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He hung up and stuck the cell in his pocket. Anger played on his face when he turned on me. “You spoke. You said my name. What is this? Is it all a game?”
I opened my mouth to talk to him, but no words came out. Tears pricked my eyes because the terror that had allowed me to speak the warning was still there but the wall around by voice had rebuilt as strong as ever.
Wanting to explain, I pulled out my notebook. He pushed my hands down. “No more games. Just fucking talk to me.”
I jerked at his anger then jolted back out of his reach.
Not a game,I scribbled.Let me explain.
He crossed his arms, his feet planted like and immovable wall.
I scrolled through my phone to bring up an article about my parents.
These are my parents. They were murdered when I was 12 and the person was never caught. I saw it, but the man who did it didn’t know. I…since then, I don’t talk. Can’t. Not to people. I don’t know howI said your name. My therapists says I have a block because I had to be quiet and now I can’t—well, we’re working on it. I’ve been seeing her for a few years, and this was the first time.
Hudson stonily looked at my phone then glanced at the note I’d written, his cynical anger fading as he looked from the article to my words, then back. His lips parted on ragged breaths. He closed the distance between us, and pulled me into his arms, my phone and notebook still grasped in one of his hands.
“Baby, I’m so sorry. I promise you’re going to be safe. I’msosorry,” he repeated. “I can’t imagine.”
I shook my head, not wanting him to imagine it. The horror was more than I wanted anyone to endure, and I’d lived with it every day for ten years. Turning my head, I rested my ear over his heart and hugged close to him while we waited.
Taking deep breaths I breathed in his masculine smell, a mix of his personal smell and the remnants of the cologne he must have put on earlier today. Focusing on that, I tried to let it soothe me while I attempted to force away the terrifying memories that were never far from me.
It seemed like forever before flashing lights filled the lot as several cruisers pulled into the lot with sirens off. I turned in Hudson’s arms, readying myself to interact with them. I reached for the notebook he still held and shoved away my phone.
“You called about a break-in,” one of them say as he approached us.
“Yes, I called. It’s my girlfriend’s apartment and I was walking her up and noticed her door partly open. I watched her secure both the locks before we left.”
Girlfriend?
The officer, Latten according to his badge, looked at me.
“Anyone else have the key?”
I shook my head.
“Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to break in? Seen anything suspicious?”
I shook my head again.
“And your name?” he asked, starting into that part of the report while a few other officers went inside, apparently using the information Hudson had given dispatch.
“It’s Sparrow Rose,” Hudson told him.
The cop frowned at him then looked to me. “Miss…”
“She doesn’t speak,” Hudson told him. His eyes met mine. “Do you think it’s the person who…murdered…” He whispered the word, clearly not wanting to say it. “Your parents.”
The cop stiffened at that, but I shook my head.
That was in Chicago,I scribbled onto my notepad then showed him. Realizing the officer would need the info, I turned the paper toward him.
“We still need to take that into account,” he said. “Let’s go sit and we can get this all down.”
Six
Hudson
