Page 47 of Making Home with You (The Rockport Beach #3)

Finn

Even though taking this call is the last thing I want to be doing right now, given the circumstances, I can’t really ignore it.

“Finn?” comes a male voice.

“That’s what I said,” I bite out. “Who is this?”

“It’s, um…it’s Craig Robinson,” he says nervously.

I feel my fingers tighten around my phone as my heart starts to pound. What the fuck is he calling me for?

“What do you want?” I ask. “And how did you get this number?”

“I ah, I called the station,” he says. “They gave it to me.”

I don’t bother to hide the for fuck’s sake that falls from my mouth, mentally reminding myself to have words with my staff tomorrow for randomly giving my number out to people. Especially this guy.

“What do you want?” I repeat.

Sarah is still lying on the bed, but she’s propped up on her elbows now, watching me. I don’t walk out of the room, instead, switching my phone to speaker so she can hear what’s going on. I’m not hiding this anymore, not now that we’re past keeping shit from each other.

“It’s Carla’s ex-husband,” I whisper as Sarah sits up.

“I saw the article in the Boston Met,” the voice says, filling the room that just moments ago felt like a peaceful haven away from all of the shit we’re still dealing with. “The one where they interviewed Carla about what you’d supposedly done to her.”

My gaze locks with Sarah’s and straightaway I can tell from the look on her face that she knows about the article, that she’s read it too.

“Sorry,” she mouths, frowning a little.

I step forward, place my phone on the bed next to her before lifting her hand to my mouth and kissing her knuckles.

“What about it?” I ask, turning toward my phone. “It’s all bullshit anyway.”

“I know it is,” Craig says, his voice more confident now.

“What?”

“Carla has been obsessed with you forever,” he continues, shocking me. “All throughout the time we dated and even during our marriage. It’s part of the reason we broke up,” he says. “Well, that and a lot of other things,” he quickly adds as though he realizes how that sounded.

I take a deep breath. “Yeah I know about the weird obsession,” I say, shoving a hand through my hair. “Shit has been happening here,” I continue. “And the police actually raided her house. Found a lot of stuff.”

“Hmmm,” is all Craig says, as though he isn’t surprised by any of this.

“They can’t find her though,” I add. “No one has seen her for a few days.”

“Really?” he asks, a ruffling noise coming through the phone.

“You don’t know where she is?” I ask.

“No,” he says quickly. “I haven’t seen her since the divorce was finalized three years ago.”

“Shit,” I mutter. “Okay, well thanks for the call,” I add, ready to end this conversation.

Craig exhales now, as though he’s sorry for what he’s about to tell me.

“Look, Finn,” he says. “I should’ve told you stuff way back when I still lived in Rockport, when I was married to Carla,” he says.

“Things weren’t right, the way she acted around you, the way she constantly talked about you.

None of it was normal. After the divorce, I moved to Boston and tried to forget about her.

But then I saw the article yesterday. I’ve been away on business,” he adds, almost as an afterthought, as though he wants to explain why he’s only contacting me now.

I don’t say anything, just wait for him to continue as Sarah and I watch each other, still unsure as to why he’s called me.

“A part of me half expected her to hook up with you as soon as I was out of the picture.”

“That never happened,” I quickly say. “Carla and I have never been involved with each other, apart from that one night at the end of high school.”

“I know,” he says, as though to reassure me. “That’s not why I called.”

“Why did you then?” I ask, suddenly exhausted and frustrated.

“A Detective called me,” he says. “Wanted to speak to me about Carla, wanted to know if I’d seen her recently.”

“What did you tell him?” I quickly ask.

“I didn’t,” he says. “I actually haven’t called him back.”

“Why?”

Craig exhales. “Look Finn, I know you and I were never really friends, okay? But I don’t believe you did what Carla says you did.”

“I didn’t do anything to her,” I half shout, pissed that I should even have to defend myself about all of this.

“I know,” he continues. “That’s why I’m calling.

” He pauses, and I don’t say anything, still confused about all of this.

“Look,” he eventually says. “I just wanted to let you know that I believe you, that I believe you didn’t do what she said you did and that’s what I’ll be telling the detective when I call him back. ”

“You do? I, um…”

“I’m sorry it’s come to this,” he adds, his words coming out in a rush now, as though he just wants to get it all out. “I mean I should’ve told you years ago about her weird obsession, I just…” he pauses now, as though he isn’t sure how to say what he wants to say.

“It’s fine,” I say, exhaling hard, as Sarah stands and wraps an arm around my waist.

“Yeah, okay,” he says. “Anyway, I hope you find her, get everything sorted out.”

I nod, even though he can’t see me. “Thanks,” I say. “Look, I gotta go, I appreciate the call though.”

After we hang up, Sarah and I stand there looking at each other.

I know I should call Detective Greenwood and let him know that Craig has been in touch, but honestly, I’m not sure there’s much point.

He doesn’t know where Carla is and short of confirming this weird obsession she has, which is pretty much undisputable given everything they found in her house, I don’t think he can offer much else.

“You going to call him?” Sarah asks, reading my mind.

“Yeah,” I breathe out, reaching for my phone. Before I have a chance to call though, my phone rings again, Kelsey’s name flashing up on the screen.

“Kels, hey, everything alright?”

I hear her exhale down the phone, the noise in the background suggesting she’s in her car.

“Finn, I’m so sorry to do this,” she starts.

“But I’m halfway home and one of the guys has called to say there’s been a disturbance down by the docks.

I’m going to come back and take a look, but I wondered if you could…

” she trails off and I immediately know what she wants.

Ever since she got kidnapped by her stalker ex-boyfriend down at the docks, Kelsey has been reluctant to go down there alone, especially at night. I don’t blame her, that kind of shit is hard to get over.

“Kels, don’t worry about it,” I say. “Go home and I’ll take care of it.”

“You sure?” she asks, relieved. “I don’t want to trouble you.”

“Promise,” I say, chuckling. “Besides, I am the Chief around here remember? It’s kinda my job.”

Kelsey laughs a little, but I can tell she’s relieved. “Thank you, Finn, really.”

“It’s all good,” I tell her. “I’ll call you when it’s done, okay?”

I hear her exhale. “Thank you,” she says, gratefully. “And I’m sorry to disrupt your night.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I say, knowing that this night has been a bust from the get-go.

When I hang up, Sarah looks up at me, a confused look on her face.

“I need to go down to the docks and check something out for Kelsey,” I tell her. “I won’t be long, I promise.”

She smiles. “I’ll come with you.”

“No, it’s okay, stay here, I won’t be long.”

“Finn,” she says, grabbing my hand. “Let me come with you.”

Something in the way she says it has me pausing, remembering that she has been through her own shit tonight and the last thing she needs is me leaving her alone in this room while I go take care of something.

“Okay,” I concede, squeezing her hand in mine. “But stay with me the whole time.”

She grins, giving me a salute as she says, “Yes, boss.”

As we walk out of our room and down toward the back entrance of the inn, I actually tell Sarah about the boat I have.

I’m not sure why I’ve never mentioned it to her before, mostly because I never really take it out anymore, work and shit always just getting in the way.

Kelsey lets me keep it down at the docks though, near her dad’s old boat, just in case I ever feel like taking it out sometime.

“Maybe we could change that,” she says, as we step outside and head down toward the docks. “Go out together sometime?”

“Yeah,” I say, smiling at her. “Sounds like a plan.”

We head down to the docks and I immediately wish I’d brought a flashlight. The whole place is pitch black, creating an eerie feeling as even darker shadows cast by the boats makes it feel like something is hiding down here.

“Let’s go to my boat,” I say. “I need to grab a flashlight.”

I lead Sarah through the dozens of boats that are all pulled out of the water and in dry dock. The shed is maybe two thirds full still, only some owners having put their boats back in the water now that winter is on its way out.

Despite having not used my boat for years, I still maintain it and for the first time in what feels like forever, I can actually picture myself using it again. Especially now I have someone I want to share it with.

When we reach my boat at the end of the row, I notice the tarp has been disturbed, pulled aside as though someone has been onboard.

“Sarah,” I say, as I pull myself up onto the boat. “Wait here a sec,” I add, a bad feeling curling through me.

I hear her answer but I don’t stop moving, lowering myself onto the deck and pushing the tarp all the way to the side. I grab the flashlight I keep near the life jackets, the bright beam illuminating the deck when I click it on.

“Fuck’s sake,” I mutter when I take in the scene in front of me. It’s obvious someone has been on my boat, regularly by the looks of it, given the empty food containers, the coffee cups strewn all over the place.

“What is it?” I hear Sarah call up.

I look over the edge. “Someone’s been here,” I say. “I’m just gonna check down below. I won’t be long.”

I disappear below deck, to the small galley and eating area and the tiny bedroom that occupies most of the front half.

The whole place looks like it’s been trashed, there is shit everywhere.

When I step closer, cast the flashlight over table, that bad feeling curling through my gut only intensifies when I see what covers the surface.

“Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me,” I say as I pick up a photo.

I stare at the image of me and Sarah, walking out of the pub, laughing together and completely unaware of the fact that someone is taking a photo of us.

I feel my pulse ratchet up a notch as my blood curdles, anger now pulsing through my veins.

I know exactly who’s been on my fucking boat.

“Sarah,” I call up, suddenly wondering what the fuck has happened here tonight and more importantly, where the fuck Carla is.

“Sarah!” I repeat when I get no response.

My heart is pounding in my chest as I make my way back up to the deck. I pull out my phone, wishing to fuck I had thought to bring my gun. Scrolling through my contacts, I find Detective Greenwood’s number just as I come up top and see exactly why Sarah isn’t responding.

“Carla, what the fuck are you doing?” I shout, my heart going double time as I take in the sight in front of me.

Carla is standing opposite Sarah, a large knife in her hand as she stares at her, a wild look in her eyes.

She looks like she hasn’t showered in days, her hair hanging limp and greasy around her shoulders, her clothes all disheveled.

But it’s her eyes that get me, because they are wide and wild like she’s on edge or on something.

“Sarah,” I ask, my eyes flicking to her. “You okay?”

She nods without taking her eyes off Carla and I slide my phone into my pocket as I make my way toward the ladder.

“Carla,” I repeat. “Don’t do this,” I add, as I climb over the deck and down onto the docks. “This has nothing to do with Sarah, nothing at all.”

“This has everything to do with her,” Carla screams, never taking her eyes off Sarah as her voice echoes in the large shed.

I shake my head as I walk toward them. “No, it doesn’t,” I say as I stop beside Carla, my eyes on her now. “This is between you and me.”

Carla’s holding the knife at Sarah, she’s close, not so close that I’m not prepared to risk attempting to disarm her. As long as Sarah is safe, that’s all I care about.

“Carla,” I repeat. “Stop this. Give me the knife.”

But Carla ignores me, shaking her head once as she steps closer to Sarah, the knife now only inches from her throat.

I move forward, inching my feet closer to her and hoping like fuck that Greenwood can hear all of this through the phone in my pocket and is sending someone over here.

“Carla,” I try again. “Stop.”

“Stop what?” she shouts, her voice shrill.

“Stop loving you? Stop caring for you, caring about you? How can I do that…how?” Her voice cracks, the words coming out high and rushed like she’s barely aware of what she’s even saying.

It scares the shit out of me to see her like this.

To witness this strange obsession first hand. To know it really is a delusion.

“Please,” I say, hands out as I step toward her. “It doesn’t have to be like this.”

“Yes,” Carla says now, her voice strangely calm. “This is exactly how it has to be,” she adds as she lunges at Sarah with the knife.

“Fuck!” I scream as fear all but paralyzes me.