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My chest constricted.
I’d gone to the farm earlier to get what I would need. Vicky saw me, and I knew she was wondering what I was doing, but I lied saying that I was getting what I would need to stay at Brett’s for the duration. For lies, it was plausible and she hadn’t asked more questions after that, but when I drove away, she stood there, watching me the whole time.
I just hoped she hadn’t made a call to Brett, though he was at work. He’d gone to the stadium. He wouldn’t be able to leave any time soon. I should have another two hours before running into the risk of possibly our paths intersecting. That was just the possibility, if he left work early or something like that.
I needed to make plans.
I needed to send them down the wrong trail, and bought airline tickets to Jamaica. Then a one night stay at a resort, and another one night stay at a different resort. That should give me a few days to start.
Maybe I should’ve thought this far ahead before it got to this point, but I hadn’t. Before, any attempt to hurt me had only hurt me, not people around me. The men who tried to kidnap me, they hadn’t bothered with my loved ones. This was different. It was supposed to start and end with me, not Vicky or Howard or Lo or the girls. Not Roger.
I would not let this world touch them.
And Brett…
The cash I’d pulled out of my bank account was stuffed under my clothes, and I picked up my car keys. I’d have to ditch the vehicle at the airport, then try to see if I could pay someone to take me somewhere else. I’d need to pick up another car, but the more steps I could put between me and my next mode of transportation, the better.
This had always been in the back of my mind, the day when I might have to run because of the Midwest Butcher.
Bitter regret laced every step I took, and I flicked away the tears that were already spilling, but this needed to be done. If I left now, there was a chance everyone I loved would be left alone. And Brett, that was too new. He would be left alone.
God, please.
He’d been the universe’s present to me. I got weeks with him. I got that window of time, and I would hold onto these memories. They would keep me company, but it was time to go.
I stuffed down the pain, the regret, and I let the numbness back in.
I wouldn’t be able to do this if I wasn’t numb. If everything wasn’t blocked inside me.
I felt nothing. I couldn’t. If I did…and I was already faltering in my step.
If I let myself feel, then someone I loved would die. That’s what would happen.
The letter I left behind was a lie, telling him I was at the farm and would call when I was heading back. I hoped it’d give me another few hours before the questions started rolling in and the calls would start.
I picked up my bag and headed for the garage. Two steps away, and it was shoved open from the other side.
I braked, my heart leaping into my throat at the sight of a large and imposing body suddenly there. Then I heard Brett’s savage growl.
“Did you leave me a note, at least?”
I relaxed, knowing it was him, but then tensed all over again for another reason.
His face had been in the shadows. He took a step toward me, stalking me.
“Brett.” I began backing away, eyeing him. Wary.
His eyes flashed, taking in my movement. An ugly smirk came over his face. “Let me guess, it’s a fucking ‘Dear Brett’ letter?”
I kept backing up. “It’s for your safety. Vicky and Howard’s safety. Lo’s,” I choked out her name, but stopped because he was moving with me. He stalked me.
“Bullshit.” His head lowered as he drew closer until I came up against the kitchen counter. Deep anger rolled off him in waves, and it set me back. It was overwhelming. I was almost light-headed from the intensity of it, of him.
“You’re going to fucking run? What lies are in here?” He crossed the room in two steps and snatched up the letter, reading it over. As he did, he grew still. More still. More locked-down. Angrier. By the time he was done, his cold eyes sliced to me, piercing me, before he took in my bag. “Vicky called me. She said she thought you might do something like this.” He raised the letter back up, almost feral eyes glaring at me. “According to this, you’re going to the farm. According to Vicky, you were already at the farm. She said you went in, acted off, and squirreled away a giant bag.” His eyes fell to my bag. “Can’t be that bag. That one’s not big enough for all the shit she said you took from the farm. Where’s that bag, Billie? Hmm?” He was taking in the car keys that I now clenched in my fist. “I’m betting that bag is already in your car, in the trunk. All fucking ready for you to cut and run.”
His last words were an accusation, and they landed. They were dipped in poison, and I felt it start to spread inside me, but I accepted that. It was fitting. Poison from him, but the poison was really me. It was inside me. It was joining the poison that I already had inside me.
Didn’t he get that?
