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And after Jess received the payment? I didn’t know how to bring up the truth without upsetting her, because then I’d have to admit I hadn’t been totally honest with her.
“So you’re going to keep lying to her? You lied about Bailey, telling her she was training Bailey for someone else when Bailey was hers from the get-go.”
My muscles tighten the way they did when I was a Marine and we were preparing to go into battle. “Your point being?”
“My point being, she wasn’t happy when she found out you lied about that. What’s gonna happen when she finds out you’ve been paying for her therapy?”
“She’s not going to.” The dark look I level at Zara says it all and then some. “Is she?”
“I won’t lie to her, Troy.”
“I’m not asking you to lie. I’m asking you to keep this to yourself.”
Zara grunts and crosses her arms tightly in front of her, her own battle pose. “That’s still lying.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m doing it for her own good.”
Zara mutters something I don’t fully catch beyond Idiot alpha men. “You’re playing with a grenade, Troy. And I’m sure you know the dangers of that.”
“This is different. No one’s getting hurt.”
She shakes her head, and I know she’s back to thinking Idiot alpha men again. “God, Troy. I hope you’re right. I really hope you’re right.”
38
Jessica
July, Present Day
Maple Ridge
* * *
“It’s the cops!” I tell Violet, my voice a hoarse whisper. I can’t see from where I’m standing at the bedroom window, but I’m positive that’s who rang my doorbell. My voice is low and cracked, my words squeezing past the rapidly beating heart jammed in my throat. “You and Sophie need to stay in the secret room until I tell you the coast is clear. But we should use a special code phrase. How about, ‘Monkeys eat peanut butter sandwiches’? Don’t open the door unless you hear me say that. Okay?”
Violet nods, blood drained from her face.
Grinning, Sophie pushes away from Violet, her legs wobbly on the mattress. “Key. Key. Key,” she says, possibly trying to imitate monkey. She loses her balance, lands on her butt, and lets out a disgruntled shriek.
No, no, no, no. I grab her floppy lamb, hoping it will keep her quiet, and hand it to her. That seems to be enough to distract her from screaming. I quickly help them into the hiding space and close the door behind them. I shut the closet door and hurry downstairs as the doorbell chimes again. Bailey comes with me.
I check through the peephole, praying it’s Delores and not a cop who’s ringing the doorbell. My prayer is not answered. It’s a cop, just not the same one I saw while biking home. He’s about Troy’s age, mid-thirties. The cop and my husband look nothing alike, but that doesn’t dampen the rush of fear assaulting me.
“I’m turning off the alarm,” I call out, my heartbeat not slowing the slightest, and turn to the code box on the wall. My hands shake as I punch in the numbers on it, and I accidentally hit five instead of six. Focus.
I get the code correct on the next attempt. “Sit,” I tell Bailey. She does as she’s told, and I unlock the door and open it. “S-sorry, I was in the washroom.” My hand tightens on the doorknob.
His gaze instantly moves to Bailey, and his eyes narrow marginally. “Get your dog away from the door.” The dropped-volume command in his tone sends another wave of fear clawing at my skin.
“Sh-she’s training to be my service dog. She needs to stay by my side.” I have no idea what the normal protocol is in situations like this, but I don’t want to be without her.
“Then she needs to be on a leash.”
Well, if you’d given me more notice…
“Okay, give me a second.” I close the door and contemplate leaving it shut.
I glance upstairs, silently pleading for Sophie not to shriek or for either her or Violet to make noise. So far, it’s quiet.
