13. Michael
CHAPTER 13
“I’m so sorry, I don’t know how this happened.”
Reyna stands beside her mother, both of them visibly shaken as we scour the bank’s security cameras. Sheriff Vick offers her a kind smile. “It’s not your fault. He likely walked in with the other patrons, then slipped into the back while no one was paying attention.”
“Or he paid an employee.” Elijah pauses the video. “Isn’t that Sheryl Pierson?” he asks, gesturing to a blonde woman who’s reaching into Felicity’s locker.
Anger burns me up from the inside.
“Sheryl? Why would she steal my phone? We’re not close, but I don’t understand why she would take it.”
“Did she know your passcode?” Elijah asks. He’d tracked the phone down, and we’d found it discarded in a trash can on the beach only half a mile away from where I’d been talking to Kyra.
Half a mile. That’s almost no distance at all.
“No. At least, I don’t think so.” Her eyes widen. “Actually, yes. This morning she’d asked if she could borrow my phone to make a call. I’d given it to her so she could unlock it since I was watching the front.” She covers her mouth with a shaking hand. “I didn’t see her again after that. What if she didn’t steal it, but whoever took it managed to get her first?”
“Easy, Mom,” Reyna says. “We’ll find her. I’m sure there’s an explanation for it.”
But as she speaks the words, Reyna’s gaze finds mine, and I see the same anger I’m feeling reflected in her eyes.
Whoever used the phone tossed it so we would find it. His way of toying with us. Of letting us know that he’s a step ahead and can gain access at any point in time. Truth be told, Elijah’s serial killer theory is looking more and more likely with each passing day. And if that’s the case, it’s entirely possible Sheryl was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.
My stomach churns.
“I’ll find Sheryl,” the sheriff says.
The door to the front of the bank opens and Felicity’s husband Henry rushes in. “Are you okay?” he demands. “I saw that the bank was closed. The sheriff’s car being outside worried me.” His gaze scans over the rest of us. “What’s going on?”
“The man who is after Reyna ended up with your wife’s phone.” Lance points to the monitor.
Henry leans in closer to the monitor. “That’s Sheryl.”
“It is, and we’re going to find her and see if we can get an explanation,” Sheriff Vick replies.
“My parents need additional protection.” Reyna crosses her arms. “This was a direct threat against my mother.”
“I agree.”
She glares at me as though she expected me to argue.
“I thought you all were supposed to find whoever is doing this.” Henry turns to me. “I trusted you with her.” His eyes are wide and afraid, his bottom lip quivering.
I start to respond, but what can I say? We’ve failed up until this point. This guy is managing to fly under the radar. We’ve got nothing on him so far.
“We will catch the guy,” Jaxson assures him. “Sometimes it just takes time.”
“Well, he’s come after my daughter and my wife now, so how much more time can we spare?”
“The important thing here is that Felicity is okay. We’ll put deputies on your house, and I’ll make sure you are both protected,” Sheriff Vick says as he fires off a text message. “And as soon as I bring Sheryl in, we’ll start getting some answers. If she was hired to grab the phone, maybe we’ll get a description of the guy.”
But I doubt it. And one look at Lance says he does, too. This guy has been careful. He wouldn’t allow anyone to get a look at his face—not unless he was certain they wouldn’t be able to talk about it later.
“There will be deputies at your home within a few minutes,” Sheriff Vick says as he shoves his phone into his pocket. “And I’m headed to Sheryl’s house. You’ll keep me apprised of any new discoveries?” he asks Lance.
“Always.”
While we’re not technically police, we have an excellent working relationship with Sheriff Vick. He lets us investigate alongside him, and we share intel. It’s a system that’s worked so far, and one I am beyond grateful for.
The sheriff offers one final wave, then turns and leaves the bank.
“I’m taking Felicity home. Unless you need anything else?” Henry asks.
“No, it’s okay.” Lance gives him a tight smile. “Jaxson, can you drive them home? Then wait until the deputies get there?”
“Sure thing.”
“Reyna, come with us,” her father urges.
She shakes her head. “I need to take care of some things, Dad, but I’ll be fine.”
“Please, honey.”
“I’m okay.” She smiles and takes his hands in hers, holding them tightly. “I promise.”
He purses his lips. “I won’t survive if anything happens to you.”
Reyna leans in and kisses his cheek. “Dad, I’m going to be just fine.”
“If you don’t hit with the first two knuckles, you risk breaking your hand.” I grab the other side of the heavy bag, and Reyna glares up at me. Since Jaxson is watching over her parents, she came back here with me and has been trying to blow off steam ever since. “Come on, let’s get you some lemonade. I just made some this morning.”
I turn, and she follows, stripping off the gloves as she does. By the time we’ve reached the door to my apartment, her hands are bare again. I take the gloves from her and set them on the table by my door—right beside mine.
Somehow, seeing them there together causes the ache in my chest to grow.
Reyna steps into my apartment, and I watch as she studies the photographs on my wall. Images of me overseas, of my work with the kids over there and the translator I’d befriended. She’s in my space. My home. And for some reason, I’m feeling more vulnerable now than I ever have with her.
After pouring two cups of lemonade, I offer her one.
“I like your fish.”
“Thanks. Matty helped me pick them out when I got back. He was a lot younger then. Cute and helpful versus the moody teen he is now.”
She doesn’t smile, just continues surveying my space with the scrutiny of a drill sergeant in a basic training barracks.
Does she like my apartment? Or does she think it’s too small? Does it matter?
“Why did you leave me?”
The question catches me off guard, and I stare at her, mind blank, for a few seconds as I try to process it. “What?”
“You heard me.” She sets the lemonade aside and crosses her arms. “Answer the question.”
“I—” I swallow hard. How do I explain to the woman I’m protecting that I was afraid of my own father?
“That’s what I thought. Couldn’t give me an answer then, can’t give me one now.” She turns to walk away, and I reach out to grip her arm. Reyna freezes, and the skin I’m touching practically burns my palm as the connection that’s always been between us snaps through me.
“I was afraid.”
She rips her arm free and turns to face me. “Excuse me?”
“I was afraid,” I repeat. “My father wanted me to go pro. He was pushing me to leave for college and play ball so I’d get drafted by a big team. He told me that staying and marrying you would be a mistake that we both would regret.” I swallow hard, the pain on her face shattering my already tattered pride. “I couldn’t be the weight that kept you down. I couldn’t give you a life that you wouldn’t want.”
Her green eyes fill with tears as she stares up at me. “I thought your dad liked me.”
“He did. He does.” I close my eyes. I’m screwing this up. All of it. How many times have I wanted to have this conversation with her? And here I am, messing the whole thing up. “But he told me that I was walking away from a life that would be better than the one he had. He wouldn’t leave me alone. We fought, constantly, until?—”
“You left.”
“Yes.”
Her expression darkens. “Yet you couldn’t be bothered to tell me why? To explain to me that it wasn’t my fault that you left? That it wasn’t what we’d—” She trails off, tears streaming down her cheeks, and seeing them fall is like a thousand daggers to my heart.
“Did you not read any of my letters?”
“It wouldn’t have mattered if I did.”
“Yes, it would have.” I take a step closer, desperate for her to see. For her to understand that walking away from her was the single worst decision I’ve ever made. “Because if you’d read them, you wouldn’t have thought for a second that my leaving had anything to do with you.”
“Excuse me for not wanting to read your pathetic words when you could have just told me in person!” she screams. “Do you have any idea how much it hurt? How hard it is to walk down the street and know that everyone is whispering about you? About how sad it is that you got left behind?”
Truthfully, I hadn’t considered what it would do to her to remain in the place where everyone knew what she’d gone through.
“People told me that they were sorry for what happened. That it was such a shame. But I was young, and hey, first loves never last anyway, right?” A tear slips down her cheek, and I long to reach forward and brush it away. “But you managed to get away from your dad. From everyone. And couldn’t even be bothered to tell me why. I gave you everything,” she says. “All of me. And you discarded me like none of it mattered.” She slams both palms into my chest, shoving me back a few steps.
“Do you have any idea how hard it was for me?” I yell the question, unsure how else to get her to see. To understand. “How much I wished I could take back what we’d done so that—” The moment the words come out of my mouth, I want to ram my own fist into my face.
“Take it back?” She growls the words and takes a step back. “You wish that you could take it back?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“No. It’s fine, Michael. Because from the moment you left, I’ve been wishing for the same. That I could erase every kiss, every touch, every second I spent in your presence.”
“Reyna.” I start toward her, but she slams both hands into my chest and shoves me a second time.
“Do not come any closer to me, Michael Anderson. I’m sorry that you felt backed into a corner. That you couldn’t come to me and tell me why you had to leave. That you regret everything that happened between us. But that doesn’t mean I want anything to do with you now.”
“It killed me to walk away.”
She gestures to me. “Obviously not, because here you stand.”
“I was young. Hotheaded. Stupid.”
“I was young,” she snaps back. “And I loved you with everything that I was, and you chose your own pride over what was between us.”
It’s killing me all over again to see her this way. To see the pain on her face. I step closer. “Reyna?—”
“Leave me alone, Michael. We may have to work together for what’s happening now, but I don’t want anything else from you. Do you understand? I need you to leave me alone. I need you to give me space. And honestly? I wish you had never come back to Hope Springs. You should have just stayed gone.”