Chapter 7 – Maddie
No One Cares About Your Saggy Tits Mrs. Bennett
Maddie
“ARE YOU SURE?” I stare across my desk in disbelief at the detective who was waiting at my office door when I got here this morning.
“Positive.” He lifts up a stack of papers like I can see what’s in them from where I sit. “Fire marshal said the accelerant test came back positive immediately, so he doesn’t need to wait to classify it as arson.”
I rub my tired eyes, grateful I woke up so late I didn’t have time to apply mascara. “What does this mean for me?”
The detective shrugs. “Not much of anything where I’m concerned.
You didn’t witness anything yourself, and we hauled the crime scene away, so there’s nothing I need from you.
” He tips his head. “I will be going door-to-door on the apartments in the area surrounding the fire, though. See if I can find out if anyone saw anything suspicious.”
I look the guy over. He’s older than me, but still in great shape. There’s gray at his temples and scattered throughout his cropped beard. All in all, he’s a pretty attractive man.
Which makes me a little afraid for him, since I’m not sure how well-behaved some of my residents will be in his presence.
“Good luck.” He’s not gonna take it the way I mean it, but I’m not elaborating. I’m too tired. Physically and mentally.
I had no idea how long it would take the police to catalog the scene of a crime, so when Leo and I left my apartment to rush a few buildings down where a parked car was up in flames, I foolishly believed we’d still be enjoying our Dave’s dogs.
Instead, we were stuck standing around until well after midnight, making sure the police had access to anything they needed. The whole thing was chaotic and crazy.
Then they put out the fire and discovered someone really was on fire, and things went from bad to worse.
Crispy dead guy in a stolen car, worse.
“We’ll find out what’s going on.” The detective stands, sliding one of his cards across my desk. “If you hear or see anything suspicious, don’t hesitate to call me.”
I manage a weak smile and a halfhearted ‘thanks’, waiting until he leaves the building before letting my head fall to my desk.
I’m not looking forward to my next task, but it’s a necessary one. For my own peace of mind if nothing else. The car wasn’t one I recognized, so I don’t believe it belonged to any of my residents, but whoever was inside is going to have to be identified by dental records.
And I can’t wait that long. If it’s one of my renters, I need to know now.
The possibility churns my insides. I know some of these people are a total pain in my ass, but I don’t want any of them to die. Especially not like that.
Straightening up, I take a healthy swallow of my coffee, then dig into my contact list. I start with the building closest to the site of the fire, calling each resident in order according to their address.
Thankfully, their generation is much more willing to answer their phone than mine is, so I’m able to talk to every one of them.
For an extended period of time.
I should’ve known these calls wouldn’t be a simple, ‘Hey, are you alive? Yeah? Awesome. Bye.’ Instead, I’m stuck listening to all sorts of stories about everything from their grandchildren to erectile dysfunction and bowel movements.
I know I should be grateful they’re all still living and breathing, but I have a lot of people to call.
And a whole-ass crime to freak out about.
When I get to the second building, I decide to change my tactic. I do a quick Google search, figure out how to set up a Google voice number, and use that for my next series of calls.
When Mrs. Bennett answers, I mark her as alive and hang up, grinning wide over not having to listen to her lament the loss of her perky tits.
I might be a genius.
Continuing down the line, I mark off everyone who answers before immediately hanging up.
Since the phone number isn’t easily identifiable—and the people who live here are nowhere near technologically savvy—they won’t know it’s me.
And I don’t feel bad about it since the intentions behind what I’m doing are good.
Even if they’re also a little self-serving.
I manage to plow through the next two buildings, getting hold of everyone but two tenants. I’m getting ready to start on the fourth building, when the electronic bell on my office door dings.
I look up, expecting to see the detective again, but instead, my favorite trio of tenants walks in. Sylvia, Sharon, and Betty file right into my office, steps quick, expressions making it easy to guess what they’re here to discuss.
“I don’t know who was in the car.” I consider suggesting they go talk to the detective, but I’m positive he doesn’t have what it takes to handle all three of these women at the same time.
Instead, I tell them what I do know. “I’ve called everyone in buildings four, five, and six, and there were only two I couldn’t reach.
” I glance down at my list, stomach clenching as I read off the names. “Agnes Whitmore and Eugene Goodwin.”
Sylvia exchanges looks with Sharon and Betty before she tells me, “It’s not Agnes. She’s in Baltimore visiting her granddaughter.” But no one comments on the likelihood Eugene could have been the person in the car.
And that concerns me.
“What?” I scan the three of them, trying to read their expressions. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Sharon scrunches her face up, tipping her head from side to side. “It’s possible Eugene could have potentially been dabbling in some side hobbies that might have resulted in a few people preferring him to be…” Her voice trails off.
“Dead.” Betty finishes for her.
Are they kidding? Like the last time they were in my office, discussing the freaking Mafia, I can’t tell if they’re serious or not.
“What sort of hobbies does one pursue that ends up with people wanting them dead?” I ask the question slowly, trying to phrase it just right.
Because if these women aren’t kidding, the last thing I need to deal with is someone thinking I know shit I’m not supposed to.
Sylvia is the one tipping her head from side to side now, and I can’t help but think that might be what they do when they can’t figure out how best to lie to me. “A little of this. A little of that.”
The lack of specifics they’re willing to offer up on the situation is concerning. “Is there anything I need to be worried about?”
“Absolutely not.”
“No.”
“Maybe.”
The three women answer in unison, with Sharon and Betty’s heads snapping toward Sylvia when her answer doesn’t match theirs.
She throws both hands up. “What do you want me to say? The poor girl already has an ex-husband who would love to get his hands on her. She needs to know he might not be the only problem that could find its way here.”
I swallow hard, my concerns about the Mafia and Eugene’s hobbies gone like dust in the wind.
I worry every day that Drake will find me. I have a protective order, but I imagine it’s about as effective at keeping me safe as the paper it’s printed on. “Do you really think Drake would come here?”
All three women just stare at me, their silence offering up an answer even if their mouths don’t.
“It’s okay, honey.” Sharon comes around my desk, resting her hand on my shoulder. “Everybody here is looking out for you. If that asshole shows up, he’s going to regret it.” She gives me a wink. “Especially when he comes face-to-face with that giant hunk of man who’s been keeping you company.”
Sharon’s reassurance is intended to make me feel better, but it doesn’t. Instead, her words remind me that my presence alone could be dangerous to the people around me. Drake was awful before I left him, but in the months since, he’s grown increasingly angry.
And increasingly unhinged.
He’s effectively used the courts against me.
Cost me every cent he possibly could. My lawyer has to walk me to and from my car when we’re required to make court appearances because Drake waited for me to arrive at our first hearing and attempted to get into my car before I’d even shifted into park, taking a swing at the windshield with his fist when the door was locked.
And then, during an attempt our attorneys made at mediation during one of those hearings, he made a veiled threat to kill me.
“I don’t know what would happen if he and Leo ever crossed paths.” I rub my eyes again, trying to rid them of the burn brought on by exhaustion and stress. “But I know it wouldn’t be good.”
The three women in my office suddenly go still, and I look up to see them staring out the window into the parking lot. For a heartbeat, they’re all frozen.
Then the group springs to action.
“Go lock the door, Sharon.” Sylvia barks out the order, sounding nothing like the sweet, grandmotherly woman I know. She turns to Betty next. “You got anything in your purse?”
Betty yanks open her handbag as Sharon rushes into the vestibule and flips the deadbolt on the entry door. After digging around the contents for a second, Betty whips out a device I can’t quite identify. It makes a crackling noise as she tests the button on the side. “Do I get to fry his nuts?”
I stand, skin going cold. “What’s going on?” My eyes dart to the window just as Sylvia lowers the blinds and flips them closed.
Once my view of outside is blocked, she turns to me, expression serious. “Nothing we can’t handle.”
I hear someone pull on the doors, yanking harder when they don’t open. Then a familiar voice carries in.
“Maddie. Open this fucking door right now. I know you’re in there.”
I’ve been working really hard to try to get past all the terrible things that happened during my marriage. But obviously I haven’t come far at all. Because the sound of my ex-husband’s voice makes me want to cower.
Want to hide.
Sylvia comes to my side, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as she eases me back into my chair. “Don’t you worry. He’s not going to get anywhere near you.”
I can barely breathe, let alone speak, so I just nod, praying she’s right. I knew what it would mean when I left Drake. Knew things would get worse.
Knew I would only be able to hide from him for so long.
Still, part of me desperately wanted to think my life could go back to normal. That I could be a regular girl with a regular job. That I wouldn’t always be looking over my shoulder or jumping at every sound outside my windows at night.
“Keep breathing.” Sylvia’s wrinkled face hovers in front of mine. “Don’t pass out on me.”
Maybe I want to pass out. Being unconscious sounds pretty darn great right now. Way better than being coherent enough to listen to Drake beat on the glass of the door as he continues calling me awful names at the top of his lungs.
“Oh shit.” Sharon’s voice gets louder as she turns our way. “I think we have a problem.”
Oh God. The glass is going to break. He’s going to get in. He’s going to hurt me.
And maybe the people around me.
Drake’s yelling stops abruptly, cutting off on an odd sort of yelp. It’s almost eerie how quiet it gets. I hold my breath, waiting.
What comes next nearly has me falling out of my seat.
Drake slams his entire weight against the glass door, hitting it so hard it rattles.
The need to flee has me on my feet, rounding my desk with the plan to crawl out the bathroom window.
Hopefully my friends are limber, because they’re definitely coming with me, even if I have to shove them through myself.
The path to the bathroom takes me close enough to the vestibule I get a glimpse of Drake.
When my eyes land on his body pressed against the glass, I stop dead in my tracks, unable to look away as he’s peeled off the door before being slammed back into it, nose bloodied, face smashed against the clear surface.
“We should probably do som—” Sharon waves one hand dismissively. “Never mind. That detective who’s trying to figure out what happened with the carbecue is handling it.”
“They’re arresting him?” I rush for the door, adrenaline and fear making me stupid. I stop when I get a full view of the scene outside.
Unfortunately, it also offers a full view of me, and Drake’s eyes immediately meet mine. I expect him to smirk or yell or something, but he just stands there, swaying slightly as he stares.
My gaze only stays on him a second before swinging to the reason Drake is bleeding and dazed. Leo stands on the other side of the detective who was in my office not long ago, chest heaving, eyes wild. The detective has his arms stretched out like he can single handedly keep the two men apart.
But I know it’s not true. There’s only one thing keeping Leo from breaking Drake in half, and it’s not the detective.
It’s me.
Leo’s gaze is intense as it scans me from head to toe. Like he needs to see that I’m okay.
That I’m safe.
Unfortunately, I’m learning safety is relative. And fleeting.
A marked car pulls up, lights flashing and sirens wailing.
The officer behind the wheel rushes from his cruiser to the vestibule, feet stalling when he sees Leo.
Recognition flashes across his face and he aims for Drake instead, slapping his cuffs on my ex while the detective speaks to Leo.
After a few seconds, their eyes come my way.
I swallow hard.
Because I have no idea what comes now. Now that Drake knows where to find me. Now that Leo has seen what my life is really like.
Now that I have to face what my life will never be.
As Leo and the detective begin to walk toward my office, Sharon unlocks the deadbolt that proved to be way sturdier than I expected, and opens the door.
I try to pull in air, but my inhale comes out shaky, giving away how close I am to tears. To breaking.
Again.
But before the first tear falls, Leo’s reaching for me. Pulling me into his arms. His embrace is warm and tight. Strong and grounding. He holds me close.
Holds me together.
“Just breathe.” Leo’s voice is soft as he strokes my hair. “We’re going to figure all of this out.”
I wish I could believe him. I want to believe him. But I’ve been trying to figure Drake out for years, and just when I think I understand him, he does something I don’t expect.
Like try to kill me.
Leo tips his head forward, practically curling his big body around mine. He’s like a cocoon of safety, and I manage to pull in a full breath. Then he says something that steals it right back out of my lungs.
“But while we figure this out, you’re going to be staying with me.”