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“Did you at least get the letter that was sent out?” Trevor asks.
“What letter?” I bark.
“The Court of Appeals sent one out the day the conviction was overturned.”
I bite back a curse. “I haven’t seen one, but that doesn’t mean Cat didn’t come across it first.”
The thought of Cat seeing that letter when I wasn’t there sends a murderous rage through me. Not that she doesn’t have the right to know that one of her attackers was released from prison. However, I would have preferred to tell her myself. If she has seen the letter, she hasn’t mentioned it. Which isn’t surprising, since Cat tends to repress anything to do with that night.
“I’m sorry about this, Hunter. Please let me know if there is anything the department can do. Rest assured, I plan to find out why you weren’t notified.”
“Yeah,” is all I grunt before I smash the End Call button.
My phone skitters across the desk when I angrily toss it down.
“What’s going on?” Silas asks, catching my phone before it can slide off the edge of the desk.
“Henry Stephens was released from prison two days ago.”
His relaxed posture stiffens. “What the fuck?”
I nod grimly. “Fucking Trevor was supposed to call me, but there was some fuck up and the call never came.”
“How in the hell did he manage to get out?”
“A technicality.” Anger makes my voice come out a deep growl. “Apparently, there was a discrepancy with his DNA results found at the scene.”
“Shit,” Silas mutters.
“Trevor claims Henry left town and isn’t expected to return.” Now that Henry’s been released, he’s within my grasp. “I want the bastard found and brought to me.”
“I’ll get a couple of guys on it. Are you heading home?” he asks.
“Yes. I want to check on Cat.” I snatch up my phone and start scrolling through names, looking for a particular one. “I’m calling Mathias and having him put a couple guys on Cat. I don’t think Henry is smart enough to stay the fuck away. Especially with Whisper catching wind I’m onto him.”
“Good idea.” He gets up from his seat. “How’s Cat doing?”
“She was fine when I left this morning. What happened last night really shook her, but I think she was more embarrassed than anything when I told her it was only the neighbor she saw.”
If Cat found and read the letter with the news about Henry, it would explain her extreme reaction to seeing a shadow in our backyard last night. It’s not the first time she’s reacted in such a way. There have been other instances where she thought she saw something that wasn’t there.
PTSD is a vicious beast that Cat will always have to face.
The safe room in our basement took three months to construct, and it only added a small sense of security once it was completed. There is nothing that can totally remove Cat’s fear of being attacked again. Just as nothing can take away my own fear of something happening to her.
The men who broke into our home and terrorized my family were caught and sentenced to prison for seventy years. However, the crime wasn’t random. My children didn’t die and my wife wasn’t brutalized because the sick bastards happened on our house by accident and decided to have some twisted fun.
My family was specifically targeted, and no matter how much the criminals were interrogated, the person who ordered it was never found. They only gave a single name. Whisper. According to them, Whisper always contacted them by phone with an untraceable number. There’s no way to verify whether their claims are true.
Now one of the men is walking the fucking streets.
After calling Mathias and having a couple of his men shadow Cat, I slam through the back door of Slate. I climb behind the wheel of my SUV and take off, headed for home. As I navigate the busy streets, my body is still vibrating with rage. Knowing Henry Stephens has been free for two days without my knowledge has my fists strangling the steering wheel, imagining it’s his fucking neck.
By the time I pull into the driveway, I’ve calmed down enough to walk into the house without letting Cat know something’s wrong. She must already know. The letter would have been addressed to both of us. The return address on the top left corner would have prompted her to open it. She would have opened it, read it, and then hid it. Not to keep the news from me, but to prevent herself from seeing it again. Cat’s mind can’t handle anything that reminds her of that night. That’s why all of our family photos are kept in a box in the closet. It’s also why her parents take down picture frames of our kids when we visit them. I hate that we can’t display the memories of our beautiful family, but I won’t let what we once had destroy Cat’s mind. My memories of them will forever remain in my head, and that is how I cherish them. They also live on in Cat and me.
I hear music playing when I walk into the house and reset the alarm. Despite the bad news I received today, a smile tugs at my lips. Following the soft beat of the music, I find Cat in the kitchen. Standing at the counter, she smashes dough with her hands. Her hips sway and her head bobs up and down as Bon Jovi plays on her phone. Bon Jovi has been her favorite band since she was a teenager.
I let all thoughts of Henry drift from my mind as I walk up behind her. Her lips tip up when she turns her head a fraction to the side, sensing me before I reach her. Wrapping my arms around her waist, I press my chest against her back, placing a kiss on the soft column of her neck.
