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I do as I’m told. At the fiery pits of hell burning in his eyes, I shrink in on myself.
“I won’t reveal you’re Savannah Townsend, but come near Violet or my daughter again, and everyone in Maple Ridge will learn the truth about who you are.”
I nod, keeping my eyes on him, not daring to let them go to Violet. If I give him any reason to out me, it might result in the media tracking me down. And that—the chaos it could cause—might be all it takes for Craig and Grace to close the door on the possibility of my being in Amelia’s life again.
“I’m going to call in for a squad car,” he says. “Then I’m going to tell them someone broke into your home, searching for something, and roughed you up. The cop will take your statement. And so there’s no confusion, he’s a buddy of mine and will have no qualms about arresting you for attempted kidnapping. You and anyone else who was helping.”
His eyes give nothing away. I nod my understanding.
“Of course, nothing will come of the investigation.” He turns to Violet. “You’re to tell everyone you were visiting your family in Portland. Our wires got mixed, and I never got the message you left for me. You had no idea I thought you were kidnapped.”
She nods like a puppet whose strings are being yanked.
I don’t point out the holes in his story. Holes I’m sure he’ll skillfully deal with before he goes public with his lies.
He calls into the station about the break and enter and tells the dispatcher he will stay on the scene until Officer Dunbar arrives.
Bailey whimpers from her crate in the laundry room. I look up at Chief Wilson, silently pleading for him to let me get my dog.
“The dog stays where it is.” His tone is a stark wasteland that sends a chill through me.
It doesn’t take long for the other officer to show up. He doesn’t question anything his boss says. But why would he? It’s the same cop who approached Violet on the Fourth of July when I saw her in the park and she told me I was right about her husband.
He’s the one who has been stalking her when her husband can’t.
Instead of taking my statement, the chief of police tells the other officer and me how things went down. He’d been driving past with his wife and daughter, and I flagged him over. The tale he weaves sounds convincing enough to anyone who doesn’t know better.
Violet sits on a chair, trying to soothe her agitated daughter, who woke after Officer Dunbar arrived. Sophie’s holding the purple octopus with one hand. The other arm is clutching her stuffed lamb to her body.
I remain in the armchair, feet pulled onto the seat, arms hugging my bent knees, doing my best to keep my trembling under control.
I try slipping away to my happy place to escape this nightmare. But the doors to it have been bolted shut, forcing me to stay in the here and now.
After they’ve finished concocting the story and reminding me what’s at stake, they leave, taking Violet and Sophie with them. I try to catch Violet’s eye, but she’s staring at Sophie in her father’s arms, tears streaming down her cheeks. Sophie’s also crying, her little sobs breaking my heart.
Fragments of memories rise and haunt me. Of waking up on the floor. Of Amelia crying in her room. Of finding a gun and picking it up, scared Amelia would come out of her room and accidentally hurt herself with it.
Of being in a daze, unsure what was going on.
None of my memories tell me who killed my husband. None of them will help me save Violet and Sophie.
A new sob wracks my body.
Violet and Sophie. Their names repeat in my head like the rings on the water after a stone sinks beneath the surface. I’ve failed them. Failed them like I failed myself all those years ago. Like I failed Amelia.
Once again, the abuser has won.
52
Troy
August, Present Day
Maple Ridge
* * *
I enter the tent where the wedding reception is being held and scan the area. There’s no sign of Jess.
