Of course.
This was probably his favorite holiday, what with all the young innocent girls coming to his door without having to be coerced or manipulated. Just shy of his yard, I paused and leaned against a tree next to the sidewalk, watching costumed children approach the door. I started sucking in deep breaths as something close to panic set in. What would I do if he did something inappropriate with a child right here, right now? But a man didn’t answer the door. Instead, an older woman opened the door to place pieces of candy in their bags. Dozens of children pranced up the walk, and I watched the door open and close several times. Only an older woman answered the door.
Maybe I had the wrong house.
Pulling the phone out of my pocket, I doublechecked. This was the right house, all right.
Unless, of course, Bernard Buckley had moved as well as left his job. But the mailbox next to where I was standing still had Buckley painted on its side.
My breathing was far too heavy, and I was wishing I hadn’t left my cigarettes in the car. What a shitty job I’d do if I couldn’t stop my fucking hands from shaking. I took a few slow breaths in through my nose and out my mouth, holding them for a few seconds in an effort to slow the thudding of my heart.
At last, though, I forced myself to move toward the house. I froze on the sidewalk, questioning what the hell I was doing. But then I let it all back in—Sarah’s words, all the horrific things my child had described. As I visualized everything that monster had done to my daughter, I felt my blood boil again inside my ice-cold body, and my heart began beating faster. The adrenaline started coursing through my veins, and neither courage nor determination was a question any longer.
I walked up the two steps onto the porch. A small jack-o-lantern sat next to the door, the flame inside flickering, making its triangle eyes and jagged mouth seem almost unreal. I felt almost like I wasn’t in my own body as I watched my hand press the doorbell button. Whatever had been inside me turned numb and cold, allowing my instinct to take over.
Once more, the older woman opened the door. Try as I might, my mouth wouldn’t open. The woman finally said, “Can I help you? You’re not here for trick or treat.” Her smile was tentative, ready to disappear at any second.
Finally, I managed to answer while I felt around for the gun in my jacket pocket. “Does Bernard Buckley live here?”
The woman stood hidden behind her screen door with a large bowl of candy in her hands. “He’s my son, but he doesn’t live here anymore.”
As my hand clenched the gun in my pocket tightly, I muttered under my breath. “Motherfucker.”
I hadn’t thought she could hear me.
“I beg your pardon?”
Feeling helpless and angry, I imagined shoving my way in, forcing Buckley’s mother to tell me where he was. Allowing the animal inside to take over, I reached forward for the handle to the screen door just as a hand grabbed me around the elbow.
I turned around to see none other than Justin. When I whirled back around to face Buckley’s mother, my courage slipped away. If I didn’t do this now, I’d never be able to.
“Come with me.” Justin’s hand tightened on my elbow, but I kept my eyes locked on the woman in front of me. Again, I wrapped my fingers around the gun, my index finger feeling for the trigger. Justin put a hand on my shoulder and forced me to turn away.
“What do you people want?”
Justin led me down the block to my car. The numbness I’d felt earlier was changing to nausea and lightheadedness. He kept an arm around me, holding me up as much as he was leading me.
Soon, he helped me sit in the passenger side of my car and drove. Suddenly, I felt completely wiped out. It wasn’t long before we were walking up the steps to his apartment and then I sat in silence on the couch until I had to run to the bathroom. The soup I’d eaten earlier was coming back up with a fair amount of stomach acid and bile. When I left the bathroom, I was wiping my mouth with a tissue, but my hands were shaking.
Handing me a glass of water, Justin sat next to me on the couch. He hadn’t said a word since pulling me away from the Buckley house. I asked, “Why did you stop me?”
“You know why.”
“He should die.”
“Randi, you’re not the goddamn judge and jury of the world. He’ll get his due.”
“Bullshit. They’ll let him go free. I know it. He’s not even at his home anymore, so they won’t even find him.”
“He’ll get what’s comin’ to him. You gotta believe that.”
“I don’t gotta believe shit, Justin.” My breath might have been quiet, but my voice was full of fire. “I don’t have to.” Suddenly, soft sobs forced their way out of my mouth as a torrent of tears dropped from my eyes. “I don’t.”
“Before I met you, I might have agreed with you.” As he pulled my head to his chest, I gave in to the sorrow inside, falling into his arms.
* * *
It was dark when I awoke, and it took a few seconds for me to realize I was lying in Justin’s bed next to him, my shoes off but the rest of my clothes still on. I was in his arms and tried to adjust my body into a comfortable position so I could go back to sleep.
But I heard soft noises in the living room.
For a few moments, I tried to convince myself that the sounds were coming from his neighbor’s apartment—but when I opened my eyes, the dim light coming through the doorway told me otherwise. “Justin. Justin.” I kept my voice as low as possible, but I sat up in case I needed to shake his shoulders or something else to wake him up.
“What?”
“I think someone’s here.”
“What?”
“Listen.”
We both sat up and I held my breath. Not only did we hear another sound, but the light moved around again, so he got out of bed, putting on a pair of jeans beside the bed before moving over to the open bedroom door without making a sound. After he left the room, I got out of bed as well and made it to the living room just as he was flipping on the light switch.
“Caught ya. What the fuck are you doin’?”
As I came into the room the rest of the way, I saw Chelsea behind him holding a tiny flashlight and a black bag. “What are you doing here?”
“What the fuck kind of question is that? I live here.”
“But…”
Justin cocked his head. “But you didn’t think I was here ‘cause my truck’s not here. So what the hell are you doin’, Chelsea?”
“Nothing.”
“You can tell me or we can call the cops. Your choice.”
Her features were twisted into an expression of defiance as she shifted her eyes to me. “What’s she doing here?”
“I invited her here—unlike you.”
“You were sleeping with her.”
Part of me wanted to screech at this pathetic child but I was beyond fatigued, so I leaned against the wall and kept my mouth shut.
“She’s wearing her fucking clothes, woman, not that it’s any of your damn business. I told you to hit the road a week ago.”
Like any good actress, Chelsea’s expression changed in a flash, and now she wore a pout. “It can’t be over, Justin.”
“It can be and it is. You and me? We won’t work.”
“You didn’t even give us a try.”
“Oh, I did, darlin’. Now why don’t you tell me how you got in here.” Chelsea simply glared, clenching her jaw. “Randi, would you mind callin’ the cops?”
“Sure.” Except I had no clue where my shit was. Not that it mattered. I knew Justin well enough to suspect this was a bluff.
“Fine,” Chelsea huffed. After dropping the flashlight in the bag, she reached inside her jacket pocket and handed Justin a shiny gold key.
He turned it over in his hand. “Clever girl.” As he shoved it in his jeans pocket, he said, “If you must know, Randi and I do sleep together. We’ve been good friends for a really long time.” Chelsea’s glare turned into a look of devastation as a tear dropped
from her eye. “You and me? We were just a fun thing—and you’ve got a bit of stalker in you. Little girl, you’re not gonna have good relationships if that’s what you do to guys. Now tell me what’s in the bag.”
She blinked, forcing more tears to fall down her cheeks, and jutted out her chin again.
“I don’t wanna force you to show me—but it’s either me or the cops.”
“Fine. I brought a couple of cameras.”
I watched Justin swallow—he was probably even more shocked than I was. This woman was psychotic, and maybe it was lucky we’d caught her now. “Jesus. Is there anything else I should know about?” She shook her head slowly in response. As he touched her at her elbow, he led her toward the door, much like he’d led me away from Buckley’s house earlier in the evening. “You need to go home and think long and hard about this. What you did tonight was illegal, and I could have you arrested if I wanted to.”
“But—”
“No. You’re gonna listen—and if you want a boyfriend who cares about you, you gotta stop acting desperate. You’re pretty, Chelsea, and cute and sweet when you want to be. You can have any guy you want. You don’t want me.”
“No, I do. I want you.”
“You don’t. Trust me on this. You don’t even know me.” As he opened the door, he and Chelsea stepped outside. Part of me was tempted to go over there to eavesdrop—but I wasn’t in the mood for something that would most certainly be emotionally draining. I had nothing more to give. So I let my back slide down the wall until I was sitting on the floor. After a bit, the voices outside the door drifted away, and I imagined maybe Justin was walking the girl back to her car.
As I started getting sleepy again, Justin reentered the apartment, locking the door behind him. “Fuck me. I think I’ve had enough excitement for a while.” He walked over to me and held out his hand so I could grab it and stand up. “I could use a beer. Want one?”
I shook my head as I moved to the couch, settling in. As Justin came back in the room, he was taking a swig off a bottle of beer. I said, “You were really nice to her.”
“Ha. No, I wasn’t.”
“You told her she was pretty, and you reassured her that there’s nothing wrong with her.”
“Ah, sweetheart, there’s plenty wrong with her. She’s a thousand kinds of fucked up—and I don’t need that shit.”
“I know—but you were nice to her. You didn’t have to be.”
Raising an eyebrow, he took another drink. “Yeah, well, don’t let that info get around, okay?”
For the first time in days, I felt a genuine smile form on my lips. “Your secret’s safe with me.” Grinning again, I patted his leg. “What did you tell her to finally make her go?”
“That’s my secret.”
Hmm. “I wouldn’t mind a sip of your beer, if you don’t mind.”
“Damn, woman, I already offered you one.”
“I can’t drink a whole one. My stomach still feels a little queasy.”
“Fine. Just don’t puke in it.” I refrained from rolling my eyes as I took a sip of beer. Bad idea. My stomach lurched, and I made a face as I handed back the bottle to him. He asked, “You doin’ okay now?”
“I don’t know. I feel kind of…empty.”
He put his right arm around my shoulders and held me to his chest while he finished the beer. Slowly relaxing as I absorbed his warmth, I listened to his steady breathing and the soft thud-thud of his heart. Finally, I said, “I should probably go.”
“You can stay the night.”
“I have to work in the morning.”
“Then let me get dressed.”
“I can drive myself, Justin. I’m okay now.”
“My truck’s over at your place. I have to go with you.”
I shook my head, confused. “What? How?” As he started walking toward his bedroom, I followed him.
“How the hell do you think I stopped you?”
While he opened a drawer and threw a t-shirt on, I sat on the edge of the bed and slipped on my socks and shoes. “I don’t know. I hadn’t given it much thought.”
“After you left here with the gun, I followed you home. I could see it in your eyes, Rascal. I knew you were gonna try something dangerous and stupid. So instead of driving home, I parked my truck around the block from your place and walked to your street. I got in your van and hid in the back.”
“But how? I always lock it.”
Justin laughed as he started tying his boots. “Darlin’, you have faith in me to find you an unregistered gun, but you ask how I could get into your car?” Smiling, I shook my head as he continued. “Turns out it was a good idea for several reasons. Psycho didn’t know I was home, so we caught her red-handed.” Once again, he held out his hand to me. “Ready?”
“Yeah.”
“Want me to drive?”
“I think so. If you don’t mind.”
And so he drove my van to my house. We didn’t talk during the drive but there was nothing uncomfortable about it. Once we got there, Justin came inside with me, doublechecking that I was all right. “Call me if you need anything, Rascal.”
My breath caught in my throat, but I touched his hand. “Would you stay with me?”
Closing the door, he wrapped his arms around me while looking in my eyes. “If you want.”
Nodding, I collapsed into the warmth of his safe embrace.
Chapter Twenty-five
The next morning, my alarm woke me out of a deep sleep. Immediately, I noticed that I felt achy and fatigued, and I swiped to snooze. Then Justin rolled over, draping his arm over my body. Snuggling back against him, I drifted off to sleep once more until, minutes later, the alarm started making a racket again.
This time, I sat up after turning the alarm off and rolled my neck to get the kinks out. I could barely hear Justin when he muttered, “How ya doin’, Rascal?”
“Not feeling so hot. Maybe I’ll feel better after a shower and a cup of coffee.”
“Come here. I’ll help you feel better.”
“Justin, I don’t dare curl up next to you again, or I’ll fall back asleep. You’re too warm and snuggly.”
“Who said I wanted to sleep?”
I turned to look at him and stroked his cheek. “I need to get ready for work.” Getting out of bed, I continued to stretch, trying to wake my muscles up. “You can stay if you want.”
After starting a pot of coffee, I got in the shower. While the warm water pelting my body helped the kinks ease themselves out, I could tell I hadn’t slept well. The longer I was awake, the less rested I felt.
By the time I dried off, a towel around my hair and a robe around my body, I headed to the kitchen—but I still felt shivery. Justin was already at the counter, stirring liquid in a cup. Turning, he handed one to me. “Like you like it.”
“Aw. Thank you.” He gave me the cutest look before picking up the other cup, and we both sat at the table. I took a sip of my coffee and discovered it was perfect. “Thanks, Justin. That was sweet.”
Instead of responding, his eyes were focused on his hand he had wrapped around his mug. “I’ve been thinking about somethin’.”
“What?”
I couldn’t read his thoughts when he shifted his gaze to me. “Maybe we should move in together.”
Setting the cup down, I felt my breath catch in my throat. Surely, I was hearing things. “What?”
“I asked if you wanted to move in together.”
“That wouldn’t that cramp your lifestyle?”
“What lifestyle?”
I chuckled then. “All the girls…”
“What? Like psycho Chelsea? Or any of the other women who wound up in my bed, half of them with names and faces I can’t even remember? What’s the point?”
“You’ll change your mind, Justin. You’re just smarting over Chelsea breaking into your apartment.”
“No. It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while.”
I noticed then my heart s
oftly thudding in my chest. Was this real? “You have?”
“You’re the only woman I’ve ever been with that I can’t let go.”
I leaned over, reaching my hand over to touch his. “So what does that mean?”
“It means if I can’t let you go and we’re together most of the time anyway, why not just be together all the time?”
And I wondered. Was it that—or did he actually care for me? More than that, did I care what his answer would be? But, as I looked in his coffee-colored eyes, I could see it in them—and I sure as hell felt it myself. Maybe this was what I needed.
But there was another matter.
“All right. Let’s say we do this. Would you move in here?”
“Or do we get a new place entirely?”
As he took another drink of his coffee, I said, “I need a cigarette.” Wandering into the living room, I found my purse and got them out. Then I came back into the kitchen and said, “I can barely afford this place. I don’t think I could get another place.”
“You wouldn’t have to pay the entire rent by yourself. Do you think I’m a freeloader?”
“Of course not.”
“I would pay the fuckin’ rent, Randi. I just think we belong together. That’s all. I don’t care how or where. My apartment’s too small for me, much less the three of you.”
“Come with me.” We moved to the utility room near the back door and I lit a cigarette. It started me coughing right away, so I took a drink of coffee to soothe my throat.
Justin asked, “What do you think?”
“Well, my babysitter’s across the street, and the kids are used to having their own rooms.”
“I’m over here half the fucking time anyway. What do you say?”
The part inside me that had learned—whether from television or friends or my mother or society in general—that you didn’t show your heart, that you hid your true feelings like poker cards until you could read the other player wanted to ask Justin if I could give it some thought. My heart, though, overruled, because I loved this man…had fucking loved him for a very long time.
Love and Sorrow (Small Town Secrets Book 5) Page 22