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He shut his eyes at the memory of her. That was the biggest regret. If only he could see her one last time. He had wanted to text. Just saying he was leaving and thanking her for everything. Hoping she would talk to him again. Even if she was mad, it was better than her absence.
But the pain of rejection had scared him away. He had kept hoping. Going into town and lingering just to see her. Hoping she might bump into him and—
The knock on the door almost had him tripping over himself to get down the hall. He didn’t care what he looked like, only that she was here now and he could pick her up, wrap her in his arms, and press his mouth to hers in a hot kiss marking her as his.
Levi waited by the door, barking and walking back and forth in anticipation of who was on the other side. If Troy had been a four-legged animal, he would’ve been doing the same. God, he had missed her. He might fall on his knees right here and now and beg for forgiveness, asking her to stick with him while he was away, come visit every other month, and then move in together in the ranch house.
Troy wrapped his hand on the handle, threw the lock and ripped it open.
His smile faded to confusion, politeness, and then cool understanding as he processed what he saw on the porch looking back at him.
Two police officers stood at the door with paperwork in their hands.
“Mr. Troy Chapman, you’re under arrest.”
CHAPTER40
The news was all over the papers, TV, and social media the next day. An arrest had been made matching the description of the perpetrator.
Megan sat on her couch where he had sat just a couple of weeks earlier and watched, holding a pillow to her chest as the newscaster undid her world one sharp-tongued sentence at a time.
“A man from Goldvein was arrested in the recent attack at Dury Park. Troy Chapman, age thirty, was taken into custody by police last night for attacking his one-time girlfriend, Keira McKinney, while she was on a run.
“Police believe the suspect picked his target after seeing her at the grocery store. Chapman is son of Hank Chapman, who recently had a house fire on his property six weeks ago. His son, Troy, was visiting here from Ft. Campbell, Kentucky, where is he a non-commissioned officer in the US Army.”
Troy’s mugshot showed up, and at the sight of him, Megan’s stomach had done a belly flop into a pool of emotion. She hadn’t been prepared at first.
Earlier today, she had woken up like normal and flopped over on her bed to scroll through her phone before joining the land of the living. That’s when she had first seen the mugshot.
It was a blue background as was expected. He wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t frowning either. He looked terrible. Like he was completely bone-tired, but those brown eyes looked back at her from the screen, and her traitorous heart had started hammering in her chest. Once she had made sense of what she was reading, she had jumped up and scrambled to the couch, hungry for any and all information about what had happened.
That had been three hours ago.
This was the first rerun of the news cycle, but she couldn’t look away in case there was any new information.
The TV flashed to a clip of a man in a fitted gray suit with a purple pocket square that matched his tie and complemented his shirt. He sat in front of a fake plant in some cold office suite with a bookshelf behind him.
“Dr. David Lionel is here joining us.” The newscaster flashed back on screen in a red dress that matched her lipstick. “Dr. Lionel is a psychologist who treats posttraumatic stress disorder in the surrounding area. Dr. Lionel, thank you for your time.”
She sat back against the couch, feeling her shoulders fall from their position around her ears, filled with tension and anticipation. There was no new information, so they wanted to keep poking for a new angle to get airtime. Megan knew there was nothing but speculation, but didn’t dare look away in case she missed some detail or kernel of truth.
The TV flashed back to Dr. Lionel in his office. “We believe this attack was brought on by psychosis from PTSD. When we looked at all of the recent attacks, we can see that there is a pattern of those who work in high pressure jobs in security of some capacity. It is not uncommon for people in these jobs to develop PTSD due to the nature of their work. While it does require a medical diagnosis, it can be treated through a variety of options by a medical professional.”
“Are those treatments being offered to the other recent perpetrators in the similar attacks?”
“I can’t discuss details of individual cases, but once those suspects are in custody, additional resources become available to get them the help they need.”
The newscaster began to speak while a clip of people running in Dury Park ran in the corner of the screen. “Chapman has been charged with aggravated assault and robbery. Further charges may be coming. We will continue to update you as this story unfolds. Next, some local elementary students are getting a shock by going to a mining facility nearby—”
Megan’s phone buzzed again. It was Laura and Ash offering to come by. They had texted earlier when they had heard the news. Megan appreciated the offer of company, but honestly just wanted to sink farther into the couch. There were so many questions. She had so many feelings.
No wonder he had freaked out when he had seen the news reports. His reaction still struck her as odd, and she played it over in her mind again and again looking for answers she hadn’t seen. How could this be? Was this the same person who was so kind and gentle? It didn’t make sense.
Visions flooded through her mind of how he had held her. Kissed her. Cooked for her. Once he had arrived, he’d cleaned his dad’s house and cooked for him. He had told her how that day, they immediately went out to buy a new La-Z-Boy recliner to replace the one that had been lost in the fire. A new gift to replace the old. She could see Troy sitting there at the dining room table with Levi resting his head in Troy’s lap, looking up at him with a knowing smile.
None of it made any sense. He was kind. He was attentive. Hell, his truck was cleaner than hers. Megan racked her brain to try to reconcile what she had missed.
There were odd things, but nothing that made him seem dangerous. The nightmare, the locks, even—God help her—his aversion to commitment could all be explained. He’d had a lot of trauma in his life, so much pain, but never responded with hate.
