Chapter 46
Forty-Six
Lainey
My cell buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out, see that the detective is finally calling me back.
“Faye,” I call and when she glances over, I hitch my thumb over my shoulder, hold up my phone. “I’ve got to take this.”
“I’ve got Ollie,” she calls back over the buzz of the crowd.
I zip up the concrete steps, move out into the concourse and then swipe.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Lainey,” the man on the end of the call says.
I frown, glance at my screen.
It’s definitely the number of the police station.
“I was expecting Detective Roberts to call me back,” I say quietly.
“Detective Roberts is on vacation,” the man says. “I’m covering for her and got your message about case number—?”
The crowd roars, cutting off the rest of his question.
“Just a second,” I say. “Let me find somewhere a little quieter.”
I search the brightly lit concourse, see the elevator that leads down to the offices and the Family Suite. I’ll just pop down there. It only takes a second to hit the button to call the car and swipe the keycard, and a few moments later, I’m a couple floors down.
I step off and turn toward the room where the wives and girlfriends and families hang out when they’re not watching the game up top.
“Sorry about that,” I say into the phone. “Are you still there?”
Silence greets me.
“Hello?”
Stopping, I pull my phone away from my ear, look at the screen. The call’s still connected.
Put it back up to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Lainey?”
“I’m still here. Sorry if I lost you in the elevator.”
“No, that’s okay,” he says. “Are you somewhere you can talk privately now?”
“Yes.”
“Good, well I got your message and obviously I have some concerns.”
The words are right—but the tone is wrong.
But even as I’m frowning at that, he’s asking me to go over everything again. “I was coming out of my friend’s book event and he grabbed me and wouldn’t let me go.”
“Did you recognize him?”
Why did he ask it like that?
As though he’s really invested in the answer.
“No,” I say slowly. “I…it all happened really fast and it was dark. Then Sawyer got him away from me, and the police showed up and—” I rub at my forehead. “I was scared, but when Detective Roberts showed me his picture, I didn’t recognize him.”
“You didn’t?” he asks a little more sharply.
“Is there a problem?” I lean back against the wall. “Should I have recognized him?”
A blip of quiet. “No, of course not. I’m just getting my facts straight, making sure we’re on the right page.” There’s a rustle in the background, as though he’s muffling a conversation or maybe music…or cheering? “Tell me about the wine glass.”
“I, uh, is this not in the notes from Detective Roberts?”
“It is. I just like to hear it from the source, you know? I want to hear your perspective of the wine glass, the marriage certificate, and the stuffed, what was it? Penguin?”
“Yeah, I…” I fill him in on the glass and the marriage certificate and Gray finding the stuffed Ollie.
“You didn’t find it?”
Okay, now I know I’m not imagining the sharpness in his tone.
“No,” I murmur, “I didn’t.”
There’s a long pause. “And the ring? Did you find that?”
I still, a chill sliding through me, and hurry back toward the elevator, some instinct in me telling me that I need to get out of here and around people. Immediately. “I’m sorry?”
“The ring, Lainey. Did you find it?”
“I think I’ll just speak to Detective Roberts when she gets back,” I say.
I hang up…
Just as the elevator doors open and—
He steps off.
The man from Faye’s signing.
“Wh-what are you—?”
He’s wearing a police uniform…and has a phone to his ear. A phone he slips into his pocket as he slowly steps off the elevator.
“You don’t remember me, do you?”
I don’t.
And I don’t care to hang around and listen to him tell me. Whirling, I sprint down the hall—
Then cry out in pain when he grabs me by the hair and drags me back.
“Let me go!” I shout as fire burns through my scalp.
He doesn’t.
He just yanks me away from the elevator, away from the Family Suite, and around the corner into a darkened hallway.
I claw at his hands, drag my heels.
And fight.
But it doesn’t do any good—I’m getting further and further away from the elevator, from the family area, from any help that might come.
He stops in front of a door and my panic ratchets up.
Because I know—know—if he gets me in that room…
I scrabble at his hands, claw at his skin…and don’t come any closer to freeing myself.
Which is when I realize that I’m not using my best weapon of all.
My voice.
“Help!” I scream so loudly my throat instantly feels like it’s on fire. But I don’t stop. “Help! Help me! Help—!”
He lets go of my hair and grips me by the shoulders, shaking me like a rag doll. “Shut up,” he growls. “Shut the fuck up right now, you stupid bitch.”
I taste blood. “Why are you doing this?”
“You were supposed to love him forever,” he hisses. “And then you threw your wedding certificate out, like it was a fucking piece of trash.” Another shake. “You were just pretending when you stayed by his side, pretending to be the good wife, the perfect partner.”
My head slams against the wall and I cry out again, tears streaming down my face.
“You’re all the same. You just take and take and take until there’s nothing left.”
His crazed eyes fix on mine. “And then you just go and fuck the next man you see.”
“I—”
His fingers tighten. “I saw you!” he shouts. “I saw you fuck him in your bed. I saw it!”
The prickling feeling on my nape.
All the oddities—the wine glass, the marriage certificate, the stuffed Ollie.
“You thought the cameras would save you?” He scoffs. “I’ve been in your house, bitch. I’ve seen you touch him, kiss him, seen you write that filth you make a living at.” He reaches for the doorknob. “You’re just another whore who needs to learn her lesson.”
I watch the door swing open.
And it’s like…all the pieces have suddenly snapped into place.
Like it all makes sense.
And all it leaves me with is a sense of calm.
Deadly calm.
He shoves me forward and I twist, throwing my elbow back.
It collides with his face, sending pain shooting up my arm, but I keep moving, bringing my knee up.
He curses and then grunts.
And more importantly, his grip loosens.
I scream as I take off down the hall.
“Help! Help!”
And hear, “Lainey!”
Sawyer.
Oh, my God. It’s Sawyer.
Somehow, I knew he’d come. That he’d be here.
“Sawyer!” I scream. “I’m—”
The man grabs me again, but it’s only for a second.
Because Sawyer is on us, and he’s followed by a bevy of people—security and other police officers, Gray and Leo and Ryan and Rip.
I don’t even realize I’ve fallen to the ground.
Not until Sawyer is suddenly in front of me, his hand extended.
“I’ve got you, Pages.”