Page 46 of Hunted By Them

Beth: I have my first headliner in a few months. Want to come to Nashville and see what I’ve been up to?

Sage: Hell yes, count me in. I’m so excited!

Beth: Thanks, love.

Sage: I’d better get some sleep. I have to start cleaning up my apartment tomorrow.

Beth: Cleaning up? Why?

Sage: Oh shit, I almost forgot to mention it. Connor destroyed my apartment in a rage because I wouldn’t take him back.

Beth: HE WHAT? Are you fucking kidding me? I’m going to rip his balls off his body and make his mother eat them, cause why not? She’s the bitch who created him.

I laughed out loud until tears rolled down my cheeks and my stomach hurt.

Sage: I love you. Don’t worry, he’ll get what’s coming to him.

Beth: He better. I never liked him. Asswipe. You can do a million times better than that weasel.

Sage: I miss you.

Beth: I miss you, too.

Sage: Talk soon, we need to finalize the plans for me to come out there.

Beth: Can’t wait, bestie. Love you.

Sage: LV U 2

I quickly changed into the t-shirt and underwear that I’d purchased on my way to the hotel and climbed into bed. I turned on the television and set it on the nature channel, smirking when they showed a group of elk running up the side of a mountain.

The city hummed outside the window, but my body ached for something else. I closed my eyes and let sleep take me as I prayed my dreams would bring back the Buck, the Elk, and the Caribou.

SAGE

I woke up in the hotel with a headache that had nothing to do with the alcohol and everything to do with my ex. The coffee didn’t help either. Only one thought cut through the throbbing. Connor did this, and the cops didn’t give a shit. He was part of that old boys’ club. His father was friends with the mayor and a bunch of other rich people who paid to get out of trouble. I pictured them sitting around and laughing about how Connor showed me before they sipped brandy and smoked cigars, and I…I couldn’t let that happen.

Parking the car in the lot at the police station, I got out and marched to the door. The place smelled like burned coffee and laminated forms, not what I was expecting. I’d called ahead and was told to arrive for ten on the dot if I wanted to speak to Officer Grady, and there he was at the counter.

He seemed like a decent guy, but he wore a tired smile that said this conversation wouldn’t end the way anyone wanted. Not a good start.

“Ms. Harlow.” He gestured me toward a plastic chair in the empty waiting room. “I’m glad you called. I wanted to let you know that we have logged your report, and we’re increasing patrols in your area.”

“Patrols? I know who did it. I told you Connor Keating did this. Did you arrest him? At least speak to him?”

“Who?”

That was a bullshit question.

“You know who.” I leaned forward. “Connor Keating,” I repeated. “My ex-boyfriend. I gave you all of this information yesterday.”

Grady opened his little notebook and flipped through the pages. “Oh yes, I see it here. Another officer went to speak to him, but Connor claims he was at work and then went out to dinner. We don’t have sufficient evidence to press charges at this time.”

My laugh came out sharp. “What about the photo? My face was torn in half like he was leaving behind a calling card? He’s obsessed and sloppy.”

“A torn photo shows anger,” he said, mildly. “But not who tore it up. It could’ve been you for all we know. As for prints…if Mr. Keating had been in your apartment before, his fingerprints wouldn’t be dispositive. Shared items, shared surfaces.”

I stared at him. “You’re telling me he can rip up my home like a rabid raccoon, stalk me at my work, and your answer is, he might have touched things in the past?”