Chapter 12
Darren
It's quiet in my truck as we go from my house to her apartment. The sun has set, and darkness is enveloping us. The green glow from the dashboard lights adds an ambiance, and at the same time makes it feel as if we're alone, although the tension between us is a living thing all by itself.
"Thank you for taking me to my apartment to get my stuff."
I hate the fact that she keeps thanking me for every single thing. I wish we knew each other well enough that she'd just expect this from me. "You don't have to thank me to do something I want to."
She reaches across the console, and grabs my fingers with hers.
"I'm still thankful for you. I appreciate you being there when I came to your house, for getting your family involved, and offering me a safe space.
It's the thing that I needed, and it feels as if this has all been more than just a couple of days. "
"Right? I feel like the past forty-eight hours have been a few weeks. Is this where I turn?" I've never been to her apartment before, but I was kind of aware of where she lives. I have followed her home before with her permission to make sure she got home with no issues.
"Yeah, and you can park in that spot," she says as she points to a numbered parking spot.
I get out of the truck and job around to the passenger side, opening the door for her.
"C'mon, let's get this over with. I know this is where you live, but there's something about this place that gives me the creeps.
" It's almost as if someone is watching us, and every single piece of my gut is telling me to get us out of here as quickly as possible.
"I'm up here."
We head to the stairs on the side of the building, and I follow her up, fighting to not check out her ass as we climb the stairs. It's her gasp that catches my attention. "What?"
She nods toward what I'm assuming is her door. "I didn't leave that door ajar. I always make sure it's closed and locked before I leave."
Immediately I'm on edge. Reaching to the waistband of my jeans, I pull the gun I carry, even when I'm off-duty. "Get behind me, stay out here while I go check it out."
She's already talking as I start to clear the area. It takes me a few minutes, but I clear the apartment, and come back out, putting my gun back in my holster. "I'm really sorry about what it looks like in there, Mace."
Her face falls. "What's wrong?"
"Someone ransacked it, and they tore up some of your clothing."
"Do you think it's Gerald?" She's firming up her bottom lip, and it fucking breaks my heart.
"We won't know until Laurel Springs completes their investigation. But, if I were a betting man, I'd say it was him."
Her arms wrap around herself, and I hate seeing her like this.
Since she came to my house after her run-in with Gerald, I’ve seen her vulnerable and scared more than I should.
But this right now? It’s worse than anything else.
She’s standing outside the place that's supposed to feel safe to her, and instead it feels like the opposite.
"Let's get the cops out here. You're not going back in there until they process the scene." I’m going to make sure they process it the way they should, too.
"But my clothes—"
"Will still be there in an hour." I pull out my phone, and dial dispatch instead of 911, since I'm already on scene.
"This is Officer Kepler of Laurel Springs Fish & Wildlife.
I need a unit and evidence tech to 214 Magnolia Court, apartment 6.
We've got a break-in and possible vandalism related to an active case. "
The dispatcher rattles off a unit number and tells me they're ten minutes out. I hang up, and Macie's still standing there, arms crossed, staring at her own front door like it might bite her. In all honesty it might feel that way when she sees what her apartment looks like.
"Hey." I step closer, and put my hand on her shoulder, then open up my arms for her. She falls into them, and I hug her tightly, rubbing her back. "You're okay. I'm right here."
"I know." Her voice cracks on the words, and it guts me every time she tries to be strong when she doesn't have to be, not with me. "It's just, this is my home. It’s always been my safe place."
"And it still is. He doesn't get to take that from you." I mean it, even if I'm not entirely sure it's true. Gerald's already taken plenty from her, and if it is him behind this, I don't know what else he's capable of.
We wait by my truck instead of going back up those stairs, and I keep my eyes moving across the parking lot, watching the tree line at the edge of the property, the cars parked along the street. Nothing looks out of place, but that feeling in my gut hasn't let up since we pulled in.
Headlights turn into the lot a few minutes later, and I recognize the cruiser before I recognize the man getting out of it.
Madden. He and I have worked out together, and we’ve been friends for a little bit.
"Hey, Darren." He nods at me as he grabs crime scene tape from the back seat. "Dispatch said you called this one in yourself."
"Yeah, we were dropping by to grab some of Macie's stuff." I gesture toward her. "Macie, this is Officer Madden, he’s usually a school resource officer, but he moonlights,” I joke, hoping it breaks some of the tension. “We hang out sometimes, and he’s one of Nic’s favorite people."
"Ma'am." Madden tips his head toward her, completely professional, but I catch the way his eyes flick to me for half a second, asking me with his gaze what in the fuck is going on between her and me. "Mind walking me through what you found?"
She tells him, voice steadier and stronger than I expect, about locking the door before she left for her shift, mentions her attack in the hospital parking lot, ending with us finding the door ajar tonight.
I add in what I found once I cleared the place.
The drawers pulled out and dumped. Her clothes shredded and thrown across the bed like whoever did it wanted her to know exactly how personal this was.
Madden takes notes, his jaw tight the whole time. "This connected to the same guy from the hospital you think?"
"Gerald? Yeah, I think so. They’ve been looking for him, but obviously they haven’t found him yet."
"No shit." Madden clicks his pen and looks at Macie again. "We're gonna process everything up there, dust for prints, take photos before anything gets moved. I know that's not what you want to hear right now."
"I just want my clothes," she says quietly.
"I get it. We'll be quick as we can."
Two more units show up over the next twenty minutes, along with an evidence tech I don't recognize, a woman with a bag slung over her shoulder who heads straight up the stairs without a word to anybody.
Macie leans into my side while we wait, and I put my arm around her, tucking her against my chest like I can shield her from all of it just by standing close enough.
"You cold?" I ask, feeling her shiver.
"A little. Mostly just…" She stops, shakes her head. "I don't even know what I'm feeling right now."
"That's fair. This is a lot." I rub my hand up and down her back, giving her whatever comfort I can.
"It is." She tips her head back to look at me. "Thank you for calling it in yourself instead of just letting us walk into it."
"Wasn't going to let you walk into an active scene, Mace. Not a chance." I press a kiss to the top of her head.
It takes almost an hour before Madden comes back down, peeling off a pair of gloves.
"Alright, we got what we need. No prints besides what I'm guessing is gonna come back as hers once we run it, but whoever did this wore gloves.
Knew what they were doing, or at least knew enough to cover their tracks. "
"Seems like this guy is a little more sophisticated than we assumed," I say.
"I'll get the report filed tonight, and I’ll attach it to her report from earlier today. If it's him, we'll have enough for a breaking and entering on top of everything else once we can prove it."
"Appreciate it, man." I clap him on the shoulder.
"Yeah, well." Madden glances at Macie, then back at me, and something passes over his face I don't love the look of. "You take care of her. Watch yourself too, alright?"
"Always do."
He heads back to his cruiser, and the other units start clearing out one by one. We watch as the taillights disappear down the road until it's just me and Macie standing in the parking lot again, an uneasy quiet settling back in around us.
"You ready to go grab your stuff?" I ask.
She nods, but she doesn't move right away, so I take her hand and we walk up the stairs together, slower this time, no reason to rush now that the scene's clear.
Her apartment still looks like a disaster when we walk in, and it hits different seeing it without the adrenaline of clearing the place driving me.
I take in the drawers pulled out and dumped onto the floor.
Her closet door hangs open, clothes are yanked off hangers.
A framed photo on her nightstand knocked over, glass cracked across her smiling face in the picture.
"God." She picks up the frame, running her thumb over the crack. "This was from my graduation from nursing school."
"We'll get you a new frame." It's not much, but it's the only thing I can offer her right now.
She sets it down gently, then starts moving through what's left of her stuff, picking out what's salvageable. I grab a duffel bag from her closet floor, one that somehow avoided the destruction, and start helping her fill it. I want her to get as much into it as she can, because I don’t want her coming back here until she absolutely has to.
"He touched my clothes," she says quietly.
“We’ll get you new ones if you want,” there’s a promise in my voice. “It scares the hell out of me that he knew to come here.”
"It scares me too." She stops folding, and just stands there for a second, staring at the ruined clothes scattered across her bed. "I keep thinking if I'd been here, if I’d come home…"
"Don't." I cross the room and turn her to face me, hands on both her shoulders. "Don't go there. If you'd been here, we'd be dealing with something a hell of a lot worse than torn up clothes, and you know it."
Her eyes go glassy, but she nods, swallowing hard. "You're right. I know you're right."
"C'mere." I pull her into me, and she lets herself sink against my chest, arms wrapping around my waist like she's trying to disappear into me.
I hold her there for a long minute, breathing her in, feeling her heartbeat slow down against mine.
"We'll figure this out. All of it. I'm not going anywhere. "
"I know." Her voice is muffled against my shirt. "I just hate that you have to deal with this too."
"I don't have to do anything. I want to." I pull back enough to tip her chin up, make her look at me. "There's a difference, and I need you to start believing that."
She gives me a small, tired smile, the first one since we found the door ajar. "Okay."
We finish packing up what's left, two duffel bags, and a large bag of makeup and toiletries. She’s got enough to last for a few weeks, and if it’s up to me she won’t be back here.
I do one more walk-through before we leave, checking every corner, every closet, making sure nothing's been missed, making sure there's nothing else waiting for us that we haven't found yet.
"You good?" I ask, bags slung over both shoulders.
"Yeah." She takes one last look around the apartment, at the mess still scattered across the floor that'll have to wait until later to deal with. "Let's go home."
Home. She doesn't seem to catch that she said it, but I do, and my chest goes tight, warm and terrified all at the same time. I haven’t wanted anyone to call my house home since I was trying to get my ex-wife to stay.
We lock up her door the best we can, and head back down to my truck, and this time when I glance around the parking lot, that feeling in my gut hasn't gone anywhere. If anything, it's worse.
I get her settled in the passenger seat, toss her bags in the back, and take one more look at the building before I climb in myself. Somewhere out there, Gerald Simmons is watching, waiting, and I've got every intention of making sure he never gets close enough to touch her again.