Chapter 6 #2
“Is there anyone you can think of who would want to hurt you?” Wyatt asked. “Anyone who might have a grudge? An ex-boyfriend, a business dispute, anything?”
This was the moment. The moment where she had to admit it, had to say out loud what she’d been running from for a year. Had to expose all the ugly, shameful parts of her past to these strangers. To Ethan.
“My ex-husband,” she said, and her voice came out as a whisper. She cleared her throat, tried again. “Tom. Tom Redding.”
Wyatt was writing in his notepad. “And where is Mr. Redding now?”
“I don’t know. Back in Ohio, I think. That’s where we lived before.” Lydia’s hands twisted together. “We divorced a year ago. I got a restraining order, but it expired. He—” She stopped, the words catching in her throat.
“Take your time,” Morris said gently.
Lydia took a shaky breath. “He started drinking after he lost his job. At first, it was just … he’d get mean when he was drunk.
Say things. But then it got worse. He started driving drunk.
When he arrested for a DUI with Rosie in the car …
That was it. I filed for divorce before it could get any worse.
Before … anything could happen. A year later, I left Ohio without telling him, but I had the right to! I have full custody.”
She felt defensive. Stupid for being in such a situation.
“It’s okay,” Wyatt said. “We understand. This is more common than you’d think. What happened after the divorce?”
“He kept showing up. At the house, at the kids’ school.
Always drunk, always angry. He said I’d ruined his life, that I’d stolen his kids, that I owed him.
” The words were pouring out now, a dam breaking.
“I was terrified. The restraining order wasn’t helping.
He’d just leave before the police arrived.
When my great-aunt passed away recently, she left me her old farmhouse down here.
She’d been living in assisted care near us in Ohio for years, but the place had been in the family forever.
I think she wanted to provide me with a way out. Somewhere he wouldn’t think to look.”
“Did anyone know you were coming here?” Davidson asked.
“No. Only my mother knew where I was going and she would never tell. Unless … maybe I missed cancelling a credit card he had access to? Something in the billing statement that he saw? I didn’t tell anyone where we were going.
” Lydia’s voice cracked. “I was so careful. I don’t know … how he found us.”
The room was quiet for a moment. Then Wyatt closed his notepad.
“We’ll look into it. Check if Mr. Redding has any travel records, credit card purchases, anything that might place him in Virginia around the time of the fire.
In the meantime, I’d advise you to be careful.
If this was him, he’s escalated from harassment to attempted murder.
That makes him extremely dangerous. If Mr. Byrne hadn’t been driving by that night, I am afraid we would not be talking now. ”
Lydia nodded numbly. She had never expected Tom to get this out of hand.
“We’ll be in touch,” Wyatt said, standing. “If you remember anything else, anything that might help, you call us immediately.”
“I will.” Lydia stood on shaky legs, and Ethan was immediately there, his hand under her elbow, steadying her. “Thank you.”
The walk back to the truck was a blur. Lydia was aware of Ethan beside her, of the cold air on her face, of the way her legs felt like they might give out at any moment. But mostly she was aware of the crushing weight of shame pressing down on her chest.
Ethan had heard everything. Had heard about Tom, about how stupid she’d been to marry him, to stay with him, to believe his promises that he’d change.
She couldn’t look at the man who had opened his home to them. Couldn’t bear to see the judgment in his eyes, the pity, the knowledge that she was damaged.
They got in the truck in silence. Ethan started the engine, turned on the heat, but didn’t pull out of the parking lot. He just sat there, his hands on the wheel, staring straight ahead.
“I’m sorry,” Lydia finally said, her voice barely audible. “I should have told you. About Tom. About why I was really here. You deserved to know what you were getting into by letting us stay with you.”
“Don’t,” Ethan said quietly. “Don’t apologize for being a victim of a madman.”
“I’m not a victim,” Lydia said, and there was steel in her voice now. “I’m a survivor. But I brought this to your door. Put you in danger. I should have?—”
“You should have done exactly what you did,” Ethan interrupted. “You protected your kids. You got them out of a dangerous situation. You started over in a new place, tried to give them a safe life. That’s not something to be ashamed of.”
Lydia turned to look at him finally, finding only fierce protectiveness in his eyes. “He tried to kill us. My children almost died because I married the wrong man.”
“Your children almost died because your ex-husband is a violent criminal,” Ethan corrected. “That’s on him, Lydia. Not on you.”
She wanted to believe him. Wanted to let his words ease the crushing guilt.
But all she could think about was Rosie crying for her bunny, Eli’s too-old eyes, the way they’d both trembled in the hospital.
She turned her face to the window so he wouldn’t see the tears starting to slide down her cheeks.
The shame of it. Of her failed marriage, her poor choices, her inability to protect her children from the monster she’d married. It was suffocating.
They drove home in silence, and Lydia kept her face turned away, watching the bare trees blur past through her tears. She was horrified by how close they’d come. How close Tom had come to succeeding in taking everything from her.
“Thank you,” she finally managed as they pulled into Ethan’s driveway. “For going with me. For … everything.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” Ethan said. He put the truck in park but didn’t get out. “Lydia, look at me.”
She didn’t want to. Didn’t want to see the pity or the judgment or the regret that he’d ever offered to help her. But something in his voice made her turn.
“This isn’t your fault,” he said, and his eyes were steady on hers.
“Whatever you’re telling yourself right now …
that you should have known, should have left sooner, should have protected them better …
it’s not true. You did the best you could with the information you had.
And you got them out. You’re here, and they’re safe. That’s what matters.”
Lydia’s chest felt tight. “How do you know what I’m telling myself?”
“Because I’ve been there.” Ethan’s smile was sad. “Different situation, but the same guilt. The same voice saying you should have done better, been faster, made different choices. I know what that sounds like.”
“Sarah,” Lydia said softly, remembering the name he’d mentioned at the hospital.
“Yeah.” Ethan looked away. “I was first on scene when she crashed. And I spent three years telling myself I should have saved her, that if I’d just been faster or smarter or better, she’d still be alive.
” He took a breath. “But the truth is, sometimes bad things happen and there’s nothing we can do about it. We just have to keep going.”
They sat in silence for a moment, two broken people trying to figure out how to keep living despite everything they’d lost.
“I have a shift tonight,” Ethan said finally. “Seven to seven. But Mrs. Figgs said she’d keep the kids as long as you need. And I’ll have my phone if anything happens. We need to get you a phone so you can call if there is any trouble.”
“We’ll be fine,” Lydia said, even though she didn’t feel fine. Even though the thought of being alone in Ethan’s house tonight, without him there, made her stomach clench with fear.
But she’d been alone before. She could do it again.
Ethan took her to get a cellphone after stopping by Mrs. Figgs’s place to warn her to keep an eye out for Tom.
The store wouldn’t replace Lydia’s phone without ID, so Ethan insisted on adding a second line to his own account, refusing to hear any objections.
And despite the embarrassment of it all, having the phone made Lydia feel a little safer.
Then they drove to Mrs. Figgs’ house next door, a tidy ranch with flower boxes in the windows and a cheerful Fall wreath on the door. The older woman answered with a smile, Eli and Rosie bouncing excitedly behind her.
“They’ve been perfect angels,” Mrs. Figgs said, her eyes twinkling. “Helped me make cookies. You’re welcome to stay for some, dear.”
“Thank you, but we should get going.” Lydia managed a smile. “Come on, kids. Let’s let Mrs. Figgs have her house back.”
They drove back to Ethan’s house. Rosie chattered about the cookies, and Eli was quiet but seemingly more relaxed than he’d been in days.
Lydia tried to focus on them, on their voices, on the normalcy of this moment.
But her mind kept circling back to Tom, to the fire marshal’s words, to the knowledge that someone had deliberately tried to kill them.
Ethan left for his shift after dinner, and Lydia walked him to the door, trying not to show how much his leaving scared her.
“Lock the doors,” he said. “And I programmed my number into your phone. If anything happens, you call me. Okay?”
“Okay.” Lydia hesitated. “Ethan … thank you?—”
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” he said, cutting off her thanks before she could finish. Then he was gone, his truck pulling out of the driveway, leaving her alone with her children and her fear.
Lydia locked the door behind him, checked the windows, and closed all the curtains. Old habits from leaving Tom, from always being on guard. She’d thought she’d left that behind, but here she was again. Jumping at shadows, afraid in her own home.
Except it wasn’t her home. It was Ethan’s, and she was an intruder, bringing danger and chaos into his peaceful life.
She was helping Eli with his reading at the kitchen table when the doorbell rang an hour later.