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I ended the call. “Roger called the police.”
Both Brett and the cop were fighting back grins now. I wasn’t even going to look at the cop outside my window. The humiliation was enough.
“I heard.” Brett’s lips were twitching.
“We all heard.” The cop by Brett’s window placed his hand on the door. “Since everything seems okay, we’ll take off. You have a good rest of the evening, and please win on Sunday.”
“Yes, sir,” Brett responded, eyes on me.
The two cops left, and the air felt heavy. I wasn’t sure why.
“I’m sorry Roger called the police. He did it for me.”
“Who’s Roger?”
“Lo’s husband.”
“Ah. The other guy.”
I didn’t know what he was talking about. “It’s the fanatics,” I explained. “He was being careful, just in case we were someone trying to find out where I lived.”
His eyes flashed. “How often does that happen?”
My heart sank a little. “Not often, but it’s happened.”
His eyes went hard again before he softened them. “No one’s put it together that you’re living in their guesthouse?”
I shrugged. “It’s kinda hidden from the road. Trees block it from the other side too. And the chicken coop’s not far from it. It doesn’t look like a guesthouse by design. Howard put some stall doors on it. You know, to trick people. There are grain bins set in front filled with cement blocks.”
“You don’t use them for grain?”
“No. Raccoons will get into them. Or other animals.”
“Right.” He was back to trying to hide his smile. “All the animals around you.”
“It’s mostly the chicken coop, but I’d love it if they got more animals.”
“Yeah.” He said the word on a small sigh. “You’re there, hiding in plain sight. I don’t know if it’s genius or a stupid risk.”
I frowned. “I like the guesthouse. It was my idea.”
He sighed again, this one sounding more annoyed. “I’m sure it was.” He started the engine, and I couldn’t remember when he’d turned it off.
“Are you upset with me?”
His mouth tightened. “It doesn’t matter. Where am I going?”
“Hold up. You’re upset?” I turned to him, and my hands balled into fists, pressing down on my legs.
He put the truck back in park. “No. I’m annoyed that you have people who are interested in killing you, and it’s so normal to you that you’ve made up a nickname for them. And you’re staying in a guesthouse that’s designed to look like an animal shed to hide from these sick fucks. Who’s keeping you safe? Do you have a security system in place? Have you taken self-defense? Do you have a gun in your place?” His words came at me hard. “What I’m annoyed about is that some sick fuck could get curious, trek out here, find you, and who’s there to protect you?”
I wheeled backwards, pressing against the door. “Howard protects me.”
“Who the fuck is Howard?”
I winced. “He’s like my dad.”
“Great. How old is Howard? Does he have a gun? Does he have a security system in place? You’re in the middle of nowhere out here.”
