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Chapter Twenty Five
BRIGGS
The fire is out, andmy father is sitting across the kitchen table glaring at me. Angry concern I haven’t seen on his face for ages is the cause for my fidgeting fingers.
Xan bangs through the door and Dad glares harder. He’s not happy about our sleep over but right now there are far more important things to think about. Like the person who violently shifted from online harassment and prank phone calls to full blown stalker.
“The trees are clear. I found tracks out by the creek but in the rain, I couldn’t make out size through the mud. Went to the road. I’m guessing whoever did this parked on the highway and walked through the trail. So, it’s someone who knows your property. Someone who knows your trails.”
He plops down beside Dad and I feel like I’m being interrogated. Good cop bad cop over there with disappointed glares and deep wells of concern.
“Start talking, Brigitte.” Dad is sharp and I wince at his tone, but I don’t blame him.
I sigh and lace my fingers around my tea mug, the steam offering soothing peppermint to calm my mind.
“The real reason I agreed to come back to Raston is because someone was cyber stalking me.”
“I’d say they’re for real fucking stalking you now,” Xan spits and Dad elbows him.
“I have almost a million followers for my Wild and Free design. I sell exclusive custom sourced natural jewelry and am out of stock in under ten minutes every time I release a new line. A lot of people on the internet love me.” I pause to sip my tea. “A lot of people hate me. Mostly because half of the allure of my work is my devotion to anonymity. I never post my face, never talk about Millie, and never stay anywhere long enough for people to find me. They try though.”
“What do you mean they try?” Dad asks.
“There’s multiple Facebook groups dedicated to figuring out who I am. Most of their theories are completely impossible, and I used to join the groups as me to laugh at the absurdity of it. Most are harmless. Women just having fun and being nosy. Some of the groups are not so whimsical. They want to find me because they want me to know how much they hate me, my work, and my existence.
“It became overwhelming to monitor and moderate the comments and hate mail I get on my newsletter, so I hired a Virtual Assistant and it stopped for a while. Leslie is my first line of defense, deleting and blocking. I basically forgot about it. Until I started getting phone calls.”
“How did they get your number?”
“They couldn’t have. The calls were unrelated. From a man I went on a date with. I rejected him and he didn’t like that. I changed my number, twice. I talked to the police, but they couldn’t do anything because it wasn’t threatening. He was calling me and breathing heavy and hanging up. He’d call in the middle of the night. Over and over. It was affecting my work. I was more sensitive to the trolls online. I couldn’t source, I was becoming afraid. Then one night someone smashed my window while Millie and I were sleeping. I knew he found me. I knew it was him.”
I glance at Xan, seeing the understanding saturate him. When he scared me the other day. The day I got drunk and kissed him. This is the real story.
“I went to the police again. They took my statement and told me to come back if it happened again. There was nothing they could do. But now Millie was at risk. She was there, with me. Then the hospital called and told me you had been hit, broke your leg. Coming back here was the last thing I wanted but I traded in my motorhome for a different one. I drove here and disconnected from my business. My plan was the lay low here until you were better. Take time off even though my business is crumbling with me not producing or being online at all.
“I wanted to disappear for a bit and hoped it would blow over. He would forget about me.”
“He obviously didn’t. What’s his name?” Xan said, leaning over the table.
“Brigitte,” Dad says, completing their tag team of disappoint. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I honestly didn’t think it would get this far. It was prank phone calls, Dad. I get harassed all the time on the internet. Until the ditch thing, I didn’t think it was threat. Just a problem.”
They both look at me like I’m insane.
“Briggs, you’ve been jumpy since you got back,” Xan starts, and I jump up and slam my palms on the table.
“Of course, I’m jumpy. I brought my daughter back to this town thinking you didn’t want her. I had to take care of a father that I hadn’t spoken to in years. My business is falling apart. I’m being trolled on the internet by people who want to see me fail. Now I have someone after me. I’m fucking terrified. All I want to do is keep Millie safe. From everything.”
My voice trails off and I hang my head, leaning on the table like I have no more strength to hold myself up.
“Let us help you keep her safe,” Xan says putting a hand on mine.
Honestly it should be a no brainer. Of course, I should say yes. I should open my arms and accept their assistance, but I don’t trust them. Not fully.
As a mother, I believe that no one can protect Millie like I can. No one knows her like I do.
It all falls on me.
Everything is on me.
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