Chapter 18
ANGEL
“I know what you did!”
Sharon gestures with her gun, the barrel jerking with every word.
With each motion, my body tenses in anticipation.
Will this be the time she actually shoots me?
And if she does, will she shoot to kill?
Will this be the last sight I see—this crazed woman waving a gun around while she yells at me?
“You selfish bitch!” The gun jumps again.
Sharon’s hair has fallen free of its bun, and white strands bounce haphazardly around her face.
Her features are twisted with anger, and her lipstick is smeared.
One side of her blouse has come untucked, and whenever she raises the gun, a patch of pale skin is revealed.
“Sharon, please.” I try to keep my tone pacifying. “Can we just talk about this? Without the gun—”
“No!” She advances on me, nearly tripping over the poinsettia I dropped when she first drew her gun.
I’d been about to set it on the coffee table when she whipped the gun out from beneath her shirt, and I was so shocked, the plant slipped from my hands.
Now it’s just a mess of scattered soil, broken pieces of ceramic, and crumpled leaves.
Poor poinsettia. It’s irrational, given the situation, but I can’t help feeling sorry for it. The poinsettia didn’t do anything. It was just sitting on a shelf, waiting for someone to bring it home for a touch of holiday cheer. And now it’s ruined.
Who cares about the plant? the logical side of my brain asks. Worry about yourself. And surviving—without any gunshot wounds, hopefully—until Ronan gets here.
Ronan will come. I’ve no doubt of that. It’s just a matter of how long it takes.
If he was still at GMG, it might be ten minutes or so.
Less if he’s speeding, which I’m sure he would.
If he was back at his house, it would be around the same.
I’m not sure exactly when I triggered my necklace, but it wasn’t long ago.
Maybe five minutes? Ten? Long enough for him to be pulling up outside my house already?
Unless the necklace didn’t work.
Unless he decided to head over to Stowe to get a few runs in.
Unless Justin is a part of this, too, and he was hiding at Ronan’s house, waiting to ambush him.
No. I refuse to consider any of those things.
Ronan said the necklace is just like the ones they give to their clients, and I’m sure his team wouldn’t use them if there was a chance of them not working.
He told me he was going to do a little shopping after his meeting—Christmas shopping, he explained with a mischievous smile—and after that, he planned on spending the afternoon at home, finishing up some modules online for his medical training.
And if Justin’s a part of this, I can’t imagine him ever getting the jump on Ronan. There’s just no way.
Unless—
I slam the door shut on the rest of my doubting thoughts. Ronan is safe. Unhurt. He’s on his way. And before I know it, this whole crazy nightmare will be over.
“Justin told me everything!” Sharon snaps. Now that she’s closer, I can see just how tightly her finger is hooked around the trigger.
It’s too tight.
And it’s trembling.
Is that because she’s afraid to shoot me? Because she’s regretting what she started?
Or is this something she’s been planning for a long time, and now that the time is actually here, she’s trembling from eager anticipation?
I steal a quick glance at the front window, but with the curtain drawn, it’s impossible to see if Ronan’s car is outside. I guess it’s a blessing and a curse—on one hand, Sharon won’t be able to see him arrive, but on the other, no one walking by could look in to see me in trouble.
I didn’t close the curtain, for the record. Sharon did. That was one of the first things she did after pulling the gun on me. “I don’t want anyone interrupting our conversation,” she spat as she yanked the curtains shut. “This is a personal matter. Just between us.”
Then she flashed me a smile filled with malice. “Well. Technically, it involves my son and granddaughter, too. But for now, there’s no need for them to be involved.”
Just hearing her mention Haley made me feel like throwing up.
I don’t know what she wants with Haley. I don’t know what she’s willing to do to get it.
But she has a gun. She threatened to shoot me if I tried to run.
If I called for help. If I even made a move she didn’t like the look of.
“There’s a silencer,” she explained smugly.
“So your neighbors won’t even hear if I shoot you. ”
From the bits and pieces Ronan’s told me about guns, I’m not sure that’s true. I’m pretty sure a silencer just muffles the sound a little, but it doesn’t actually silence it.
But if Sharon thinks it’s true, reality doesn’t really matter. She’ll just go ahead and shoot me, only to find out after that her assumption was wrong. And I’ll still have a bullet hole in me, regardless.
“What did Justin tell you?” I ask. I try not to focus on the menacing dark hole—the muzzle? Is that what it’s called?—staring at me. “If I know, that might help me understand—”
“You should know what he told me!” Bits of spittle fly from her mouth. “You’re the one who did it! Who stole my granddaughter—”
“What?” It’s out before I can stop it. “Stole? What are you talking about?”
“My granddaughter! Haley!” The gun bounces again. “You kept her from me. From Justin. Because you’re nothing but a selfish slut!”
As shock slams into me, I gape at her. Did she just call me selfish? And a slut?
How dare she?
Anger boils up, heating my blood.
I know I shouldn’t react. I shouldn’t let her get to me. I just need to stay calm and keep her talking until Ronan gets here.
But she called me selfish. And a slut.
My jaw clenches so hard pain slices through it.
Honestly, I’m amazed there isn’t steam coming from my ears.
How. Dare. She.
I have to take several deep breaths before I trust myself to speak. “Why do you say that?” I ask in a carefully calm voice.
Sharon sneers. “You even need to ask?”
“I’d like you to tell me. So I can understand where you’re coming from.”
Outside, the familiar rumble of a dump truck passes by. When Sharon’s attention shifts, I have a momentary thought of trying to knock the gun away from her.
But just as quickly, her eyes are back on me. And the opportunity is over. Although, was it really much of one? Even though I’m younger and most likely stronger than her, she’s the one with the gun. All it would take is one pull of the trigger…
“Are you really going to pretend you don’t know?” she asks with a bite to her tone. “Are you really going to pretend you didn’t lie to Justin about his own daughter? Hide her for ten damn years?”
My jaw drops. “Lie? To Justin?”
“Yes!” She advances another step. “He told me all of it. How he didn’t know he had a daughter. How he lost out on ten years with her. And the whole time, you’ve been here, whoring yourself out to get money—”
“Whoring myself?” If not for the circumstances, her statement would almost be funny.
Aside from Justin, Ronan is the only other man I’ve been with.
Twenty-eight, and I’ve had sex with two men.
Two. Not that it matters how many partners a woman has, but still.
That she would accuse me of being a slut? A whore?
“I’ve seen them. That man who left today. Are you really going to say you’re not sleeping with him? And what about the one in the park? The one who couldn’t take his hands off you? Plus, I saw that scruffy guy waiting at your house for you.”
I look at her in confusion. Obviously, Ronan’s the man from this morning. And she must have assumed Garrett and I were together, too. But the scruffy guy?
“The scruffy guy?” I ask. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
Maybe I shouldn’t be asking her about this? I should probably be focusing on her accusations of hiding Haley from Justin, which are patently untrue. But the scruffy guy? Could she be talking about Phil?
“You don’t even know who you’re sleeping with?
” Sharon asks with disdain. “Fine. The one with the long blonde beard. And the gut like he drinks too much. He was here. The night of the Winter Festival. Fussing with your porch. Hovering around the door. Or did you dump him for one of your other men, and that’s why he was crying? ”
There’s so much she’s said that doesn’t make sense. Phil fussing with my porch? Hovering? Crying?
“You were here that night?” I ask.
Sharon barks out a harsh laugh. “Was I here? Of course I was. How else do you think I saw him? And how else do you think I knew you were alone that night? I wouldn’t have broken in, otherwise—”
“You broke into my house?”
Sharon hesitates. I can see the internal debate in her eyes. Does she admit to something else illegal? Does it matter, given the circumstances?
As I watch the play of emotions across her face, all the things she just told me begin to slot together.
For some reason, Justin claimed that he never knew about Haley. Which means Sharon doesn’t know about the months, years, I begged him to meet her.
Sharon thinks I’ve been keeping Haley to myself intentionally.
She might even believe that Justin wanted a relationship with Haley, instead of trying to pretend she didn’t exist.
She thinks I’ve been sleeping around. Exposing my daughter to a series of casual hookups.
She just confessed to breaking into my house. Which means…
Is Phil innocent? Was he here for a different reason?
And what about the drugs in my bedroom? Why—
I gasp as the possibility hits me.
“Did you put the bag of cocaine in my bedroom?” I ask. The gun fades in importance compared to the truth. “You broke in that night. You just admitted it. Did you leave the drugs there? Why?”
Sharon lifts her chin defiantly. “It would have worked. If the police didn’t arrest your scruffy boyfriend, at least. But I read the news. He had drugs in his apartment. So they assumed the drugs were his, instead of yours.”
My blood chills. “You put the drugs there to frame me. Didn’t you?”