There’s a tap on the door, and the aide comes back into the room. “I’ll take him back now. We’ll give you a call this evening to let you know how he’s doing. He should be fine. This is just a precaution, really. We’re open until noon tomorrow, then gone the rest of the weekend. If he needs further care, we’ll have you take him to the emergency pet hospital we partner with.”
I nod, too stunned by what my mother’s told me to speak. I take the leash from my mom’s hand and give it a gentle tug. Max gets to his feet, and I bend down and wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face in his fur. “You’ll be okay, buddy,” I whisper. Then I stand back up and hand the leash to the aide, who leads Max away.
Emotions roil within me—anger, gratitude, fear, grief, and… Anger. Like my mother, I am so angry. I completely understand the rage I saw on my mother’s face. I turn back to her. “How could anyone do that to a dog? Who would do something so heinous to an innocent—”
“Deni…” She gets up from the bench. “There’s more.”
“More? There can’t be more.”
She reaches for her purse on the bench, opens it, and pulls out an envelope. She begins to hand it to me but then hesitates. “This was taped to the wall just above where the dish of food was.” She holds it to her chest now as though she’s decided not to give it to me.
“What… what is it?”
She stares at me a moment, then finally hands me the envelope. “Darling, I am so sorry,” she whispers.
I open the envelope and pull out a single sheaf of paper with one line printed in the middle. A single question.
Who dies next?
I shake my head. “No. No!” I hiss through clenched teeth. “No! No! No!”
After spending several hours with detectives and others from the sheriff’s department at the house, where they searched for evidence and peppered both my mother and myself with questions we didn’t have answers for, we both feel drained.
“Excuse me…” Sonia Alejandro comes into the kitchen, where I’m making another pot of coffee. “We’re about to wrap up here. You can probably hold off on the coffee unless you want it for yourselves. Most everyone’s already gone.”
I pour the water out of the pot I’d just filled and set it on the counter.
“So I guess that dog of yours isn’t much of a watchdog?”
I look at my mom then back to the detective. I shrug, unsure of what to say. None of this makes sense.
“So, listen. I’d advise you to stay elsewhere for a few days. Whoever’s threatening you means business. He’s already, presumably, made one attempt on your life, Ms. Rossi, when he ran you off the road. Now he’s attempted to kill your dog and left a note that tells you his intent. He knows where you live, and he didn’t have any problem making himself at home on your property. We viewed the footage from your security cameras and didn’t find anything. So he also knows the areas the cameras cover or don’t cover. That far corner of your backyard is one of the few areas that isn’t covered. I suggest you add an additional camera. I also suggest you hire a security company—I’d have a couple of security guards on the property at all times once you’re back here to stay.
I’m happy to stay while you get some things together, and then I’ll follow you someplace safe. Is there somewhere you can go until you can get another camera installed?”
“Yes, we’d planned on staying with friends.”
“If you’ll text me the address of where you’re staying, I’d appreciate it.” She hands me her card, which includes both her office and cell phone numbers.
“We’ve already packed a few things, so we’re ready whenever you are.”
“Great. I’ll let you set your alarm, and then we’ll be on our way.”
March 4, 2017
After a fitful night, when I hear sounds of life in Jay and Gabe’s kitchen long before dawn, I slip into my bathrobe and slip out of the guest bedroom. I make my way down the hallway, enticed by the scent of brewing coffee. I pass the room where I hope my mom is sleeping better than I did, careful not to make a sound.
“Morning,” Gabe says quietly when he sees me. “Couldn’t sleep?”
“Not really.”
“Not too surprising based on all you’ve got going on. Coffee?” He holds up a full pot.
“Please.”
Gabe fills a mug and hands it to me. I wrap my hands around it and breathe deeply—the rich scent comforting.
Gabe leans against the counter, takes a sip of his coffee, then gestures to the long farm table and chairs in their kitchen. “Have a seat if you’d like.”
“I don’t want to keep you.”
“Nah, I have a few minutes. I’m heading out to the gym, then work. I need the workout, but I’m in no rush to get it. Know what I mean?”
I take a seat at the table, and Gabe sits down across from me. “Our people treat you okay yesterday?”
“Yes, they were great. I just wish they’d come up with something concrete.”
“Yeah, me too. The only evidence we have so far is from the vehicle who hit you. I can tell you what type of tires were on the truck, the color of its paint, and can give you a good idea of the year and make based on your description of the headlights and front grill. But finding it without a license plate number, or even a couple of the numbers? That’s a needle in a haystack scenario. Same with what happened yesterday. They found a few footprints and can tell you what size and style shoe the guy was wearing, but at this point, that’s not going to get us too far.”
He looks down at his mug, then back to me. “How’d your mom handle yesterday?”
“You mean besides saving Max’s life?”
He smiles. “Yeah, besides that.”
“She’s amazing. Thank you for letting us stay here.”
“You’re welcome for as long as you need to be here. All of you. You know that.”
“Max too? I’m supposed to pick him up later this morning if all is well.”
“My man Maxwell can move in permanently as far as I’m concerned. Now Jay? She may have her own thoughts on that.” He chuckles. “Nah, she won’t mind. Don’t let her fool you. She loves that dog.”
“I know she does.”
“Speaking of Max… What happened yesterday? He’s a well-trained animal. He knows not to let anyone on that property.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that. I spent a lot of the night thinking about that. He loves his food, but he knows when to leave it. When he’s on alert, he wouldn’t be swayed by food, at least I didn’t think so. Something doesn’t make sense.”
Gabe stares at his coffee. “May make more sense than you think.”
“What do you mean?”
He looks back at me. “Could’ve been someone he knows. Someone he’s used to seeing out there.”
“That’s a short list.”
Gabe shrugs. “Something to consider. You mention that to the officers last night?”
“No. Detective Alejandro said something about Max not being much of a watchdog, but I was so baffled…”
“Why don’t you make a list of everyone who frequents your property. Pool guy, yard service, exterminator”—he hesitates—“friends and family. Anyone Max would know.”
“They’ve already asked me to do that. But that scares me.”
“We aren’t trying to scare you, Deni. We’re trying to help you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Denilyn
March 4, 2017
After Gabe leaves, I pull my coat on over my pajamas and venture outside to the patio. I drop onto a lounge chair, still thinking about the people who have access to my home and property. Gabe and Jay, Ryan, and besides the handful of service providers, just one other person: Keith.
I go through a short list of those who know where the cameras are located on the property and the area they cover. It comes down to those who installed the cameras, monitoring system, and alarm. At least those are the only people besides myself and my mother who I think h
ave that information.
Is it really possible that while still incarcerated Mathison could have hired someone who knows my property? It doesn’t seem feasible.
But I can’t come up with any other explanation.
Fear, that ever-present intruder, wraps its tendrils around my soul. If my home isn’t safe—I stare into the ink of predawn—then no place is safe.
There’s nowhere I can go.
No way to protect those I love.
I swallow the ache in my throat. I can’t live like this.
I can’t.
As darkness releases its hold on day, the gray of dawn is broken by brilliance. The eastward sky is sheathed in orange with swirling shades of peach and fuchsia, like a mixture of oils on an artist’s palette. Shafts of light, watercolor clear, layer the deep tones until an orb of light crests the horizon.
Steam rises from my second cup of coffee sitting on the table next to the lounge I’m lying on. I shiver but decide to welcome the sun’s presence. I watch, rapt, as it ascends in all its glory, remembering it seems, after a long gray season, the power it holds.
I sit with that thought for several minutes as something new, or perhaps something remembered, forms within me…
Fear has exhausted me. Drained me. The circumstances of the last several weeks—or more accurately stated, the last almost eight years—have taken everything I have, both physically and emotionally. But more than that, they’ve robbed me of my own power—the power of who I am. They’ve robbed me of myself. There is no shame in the realization. The fear is not unfounded. If only it were.
But how long will I allow those who’ve staged these attacks to rule me?
Do I not still hold the power to choose?
Isn’t it my choice how I live in the face of death?
He, or they, cannot take that choice from me.
I will no longer let them take that choice from me.
As the brilliant colors of the new day fade, I know this time has marked me in ways not yet fully revealed. But somehow the significance is undeniable.
“Sometimes in stillness, when we’ve quieted our minds, we hear from God.”
“Thank You,” I whisper.
It is the first time in nearly a decade I’ve offered my gratitude to God, at least for my own life or circumstances.
Perhaps that is the most important revelation of all.
“Hey, mind if I join you?”
I look over my shoulder. “Of course not.”
“Lemme grab some java. Wait, on second thought, you comin’ in anytime soon? It’s cold out here.”
“Yes, I think my feet and hands have gone numb. I’ll come in and join you.” I pick up my cup, get up from the lounge, and follow Jay into the warmth of the house. I settle back at the table where Gabe left me.
“More coffee?”
“Just enough to warm what I have.” Jay comes to the table, coffeepot in hand, and refills my cup, then fills a mug for herself.
Once she’s doctored her coffee, she joins me at the table.
I look across at her. “Your turn. Worst?”
“My turn? With all you have goin’ on?”
I nod. “It’s definitely your turn.”
“Okay, worst? Gettin’ up at this hour on a Saturday. You know you’re gettin’ old when your body won’t sleep past sunup. Second worst, having Gabe work the weekend. But he’s on a case that…” She shakes her head, and I read the sorrow in her eyes. “On second thought, that case is the worst. I’ve said it before, but it’s unimaginable what people do to each other. Although, I know you don’t have to imagine it. How you holding up? Really?”
I shake my head. “Nope, it’s still your turn. “Best?”
The warmth returns to her eyes with her smile. “Sitting across from you, here.”
“Thank you.” I know she means it. “In spite of everything, I’m grateful for this gift.”
“So answer my question. How you doin’?”
“I’m exhausted. Worn out. Between that truck running me off the road, that series of texts, and then what happened to Max yesterday, I feel like I’m right back where I was when I went through this the first time. I’m at the end of my rope. But sometimes we need to reach the end of ourselves, don’t we?”
She nods.
“I had a breakthrough of sorts, or at least the beginning of one, out there on your patio this morning.”
“Oh yeah? Talk to me…”
“I’m tired of living in fear. I’m tired of looking over my shoulder wherever I go. I’m tired of the nightmares and flashbacks and panic attacks and… All of it. I’m sick of all of it. Jay, I’ve been living like that for almost eight years. Well, not quite that long…” Jay knows what I’m about to say—I can see it in her eyes. “Remember right after the attack?” She nods. “I was so… sure. So confident. Mathison had been arrested, and I thought I’d lived through the worst and survived. Remember what I did? And my faith?” I run my hand through my hair, my fingers landing on the scar from that night. “What happened to that woman?”
She waits for me to answer my own question.
“Fear is what happened. I’ve let him win… let fear rule.”
She leans forward, just slightly, and her eyes narrow. “This is leading somewhere…”
“Jay, I’ve given up too much. I’ve hidden too long. You know what I’ve done to protect not only myself but everyone I love. I don’t even talk about the most important things in my life, not with anyone except my mom, you, Gabe, and Ryan. No one at work even knows… I haven’t even told Jon…” I wave the rest of the sentence away. She knows. Tears prick my eyes. “I can’t do this anymore. I won’t do this anymore. I can’t live every day afraid of what the next minute will bring.”
“That’s because you’re tryin’ to do it on your own—in your own strength.”
“I know.”
“So?”
I consider what I’m about to say. Once the words are out of my mouth, there’s no going back. “I’m done trying to handle it on my own. I can’t control everything. If that terrorist got into my yard and almost killed my dog, after all I’ve done to try and keep my home and family safe…” I shake my head. “I can’t do it anymore. I can’t make it all work.”
“Sister, all I’ve got to say is it’s about time. No judgment. You know that. I’m just sayin’ something’s shifting, and it’s time for something new.”
“It is definitely time for something new. My circumstances may not change, but the way I react to them is going to change.”
“I heard you say it, so you know I’m gonna be watchin’.”
“I’m counting on it.” I look down at the table, then take a deep breath and look back at Jay. “You know how sometimes an idea presents itself and it’s so absurd, seems so ludicrous, you know you didn’t come up with it on your own?”
“I’ve had one or two of those experiences.”
“If anxiety is the body’s reaction to a perceived threat, and fear is the reaction in the face of those circumstances playing out, then I want to create a situation where I face fear full-on.”
“Keep talkin’…”
I lean forward. “I can’t, nor would I want to, live through any of what I’ve gone through again. Nor do I want, in any way, to recreate those events or the myriad of horrific possibilities that run through my mind a hundred times a day. Instead, I considered something else that’s always scared me. Terrified me, actually.”
“’I’m almost afraid to ask…”
With her dark eyes trained on me, I waver. “Maybe it’s too absurd. It is. It’s crazy.”
“Oh no you don’t. Don’t you do that. If this wasn’t your idea, and you’re tellin’ me it was inspired, then don’t you dare back down from it. You hear me?”
I know she’s right. “Okay, I’m going to… jump out of an airplane. Skydive.”
Her eyebrows raise and her eyes look like saucers. But then her head bobs. “Yep. Okay. I can see that happenin’—I w
ouldn’t ever recommend it to anyone, but I can see where you’re going with this.”
“Really?”
“I’m not sayin’ I condone it, I’m just sayin’… Actually, I don’t know what I’m sayin’. You know how rare that is?” She laughs, then grows serious. “Tell me what you’re thinking again, because you know, testing God isn’t wise.”
“No, I’m not testing Him. In fact, it’s just the opposite. I’m testing myself, in a way. Putting my life in His hands intentionally. Or, more accurately, acknowledging that my life is in His hands—has always been in His hands.
“I’ve run from death—terrified of someone taking my life. I haven’t lived because I’ve feared dying. Not only have I allowed this guy to already take my life, but I’ve allowed him, them, whoever, to rob those I love of who I am. Does that make sense?”
Jay’s eyes shine, and she nods. “It makes more sense than you know, sister.”
“But… what about…” I try to find words for the one hesitation holding me back, but emotion wells. “What about…”
“What about the people in your life who depend on you? If something happens to you? That it?”
Tears fill my eyes as I nod.
She reaches across the table and takes my hand in hers. “I love you. And I hate to break it to you, but you aren’t God, not even in the lives of your family and friends. Either you trust Him or you don’t. There’s no in between.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
“So when do you jump?”
“Soon. Very soon.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Adelia
May 11, 2017
A noise, mosquito-like in its buzzing, disturbs. I will it to stop, but it continues. Again and again. Eyes still closed, I roll toward the sound, but the movement, so painful, wakes me fully. I open my eyes, then squint at the light filtering in through the open shutters. The river wails outside the window.
The buzzing, or vibrating, sounds again. I turn and look at the nightstand where my phone dances. I reach for it, look at the screen, and then answer. “H… hello,” I croak.
By the time I dropped into bed following our run down the river, moonlight was giving way to daylight.
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