Chapter Fourteen #2
Needed to think about what to do next.
Thoughts flitted around in my brain, unfocused and drenched in fear. Every time I thought about the note and what it meant, my torso curled over the toilet and I heaved again.
"Jesus Christ, Princess, what the fuck?"
A big hand settled between my shoulder blades, warmth chasing off the chill of sweat coating my body.
"What happened, Charlie? What is it? Talk to me."
Lucas sounded frantic. I had to answer him. I had to get it together before he really freaked out.
I was fine. It was just a stupid note. Why was I more upset by that than someone attacking me?
I knew the answer already. Because the attack could've been random. People got mugged every day. The note proved it was anything but.
I braced my arm on the front of the toilet seat, rested my forehead on my wrist, and pointed with my other hand at the grocery bag in the hall.
Lucas rose, taking his heat with him. Plastic rustled. He swore under his breath. His phone beeped. A few seconds later, he spoke.
"Brennan. I'm at Charlie's." A pause. "No, but she got a note. A threat. No, she was smart. Wrapped it up and didn't touch it. Can you . . . yeah, we'll be here."
He was behind me again, rubbing his big warm hand up and down my spine. I relaxed, knowing he was there. Lucas was a wall between me and the rest of the world.
As long as he was at my back, nothing bad could happen to me.
"Brennan will be here in fifteen. Can you stand up?"
I nodded and tried to get to my feet. Lucas's arm came around me, lifting me. He reached past me and turned on the shower. "Let's get you warmed up, okay?"
Impersonally efficient, he stripped off my T-shirt and jeans, focused only on getting me in the shower.
I would've stumbled if he hadn't been there, steadying me, guiding me. When I was under the warm spray, he drew back, saying, "I'll get you some dry clothes."
I tipped my face back under the shower, letting the hot water rinse away the cold sweat of panic, the stink of fear. The water stung the raw skin on my cheek and temple, but the penetrating heat was worth a little pain.
I flipped open my tube of body wash and took a deep sniff, letting the smell of fruit and flowers soothe me. Mechanically, I washed my hair and my body, then stepped out of the shower, dried off, and smoothed lotion over my skin.
Squeezing out an extra-large glop of toothpaste to brush my teeth, I scrubbed every nook and cranny of my mouth to get rid of the taste of vomit.
When I stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped securely around me, I heard voices in the kitchen. Lucas and Detective Brennan. Brennan was fast. I slipped into my room and closed the door behind me, wishing I could crawl into the futon and go to sleep.
I wanted this whole mess to go away. It didn't look like that was going to happen, and hiding in bed wouldn't help anything. Lucas had laid out a stack of clothes on top of my pillow, a T-shirt, sweatshirt, and a pair of yoga pants.
No underwear. Amusement muscled aside my nerves for a second and I rolled my eyes. Lucas didn't make mistakes. He wanted me commando. A tiny grin tugged up one side of my mouth as I pulled on the clothes he'd chosen. If I couldn't crawl into bed, at least I could be comfortable.
Lucas stood in the center of the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest, jaw set, eyes grim. Detective Brennan was holding the plastic grocery bag, examining its contents without touching them, the same way both Lucas and I had.
Hearing my feet on the floor, Detective Brennan looked up. His eyes were as grim as Lucas's.
"How are you holding up?" he asked kindly.
"I'll be okay," I lied.
I was not at all sure I'd be okay, and I was extremely unhappy about that goddamned note. But I didn't want to be a whiner. None of this was Detective Brennan's fault. He seemed willing to let me get away with the lie.
Lucas stepped in front of me with a clump of ointment on his finger and a fresh bandage for my temple. I stood there, acquiescent, as he doctored me. For the moment, I was all out of independence. I needed help, and if Lucas wanted to give it, I wasn't going to make it harder for him.
His strong fingers smoothed the bandage against my skin. He wiped the extra ointment on his cargo pants and wrapped an arm around me, pulling me into his side. It felt like being wrapped in a shield. Safe. Protected.
"Can you think of anyone else, anyone you haven't already mentioned, who might be targeting you?" Brennan asked.
He let the envelope fall into the bottom of the plastic bag and loosely tied it shut. I shook my head. I'd told him everything I knew already. If I had any idea who might be doing this, I wouldn't keep it a secret.
"Hayward has an alibi," Lucas said abruptly. I glanced between Lucas and Brennan. Neither of them looked happy.
"For the other night?" I asked.
Lucas shook his head. "For everything. He's got eyes on him around the clock."
"It's always possible he's hired someone," Brennan said. "The FBI is all over him, so if Bruce Hayward is behind this, he's got someone else doing his dirty work."
"We pulled up the last few hours on the cameras, but all they show is someone in a hooded sweatshirt and jeans stopping at your mailbox about an hour ago," Lucas said. "Whoever it was, they look to be about the same height and weight of your attacker Wednesday night, but we can't be sure."
"So what does that mean?" I asked.
"It means that we don't have a solid suspect," Brennan said.
"There's also the problem of the pictures.
Whoever was sending those pictures to your family is still out there.
If they've escalated their harassment, this could be the same person.
Sending your brother and your cousin photographs, but you a personal note .
. . that may be an escalation, or it could just be that they're acting out differently because you're younger and female.
Without knowing who the perp is, it's impossible to say. "
"Okay, then what happens now?" I asked.
"I'm going to take this back to the lab, see if we can get anything off it," Brennan said, lifting the plastic bag with the envelope inside.
"Maybe we'll get a break. In the meantime, the best thing you can do is avoid making yourself a target.
I don't want you alone anywhere, if you can help it.
Let's not make it easy on this guy to get to you, okay? "
"But I have an alarm," I protested.
I agreed with Detective Brennan. I didn't want to make it easy for anyone to get to me. But isn't that why I had the security system put in? To keep me safe? I wasn't going to be stupid, but I didn't want to be run out of my own home.
"You do," Brennan agreed. "And it's a good system. Better than good. I guess it helps to be on the Sinclairs’ Christmas list."
He grinned and winked at me, letting me know he wasn't making a crack at my family or my connections. I gave him a weak smile in return.
"Sometimes it is," I agreed. "Most of the time, I could do without the extra set of big brothers, but they come in handy. Especially when I'm being stalked by some psycho."
A muscle clenched in Lucas's jaw and he narrowed his eyes at me. "Don't joke about this," he said. Turning his intent green eyes on Brennan, he went on, "I'm staying with her at night. We'll figure out the rest, but I'll make sure she's not on her own during the day either."
Brennan raised an eyebrow. "You in town for a while?" he asked.
"For the moment," Lucas answered vaguely. Brennan nodded at him.
"If that changes, let me know. I'll arrange for some drive-bys, but it's not a substitute for being careful," he said to me.
"I'll be careful," I said.
Lucas walked Brennan to the door. I stood in the middle of the kitchen, hugging myself, my hands threaded through the opposite sleeves of my sweatshirt, trying to warm up.
Even after the hot shower, I was still chilled deep inside. My meatball sub, wrapped in brown butcher paper, sat on top of my mini-fridge. I should have been starving.
My stomach still rolling with nausea, I didn't want to eat.
Lucas came back into the kitchen, stopped in front of me, and pulled me into his arms. I collapsed against him, absorbing his warmth and strength.
He was so tall, my head only came to his collarbone, and though I wasn't a small woman, his big frame engulfed me. Just then, it was exactly what I needed. I burrowed into him, shuddering as his hand rubbed up and down my back, soothing me.
Reminding me I was safe.
"We’re going to find this asshole, Charlie. I promise," he said in a low murmur. I shuddered again, feeling heat on my cheeks. I realized I was crying.
I never cried. I had a little trick I'd used since I was a kid and I didn't want the media to catch my tears. I'd bite my lip, hard, on the inside of my mouth where the flesh was tender and sensitive. It hurt like a bitch, but the pain was usually enough to push back the tears.
I drew in a breath and set my teeth into my lip.
Before I could bite down, Lucas placed a soft kiss on the top of my head. I sucked in a breath, startled by his tenderness. Lucas was protective, but he'd never been sweet.
With one hand, he cradled my head against his chest, stroking the callused flat of his thumb over my cheek, wiping away my tears. Normally, I was appalled at the thought of anyone seeing me cry. Anyone—my brothers, my cousins . . . so why, with Lucas, was it so hard for me to stop?
Maybe if he'd chided me, told me to get it together, it would've been easier to force my emotions under control. But I was terrified, off-balance, and the soft stroke of his thumb on my skin seemed to draw the tears out as much as it brushed them away.
I don't know how long I stood there crying all over Lucas. Longer than I wanted to. Finally, I wept myself dry and tried to pull back. He didn't let me. His arms wound tight, he said against my hair, "It's still early, but you're exhausted."