Chapter 8 #2
“On the way back home, it started raining really hard. I had to pull over at one point because I couldn’t see well enough to drive.
It picked back up again as I got near my home.
I got soaked walking from the car to the front door.
When I got inside, she didn’t come running like she usually does. So, I called for her.”
“They took her?”
Finally, I nod, tearing up. “I went looking for her, and that’s when I discovered the doggie door had been busted from the outside. I could tell because all the broken pieces were on the inside of the house, along with some cat treats.”
My throat closes up, and I can’t go on.
Flint whispers, “They lured her to the door and took her, didn’t they?”
“Yeah, I ran out into the rain looking for her. Looked all around the block and eventually found her wet and shivering behind a dumpster. She was too terrified to move or meow. I’d already passed the dumpster twice before I thought to look behind it.”
“But she was just wet and scared, right?” His voice is so hopeful that I want to say yes, but I can’t lie to him.
“No. They had roughed her up. Her fur was matted like they’d rubbed her in the mud. She wouldn’t drink for hours. It made me think maybe they tried to drown her in a mud puddle, but she somehow managed to get away from them.”
Flint curses under his breath. “Jules, I’m so sorry you and Fluffy had to go through that all alone. It must have been so terrifying.”
I nod, feeling hollowed out and dispirited just from talking about it, especially when all I wanted to do was forget the whole thing ever happened. I turn my hand in his, lacing our fingers together.
“That’s what made me decide to leave. I was scared of what might happen next.”
After a brief silence, Flint says quietly, “That was the second message. The first message was the rock and the blank piece of paper. The second message was them going after your pet.”
“That’s when I understood that they were coming for me next. If they were trying to scare me off, it worked. I began packing that night, loaded up my car the next morning, and drove here.”
“That was a good call. What about your place? Do we need to go back and get the rest of your stuff?”
“No. My roommate and I rented our apartment through the end of May. It was furnished. She’d taken off right after graduation. I was planning to stay until the end of the month but got spooked and left early. I took everything I own.”
“Jules, look at me.” When I do, he speaks. “Let me get this straight. These assholes threw a fuckin’ rock through your window, hurt your cat on purpose, and scared you out of your home before your lease was up.”
“Yes. The thing is, I can’t be a hundred percent sure it was the guys from the beltline.
I didn’t see who threw the rock or took my cat.
At first, I was certain it was them and they were sending me a message with that rock.
I even thought I saw that same dark sedan in my neighborhood a couple of times.
But a little voice in the back of my mind thinks I might be wrong about that.
Maybe I was only noticing dark sedans because of what happened on the beltline.
Maybe this is just some bizarre coincidence. ”
He puts a hand over his face for a long moment.
When he takes it away, his jaw is set, and I can hear his teeth grinding.
“Don’t fuckin’ do that, Jules. Don’t let these assholes make you second-guess your reality.
Of fuckin’ course it was them. How many enemies of this kind can a college girl have? ”
“None,” I tell him honestly. “I’ve never gotten into an argument or a fight since I went to college.”
“Then it has to be connected to what you saw. I promise you that I’m gonna track these fuckers down and make them regret the day they terrorized you,” he says in a steely voice.
“I think we should just let it go,” I say finally.
“What about that man they stuffed into the trunk? You willin’ to leave him hangin’?”
“No. Do you think he’s still alive?”
“Maybe. There’s only one way to find out.”
“Then you need to see my sketches. I go to the first page and hand him the sketchbook. He begins slowly turning the pages.
The first page is the man’s face from the front, eye swollen, his lip split and the bloody rag tied around his arm.
I even captured the soft sheen of sweat on his forehead and the look of terror in his eyes.
The second page is the same face from the side.
There’s bruising and swelling along the cheekbone rendered in heavy charcoal.
The third page is the moment his hand came up towards my window as I drove by, his expression desperate and pleading.
I also tried sketching each of the men in suits.
Once of their faces is blank because I just couldn’t remember what he looked like.
Flint turns the pages one by one, studying each image. When he gets to the page with the man reaching out his hand, he stops, and his fingers skim over the man’s face as if he’s memorizing it.
“How many times have you drawn this man?”
“I don’t know. A lot. Maybe every day since that night on the beltline. I can’t seem to get him out of my head.”
“This is incredible. But it’s also…”
“An obsession,” I finish his sentence. “You’re right.
It’s like that moment is etched into my soul.
Every time I close my eyes, I see his face.
When I open them, my hand wants to draw it.
It feels like if I can just keep him alive in my mind, someone can find him and make sure he survives. I know how crazy that sounds.”
He turns one more page. The next sketch isn’t the man’s face. It is a dark sedan from the front. “That’s the car that chased me.”
“The car that what?”
This is the moment I either come clean or I lie because there is no more holding out when he’s asking directly.
“Jules. I need you to start at the beginning. The night of the beltline. Everything you saw, everything you remember, everything you didn’t tell us before now. I need all of it. And if I’m gonna keep you safe, I need to know exactly what I’m dealing with.”
I break and begin telling him everything.
I start with the moment I slowed down on the beltline when I saw the sedan pulled over, and I walk him through all the details, including them trying to run me off the road twice and following me to the police station.
The way I made it to the police station and watched them slow down outside the parking lot and keep driving.
I told him about the officer and the video call with Mr. Allen, who somehow had no marks on his face.
The fraternity prank theory I knew was wrong but didn’t have the spoons to argue about at the time.
Flint takes it all in, growing stronger and more determined as I fall apart remembering all the details.
When I tear up, he drapes one arm around me and pulls me closer.
Then he shocks me by leaning over and kissing the top of my head.
It’s more protective than romantic, but it’s a Flint kiss when I need it the most. I consider that a gigantic win.
“I promise you that I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe, figure out who these assholes are, and find that poor bastard they threw in their trunk.”
For the first time since that night on the beltline, I’m able to truly relax. I don’t know how long we sit, but I wake up to him tucking me into bed. I blush when I realize he must have carried me upstairs.