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“That’s one scenario we’re investigating.” The cop’s attention shifts back to me. “Now, will you explain why you’re so nervous?”
My throat tightens, blocking the words I don’t want to say.
“She was raped out east by someone pretending to be a cop.” Troy says it so smoothly, I almost believe him myself. He steps past the cop to place his free arm around me, and I sink into his comforting touch. “She has PTSD and can’t differentiate between a genuine cop in uniform and someone who is faking being one. To Jessica, you’re all the same.”
The cop looks at me for confirmation, and I nod, unable to do more than that. His expression softens. “Sorry you went through that.”
“Thank you.” The words push out in a dry croak.
“If you see Violet Wilson or her daughter, please contact nine-one-one.”
Both Troy and I tell him we will. The cop walks down the path to the sidewalk and moves on to the next house. He’s gone, but my body won’t stop shaking.
Troy rests his hand on the curve of my spine. “Let’s get you into the house.”
Panic resurges in me. No. No. No. The last thing I need is Troy coming inside. “I’ll be fine, Troy. I’m tired. I think I’ll just go to bed early.” I fake-yawn, cementing fiction to fact.
Something flickers on his face, but he smooths out his expression before I can get a firm grasp on it. “I thought you had plans tonight.”
“I do, b-but I’m going to cancel. Thank you for telling him what you did. About the cop.” Troy’s quick thinking saved me from having to create another lie. And what Troy said wasn’t completely off the mark. I was raped by a cop. I was just married to him at the time.
“You’re welcome. I brought you this.” He hands me the white box. “It’s your favorite.”
Guilt pummels my insides and my stomach churns at the lies I’m being forced to tell. To my friends. To Troy. To the people who are supposed to keep everyone safe.
“Thank you.” Smiling, I reach up and kiss him.
It was supposed to be a brief kiss. An I’ll-see-you-later kiss.
Troy has something else in mind. He deepens it, and every part of me tingles with need. I don’t want to stop kissing him. I want to crawl inside him. To feel safe. But as much as I want to drag him into the house and spend the evening wrapped in his arms, I can’t.
I pull away. “Bye.” I step inside the house and shut the door before he can say anything else.
Closing my eyes, I lean back against the wall and wait for my stomach to settle. The past few minutes play out in my mind, and my stomach churns again, only this time with the threat that I’m going to hurl.
I put the box on the hall table, race upstairs, and make it to the bathroom just in time. I heave into the toilet, my body shaking from the crash of adrenaline and all the lies burying me alive. Tears wet my face.
Once the heaving is finished, I stagger to my feet, splash cold water on my face, and brush my teeth. God, what am I doing?
I take several long, slow breaths, and once I’ve collected myself, I leave the bathroom and walk toward the guest bedroom.
I change my mind at the last second and make a quick detour to my room.
I remove the envelope from the wooden box hidden in my closet and pull out the photos of Amelia. The baby picture. The photo of when she was a toddler. The photo of when she was five years old and drawing a picture with crayons.
I trace her sweet face in each photo. “This is why I’m hiding them,” I whisper, the words barely more than the movement of my lips as I stare at the photos. “This is why I’m risking everything to save Violet and Sophie.”
Why I’m risking my freedom and the chance to see my daughter again. If Violet and Sophie are found here, I’ll be charged with aiding and abetting. Craig and Grace will definitely not let me see Amelia then. And even before that, the cops might scrutinize me since I know Violet, and eventually they’ll recognize me as Savannah. My past identity could be leaked to the public. And then how will people see me: as a victim, a survivor, or a dangerous ex-con?
But despite all I’m risking…I can’t let her husband win.
39
Jessica
July, Present Day
Maple Ridge
