Page 18

Chapter Seventeen

Things were finally back to normal. The project that my company had been working on was going to make the deadline, and we’d get our on-time bonus. I was already considering one of three different clients to take on, and I was now down to taking over-the-counter pain killers.

Michael had been back to work and was due home any time now, and Dad had already had his bowling buddies over this morning. I just wished I wasn’t walking around with a limp.

The door to my bedroom opened just as I had finished my call with Eddie and Vanessa. I looked up to see Mom with her gardening hat on.

“You ready?” she asked.

“More than. I need some vitamin D.” I smiled up at her.

She came into my room and handed me my sun hat. “I set up a chair so you can prune the roses while I plant pansies along the front hedge.”

“Sounds good,” I said as I got out of my chair. “You seem to be doing a lot better with the medicine that the new doctor put you on.”

“I am.” Mom nodded vigorously. “Thank you so much for getting me that appointment.”

“You’re welcome,” I said as I followed her out of my bedroom toward the back door.

“Oh, can you call Michael and have him drop by Draper’s Hardware and pick up a combination lock for the shed? Ours went missing the day you got bit.”

I frowned. “What do you mean it went missing? Didn’t you take it? It wasn’t on the shed when I went into it that afternoon.”

“Honey, you’re wrong. Of course it was. I always lock the shed. We have poisonous chemicals in the shed, I don’t want any of the neighborhood children to get in there. Not that I think they would, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“No, it wasn’t there, Mom.”

“Fallon, it was. Honey, your memory of that afternoon is really cloudy.”

“My memory was cloudy after I got bit. Trust me, I remember everything clearly before I got bit. I remember you setting out the lemonade. You asking for the geraniums to plant under the dogwood trees. You asking for the mulch and the trowel. And I distinctly remember the lock not being on the shed and how surprised I was.”

“Fallon, that’s just plain weird. Ask Michael if he took it.”

“Did he know the combination?”

“It hasn’t changed in fifteen years. I’m sure he did.”

I picked up my phone to call Michael. It went to voicemail, and I asked him if he had the lock, and if he didn’t, I asked him to buy one.

I didn’t waste any time after I got Fallon’s voicemail. I headed straight to the Onyx Security office. Simon was there and he looked up from a file that he was reading when I knocked on the doorjamb of his office.

“Hey, Michael,” he said as he closed the file. “Did you get another letter?”

“Something worse, and I don’t think I’m overreacting. I think Sid planted copperhead snakes in the Vickers’ shed.”

Simon got up from behind his desk and stepped to the front, then leaned back against it, folding his arms across his chest.

“How do you figure that?”

At least he didn’t immediately think I was crazy. That was a start.

“The combination lock for the shed was missing when Fallon went into the shed. I’ve been over there for years. That building was always locked. Always.”

“Damn, Michael. That would take some real effort. Possession of poisonous snakes is highly regulated. He’d have to find someone who sold exotic animals, get them, transport them, and release them into the shed. Seems more likely that the snakes just got into the shed somehow.”

“The shed isn’t wood, it’s totally manufactured, and Bob put it on a cement pad. It’s solid. There isn’t any way in but the door. As for transporting them, wouldn’t whoever sold them provide him with the container to transport?” I asked.

“You’re right,” Simon nodded. “How substantial was the lock?”

“He’d need bolt cutters to get it off.”

“You said the shed was manufactured. What’s it made out of?”

“My guess is galvanized steel. I’d need to ask Bob.”

“Let’s go take a look.”

We left the office and Simon followed me out to the Vickers’ house. I parked in the driveway and Simon parked out in the street. He followed me to the side of the house where the shed was. Once we knew what we were looking for, we could clearly see the scrapes in the metal where the bolt cutters had been used to cut the lock off.

“Oh my God. He did do this. He knows about Fallon,” I breathed out.

“Yeah,” Simon agreed. “But he didn’t give a shit who got hurt. It could have been her mom or dad just as easily as Fallon.”

“But he didn’t take credit for it,” I pointed out.

“My take is that he’s just wanting to rile you up. He wants you on your back foot so he can keep coming after you. If he knows who Fallon is and where she lives, he knows where you and your parents live.”

I nodded. “I want her staying at my house. I have the alarm, and I have Harley. I’m going to talk to Dad about not taking any more trips so he’s there with Mom all the time.”

“That sounds reasonable, but what are you going to do about your job?”

“I’m going to talk to the Captain about taking a leave of absence until this is over with.”

“Is that really feasible?” Simon asked as we walked to the front of the house.

“Yeah. Hell, I’ve got so much personal time off accrued, I could be gone with pay for damn near six months.”

Simon nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

Fallon looked at the notes in her hand. “Why didn’t you tell me about these before?”

“Because I thought I had Simon and Roan taking care of things. There was no reason to bring it up.”

She looked up at me, her hazel eyes glinting. “Michael, where are you and I going?” she asked as she threw the notes down on my coffee table.

I had been able to talk her into coming over to my house so we could discuss things. Instead of continuing to sit on my couch, she was now pacing my living room, limping back and forth.

“What are you talking about? You mean us? You know where we’re going. We’re trying to move forward. Start fresh.”

“That’s what I thought, too, but how can we do that when you’re lying to me? We’ve had enough lies in our past without you doing it now.”

“I’m not lying. And anyway, this doesn’t pertain to our relationship.”

She stormed over to where I was seated and leaned over me. She looked like a Valkyrie as she pointed her finger at me. “Are you trying to say that your biological father who killed your mother, who is out of prison and gunning for you, doesn’t pertain to me?” she shouted. “That’s a pretty big thing in your life. As a matter of fact, I’d say that’s the hugest thing you’ve got going on in your life right now, and you didn’t tell me about it.”

I stood up, and we were face-to-face. “The biggest deal in my life right now, is you. Getting a second chance with you fills my thoughts night and day. I was happy to ask for time off, since I need all my concentration on my job when I’m there, but right now I can’t give it because of all my feelings for you. Winning you back is all I think about.” My voice was hoarse.

“Well, you’re doing a piss poor job of it.” I watched in horror as her face crumpled. “Michael, don’t you understand? You still haven’t told me why you drove me away from you nine years ago. Even when we were together then, you never talked about the time before you were adopted. And now all of a sudden, you’re telling me that your biological dad was in prison for killing your mom and for some unknown reason he’s out and is out to get you, your parents, and me? How can you possibly think that we have any kind of foundation for us to be together?”

Tears were streaming down her face. I reached for her and she backed away, almost falling as he right leg gave out on her. I grabbed her, pulling her into my arms. I was wrecked by everything she’d just said; shattered at the thought that just when I thought I had her back in my world, I’d lost her.

Fallon’s body shuddered against me, her sobs shaking her body. I picked her up and sat us down on the couch. I cradled her on my lap, holding her close and once more praying to God that I wouldn’t lose her.

I came out of my trance and felt the warmth of Michael’s arms around me as I sat on his lap. Sheltered and safe.

“I have a story to tell you,” he whispered into my ear.

“Okay,” I murmured.

Michael started talking.

“My first memory is my mom yelling at me to hide. I know this wasn’t the first time this had happened because I recognized the sick feeling in my belly. I remember thinking the monster was back in the house.

“I couldn’t breathe right. My mom was crying, so her yells were hard to understand, but the way she pushed me under my bed was easy to comprehend. Then she was begging Sid not to hurt her. Sid was the name of the monster.”

I gripped Michael’s forearm, my nails biting into his skin.

“I heard the crack of a fist hitting flesh. It was so loud I jerked and hit my head on the bottom of the bed, but I didn’t make a sound.

“‘Where is he?’ the monster screamed. My mom said she didn’t know. I heard another loud sound, and my mom groaned. I knew I wasn’t supposed to move or make noise. Not when I was under the bed.

“‘Where is he?’ the monster kept screaming. My mom kept saying she didn’t know, and that was when she fell down beside the bed. Her face was turned to me, but it looked wrong. Her pretty silver eyes had puffs around them.”

I whimpered. Listening to what Michael was saying was like having razors slice through my skin. I motioned for him to lie down until we were facing each other on the couch.

“I crawled out from beneath the bed to get to her,” he went on.

I tightened my arms around him and whispered, “Oh no, Baby. How old were you?”

“Two or three. I’m not sure. When I got near my mom, the monster picked me up by my arm and it hurt real bad. I remember thinking he ripped my arm off.”

I squeezed him tighter.

“Mom yelled, ‘Sid, don’t hurt our baby.’ He yelled back, ‘There’s no baby. There’s just this useless piece of whiny shit.’

“Mom tried to get up, but he kicked her and she fell back on the floor. Then he dropped me beside her and kicked me in the stomach. I threw up. He bent down and wiped my face in my puke. I must have passed out, because that’s it. That’s all I remember.”

Michael stopped talking. As we lay side-by-side on the sofa, I rocked him. Rocked the little boy who had suffered such a brutal past.

“So, there it is, Fallon. My first memory. That’s why I never shared.”

This time I didn’t cry, but I so wished Michael would cry. He needed to for that little boy.

“How old were you when you were taken away from them?”

“Five. It was the night I watched my dad murder my mother.”