I assumed Baptiste would just drop me off and leave, but he stays by my side during the entire process. Walking me to reception. Sitting next to me in the waiting area. Showing me how good of a man he is. How much I’ve lost by messing up the best relationship of my life.
The officer shepherds us into a small room where he offers us coffee—although I’m not sure I’ll ever drink another drop of it after this morning—and lets me talk. I recount everything from the beginning—the first case, how I exposed Victor, the sentencing. And finally, the altercation at the charity gala and the threats that followed.
“You have to take this seriously,” Baptiste finally says, drilling the officer with a hard stare. He’s been shifting on his seat since I started. “He’s threatening to kill her. The guy is a maniac.”
I stiffen, shooting him a quick glare. I don’t need him to advocate for me. I’ve handled worse on my own.
The officer glances between us. “Wearetaking this seriously,” he says at last.
He addresses me again. “I’m going to file this as a report. That means everything you’ve told me today is officially on record.”
The tightness in my chest loosens a fraction.
“I’ll need copies of the messages, notes—anything he’s sent you,” he continues. “And your phone records. If he contacts you again, save everything you can.”
“But what about now?” Baptiste adds, knee bouncing under the table. “She’s not safe.”
I ball my fists on my lap.
There it is again. That edge in his voice. That urgency.
He broke up with me, made it very clear that we were done. So, why is he acting like this?
“Given his history and the nature of the threats,” the officer says, “I strongly recommend you request a temporary restraining order.”
Baptiste leans forward. “How does she do that?”
“You’ll need to visit the courthouse,” the officer explains. “A judge can issue a temporary order, sometimes the same day. Once it’s granted, we serve him. If he violates it, we can arrest him immediately.”
“So, until that happens, you’re just going to sit back and wait?” Baptiste adds, his volume rising a notch.
“We don’t have enough on him right now,” the officer says. “No proof the note came from him. As of this conversation, no actual crime has been committed.”
“Oh, so you’re waiting for him to kill her or send her to the hospital before you act?” Baptiste snaps, his muscles tensing. “Makes perfect sense.”
Seriously? I resist the urge to roll my eyes, ignoring the annoying flutter in my stomach. It’s not about me—it’s just who he is. Protecting people is his thing, as a defenseman. It doesn’t change anything. In fact, it’s really starting to piss me off.
“Sir,” the officer says with practiced calm, “our hands are tied. I will try to identify the owner of the phone number he’s been calling Ms. Donnelly from, but it’s likely a burner phone. As for the car that’s been following her, even if it belongs to him or one of his associates, it’s a free country. He can drive wherever he pleases. For now.” His eyes land on me again. “Once the restraining order is issued, we’ll be able to act if he comes near you. Which is why it’s so important that you request one.”
“Okay.” I nod. “I’ll go right now.”
“In the meantime,” he adds, “I’ll ask our patrols to swing by your address and workplace.”
“Thank you,” I say, glad that this meeting is over.
We exit the small interview room and head outside, which is like stepping straight into a furnace. Heat wells up against my skin, stealing the little air I have left.
“Well,” I say, stopping on the sidewalk. “I guess I’ll head to the courthouse for that restraining order. You’re free to go. No need to worry about me anymore.” My tone is sharp with the unfairness of it all, even though all I want is to collapse into his arms.
“I’ll drive you.”
“No, please,” I say, shaking my head. “I’d rather go alone. If this is really over between us, then you have to let me handle this by myself. I’m no longer your concern, isn’t that right?”
A hint of hope slips into my voice, thin and treacherous. And I hate that my heart immediately latches onto it, pounding harder, like maybe there is something left to save.
His shoulders drop a notch, the fight leaving him. That’s all the proof I need. I know he hasn’t reconsidered.
“You’re right,” he says quietly, not looking at me. “I’d better get going, then. Take care, Harper.”
