by J. Lea
“When Leo called?” his eyebrows shoot up. I nod. “The calls still keep coming?”
“Um…”
“What is it?” he urges me to continue.
“Actually, it got so bad I had to get a restraining order.”
“A restraining order? What the hell, April? Did he get physical with you? Has he hurt you?” His brotherly overprotectiveness is kicking into over-drive.
“No,” I shake my head. “But he did drop by today. He was drunk, but that doesn’t excuse the violation of the restraining order.”
“Tell me you called the police.” His knuckles were turning white.
I drop my head, squeezing the bottom of my shirt in my hand. “I did. I told Leo to leave me alone, so he tore the restraining order to pieces and stormed away. The police advised me to go to a safe place until he’s apprehended. So I came here. I hope that’s okay.” I raise my pleading eyes to them.
“Of course it’s okay. You’re always welcome here,” Amanda says softly.
“Morning,” Max manages to say with his mouth full, while reading the newspaper and glasses perched on his nose.
“Hey,” I give him a small smile as I appear at the doorway. I’m dressed in one of the T-shirts I borrowed from him, as yesterday evening I only grabbed Bella and left my house.
“You hungry?”
“Not really,” I admit.
“But you have to eat something.”
“I will, just not now. Would you drive me to my house to grab a few things?” I told him yesterday that I’ll need to go back to get some clothes, but he insisted he wanted to come with me and that I shouldn’t go anywhere alone. I agreed without hesitation.
“Let’s make a deal. I’ll make you something to eat and then we’ll go. Okay?”
“Can I eat in the car? I’m really not hungry right now.” I know I can’t get anywhere with my brother when he sets his mind to something, but I can at least try.
“No, first you eat, and then we go.”
“Okay, okay,” I give in. “You that bossy with everyone?” I already know the answer to this question.
“Good girl. And you know damn well I am.” He sets a bowl of milk in front of me, followed by a box of cereal. Only when I raise the first mouthful to my mouth do I realize I’m starving. “How are you feeling?”
“I’ve been better,” I reply grimly.
“Don’t worry, it’ll get better. Leo made a mistake by violating the order and he’ll be punished for that.”
“I know, but it still doesn’t make me feel any better. I wonder if I ever even knew him. How could he have hidden such darkness inside him all this time? When we were together, he cared more for his alcohol and television than us. And suddenly, he wants me. Me! That doesn’t make any sense whatsoever.”
“You can’t apply logic when it comes to dealing with drunks. Maybe he finally sat down and realized what he had and what he let slip out of his hands. That’s just my guess.” Max places a soothing hand on my back while I eat another spoonful.
“That may be,” I nod. “I just wish it was all behind me.”
“It will be. Just be patient.”
It’s late in the morning when Max and I arrive at my house. Immediately, I notice all is not as it should be. The front door is ajar. I distinctly remember locking it behind me when I left.
“Wait in the car,” Max instructs sternly.
“And let you go inside on your own? Are you insane? What if someone’s still in there? I’m coming with you.” There, I said it. I won’t let him go inside alone.
Before he can protest, I’m already headed to the house. Max pushes the door open and we stand by the entrance, listening for any sounds. The smell of cigarettes and stale sweetness is stinking up the place. I get shivers. We carefully walk further inside and Max reaches for the fire iron next to my fireplace in the living room, left of the front door. We make our way to every room in the house.
“I don’t think there’s anyone here,” I whisper on our way to my bedroom.
“Let’s be careful just in case,” he responds as quietly.
The house is intact, but there’s still my bedroom. The scene we are met with, as we enter, stops us in our tracks. I can’t move; I can only watch the disarray in the room. Max checks the closets while I remain in place, a tear rolling down my face.
“Son of a bitch!” Max swears loudly. He runs both his hands through his already messy hair. He’s pacing the room, his phone at his ear, talking to somebody, but I can’t hear a word he says. My attention is solely focused on the bright letters, the color of blood, on the wall over my bed: YOU’RE MINE! Under the writing is a picture of me jogging, nailed to the wall. It must have been taken only a few days ago since I remember the grey thermal shirt I wore that day. A single sunflower is placed on the bed. The oxygen is sucked out of the room and I suddenly can’t breathe. I need air. Turning around and running outside the house, I fall to my knees on my porch. I try to fill my lungs with air. Breathe, breathe, breathe. Just breathe.
“The police are on their way.” Max appears on the doorstep and I feel his hand on my shoulder as I’m still gasping for air.
“Why is he doing this to me?” I exclaim in despair, once I manage to calm my nerves.
Max pulls me from the ground and squeezes me tightly to him. “I don’t know, kiddo. I don’t know. But I do know that he’s not going to get away with it. Does he still have the keys to your house?”
“No, he returned them when we broke up. That’s why this doesn’t make any sense.”
“Maybe he had a spare one.”
Only a couple of minutes later, a patrol car stops in front of us. Max explains everything to the policemen and takes them up to the bedroom. He also tells them about the restraining order Leo violated yesterday and that the police are already looking for him.
Before the clock strikes one, my house is crawling with policemen. When they’re done, they ask me to check and see if anything’s missing. I hesitantly walk up to the bedroom, but the mess inside makes it impossible for me to see if he took anything. Never in my life have I imagined I’d be going through an ordeal like this. Not even in my worst nightmare.
“Miss Brookes?” A middle-aged policeman walks up to me.
“Yes?” I raise my head, void of emotions.
“You filed a restraining order against a Mr. Devlin, is this correct?”
“Yes,” I nod.
“We’ve been looking for Mr. Devlin ever since your call yesterday, but until now, there hasn’t been any progress in locating him.”
“What’s taking so long? He couldn’t just vanish into thin air!” Max impatiently says from behind us. “Try harder!”
The policeman purses his lips into a thin line, agitated.
“Calm down, Max. They’re trying to help us.” I give him a look.
“We checked his work. His boss says he hasn’t shown up for work today. Now we’re trying to figure out where he’s hiding. Mr. Devlin hasn’t shared any address with his employer, other than yours.”
“Did you check with his best friend, Ronnie? Leo’s parents? I gave you both of their addresses.”
“Yes, we checked, but he hasn’t been there.”
“What now?” I wrap my hands around my middle.
“We’ll keep on looking. We have a warrant out for his name so it’s only a matter of time before he’s brought in.”
When the police officers clear out of my bedroom, I’m finally allowed to go back inside and take my clothes. My hands shaking, I throw a few items of clothing on a pile and I think back to when Leo and I started dating about 18 months ago. He was kind and charming. He’d liked alcohol even back then, but he hadn’t been abusing it like he had in the last few weeks prior to our break-up. He hasn’t been the same Leo since his brother died. He’s gotten closed off, alcohol always on his agenda. I also turned to his best friend for help, but even with joint efforts, we couldn’t do anything. It was hopeless.
Three
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Jude
“Jude, can I see you in my office for a moment?” My dad’s head pokes into my office.
“Just a second,” I respond, my eyes still fixed on the documents on my desk.
I’m in the middle of writing a report for my latest case. About a week ago, a Mrs. Simmons hired our agency because she had suspicions about her husband cheating on her. I took on her case and it took me no time to discover much more has been happening than a husband simply being unfaithful. Every day, Mr. Simmons told his wife he was going to work and then he drove off to a town three hours away where he walked into a small insurance company. I went in after him under the pretense of being a new client and I noticed him entering an office with a nameplate on it that said Wilder, which certainly wasn’t the surname I had on the file. I waited for him to exit the office and, when after a half hour he still didn’t appear and I was starting to look suspicious, I entered the office of Mr. Wilder under the pretense of looking for a toilet. Mrs. Simmons’ husband was sitting at the desk going through some documents. He threw me an annoyed look, so I quickly apologized and asked him for the directions to the toilet. He told me the way, and then I laid low until he came out. A pretty, young woman, who, until that moment I had thought was an employee, a secretary or something, approached him and gave him a very intimate kiss on the lips. I quickly snapped some photos of the incident with my tiny shirt button camera and discretely left the place. Once back in my car, I called our assistant, who also happens to be my aunt, Stephanie, to give her the name of the young woman I got off the door of her office and forwarded her the photos I took of the couple. A few minutes later my phone rang.
“I’ve got a match!” I heard Stephanie’s triumphant exclaim.
“That was fast.”
Her laughter sounded through the phone. “It wasn’t hard to find her. Her social media is flooded with her photos. She’s 29, a local, and married to Pete Wilder.”
The social media phenomenon has made things so much easier for us. People don’t realize how much personal information – where they are, who they are with, what they are doing – is freely shared with the world.
“Can you also check out Pete Wilder?” I thought it was weird Simmons worked in an office with someone else’s name on the door. “I need his picture.”
“No problem.”
It took us no time to figure out Pete Simmons was actually Pete Wilder and married to two women. He indeed went to work every day, but not to the address Mrs. Simmons gave us. He was a co-owner of an insurance company with his first wife, Tracy. Since bigotry is illegal, I had to report him. I met with my client and showed her my findings. When she was faced with her husband and his other wife, it was loud and explosive, with many insults thrown around. It was a difficult situation for both of the wives; they didn’t know about one another.
“You needed me?” I ask, as I enter my dad’s office and find him sitting at his desk, a familiar frown wrinkling his forehead. This always means one thing only.
“I have a new case for you.” He waves his hand to the empty seat in front of him.
My dad is the owner of O’Rilley Detective Agency.
“What is it? Husband cheating on the Mrs., wife cheating on her man, gambling, drugs?” It’s always one of these things. Moms are afraid their children are hooked on drugs, wives are suspicious of their husbands’ gambling habits, and the most common cases on my desk have to do with cheating of some sort.
“Stalking.” His voice is serious enough to have my full attention. He slides a manila folder across the desk toward me, rearranging the glasses on his nose.
I let out a low whistle of surprise. “Stalking? That’s not the usual stuff we deal with.” The last time we took on a stalking case was three years ago, and it didn’t have a happy ending. The stalker—the ex-husband—wasn’t handling the divorce and the news of his ex-wife’s new lover well. Before anyone could interfere, he stabbed her multiple times.
“Yesterday, a man came in and hired us to protect his sister. He paid us handsomely to make sure nothing happens to her.” He takes off his eyeglasses and puts them on the desk, leaning back in his chair.
I open the file to see what I’m getting myself into. “Protect? Aren’t we going to be looking for the stalker?”
“The identity of the stalker is already known—it’s her ex-boyfriend. Our job is to protect the girl from him until he is found and arrested. Her brother brought me copies of the messages she’s been receiving, and the ex also broke into her house and destroyed her bedroom,” he finishes gloomily.
“He’s obviously not over the break-up.” I shake my head. “Her name?”
Dad looks into the case folder. “April Brookes, 25, works as a journalist at a Boston television station. She was in a relationship with Leo Devlin for a year and a half before they broke up. She ended the relationship. Due to his harassment afterwards, she’s filed for a restraining order, which he violated the same day.”
“Huh,” is all I say as my eyes scan through the documents. “I think it’s only a matter of time before he’s arrested. The police have all the information they need to apprehend him. It’s a simple job. I don’t know why our involvement is necessary.” I close the file and place it back on the desk, leaning casually back in my seat and putting my feet on the desk.
“It’s not that simple. The man has gone missing and the police have no clue about where to search for him next. It’s as if he disappeared into thin air. But the calls to his ex-girlfriend won’t stop.” Dad frowns at me and pushes my feet off the desk.
“This happens often. He doesn’t want to get caught, but still wants to have everything under his control…” I’m thinking aloud.
“As I said, his messages keep coming. This one is from yesterday.” He shows me a copy of a note written on a computer. The bold letters scream: I’m coming for you! It’s only a matter of time before we are united in eternity.
“And you want me to take the case?” Honestly, I’m not really in the mood to play a babysitter. I’m sure the police are doing their best searching for this Leo guy. The lady has nothing to worry about.
“Actually, the client demanded you be the security detail. Apparently, you know each other.”
“Know each other? What’s the man’s name?” I lean forward on the desk.
“Maxwell Brookes.”
“Maxwell Brookes,” I repeat thoughtfully after him, the name not ringing a bell.
“He said you met in college.”
Max! “Yes, I remember him, vaguely though. It’s been ages since I’ve heard about him.” We attended the same college, but we didn’t have any classes together. We also moved in different circles. Max’s family and the families of people he hung out with were loaded and I was a scholarship student who spent all his spare time working to pay for college. We partied together sometimes, but with little common interests and him being a year older, we weren’t really close friends, more like friendly acquaintances. I didn’t even know he had a sister; he never mentioned siblings.
“I want you to pack your things and meet the client at this address in the morning. It’s his home and his sister is temporarily living with him and his family.”
I slowly get on my feet, rubbing my face. “Pops, why can’t you send Cole or Jessie?” Cole and Jessie are my brothers, both also working at the agency.
“Because Brookes hired us, and wants you to do the job. You know we don’t deny our clients’ wishes.”
“Maybe we need to change that rule,” I mumble under my breath.
I was hoping to get a few days off - a mini break I’ve been promised for working non-stop for the past few months. I was planning a trip to Vegas with my friends, filled with limitless amounts of cold beer, poker and pretty blackjack dealers.
“Did you say something?” Dad raises an eyebrow.
“Nope. What time do I need to be there?” I shove my hands into the pockets of my jeans, leaning back on my heels.
“Nine
AM.”
I grab the manila folder off the desk and leave his office, my mood worsening by the minute. I’m always the lucky one playing nanny to the rich people. Shaking my head at my poor luck, I go searching for Stephanie to ask her to get me as much information on Leo Devlin and April Brookes as she can get her sneaky hands on.
The next morning, I’m on my way to my new assignment. With Stephanie’s help, I’ve acquired tons of information on the supposed stalker. Leo Devlin’s record is clean. He’s 27 years old, and a construction worker. Up until a few weeks ago, he was a normal law-abiding citizen who broke no law, except for a couple of speeding tickets, and that is it. The folder on April Brookes was much thinner, so I saved that for when I get to my destination. So far, the only information I had on her was her age, education and profession. The rest will have to wait until I get there.
The ride from Rhode Island to Massachusetts only takes me about an hour and a half. I manage to avoid traffic jams, so I arrive at the address my dad gave me at a little after eight in the morning. Slowly, I drive up the cobbled driveway, taking in my surroundings. An iron fence surrounds the house and neatly trimmed rose bushes are planted on a well-manicured lawn. On my left, I see a swing set and a covered wooden sandbox. I exit my car and walk to the massive white front door with a plate “Brookes” on it and I ring the doorbell.
The door almost instantly opens, but before I can take my wallet out of my pocket and show my license I see Max smiling at me gratefully. He still looks the same.
“Jude! Thanks for coming on such short notice.” He gives me a tap on the shoulder.
“Max,” I nod curtly. “Nice to see you, man.”
“You, too. Please, come in.” He steps aside so I can walk past him into the house. The hall is small and light. The walls are framed with family pictures. He walks me to the kitchen and offers me a beverage. I get comfortable at the kitchen table, putting my folder on the table, and hang my jacket on the back of the chair.
“Nice house.”