’re going to find the internet line cut,” I tell them. “They haven’t worked all night. It wasn’t just a blip. I’d put money on it.”
“Bailey,” the man croaks from the floor. His throat probably feels like razor blades after what I just put him through, but he’s still stupid enough to try talking. “Tell them.”
She steps closer to me.
“Shut the fuck up,” I growl at him, almost wishing I’d finished him off better than I had. At least bad enough that he couldn’t say another word the rest of the night.
“Tell them what?” Bailey asks, sounding scared and mad.
“You don’t need to talk to him,” I tell her.
I try turning her away, but she won’t budge.
“The messages you left for me,” he says, looking dazed, like she should already know what he’s talking about.
Roger begins reciting his Miranda Rights, warning the guy not to speak without a lawyer present, but the man ignores him completely and goes on.
“In your books. In your interview. You told me to come.”
“What?” She’s horrified. “I never told you anything. I don’t fucking know you.”
“You left those photos for me at your apartment,” he insists, growing agitated. “The map on your wall, the photographs. You left it all there so I could find you. Tell them!”
The photos in her war room at her apartment.
Of the four of us here at the lake.
“No, I didn’t!” she cries. “What are you talking about?”
“Bay, let’s go downstairs,” I tell her gently, trying to lead her away, but she won’t go.
“I knew when I saw him at your party,” the man goes on, staring at me now, like he’s slicing me up in his mind with that knife he brought up here to do just that. “Your books talked all about a guy like this. You’re a fucking asshole!” he screams, staring right at me.
“Me?” I ask.
When our eyes meet, it’s like a trance finally breaks, and he suddenly starts to scream. Spit flies from his mouth, and the officers have to restrain him from trying to stand up and come after me again.
“Of course, you! Are you fucking stupid? I saw the way you looked at her! She’s been communicating with me for years! Or are you too stupid to tell? Bailey loves me. Bailey, you love me. Tell him! Tell him! Bailey, listen to me—”
“No!” Bailey yells, stepping back, like this new outburst has scared her even more. “There’s never been any messages.” She takes a shaky breath in. “You need help.”
“I don’t need help!” he screams, thrashing against the officers. “I need you!”
“You’re under arrest for the stalking and harassment of Bailey Jones,” Roger begins. “Officer Landsome’s team will handle the break-in charges back in the city.”
“No, no, none of this was meant to hurt you,” the man pleads. “Just let me explain.”
“How was this not meant to hurt me?” Bailey asks, fuming. “You destroyed my apartment. Everything I own. You came up here with a knife.”
“For him! All of that was for him!” he screams. “I’m sorry about what I wrote on your window. I was mad, Bailey. Forgive me!”
“Let’s get him outside,” one of the officers finally says.
Once they get the guy up on his feet, his eyes darken, and he suddenly lunges at us, catching everyone by surprise. I jump in front of Bailey and deck him so hard that he flies back, landing against the officer’s chest.
“Get him out of here,” I growl. “Or this isn’t going to end well.”
I’ve kept my composure in far worse, but right now, I feel like I’m teetering on the edge.
He spits in my direction, missing by a mile, but they push his head down and begin walking him toward the stairs to take him out.
“Enough!” Roger barks. “Go on. We’re booking him in. I’ll call the team in New York to let them know we’ve got their guy.”
“Thank you,” I tell him, stepping aside while putting myself between him and Bailey to let them pass.
“But, by all means,” Roger says, turning to the man, “keep running your mouth to make locking you up even easier. You’ve had your rights read to you, so this is all fair game in court.”
Bailey begins following behind them down the stairs, but I hold an arm out between them halfway down so she’ll stay put instead of getting any closer. The man’s already lunged once, and I’m not taking any chances a second time.
“Oh my God, you’re bleeding!” she cries when she sees my arm dripping with blood.
I’d hardly felt it when it happened, but, sure enough, the man managed to cut my forearm before I’d gotten him to drop the knife.
“I’m fine,” I tell her. “I doubt it’ll need stitches.
” The cut is about three or four inches long, but doesn’t look too deep.
But he sliced right through the cross with Cory’s name.
I look up for just a moment, feeling like somehow it’s a sign.
Like maybe he was my backup here tonight, helping me make sure I didn’t make a single mistake this time.
I swallow and hug her tighter, keeping the wound away.
The man begins screaming once he sees the squad cars outside, pulling our attention back to him. “I love you! Look what I’ve done for you! No one else would do what I’ve done! Bailey! Don’t let them take me!”
He’s struggling against the officers even harder now, and it’s only going to get more difficult to watch.
I turn her around until I’m facing the sight of them walking him out, and she’s pressed into my chest, blocking the view of her tormentor being carted away.
Holding her as close as I can, I hope the sound of my racing heart beneath her eardrum drowns out some of what he’s screaming at her. Just like I did for little Eli, after all those shots popped off and we were racing away from the compound, horror unfolding all around.
I watch them put him in the back of their car. Hopefully, they’ll take this guy somewhere to get him the help that he so clearly needs.
They drive away, first slowly up the drive, then down the road with sirens blaring. We stand out there, Bailey shaking with her ear pressed into my chest, eyes closed, until all we can hear is the water lapping up against the shore again.