Crunching back over the glass, I watched my neighbor leave and then run through the rain and across the lawn back to his house.
“Compose yourself,” I chided, tapping my hand on my thigh and debating the questionable decisions I’d made on the Mason Carter situation. “Get a grip and sort this shit out.”
Retrieving my cell and successfully joining the dots, I dialed Detective Kinross. I waited three rings before he picked up.
“Ms. Sinclair, is everything okay?” His voice was husky like I’d woken him from sleep.
“Mason was here.”
These three words got his attention. “You saw Mason Carter?”
“Yes, it’s storming out, and he was standing on my porch in the rain.”
“Was there an exchange?”
“If you call throwing a rock through the glass French doors an exchange, then yes.”
Kinross exhaled heavily. There was hurried movement on his end. “Shit!” He sounded angry. “And about our conversation earlier?” he asked.
I wanted to put everything in email, the memories too difficult to verbalize. But he expected immediate answers, and after what had just happened, it was time to reveal the truth.
Falling onto the chaise, I stared out into the darkness, the trees still swaying violently and scratching against the windows. For the next forty minutes, I told Detective Kinross about the time at the cabin. He asked a few questions when I informed him about the escalating situation at the Carter house. He wanted to know the name of the boyfriend, but the boys never mentioned his name. Failing to acknowledge his name was their way of dealing with their reality. He remained silent when I informed how Mason assaulted me that day. He cursed through the cell when I revealed how Mason had branded me with the tip of his knife.
“This changes everything, Gemma.”
It was the first time he had called by my given name. There was now a sense of familiarity between us.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”
“Why didn’t you? You placed yourself in danger by not saying anything.”
“It was a catch-22 situation, but now I see I had it all wrong. I thought if I kept quiet Mason would leave me alone. He’d see that I wasn’t a threat. But he wasn’t playing along because his intent was to always find and hurt me.”
“You don’t need to protect him, Gemma. You owe him nothing.”
“I don’t care about Mason, Detective Kinross. I care about Lucas. I don’t want anything happening to him.”
“Right now, my priority is you. What you’ve told me tonight makes our hunt for him all the more urgent.”
“I thought there was supposed to be a police drive-by?”
“There was,” he replied bitterly, apparently unimpressed with the Maine State Police. “Don’t worry, Gemma. I’ll have the whole station marking the perimeter by the end of this phone call.”
Chapter 19
By the time I’d crawled into bed I was hungry, tired and fed up. After the night’s horrific events, I was too sick in the gut to indulge in the Bolognese. Instead, it saw the inside of the garbage during my brief clean up in the dark. The power still hadn’t been restored, the whole street living in darkness with just the faint glow of candles shining through the windows. Having locked and triple checked the doors and windows and seeing the patrol car doing the rounds outside, I was satisfied, to a limited degree, that I could close my eyes and get some sleep.
What unease I did feel was placated by the large chef’s knife under my pillow. I wanted to protect myself in the event I woke to find Mason in my room once more. A part of me hoped he would resurface so we could put an end to the terrorizing. If he stopped for a moment and listened, perhaps he would back off and allow me to return to my life. The other part of me was having none of it. Reality told me Mason Carter was beyond reformation. He had chosen this path, and nothing was going to get in the way of his objective. To end me.
Sitting in bed, I unlocked my phone, a message from Peter waiting to be opened. I hadn’t had the chance to call him back. Opening the text, I read the four words it offered, and my heart plummeted.
Peter: We need to talk.
I cringed at the abruptness. I knew well enough what that meant. What I didn’t know was why, all of a sudden, he’d had a change of heart. Mentally and physically exhausted, I locked my cell, kept it close by my side, and stared at the black ceiling until my eyes closed and I slipped away in a dreamless nothingness.
~
I had arrived in Maine only a couple of days ago, albeit with a false sense of security. Now as I threw my overnight bag on the backseat of my car, I felt an overwhelming sense of relief to be leaving. My parents’ house was supposed to have been a sanctuary from those who threatened my life. Instead, I’d felt trapped with an even greater target on my back.
I approached my neighbor who was working industrially on mending the door. “Mr. Harper, I—”
“Gerald,” he gently reprimanded.
“Gerald, I can’t thank you enough for everything. I know my parents wouldn’t have been too impressed returning from their cruise to see their home vandalized.”
“I’ll be filing a report this morning with the department,” he said while polishing the glass pane.
“Sammy!” We both turned at the sound of Mrs. Harper’s voice. “Sammy! Where are you?” she called while scanning the yard.
“Who is she looking for?” I asked while shielding my eyes from the harsh morning sun.
“Sammy, the Maltese. Silly thing went missing last night. I think the storm scared him off.”
“I hope he hasn’t wandered far. Maybe check with the pound in case someone found him.”
“Will do, love. No choice but to find him. Glenys treats him like a human child. Eats at the dinner table, sleeps on the pillow. Even has a nightly shower with her. First time he’s ever run, though,” Gerald said, stacking his tools back in his toolbox.
There was no evidence to suggest it, so I didn’t. I didn’t even want to think about it. But that didn’t stop the sickening dread that took hold of my stomach, ruthlessly twisting and turning with the thought that maybe Mason had something to do with it.
“You all right, love?” Gerald asked, a frown marring his sweaty forehead.
“Yes,” I grimaced. “Anyway, thanks again.” I stepped forward embracing him in a friendly hug, which he uncomfortably returned with an awkward pat on the back.
“Safe trip back home and don’t leave it so long between visits.”
I nodded, though I doubted I would be returning anytime soon. I couldn’t involve anyone else in this drama.
“Bye, Mrs. Harper,” I called while taking to the porch steps. She returned my wave but was too distracted with finding Sammy.
Taking one last look at the house, I climbed into the front seat and started the engine. I had one final stop to make before I headed home. I prayed that at least would be drama-free.