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Officer Rankin. In his police uniform and bulletproof vest, smiling at her. There was a triumphant glint in his eye as if he’d known that he’d spooked her.
“I’m just here on some police business. I forgot that you lived here. Apartment 407, right?” he asked.
She nodded warily, her head spinning. Was she safe? She didn’tfeelsafe.
“So, I see you’re still doing that podcast huh?” he asked, sounding like a disappointed father. Again she nodded, not meeting his eyes. She was scared to walk to her apartment in case he tried to follow her inside. He shook his head ruefully.
“How about that, you interviewing Daphne St Clair. But I suppose it makes sense—you two havea lotin common,” Officer Rankin said with a laugh tinged with menace. “Although I sure wish you’d take a leaf out of her book and confess. The boys down at the station are still scratching their heads, wondering why she came forward, but I’m just glad some criminals have a little backbone.”
Ruth stood frozen to the spot.
“Well goodbye, Ruth. The Montgomerys send their regards. See you again soon,” he said, before turning back into the stairwell.
Ruth watched him go down the stairs and then ran to her apartment. From her window she saw him get into a police car and drive away. Officer Rankin had no reason to come to the fourth floor; hehadbeen following her. He was probably being paid a handsome salary by the Montgomerys to do it too. But to what end? To frighten her off the podcast or to get her thrown behind bars? There was no way to know.
Ruth had always felt safe when Jenn was living here, the apartment filled with the comforting noises ofMasterChefreruns and Jenn shuffling around in her slippers. But now the apartment was silent, and every noise reverberated through her body like a gunshot. At night she would lie in bed, adrenaline coursing through her veins, certain that this time, someone had really found her.
It happened. People got murdered in their apartments every day. Ruth knew that better than anyone.
That night, once she had finished packing, Ruth saw a call from her mom light up her phone. She couldn’t avoid talking to her any longer.
“Ruth? I’ve been calling for ages!”
“I know, Mom. I listened to your messages and read the texts. But like I said, I know Daphne killed him, I’m just trying to find proof.”
“Ruth, it doesn’t matter what you think this woman did. She is dangerous. This whole thing is dangerous! Just take any evidence you’ve found and—”
“And what? Turn it over to the cops? The only murder they’ve managed to solve in ages is one where the killer literally had to call them up! They won’t give us any justice.”
“Ruth, to hell with justice. To hell with the truth and solving mysteries. You think I give a rat’s ass?” Louise shouted. “I just want you safe.”
“Mom, it’s not going to happen,” Ruth snapped. “I’m doing this, whether you like it or not. But look, I’m going out of town, on a research trip to Vermont. So, stop worrying about me. Nobody gets hurt in Vermont!” Well, except for David, but Ruth didn’t need to mention that right now.
“I’m not giving up, Ruth. I’m not giving up on you,” her mom replied.
“It might be better if you did,” Ruth responded, but her mom had already hung up.
Ruth sighed and pressed her phone against her cheek, feeling the warm screen stick on her skin. She took a deep breath and stared at the shadows beyond the streetlamp outside. Was that a flicker of movement? It was hard to tell. One thing was certain. No matter what her mom wanted, Ruth knew that she wasn’t safe, not anymore.
BurntheBookBurnerz:
Okay, that last episode was fucking hard. I need some self-care after that.
StopDropAndTroll:
Snowflake. Crying those widdle baby tears.
CapoteParty:
Imagine having to live through that. Poor David. Poor kids. I hope people leave Diane and Rose alone now that Daphne’s confessed; they’ve already been through so much.
StopDropAndTroll:
Those twins are total Karens. Fuck ’em. And I doubt the kids even remember David.
ShockAndBlah:
Don’t be ridiculous, of course they would. He was their only real father figure.