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There’s another problem.
Ifhe was the one who took her from Crown Point, then he must’ve kept her off the grid. Bill already revealed that Henry was operating as such for six months prior. It wouldn’t be a stretch to assume he was doing so to prepare for Melody.
A phone call toShelbyat Wild Oak revealed some interesting information. Henry manufactured all of the deals between Wild Oak and Melody’s art. It was his bank account that collected the sums.
That pisses me off more than I can say.
But at least the payment for the bird went to a charity.
Nine months ago—almost ten, at this point—Melody or Henry withdrew most of the money from her accounts. I’m operating on the assumption that she got away from him.
But why didn’t she come to me?
For a myriad of reasons, I suppose. It could’ve even been this video dangling over her head like a guillotine. Because if shedidleave him, as I suspect she did, then he would’ve been outraged. He may have even tried to kill her, and he definitely would’ve threatened to ruin us. Me and her.
Henry: Yes.
I nod to myself. Of course he wants her back.
Me: You know where we’ll be.
Round two of the playoffs starts in Los Angeles. I have no doubt Henry Armstrong is just selfish enough to follow Melody’s movements through social media, and therefore knows she’s connected to me.
It isn’t the first time he’s heard my name. It’s pasted on the back of the shirt I put on her in the video, after all.
Henry: I know where you’ll be. But will she still be waiting when you get off the ice?
Henry: You can’t protect her around the clock.
I toss her phone on the coffee table and stand. When I go back to Melody’s room, she’s asleep. I wrap her wrists in fabric to save her skin from the bite of the metal. But that’s all.
There will be more to come in the morning.
48
MELODY
“Have I mentioned how much I hate you?” My voice is hoarse with thirst. It feels like I’ve screamed for an eternity, although I know I didn’t let any noise out during the night. Not when Jacob slipped in and put something around my wrists. Not when my nightmares reared out of nowhere and sank their claws into me.
He unlocks one of the cuffs, then the other. They stay wrapped around the post of the headboard and slide down, out of sight. I sit up carefully and pull the ties off. I drop them beside me and stand.
My legs wobble.
He’s right there, catching my elbow to steady me.
“Don’t.”
He kisses my temple.
I lock myself in the bathroom and take the world’s longest shower. My wrists aren’t even red, although my muscles ache from the tension I held through the night.
A tear slides down my cheek.
When I finally compose myself and turn off the water, I find the clothes I left on the counter gone. The only towel hanging on the rack is a small hand one.
And the door is unlocked.
I dry myself off and brush out my hair, squeezing the excess water.
