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I find the number of the Brewster Clinic and dial. Someone answers there. I assume they have someone on twenty-four hours a day.
“Hello, I’m looking for a patient, Liza Boyd.”
“Ms. Boyd is no longer a patient here, ma’am.”
“You mean she was released?”
“I’m afraid I can’t give out personal information.”
“Do you have contact information for her?” I ask.
“Ma’am that is all confidential. We take care to protect our—”
I disconnect, frustrated, then remember the other messages.
One more of those is disconnected right away, but the next one, it’s from Deirdre and it takes her minute a speak like she doesn’t realize it’s time to.
“Hey hun, I was hoping to catch you. I have something here for you. That man from the other day was back. Honestly, he was more than a little upset when he heard you weren’t here again. Left something for you. An envelope addressed strangely to L. B. W.” I can almost hear her shaking her head. “Just a sec, dear.” I hear her say something to someone and I assume it’s a customer. “Anyhow, I have to go but you just call me back and let me know if you want me to open the envelope and read it for you. I’ll talk to you soon, dear.”
I check the date of the message. It’s from yesterday. The one from Sean is from two days ago. Did he get pissed that I didn’t show up at his hotel room?
And what about his threat to share those videos with Hawk?
The final voicemail comes right after Deirdre’s and the time stamp tells me it’s from minutes after her call. It’s him again, but I knew it would be.
“You think you ever had a fucking choice? You don’t show up and I’m going to have to hurt the old lady after I send those videos to your boyfriend. You get one more chance, you little bitch.”
His voice is so full of loathing, I think he almost spits the words.
My heart pounds and I call Deirdre, but I get her voice mail right away. It’s the time difference. That’s all. Just the time difference.
“Deirdre, it’s me. Listen, I want you to stay home. Do not go back to the shop, understand? That man, he’s not my friend. Just stay home. And if you see him, call the police. God. I…please call me as soon as you get this. I’m on my way back.”
I get up, look around. I pick up my passport.
I need to go. I need to get back. If he hurts Deirdre because of me, I’ll never forgive myself.
I’m so distracted with shoving the bundle into my bag that I barely register the sound of James talking. I don’t see his toy train on the floor, either. I step right on it and let out a little scream as I go sprawling backward, all those pages flying from my hands, scattering all around me. I land right on my tailbone, catching myself on the heels of my hands as I watch the little train slide across the floor and crash against the far wall.
“Melissa!”
James comes running around the corner, a toy airplane in one hand, another train in the other.
I turn to him.
His little face is shocked, eyes filling up with tears.
I look around me at the papers all over and all I can think is he shouldn’t see those. Shouldn’t see the pictures. They would terrify him.
Tears start to fall from his eyes, and I sit up, wiping off my hands.
“It’s okay, James. I’m okay.” I get on my knees, pushing through the pain, and quickly gather everything up.
“I’m sorry, Melissa,” he says through his tears. “I’m sorry.”
I get up, go to him, the papers I’ve managed to collect in one hand as I hug him.
“Shh, it’s okay, sweetheart. I’m fine. See, look, nothing is broken,” I say, standing back, ignoring the throbbing in my tailbone.
He looks at me, drags his eyes to mine. Hawk’s eyes. He has Hawk’s eyes. It strikes me again and I think about Hawk and how he’s seen these photos, read these files.
“I’m in trouble,” James says, starting to cry again.
I bend down, hug him to me again. “No, no sweetheart. You’re not in trouble. It was an accident. I wasn’t watching where I was going. It wasn’t your fault.” I draw back, wipe away his tears. “And I’m not going to tell anyone,” I say, forcing a smile because I hear Alice calling for James. “Our secret, okay?”
He nods.
The kitchen door opens, and Alice comes out wiping her hands on her apron.
“What’s happened here?” she asks when she gets a look at us.
James looks at her and she looks at him and I get the feeling this isn’t the first time someone’s slipped on one of his toys.
“I tripped and fell,” I say. “I wasn’t paying attention and James was helping me pick up the things I dropped.”
