Risk and Reward

by Rachael Duncan

  As soon as I round the corner, my heart stops. “Choco?”

  He’s lying in the grass, his eyes open and lifeless. I fall to my knees and touch him, but he doesn’t respond. His tail doesn’t wag and he makes no effort to put his head in my lap. Tears well up in my eyes and fall rapidly as I see the unnatural way his neck is cocked to the side.

  A guttural cry leaves my body as I collapse on top of him, but soon my senses come to me and I know I have to get back inside. Springing to my feet, I stumble back up to the house on shaky legs before closing the door and locking it again. My forehead rests against the cold glass while I continue to cry and shake.

  With trembling hands, I fumble with my phone and call Nate’s work number. It rings and rings, but he doesn’t answer. Panic starts to rise, threatening to choke me. I do my best to remain quiet so I don’t wake Ella, but it’s hard. I try Nate’s cellphone next, praying he answers.

  “Hey, my love,” he answers.

  “I need you,” I croak out.

  “What’s wrong?” His carefree tone from moments ago is replaced with concern.

  “Choco . . . he . . . he’s—” Grief rips through me again.

  “I’m on my way. Just hang on, okay?”

  “O-kay.” I hang up the phone and collapse onto the hard kitchen floor. Holding myself up becomes too difficult as all my energy focuses on the ache in my heart. I fall to the side and curl up in a ball, the cold floor biting through my skin.

  Nate bursts through the door and I haven’t moved from my fetal position. He lifts me up and looks at me. Whatever he sees must be bad because he goes from alarmed to panicked. “What happened, Charlotte? Talk to me.”

  I stare blankly into his blue eyes. “Choco is dead,” I whisper as new tears fall from my eyes.

  “What happened?” He holds my face in his hands, imploring me to explain.

  “He killed him.” My bottom lip quivers as I try to hold in my sobs.

  His eyes widen. “W-what? Where is he?” He stands and looks around like he’d be right here. The only thing I can do is point out back as I cry some more.

  Nate rushes out, leaving me alone in my sorrow. I’ve never experienced anything like this before. He was my baby, my companion, my support when I was living alone. He filled a void and held a special place in my heart. Now that he’s gone, that place is left vacant, a gaping hole rapidly filling with pain.

  Through the door, I hear Nate talking to someone, his voice clearly distraught. I’m assuming he called Marcus. Thinking of him makes me realize I need to call Lydia. This house isn’t safe and I would never forgive myself if something happened to Ella while she was here.

  She answers on the third ring. “Hey, how’s it going?”

  “I need you to come get Ella.” My throat is clogged with emotion, and I wonder if she’s able to understand me.

  “Why? Is she okay?” she rushes out.

  I nod even though she can’t see me. “She’s fine and still sleeping. He killed Choco, Lydia. He was outside and—and—” My shoulders bounce as I cry again.

  “I’m on my way,” she says.

  I don’t tell her bye and hang up the phone. As I do so, Nate walks back in. He’s pale with red-rimmed eyes, but when he looks at me, fear really sets in. He’s dejected and utterly lost. He normally exudes confidence, but in this moment, he has no clue what we’re going to do. Each incident escalates in seriousness, and now that he’s murdered our dog, eeriness settles over us as we both acknowledge something neither of us has dared to say.

  What if he kills me?

  NATE HAS TAKEN an extended leave of absence. When he told me he was going to request time off, I was worried they would fire him. But after he told them what was happening, they were more than understanding.

  It’s too hard to stay in our house, so we’re in a hotel right now. There’s no way I feel safe even with Nate home. Plus, everywhere I look I see Choco. The morning after he died, I got up to feed him and let him out, only to remember that he wasn’t with us anymore. I know it’ll take time to heal this wound, but four days after definitely isn’t enough time. I do my best to keep it together, but between the loss of my boy and the constant fear engulfing me, I break down at least once a day.

  We didn’t have a full necropsy done on Choco, but a vet did take X-rays and determined the cause of death was a broken neck. That animal broke my dog’s neck and killed him. I’ve tried to find a reason and get in Ethan’s head to understand why he would do such a thing, but I can’t bring myself to that kind of evil.

  I’ve replayed that day in my head so many times, wondering if I could have prevented it, and there’s one thing always standing out. Choco never whined or barked. He was the calmest dog I’ve ever seen, yet he was whining at the door before I let him out. The only explanation is he must have seen or sensed something was off. He wanted out there to protect me. I’m not sure if knowing this makes it easier or harder to accept, but I’ll forever be indebted to him.

  “Marcus just text messaged me,” Nate says, bringing me out of my thoughts. “He wants us to meet him at the station. I think they finally have some information.”

  My heart pounds in my chest, the unknown becoming known sending a rush of adrenaline through me.

  Could he have all the answers we’ve been waiting for?

  Will this finally be over soon?

  I nod at Nate and we get up to head that way. A million scenarios race through my mind as Nate drives us to the station. A million reasons to explain why he’s doing this to us. None of them make me feel better.

  My palms are sweaty and my stomach is queasy as Nate parks the car. I blow out a breath before we walk in.

  “I’ll be right next to you the whole time, okay?” He squeezes my hand and I try to smile at him, but my face is frozen, not knowing what I’m walking into.

  We’re led to a room where Marcus and the detective are waiting for us. “Hey, guys,” Marcus greets us. “I’m sure you remember Detective Lewis.” Detective Lewis nods in our direction. Honestly, I didn’t remember his name, but he’s the guy who’s been trying to find Ethan for us.

  “Have a seat,” he instructs. Once we do, he shuffles some papers before telling us what’s going on.

  “As you know, we’ve had a hard time finding information on Mr. Peck. All records on him stopped about eleven months ago. It was as if he never existed.”

  I swallow hard and nod my head, acknowledging that I’m listening.

  “Well, that’s because he didn’t.”

  My brow furrows in confusion. “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “Ethan Peck isn’t his real name.”

  Nate and I look at each other. Judging by my wide eyes and open mouth, I’m more shocked by this than Nate. I’d spent time with someone I never knew.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “Before this it was . . .” he looks down at his papers and continues, “Ryan Jones, then it was Brad Hensley, and before that it was Matt Cole. The name he uses now is his fourth alias, but his real name is Cameron Nichols.”

  I shake my head in confusion. “Why the different names?” I ask.

  “He’s done this before,” Nate says. I notice it’s not a question.

  Detective Lewis nods. “We were able to track down his parents and—”

  “Wait,” I interrupt. “His parents are dead.”

  He tries to hide it, but his eyes say it all. He pities me for believing his lies. “I think it’s best for you to assume everything he told you was a lie.” He pauses, waiting for me to say more, but I don’t. “We were able to locate his parents, and they agreed to talk to us. Cameron has a long history of obsessive behavior, but it didn’t get bad until he was in high school.”

  This explains why I never found anything on his sister. My intake of air is short and shallow, afraid if I breathe any harder, I’ll miss what he says next.

  “Mr. Nichols said Cameron always had an object he was attached to as a kid. They were inanimate object
s: blankets, a toy, things like that. He would take it everywhere and refused to leave the house without it. As he got older, his obsessions changed to grades and sports, until they finally focused on women. In the beginning they said they thought nothing of his attachments, figuring it was normal and he’d grow out of it.”

  Objects.

  Is that what I am to him? A toy for him to do whatever he wants to? Something to be by his side at all times until he moves on to the next thing? I swallow hard, willing the bile rising in my throat to go back down.

  “Lots of kids have blankets or toys they’re fond of, that doesn’t make them a fucking lunatic.” Nate’s voice is tense as he becomes irritated. I know he just wants to know where Ethan—or Cameron—is, and I do too, but it’s important for me to understand how he became this way.

  “True,” the detective replies, ignoring Nate’s attitude. “There was an incident in high school involving a teacher. Mr. Nichols was reluctant to discuss it, but Cameron developed an unhealthy relationship with a teacher.”

  I gasp. “A teacher was messing around with her student?”

  He shakes his head. “No, it was very one-sided, but he had convinced himself that she was reciprocating his affection. Things came to a head when she confronted him after class about his unwanted advances and he assaulted her.”

  I cover my mouth with my hand in shock. “Oh my God. Was she okay?”

  He nods. “Yes, she only suffered a few bruises, but it shook her up and the school expelled him.”

  “How old was he then?” I ask.

  “He was seventeen,” he answers.

  “Wow, so that was only four years ago. How did he pull off all these identities in such a short time frame?” Unless his other victims occurred over a much shorter time span, I don’t see how it’s possible for him to have done this so many times.

  “That wasn’t four years ago, it was eleven. He’s twenty-eight years old now.”

  I’m frozen as I take in so much information. It’s all overwhelming and hard to wrap my head around. Every single thing he told me was a lie. Betrayal doesn’t begin to cover how I feel, but the overriding emotion at this point is fear. Because with the firm set of the detective’s jaw, I know this doesn’t have a happy ending. “Did he have charges pressed against him?” Nate asks.

  He shakes his head while his lips press into a thin line. “His parents are very affluent in their community. The superintendent thought it best, as did his parents, that no extra attention was brought to the situation as long as they agreed to transfer him to another school, which they did. Mr. and Mrs. Nichols sent him to an all-boys boarding school to finish high school. They were told the school specialized in children with issues, but he ran away and they never heard from him again.”

  I’ll bet they never bothered looking for him. I find it hard to believe a boy manages to disappear from his family who has the resources to track him down. They didn’t want to know where he was. Out of sight, out of mind. Well, I hope his father feels like hell knowing many women have fallen victim to their son because they didn’t want to deal with it appropriately.

  Nate puts his arm around my shoulders. “Why do I get the feeling this isn’t the end of the story?”

  “Because it’s not. He would bounce around from town to town under a new name whenever he needed to run from something. He’d find a girl, latch on to her, and would leave once she filed a restraining order and started pursuing legal action. In all the other cases, he would’ve left by now, but for whatever reason, he won’t let you go.”

  I was wrong to think knowing the path that led him to my life would make this easier. If anything, it makes it harder. Because as I study the detective’s face, behind his stoic mask is an air of concern. He has no idea what Cameron’s—or Ethan’s—next move will be and he’s worried.

  I’m terrified.

  “Have you arrested the bastard?” Nate asks the million dollar question.

  With a tight expression, Detective Lewis shakes his head. “We had him on surveillance at a nearby hotel, but he was gone when we showed up. Wherever we go, he’s one step ahead, but we won’t stop until we find him.” His words do little to reassure me as a large pit forms in my stomach.

  “What are we supposed to do in the meantime?” Nate stands up and paces back and forth. I know he feels helpless, and the more this goes on, the less he’s able to protect me.

  “Stay vigilant and alert. We’ll have officers patrolling your area frequently looking for anything unusual. If you think you see anything suspicious, call us immediately. Even if it turns out to be nothing, I’d rather you be safe than sorry, okay?”

  I nod while trying to process everything he’s told me, but there’s one fact that stands out like a flare in the dark of night.

  They don’t have any idea where he is.

  Nate and I are quiet on the way back to the hotel, neither of us knowing what to say to make this better. I stare out my window in a state of shock.

  Why me?

  This question plays on a constant loop, yet when we park the car, I’m still unable to answer it.

  Deep-seated regret and guilt are weighing on me. I keep coming back to the fact that if I didn’t leave Nate, none of this would be happening. And I’m not just talking about me. I’m putting Nate at risk and now the baby, which became more evident when Choco was murdered. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to either one of them.

  We sit on the couch, still quiet. He places his hand on my stomach as we absorb the silence. “It’s going to be okay,” he tells me for the hundredth time since this all started.

  I shake my head. “This is all my fault.” My hands cover my face as the burden of my mistakes suffocates me.

  “Look at me.” His voice is firm, commanding me to comply. When I do, his jaw is tight and his eyes drill holes into mine. “None of this is your fault. You have no control over the actions of a madman, so I don’t want to hear you say that ever again. I’ll spend my last breath making sure you and our baby are safe. Do you understand? I won’t let him touch you ever again.” He looks into my eyes with such determination, it breaks my heart. With as much conviction as he’s exuding, I know his statement to be fact, and that scares me more than anything.

  I nod as I press my lips together and close my eyes. He rubs my jaw with his thumb while cupping my neck. “Come here,” he says, pulling me toward him. “Do you think you should call your parents and let them know what’s going on?”

  I let out a sigh. My mom and I are close and I never keep anything from her, yet that’s exactly what I’m doing. “I don’t want them to worry. They can’t do anything from where they’re at anyway. It’ll just cause unnecessary stress and I’d rather not do that to them. When this is all over, then I’ll tell them.”

  He nods and kisses me on top of my head. I nuzzle up to his side and let his warmth envelope me. I have to believe all three of us are going to make it through this. I have to have faith that Marcus and Detective Lewis will do their jobs and catch him before he tries to hurt me. But most importantly, I have to be ready for the moment I might have to defend myself. Because I won’t go down without a fight.

  If Cameron wants me, he’s going to have to take me kicking and screaming.

  DETECTIVE LEWIS TOLD us we didn’t have to stay in a hotel room if we wanted to return home. Between officers patrolling the neighborhood and my alarm system, he believed the risks were low. I was hesitant, but Nate reasoned that the detective knew what he was talking about. Plus we’d been at the hotel for five days, and I didn’t feel any safer there than I did at our place. After I got Marcus’s input, and he agreed as well, we packed our small suitcases and moved back into our home two days ago.

  Today marks a week since I had Choco taken from me. I can’t bring myself to throw out his bed or his chew toys. Nate thinks it’ll help me move on if I don’t see his things all over the house, but I can’t do it. I’ll get there eventually, just not now.

  T
he crackling of bacon brings my attention back down to the stove. I lay each crispy piece on some paper towels to soak up the grease and then plate the eggs I made for each of us. The oven alarm beeps and I pull out the biscuits and put them on the plates as well.

  “Nate, breakfast is ready!” I shout up to him.

  “I’ll be right down,” he responds from upstairs.

  I’m pouring us some orange juice when strong arms wrap around my waist. A sense of calm washes over me. Something about his scent and warmth makes me feel secure, like nothing can get to me as long as I’m in his arms. A faint smile spreads across my face as soon as he kisses my neck. “Thank you, my love,” he says in a low tone. His breath hitting my neck makes goose bumps spread across my skin.

  “You’re welcome,” I reply. He kisses me again before sitting down at the table.

  Breakfast is quiet; then again, most of our meals are now. Until this is all over, I know we’ll both be tense and on edge. I see Nate’s helplessness every time he glances at me. It’s killing him not being able to fix this for me—for us. It’s in the stress lines around his eyes and the tightness of his mouth. I understand how he feels though. I’m powerless and at the mercy of a madman who has yet to be located.

  “I’m sorry.” My eyes stay on my plate as I pick at my food.

  “For what?”

  Looking up at him, the crease in between his brows shows his confusion. “For bringing this man into our lives. If I had never left, this would’ve never—”

  “Stop,” he says, cutting me off. He gets up from his seat and comes around the table, wrapping me in his arms. I close my eyes and inhale his scent, taking in every bit of comfort he’s giving me. “Like I’ve said before, none of this is your fault, Charlotte. None of it. Do you understand?” He looks deep into my eyes, waiting for me to accept what he’s saying.

  I nod before he leans in and kisses me softly. “I need to run to Lowes in a few minutes. Want to come with me?” he asks.

  Looking down at myself, I’m still in my pajamas, my hair is in a top knot, and I have no makeup on. I have no desire to change any of this at the moment. “No, I think I’ll stay here.”