She knew it was him. Freya would never forget that voice.
Paralyzing fear smashed through her body, and she fell limp against him. It was happening again. He had found her. How could this have happened?
“Nooooo!” She moaned.
The knife pushed harder against her neck.
“Make another sound, and I’ll slit your neck. Nod if you understand me.”
Freya nodded slowly, bile rising through her throat.
“We’re leaving,” he told her, his voice growling. “I’m going to finish what I started. Don’t worry. You’ll enjoy it just as much as you did the last time. And when I’m done, I’m going to cut you up into so many little pieces, no one will find you. The police won’t ever be able to find you.”
With that, she went limp. James tried to haul her across the kitchen, but she was dead weight. She was frozen with fear.
“Fucking walk, you bitch,” James growled, pressing the knife harder into her neck.
She could feel the edge biting into her skin.
“I…can’t…with…the…knife,” she gasped.
James eased off the knife to the point that Freya could breathe again—could think again. Digging down through inner strength that she didn’t know she had, she started thinking of ways to stall. She could not leave with James, or she would be dead. If she was suspiciously long getting the water, though, Brian might come down and get her. She had already made noise dropping her water bottle. Perhaps that was enough to get his attention? She just needed some time.
“You’re pathetic, James,” she heard herself saying.
“What did you just say to me?” He hissed, pushing her toward the end of the kitchen.
“I said that you’re pathetic. You have to force yourself on women to get any. I guess no one wants you. Sad.”
James spun her around and slapped her across the face so hard that she lost her vision for a moment. When she regained her sight, she found herself falling to the floor. She hit the tile hard and screamed in pain.
BAM.
A loud gunshot reverberated through the kitchen, causing Freya to jump and her ears to ring. She looked up to see James crumple to the ground. There was blood splatter everywhere: across the kitchen cabinets, over the floor, and when she looked at herself, there was some on her too.
Confused, she looked up at the entryway to the kitchen to see Brian standing there, gun aimed, looking furious.
“Never bring a knife to a gunfight, asshole,” he growled.
Relief washed through Freya’s body as she realized that she was okay. James was dead. Brian had shot him.
“Brian!” She exclaimed, trying to get up from where she had fallen.
He eyed James’s body on the floor before running over to her.
“Are you alright?” He asked, wiping stray blood spray from her face.
“I’m…I’m okay,” she said, suddenly realizing that she was shaking. “He’s dead.”
“Yes, he is. I told you that if he tried to go after you again, I’d put a bullet in his head.”
Freya nodded, remembering back to when he had said that. It seemed so long ago. After tonight, everything seemed so long ago.
Then, she realized that it was over. No more James. No more fear. No more worry. He was gone. Dead. And Brian had killed him.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“For what?”
“For killing him. It’s over.”
“Yes, it is,” he told her. “Now, come on. Let’s get you up off the ground and cleaned up. I need to call the police. Then, I’ll need to let your dad know. We’re going to be in for a long night, unfortunately.”
“That’s okay. He’s dead. That’s all that matters now.”
“I know, baby.”
With that, Brian pulled her up from the floor and moved her out of the kitchen away from the body. They were in for a long night, but Freya didn’t care. All she felt was relief as if a cloud had been lifted from her. The fear of being taken at knifepoint had subsided. Now, she just felt peace.
3:30 AM
Brian stared at Freya who was curled up on the couch in his formal living room. The kitchen and family room area was currently off-limits as the police had sectioned off that space. She had been allowed to shower and was now asleep despite the chaos that was going around in the house.
“They’ve taken your gun,” Brian’s lawyer, Thomas Adkins, told him. “That’s standard procedure. From what I’ve gathered, it doesn’t look like they’re going to charge you. It’s a clear case of self-defense. Given the fact that this man was Freya Morgan’s previous attacker, I think most people agree that the world is a much better place without James Walker.”
Brian turned his attention back to Adkins who was sitting next to them.
“Like hell he’s going to be charged,” a voice came from the hallway next to them.
Brian looked up to see a man in a leather jacket and jeans come into the living room. He flashed a badge to Brian and Adkins.
“Detective Howard Greene from Charlotte Mecklenburg Police Department. I was previously assigned to Freya Morgan’s case. I just arrived here after I got the call. That was one hell of a drive up to the mountains.”
Recognizing the name, Brian stood and shook the man’s hand.
“Brian Ash,” he introduced himself.
Greene frowned for a moment, and then his face brightened with recognition.
“Hey! I know you! You wrote those books!” Greene glanced at Freya who was starting to stir on the couch. “So, Joe’s been hiding her with you all of this time. Makes sense.”
“Joe’s on a red-eye right now to Charlotte,” Brian replied. “He’ll be here early this morning.”
“Good,” Greene said, nodding. “How’s Freya holding up?”
She stirred some more and then sat up, rubbing her eyes.
“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” Brian suggested.
When Freya recognized the detective, she smiled and said, “Detective Greene. What are you doing here?”
“Putting a case to bed,” the man replied. “But also, seeing how you are doing. I had always worried that James Walker would come after you again.”
“Well, now no one will have to worry about it again,” she said and stretched.
Brian was amazed at how at peace she looked. He had also been impressed as hell at how she had responded to James at knifepoint. Instead of doing whatever he said, she had resisted and pissed him off. If she hadn’t, he would have never smacked her away, and Brian would have never had a clear shot.
She had been amazing, and Brian had never been more in love with her than he was right now.
“I suppose not,” Greene agreed. Then, he changed subjects by saying, “I took a picture of the body while they were hauling it away outside and sent it to my colleague. I don’t know if Joe told you, but another woman was attacked by James—an Assistant District Attorney. She messaged me back and confirms it was him. You took a dangerous man off the streets, Mr. Ash.”
“I did what I had to do,” Brian replied. “Any man would have done the same.”
“I don’t know,” Greene continued. “I saw the shot you made. I don’t know a lot of men who could put a bullet straight through a man’s forehead.”
Brian couldn’t help but grin, and Freya nuzzled against him. Greene raised an eyebrow, obviously realizing that they were a lot closer than he initially had thought.
“Ahem,” Adkins spoke up, eying the cozy scene between Brian and Freya. “I think they’re finishing up here, so I’ll be heading out. I’ll talk to you later this morning. Try to get some sleep if you can.”
As Adkins headed out, Greene stood there and shuffled for a moment before saying, “Just between us, this whole ordeal might not be over yet. I have a suspicion that there’s another player who had been helping James the whole time who needs to be apprehended. Although I don’t think Freya is in any danger, just be aware that this might not be over yet.”
Brian immedi
ately sat straight up.
“Who?” He demanded.
“I…can’t say yet,” the detective said. “But once it’s confirmed you and Joe will be the first to know. I’ll leave you my contact information.”
“Sure,” Brian said, feeling uneasy.
He looked over at Freya who appeared concerned. She gripped his forearm tightly. For the last few hours, he had thought this had all been over, but this visit from Detective Greene had flipped everything upside down.
8:45 AM
Joe Morgan drove his rented car up Brian’s gravel driveway. He was wired on too many cups of coffee, but for the first time in a long time, he felt relieved.
It was over.
James Walker was dead. Brian had killed him. Freya was free to live her life.
There were currently no other cars in the drive except for Brian’s, though Joe knew that it had been chaos only a few hours beforehand. Brian and Freya must have had one hell of a night, and Joe couldn’t have imagined how scared his daughter must have been to have faced down her attacker again, although Brian had insisted that she was doing surprisingly well. Joe would be the judge of that when he saw her, though.
He quickly parked, headed up the steps of the front porch, and knocked on the front door. It was quiet for a while until he finally heard footsteps from inside.
Brian opened the door, looking exhausted but otherwise okay. Though James had forced the man’s hand into shooting him, killing someone had to take an emotional toll—no matter how justified.
“Joe,” Brian greeted. “Come on in. We were just trying to snatch a cat nap, but I’m sure Freya will be happy to see you.”
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Joe apologized. “I just…needed to see my daughter. After everything that’s happened, I’m sure you understand.”
“Yeah. I get it.”
Joe stepped into the house and noted that he could see police tape up in the kitchen from the long hallway.
“We’ll be ordering take-out for the near-future,” Brian explained. “They said it wouldn’t be too long before I get my kitchen back. Hopefully.”
“How are you holding up?” Joe asked.
Brian already had enough shit to deal with, considering his PTSD. He didn’t need killing James Walker to compound the issue.
“I’m doing okay, for now, Joe. Only time will tell. I’ve honestly been doing a lot better with Freya to keep my mind off things.”
Joe tensed. He didn’t necessarily want to hear about Brian and Freya’s budding relationship, but he supposed that it would come up. He still was having a hard time coming to terms with it. Still, he owed Brian everything for saving and protecting his daughter. It was a debt he’d never be able to pay back.
“Care to sit in the living room?” Brian asked. “Family room is off-limits right now. Sorry. I’ve got a secondary coffee maker in the basement at the wet bar. I think some caffeine is in order.”
“Sounds great,” Joe agreed.
Brian disappeared for a bit, and Joe heard stirrings from upstairs. Freya soon appeared at the steps, dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt. She looked tired, but more importantly, she was alive and well.
“Freya!” Joe exclaimed and practically jumped up from the couch.
“Hey, Dad,” she said.
He didn’t wait for her to finish walking over to him. He rushed over and gave her a bear hug. She practically squealed at the tightness of his embrace, but at the moment, he didn’t care. His daughter was finally safe.
When the hug ended, she told him, “It’s over, Dad.”
“I know, sweetheart. Here. Come. Sit down. I heard your foot is still bothering you.”
“That and the rest of my body,” she grumbled. “James slammed me down hard on the kitchen tile, and I’m paying for it.”
“I’m so sorry,” Joe stammered.
“Brian took care of it,” she said simply.
“I know, sweetheart.”
They sat down, and Brian came back up later with coffee. They sat and sipped on their beverages, making small talk, though it seemed silly to Joe after what had just happened the night before. After a while, he decided to broach the subject that he had been dreading.
“Well, since James is not an issue anymore,” he began, “have you decided what you want to do with your…living situation and all of that?”
Now that the threat was over and she was doing better, she could start her life again.
Freya and Brian eyed each other, and Brian put his arm around her.
“Freya will be staying with me on a permanent basis,” Brian said firmly.
If Joe had taken a sip of his coffee, he would have spit it out.
“Permanent?” He questioned.
“Yeah. Is there a problem with that?”
The question hung heavy in the air.
Did Joe have a problem with it? Brian was a good man. He had obviously done a fantastic job taking care of Freya, and he was her damned savior for crying out loud.
No. There was no problem. Joe needed to get over himself and realize that Freya was an adult who could choose whoever she wanted to be with.
“There’s no problem,” Joe reassured them. “I’m happy for you both.”
Freya grinned and looked at Brian. It was so damned good to see her so happy again.
It was at that moment that the sound of a car coming up the driveway was heard, followed by the sounds of more cars.
“Police?” Joe asked cautiously.
“Worse,” Brian said, peaking through the curtains. “The media. I was wondering how long it would take for my name to get out that I had shot a man dead. Trust me on this one, the shitstorm has just started.”
Joe immediately picked up his phone and started dialing numbers. It had just hit him that his biggest author had just killed a man, and the press was going to have a field day on this one. He’d have to get lawyers and PR on this immediately.
“Don’t answer the door, Brian,” Joe said. “I’ll take care of this personally.”
10:32 AM
“It’s a match,” Howard said over the phone to Alexis while seated at his desk. “The question is: What do we do about it?”
He had the DNA test results in his hands, and there was a sense of nervous excitement running over him. So much had happened in the past twelve hours. James Walker was dead. Freya Morgan was safe. And Chief Johnson was definitely James’s father.
“Well, I had to let the cat out of the bag with my boss,” Alexis told him. “DA Sinclair was a bit mad we went rogue with the whole thing, but she’s still interested in what’s going on. It would signal huge corruption for the chief of police if true. The problem is that it’s not a crime to have a family member as a criminal. We’d need to prove that Johnson was aware of the crimes to get him to step down in his position, and we’d need some concrete evidence that he was helping James the whole time to charge him. I have an idea for the first problem, but I have no idea for the second.”
“Good because I have some possible good news for the second. We’ll have to wait and see, though. Who wants to go first?”
There was a pause at the end of the line before Alexis said, “I might as well go. So, the media got ahold of the fact that a famous author killed the “Charlotte Rapist” from January, and they’re going nuts. DA Sinclair suggested to the mayor and Chief Johnson that a joint press conference was in order, considering we’ve confirmed for sure it was James who attacked me. Johnson reluctantly agreed.
“There’s an ulterior motive, though. Sinclair suggested you talk to a certain local reporter who will be at the press conference and give him the low-down on what’s going on. The goal is to force Johnson to publicly to deny he knows Walker and then spring the DNA results on him plus an affidavit from Samantha Clark, stating that he’s been in contact with James. Let the press go wild with it and let him squirm.”
“That sounds good, but it might spook him to getting rid of any evidence of contact,” Howard countered.
<
br /> “True, but we have to try something.”
Howard thought for a moment and then said, “I have a plan for that even if he ditched the evidence. We found a burner cellphone in James’s car. It’s only been dialing and receiving one number beside the obvious spam calls. We’ve gotten ahold of the cellphone service, and they’ll get us a general location of what towers the other phone was used on as well as where the phone was purchased. So, we can get a location and a place of purchase. The phone hasn’t been activated that long, so maybe we can get some video.”
“It’ll take some time, though. But maybe we can get Johnson to resign in the meantime. It’s worth a shot.”
“It’s worth a shot,” Alexis agreed. “Now, I have court in a bit. The reporter’s name is Tom Thomson. I’ll text you his contact information.”
Howard recognized the man’s name immediately.
“I know that guy. He’s an investigative reporter and is famous around the area. If anyone can put pressure on Johnson, it’s him.”
“Agreed.”
After Howard hung up with Alexis, he realized he felt positive for the first time about nabbing Johnson. If they could get him, he’d be an accessory to all of James’s crimes, but of course, that was a big if.
12:15 PM
Freya peaked out the living room window, anxiety starting to creep through her. Brian’s lawyer had come over and asked all the news media to park along the property line and that they weren’t welcome to camp out on Brian’s property. That, of course, didn’t stop the paparazzi who were tenaciously taking pictures of the house, trying to get a shot of Brian Ash: the man who had taken down a rapist and saved the mystery woman. Police hadn’t given out her name because of the nature of her previous attack, but Freya wondered if that would hold out given how much interest the story had garnered.
Police had been there earlier to check over their statements and to clear the crime scene. They had cleared the chaos in the driveway, but Brian had called them back. Now, they were stuck inside for the foreseeable future.
“Stop worrying,” Brian said from behind her.
Freya jumped, and the curtains closed. She turned around to see his concerned face.
“It’s hard not to,” she told him. “I didn’t mean for all of this media attention to come down on you. This was supposed to be your quiet summer.”
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