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“Yeah,” I mutter. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
When we get to my place, I thank Dix for the ride and hurry inside. I drop my bag in the foyer and rush to the sofa where Sloan is sitting.
She has her hands folded in front of her and her entire body is rigid. Karla is in the armchair. Spencer is standing at the side ofthe room, checking out the windows again and again. None of them are talking and the tension in the room is palpable.
Sloan glances up at me and practically melts. “You’re here.”
I squeeze her hand. “I’m sorry it took so long.”
I look at Spencer. He points to the table. The letter is in one plastic evidence bag and the envelope is in another. They certainly look like they’re from the same asshole who’s sent every other letter she’s received.
“There haven’t been prints on any of the prior letters, but we’ll have these checked as well,” Spencer explains in a quiet murmur. “But I wanted you to see it first, see if any of the phrases or wording sounds like it could be from anyone you know.”
I nod and pick up the Ziploc bag to read the letter. My blood is boiling by the time I finish. But I keep a lid on the fury because I can’t make Sloan’s stress worse. She needs me to keep it together. She’s on edge enough without me adding to it.
“I don’t know who it is.” It’s longer than the others, more vicious, but the phrases don’t ring any unique bells. The more I reread it, the blurrier it gets.
I toss the letter back on the table then return to the couch. “You alright?” I clench her shoulders. The muscles there are roiling with tension.
She nods. “I’m fine.” But that isn’t true and we both know it. “Better now.” She half-smiles up at me, although it’s forced and fake. We both know that, too.
“I shouldn’t have left you here alone.”
She shakes her head. “I wasn’t alone. Karla was here. Spencer, too.”
Karla nods at me. “And you know I’m packing heat.” She pats a bulge in her handbag.
“Anyway, you have to do your job,” Sloan adds. “Sometimes, that means I have to be here while you’re not.” The lines on her face speak to her exhaustion.
“I don’t give a damn about that. Not compared to you.”
She swallows and squeezes my knee. “Thank you,” she rasps.
I smile at Karla who has motioned to the door to let me know she’s leaving. “Thanks for staying.”
“No problem. I can always use girl talk and desserts.” She grins and pats Sloan’s hand as she walks past us to the door. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”
“Goodnight.” I nod at Spencer. He can go, too.
When Sloan and I are alone, I just want to breathe her, hold her until her trembling stops. But after a half-hour when that doesn’t happen, I lift her into my arms and carry her up the stairs to my room. I don’t even bother changing; I just slide her onto the bed and crawl in beside her.
She needs to be held right now. I’m here to hold her.
For now, it’s enough.
33
BECK
My phone’s Google News alerts are going crazy.
“The Bruiser” on Baby Watch
Beck’s Baby on Board
No Plan B for Beckett Daniels—Baby Coming Soon
Sloan’s phone is lighting up at the same regular intervals as mine, and I am tempted to take it off the nightstand so she doesn’t see it as soon as she wakes up. I need a couple minutes to figure out how to deal with this.
