Chapter 2 Fallon #3
“No. I know I should, but I just,” I pause, searching for the right words. “I don’t think I trust the police to do anything.”
“Can you tell me where that is coming from?”” She poses it as a question even though she knows all about my experience reporting something to the police.
“They didn't do anything three years ago. Why should I trust them now?”
“Can you walk me through that night and what you experienced when you reported the attack?”
“Not today. I don't want to talk about that night.”
“If you don't talk about it, how are you going to get past it?”
“Not today, okay?” There is an edge to my voice. My knuckles on the glass are white and tense. I set it on the side table with my now-cold coffee.
Tilting her head, she allows the silence to linger a few moments.
“The panic attacks are getting better.” I cave and speak first. My shoulders sag. “The truth is, I still don't remember it. There aren’t even flashes of memory, just impressions?” It comes out as a question as I struggle to find the words.
“Okay, what kind of impressions?”
“Being held down, not being safe, feeling terrified, and pain; I think there was a lot of pain.”
“Mmmhmm. And you feel you are being watched now?” She maintains the same calm demeanor as always. “Do you see how it might be natural to feel keyed up?”
I take a sip of water. “Yeah, I guess that's right.”
“Let's talk about your mom.”
“Fuck, Jacy. Is today ‘dig at all the wounds’ day?”
“You don't see the connection? The last time you felt safe was with her and now she’s gone. Suddenly here are these guys who are known for digging into secrets and holding responsible parties accountable.”
I run my tongue along the inside of my teeth.
Counting my breaths, I try to regain control of the spike of adrenaline that comes any time I talk about Mom.
“I know she didn’t leave me willingly. She wouldn’t.
I don't care what Dad says.” I’m clenching my teeth, holding back what happened before she left, what she had to do for me.
“And like you said, Cerberus gets answers, and answers are something I would kill for. Maybe I’m hoping it really is them. ”
“I am glad you brought up your father. What are your thoughts on his relationship with your mother?”
My stomach turns and my heart sinks. “Mom told me one time he was the love of her life. That their connection was something that can’t be described.
She also told me he changed. He became obsessed with proving himself because she came from money and he didn't.” I scoff at the thickness in my throat.
“Get this. She apologized to me. She said she was sorry for letting it get so far, that I only got to see the version of him that she loved for a brief time before his selfishness took over our lives.”
“That is good information, but it does not answer my question. What are your thoughts?”
“I fucking hate him. I trusted her. So, ultimately, seeing her that day…” I remember the devastation shining in mom’s eyes that night, after having to shield her daughter from the man she loves.
“It showed me that the love she felt from him wasn’t enough.
I will never let someone destroy me that way.
I need to get away from my father. If I stay, I’m going to either end up just like him or just like her.
I don't want to be a monster nor do I want to be immobilized by feelings out of my control.”
Giving me a soft smile, she says, “I hear you and appreciate the vulnerability. If you could change things, what would your life look like?”
I pause, thoughts far away for a few moments. It’s not a hard answer; I’ve envisioned it a million times, but only told Quinn. Filling my lungs, I break the silence. “I would be somewhere that I matter. Not for what I can do for others, but just for who I am. Somewhere I feel like I belong.”
She nods in understanding, having heard this in several sessions, and a soft smile dances around her lips, making the conversation feel safe.
The remainder of the session is easier because that's how Jacy works.
She picks at the wound; I get defensive; she stays calm; I open up and she rewards that while allowing my walls to go back up, at least to some extent.
Leaving her office, her final words ring in my ears.
“If you don't feel safe, do something about it.” Pulling out my phone, I power it back on and hit the most recent call. It only rings once.
“Great timing.” Quinn sounds out of breath. “Swear to God this is a the-call-is-coming-from-inside-the-house situation.”
“What are you talking about? I was calling to meet up and shop.”
“You didn't get my text? Girl, fuck. Okay. I don't want to have this conversation over the phone.” She pauses.
My phone dings in my ear. I pull it away, my anxiety spiking at the possibility of it being another disappearing message. Instead, the message from Quinn pops up.
Quinn: We need to meet. I have info.
My palms start sweating, reminded of the disappearing message. “Okay, well, meet me at Lucian’s? I have something for you to look into, too.”
“Absolutely. Leaving now.” The call disconnects. Since when does she enjoy it when I make her go to Lucian’s with me?
My electric blue Mazda Miata glides into the parking lot behind the shop.
Stepping out, I see Quinn a few spots over, leaning against her cream Mercedes.
In a calf-length tight camel colored skirt, she has on a black top and black booties to complete the office chic look.
She looks very much the professional, especially standing next to my ripped black skinnies, vintage rock tee and heavy smokey eye makeup.
She links her arm through mine with a grin and grips my hand when I approach. “I’m going to start this out with I am on your side and we will figure this out.”
“What the fuck is going on?” We linger near her car to avoid the busy sidewalk.
“I pulled the security footage from last night.” She pauses, biting her lip while her eyes search my own.
“Quinn, spit it out.” My tone is sharp with a mixture of interest and concern.
“Fallon, it was wiped.”
I tilt my head to the side, drawing my eyebrows together in a silent question.
She continues, “It had to be a professional job. The only evidence I could find was that it doesn't show you leaving at all. Vince says that it must have glitched when you exited or something. I don’t buy it.”
“You told Vince?” My hand tightens on hers while fear churns my stomach. Great, now I look insane and everyone will know thanks to Vince, the company Betty Blabbermouth.
“No. Jesus, do you even know me? I told him you tripped leaving, and I wanted to frame a still of it. I’m working on another way to figure this out, but it will take some time.
Any device with an IP gets pinged when they enter the property, and to do that extensive of a hack they had to have something on them.
It will take a while to sort through the IP addresses and access the correct devices remotely. ”
“Girl, isn't that illegal?”
“Only if I get caught.”
“Okay, well, something else to check. I got a message from an unknown number. It was a picture of one of the masks and a message saying, We see you Fallon Helix. And in the next minute, the entire message disappeared. I have no idea how they managed that.”
We had only taken a few steps toward the store when Quinn stops in her tracks, her grip on my arm bringing me to a halt as well.
“Fallon, they have spyware in your phone.
We need to get you a new one. But you can't transfer anything from this device because I will have to go through it with a fine-tooth comb to find out how they got in.”
“Well, shit.” I have a lot of work shit on here that will be a pain in the ass to set up again. “Fine, whatever, let's do that after this.”
We walk into Lucian’s, and I take a deep, calming breath. I’m determined to feel safe again. Surrounded by knives of various sizes, leather sheaths, and an armory in the back, we shop.