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ChapterThirty
Ariana tried to make sense of what Damon said. “You found Boone?”
Now he was speaking to someone on the phone.
He’d just pulled her from a dream about running from her long dead murderous kidnapper while escaping from a blazing fire. The fire aspect was new to her dreams.
It was pretty bad when life was barely better than her nightmares.
Damon turned to her. “Boone’s across the street.”
“You’re sure?”
“Not entirely, but someone is. I don’t see who else it would be.”
“The exterminator?”
“My bet’s on Boone,” Damon said and spoke into the phone again.
Ariana got out of bed and dug through the clothes Lia had given her. She found a hoodie to pull over the silk pajama set of Lia’s that she wore. Luckily they were almost the same size, though she’d have worn just about anything given that everything she owned was now ash.
She choked up at the thought. She was grateful that everything could be replaced, but that didn’t remove the fact that the fire was a massive violation.
Another trauma to add to the list.
Damon waved her out of the guest room.
She followed him, trying to push the thoughts from her mind.
The images wouldn’t leave.
Ari leaned against a wall and closed her eyes. Imagined her last therapist telling her to follow her moving fingers while talking about traumatic events. The EMDR treatment had helped remove the pain from the memories.
Until Rita disappeared.
Ariana let the memories flow, giving into the fear and anger. And not having a finger to follow, she moved her eyeballs back and forth, as if in therapy.
She opened her eyes. A wave of relief washed through her. Not as strongly as from a session with the actual professional, but much of the overpowering emotion was gone. Enough that she could move on. Focus on the moment.
Damon appeared at the top of the stairs. “I thought you were coming.”
“I’m going to get Lia,” she said. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”
He nodded and disappeared down the staircase.
She drew in a deep breath and held it. Then she raced to wake Lia, who flew out of bed, talking a mile a minute.
They hurried downstairs together. Both of their husbands were on their phones, looking out a window.
“What are we waiting for?” Lia demanded. “The four of us can take him.”
“The police are on their way,” Charles said.
“And they’re almost here,” Damon said. “They’ve been patrolling the area.”
Red and blue lights bounced through the glass as two cruisers turned down the street.
“I’m going outside,” Lia said, and opened the front door.
