“While you were gone, I talked to my partner at the station. She said the lab didn’t find any prints on the letter, but I kind of expected that. They’re running the handwriting through analysis to see if there are any hits in our system to other similar cases; it’ll take a little time to do that, but we’ll keep our fingers crossed. In the meantime, we’ve had your mom describe the man who dropped the letter off to a sketch artist and we’re going to see if we can get any hits from that. We don’t want to release it to the public just yet, but if we end up with a lot of dead ends, we will.
“We’re trying to keep this as quiet as possible right now. That’s why my division got involved; we deal with cases that need a high level of discretion and the police can’t always guarantee that.” He pauses to gage my expression. I tell him I’m fine and to continue. I want this done as quickly as possible.
“Well, for right now there are some things I want to go over with you to make sure we’re on the same page. I also want to show you the sketch and see if maybe you recognize the man, then I have to get back and see what I can come up with; hopefully I can catch this guy before he does any more than he already has.
“This is going to be hard to do, I know, but staying away from Rogan right now is necessary for his safety. I can’t say this will guarantee his safety, but if this stalker is watching you, and I don’t mean to scare you, but he probably is, it’ll be best if he believes you’re heeding his warning. Do you understand this? And can you abide by it?”
I nod. I can’t speak or the waterworks will start. My heart is hurting so badly right now I want to rip it out so I won’t have to feel it anymore.
He doesn’t seem to trust my resolve, but continues anyway. “I’m going to have a patrol car drive by his house periodically just to check on him, okay? We’ll do everything we can to make sure he’s safe, I promise you that, but right now, the best thing to do is for you to stay away from him.
“I can’t even imagine how this must be hurting you, but we won’t stop working this case, I won’t stop working this case, until I catch the bastard, and hopefully that will be soon and life can go on as it did before. Stay with me, Jess, okay? Just have a little faith and stay with me. You’ll get through this, and I’ll be here whenever you need me.”
I’m lost in his eyes and take his words as a small answer from the Cosmos; I can’t escape the demon who is now following me, who has now crept into my dreams, but at least someone is here irrefutably to keep it from living in my dreams forever, I hope, anyway.
I’m overwhelmed with grief, anger, sadness, exhaustion, and feelings I can’t name. Maybe there are no names for them.
I throw myself into his arms and cry. I’m like lichen on the side of a rock, clinging to the only solid thing I can find. This should be my family, but I can’t explain what it is about Bruce, I just feel safer with him right now. I wish he didn’t have to leave. How funny is it that, only hours ago, I was ready to kick him to the curb for interfering, and now I wish he would stay? Maybe this is just displaced emotion over losing Rogan. Whatever it is, I can say definitively that I don’t care.
Time passes; I can’t say how much, but I become aware that I should probably let him go, should probably have let him go a while ago. I shift away from him and dip my head down. Feelings of embarrassment are rising to the surface, and I feel pretty damn stupid for my meltdown in front of a complete stranger, clinging to that very same stranger.
I’m such an idiot!
“Jess, look at me.” His voice is soothing and mesmerizing in a way, making me obey his command without hesitation.
“I have to go now, but I’m going to give you my cell number. You can call me anytime or text, which is what you’re probably more used to, right?” he asks with a laughter to his tone, clearly playing toward the fact that at sixteen no one calls anyone anymore.
This manages to cause a small snicker to escape me. There’s something about him that eases all my emotions out of me; I don’t know yet if that’s a good thing.
He stretches his hand, palm side up, for my phone. I shift my hips and stretch out my legs so I can retrieve it from my pants pocket and place it in his hand. He dials in his number with my phone and in a few seconds, his is ringing.
“There, now you can contact me whenever you need to, and don’t worry if it’s late; I’m not much of a sleeper. Comes with the trade, I guess. After so many years of being woken up by the phone with someone telling me I have to come into the station, I think now I just stay awake so I’m ready when it rings. Funny thing, though, is that it doesn’t ring in the middle of the night that often anymore. Can’t break the habit, though,” he admits with a shrug.
I stand with him when he does, noticing for the first time that we’re alone. When did mom and Cass leave? I look up to Bruce and see him looking blankly at the vacant spots on the sofa, seemingly wondering the same thing. They probably bailed when I started balling like a baby.
I feel his hand on the small of my back guiding me into the kitchen where mom and Cass’s voices are traveling. His hand falls away when we step into the kitchen and the room goes silent. I’m suddenly on display, and I hate it. I look to Bruce for support; he smiles at me and nods in reassurance. I paint on a smile and look at mom and Cass, trying to feign calmness; they seem to need it more than I do, which is saying a lot since I feel like I’m about ready to pass out from this sudden burden.
Bruce speaks first. “So, Cass, Beth, I’m heading out now, but Jess and I have talked, and I think we’re good for now. I’ll call you when I know anything, and in the meantime just try not to worry too much. Easier said than done, I’m aware, but I’m here now. You’re not alone in this.”
“Are we supposed to just wait around then for you to call? Is it safe to even leave the house?” Mom chimes in with little civility.
I glare at her, furious that she’s treating him like this when he’s trying to help. I force myself to breathe and stay calm. It’s not her fault that she feels like a prisoner in her own home—it’s mine. She deserves to be mad, but not at him.
“I’m not going to tell you, Beth, that you’re perfectly safe out in the world right now, but so long as you’re smart about things, be aware of your surroundings and those around you, try not to go out at night if you can avoid it; I think you’ll be okay. The important thing right now is to keep Jess safe. She’s the one he wants, and we just need to do what we can to be conscious of ourselves right now.”
Breaths are coming fast and hard. Why did he have to say that I’m the one this freak job wants? I know I am, but did he really have to lay it all out like that?
Oh my God! I’m going to faint! I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe. Oh my God, I can’t breathe!
Everything around me is blurring, but the look on mom’s and Cass’s face is terrifyingly clear; they’re afraid of me. Then, as I’m falling, I see the care and comfort on Bruce’s face. I smell familiar cologne and feel strong, familiar arms wrap around me, and it’s into those arms that I fall. Protecting me from the hard, cold, kitchen tile is the first of many times that Bruce will protect me.
Finally I can breathe.
Chapter Five
Present day . . .
“Jess, can you hear me?”
“Bruce?” I clear my throat and try again; I could barely understand what I just said. “Bruce, is that you?”
“Here, Jess, I have some water for you to drink.”
I hate it when people always want to give you water, like water is the magical cure for everything. Oh, her cat just died; give her water. Oh, she gained five pounds; give her water. Oh, she’s going into labor; give her water. Although, my throat is burning, so maybe I won’t complain this one time over someone bringing me water.
“Jess, can you hear me?”
Why does Bruce keep asking me that? Of course, I can hear him.
My head still hurts, so I whisper my response, “Of course I can hear you. Where are mom and Cass?” My eyes don’t want
to open, despite my valiant efforts, but things seem off. I don’t hear mom or Cass. I feel colder than I remember feeling before I fainted. Bruce’s voice isn’t as deep and his cologne smells different; not bad, but different.
“Jess, just relax. You fainted, so Rachel and I brought you back to my apartment until you woke up. You’ve been out for a few hours now. We didn’t know who to call. I’m sorry.”
No wonder his voice sounds different; it’s not Bruce. Wait. It’s not Bruce! Who the hell is it then? My eyes find the motivation they need to open and along with it, my body springs up from wherever I’m lying. My eyes are darting all around for something familiar, but I don’t know this place, I don’t know how I got here, I don’t know—
Wait, I know that face. Kyle? I reach a shaky arm out and touch his cheek to see if he’s really here. He’s solid and warm and his eyes are so, well, I don’t know what his eyes are, but they’re here, they’re beautiful, and they’re looking directly at me. I haven’t pulled my hand away yet, and he hasn’t pushed it away. Why is he being so nice to me? I must have freaked him out.
With that thought, I pull my hand back. What have I done? What must he think of me? How did I end up in his apartment? I clear my throat and ask him how I got here.
“Well, I was on my way back to campus when I realized I had the charger for your laptop. Do you remember being at the coffee shop with Rachel and me? We used your computer to do some research for a paper for class.”
I vaguely remember that, so I nod in agreement. I’m sure this will all come back to me at some point . . . I hope.
He seems skeptical that I know anything he’s talking about, but, much to my appreciation, continues without pushing. “Okay, so anyway, I headed back hoping I’d catch you guys before you left, and just as I got to you, you passed out. I caught you, and Rachel and I waited to see if you would come to, but you didn’t, so we brought you back here.
“I would have called someone, but I didn’t know who, and Rachel said the only number she has is yours. We couldn’t find your phone, so we figured since you were talking in your sleep and that you never did hit the concrete, we didn’t need to take you to the hospital. How are you feeling now? Do you want me to take you to the hospital?”
“I was talking in my sleep?” Yes, I know that’s a strange thing to dwell on, but my mortification level can’t stand to go much higher; if I said anything even slightly embarrassing, I need to know.
He seems just as confused by my question at first, but then I see his mischievous side take over and I brace myself for the teasing soon to follow. “Well, I wouldn’t say it was anything R-rated, but it was entertaining nonetheless.”
My mouth is hanging open as I watch his turn up in a smile and, even though I knew he was going to have a smart-ass comment, I hadn’t expected that. What a jerk; but I smile anyway and shake my head at his jab. “Thanks a lot, jackass. You’ve made me feel so much better,” I scold, while punching him in the arm. “So, where is Rachel?”
I’m looking around the room, but I don’t see any signs of her. In doing so, though, I’m able to survey my surroundings. I’m in the living room, on a comfortable, fairly new looking charcoal gray sofa, and while this is obviously a guy’s apartment, it doesn’t scream college bachelor pad. There are no pictures of naked women plastered on the walls, no signs of empty beer bottles scattered around, and the floor is actually clean.
“She had a class to go to, so I told her I’d watch you until she got back. She just left, so she won’t be back for a while, though. I hope you don’t mind staying here with me while she’s gone?” The sincerity is back in his voice, and when I meet his gaze, the same depth of emotion is there as well. He’s genuinely worried about me, and while I should feel great over this, it just makes me want to run. Speaking of running, what time is it anyway?
I look around for a clock, but the only one I see is the watch on his wrist. I could probably just ask him the time, but pulling at his arm so the watch is closer to my face, seems an appropriate avenue to go down. I should probably verify that I didn’t actually hit my head. My brain seems to be in shambles, making me act like a total fruitcake.
Too late to care now.
Oh my God, it’s already seven o’clock in the evening. Mom and Cass are probably scared to death right now. I need to call them before they send the police out searching for me. I wish I could say I was joking over that possibility, but I wouldn’t put it past Bruce.
I feel around in my jeans pocket, but come up empty-handed for my phone. I begin frantically searching the nearby floor for my bag. A moment later I notice Kyle standing in front of me holding my bag. I smile up at him as he hands it to me, and I begin rummaging through it; still no luck.
I’m beyond frustrated. I throw my bag, not caring where it lands, and caring even less when it hits the ground and the contents come cascading out like water over a fall. It deserved it. I don’t know why it did; it’s not as if it lost my phone on purpose, but hey, I’m mad and it’s the only thing tangible I have to be mad at. Only when I see what those contents consist of do I begin to care; pens, notebooks, flash drive, but also tampons and a random condom. I mentally slap my head—hard. I can’t believe that condom is in there.
When I started college, mom decided I should always have protection with me. Even though I told her adamantly that I wasn’t going to be in need of any for some time, she kept pushing the subject. After an awkward, embarrassing talk over my non-need for said condom, I thought she had let it go, apparently not. She had slipped it into my bag when I wasn’t looking. Some protection that would have provided if I had needed it, not knowing it was there. Peace of mind was all she was after, I guess; her parental duty marked off for that day.
I’m staring at it right now as if I’ve never seen one and have no idea where it came from, although, that’s partly true. I don’t necessarily know where it came from. That won’t help much right now, though, with the conundrum of figuring out how to be both nonchalant about it, but also not come off as if that’s just the last one from the whole box I normally carry and have already used.
Maybe I can play it off as it being one of his. Yeah, that’s a brilliant idea; it’s his, but just happened to fall out of my bag. Oh, this day just keeps getting better and better.
Like a blind fool, I can’t seem to take my eyes off it, staring at it as if hoping I’m not actually seeing it, that maybe it’s just some sort of mirage; or maybe it’s because I don’t want to see the expression on Kyle’s face. If I was the betting kind, I think I would have to go with that theory.
I put my big girl pants on for once since I’ve met him and, while still avoiding eye contact, what can I say, my big girl pants don’t fit that well, move myself to the pile on the floor. I begin the task of putting everything back into the bag; I might as well act as if this wasn’t the huge deal it has escalated to in my head.
He sits on the floor next to me and begins handing me my things, avoiding the tampons and having no chance with the condom; that was the first thing I shoved back into my bag, although why that took precedence over a tampon, I can’t say. I imagine that’s creeping him out more than a condom would have. Too late to care now, I isolated what I deemed the main problem and took care of it; to hell with any tampon unease he may be feeling right now.
After all contents of my traitorous bag are back in place, Kyle and I both stay on the floor, leaning against the sofa in silence. This isn’t bad, though; in fact it’s reassuring, calming, and much too comfortable.
I need to leave . . . now!
I push myself up to my feet, bringing my bag up with me. I’m not going to run away this time, but for so many different reasons I can’t linger here anymore. For one thing, I don’t know where my phone is, which leaves me unable to call home, I’m sure Kyle has a phone I could use, but that’s beside the point. This is a perfectly valid reason to have to bail, I mean, leave. For another actually valid reason, Kyle is comfortable in a way Rogan was comfort
able, and I just can’t handle that. Not now, not ever probably.
I do owe him something, though, some sort of explanation or at least gratitude for taking care of me. I clear my suddenly dry throat, wishing desperately for more water, and begin what I hope will be an acceptable way to end this night. “Look, Kyle, I appreciate your help today, but I have to leave, and I think it would be best if I stay away from you altogether. I’m sure this seems strange to you, but it’s just something I have to do, and I would appreciate it if you don’t ask why. I just can—“
“Who’s Rogan?” he asks so matter-of-factly that between his question and the sound of Rogan’s name being said aloud, the room, and my world, begin another ride on an out of control merry-go-round. I’m going to be sick.
“Oh my God, Jess, I’m so sorry.” He quickly apologizes after seeing my reaction. “I never should have asked; it’s just that you said his name a lot while you were out and I, well, I just was curious, but it isn’t my place.” He’s pacing the room, making the dizziness in my head so much worse the longer I watch him.
“Please, will you stop moving?” I beg as I fall onto the sofa.
He immediately freezes.
I force myself to hold it together, force myself to look at him, biting my lip so hard to stop the trembling, but instantly regret it when I see the pity in his eyes. I snap my head to my lap and the wringing hands resting there; my hands, the hands that belong to me; me, who has brought nothing but sorrow and pain to all those who know me, but I hate the pity. I’ve seen it too often; never did I expect to see it in him, though. I thought my life had changed and I was going to move on, finally, but I guess that was too much to ask for, too much to hope for.
I remind myself that I deserve this, every horrible dripping ounce of it. This is my punishment; I guess I just needed a reminder.
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