Closely Guarded Secret (24 page)

Upstairs, as I get ready for bed, I notice I have a missed call but have no idea whose number it is. I dismiss it from my mind and lie in bed, thinking about these past few weeks and what a cyclone it’s been. This is my heart’s desire. I want to take this chance with Bryce. At the same time, I want to stay true to myself. I don’t want to have any regrets. The past few years have empowered me to take this step, to let go and move forward toward this positive experience. This is what I want.

I close my eyes and see his face: his blue eyes that hold the depths of the sea; his beautiful nose; his square, strong jaw; his mouth; his smile; his lips. Oh, those lips. Those wonderful, luscious, full lips encasing mine. That image brings me peace, comfort, and solace as I fall asleep. I know I can’t predict the future, but I can stop thinking the worst is going to happen.

S
teven’s engrossed in the newspaper, while I make some cereal.

“Want some?” I offer.

“No, I already ate,” he says, then puts the paper down and continues, “I forgot to tell you, but next week is when I’ll be in LA. I’m going to tell them this morning I can’t go.”

“Steven,” I look at him and he knows what I’m about to say.

“Don’t try to talk me out of it,” he says, holding up his hands.

“My mom will be here. These surgeries are done all the time. I’ll be fine.”

He looks hurt. “I need make sure you’ll be okay, that’s all.” The worry in his voice is evident but nothing I say will put his mind at ease.

“I will,” I say, trying to sound courageous. “So go on your business trip. You have Mom’s number. You can call or she’ll call you. Either way, just go.”

“Fine. But if something happens, I’ll never forgive you,” he warns, but I know it’s his defense mechanism.

“Steven, I’ll be alright. Do I need to call Sampson?” When he gets like this, Sampson’s the only one who can bring him back into focus.

“No. Anyway, I have to go so I won’t be late. It’s nasty out there, so please be careful.” His voice is calm and I know he’s moved away from the ledge of panic.

“I will.” I smile at him fondly. “Have a good day at work.”

“You too.” He makes a mad dash for his car, getting soaked in the process.

I finish my cereal, grab my things, and head toward the door, when my phone rings. It’s the same number as last night.

“Hello?”

“Hello. I am trying to reach Alixandra Quinn.”

“Who may I say is calling?”

“This is Detective Curtis Reed with the Harris County Sheriff’s office in Houston, Texas.”

My heart stops.

“Th . . . th . . . this is she,” I stumble over my words.

“Ms. Quinn, you’re a hard woman to track down. We’ve been trying to locate you for a month now.”

“Oh? A lot of things have changed over the past ten years. How may I help you, detective?”

“I’m calling about Thomas Bane.” My stomach churns upon hearing his name and I know I’m going to throw up. I try to remain calm and keep my nerves in check, but it doesn’t work.

“Could you hold for a moment, please?” I say, not giving him time to reply.

I toss my phone on the chair as I run to the kitchen. Grabbing the trashcan, I throw up. I feel smothered by the heaviness of the emotions now rushing at me like a raging flood from where they’ve been lying dormant, dammed up, for all of these years.

As I walk back toward the living room, I take deep breaths along the way. In the most natural voice I can muster I say, “Thank you for holding. You were saying?” My stomach is still queasy.

“Ms. Quinn, Thomas Bane was up for early parole and was released. Since there was no communication from you stating why he shouldn’t be, he was.” The hair on my neck prickles, my body tingles as goose bumps appear in their wake. My knees buckle and I sink to the floor.

“How long has he been out?” I try to keep a handle on my fear.

“A little over a month. He was released due to exemplary behavior. A model prisoner, or so they say.”

“So, why are you calling me?” My voice cracks as I ask the question.

“Like I said, it took us a while to track you down, Ms. Quinn.” He hesitates. “He hasn’t checked in with his parole officer for a month. He’s also managed to take off his ankle monitor. By the time the officers arrived, he was gone. A few weeks ago, his cellmate came forward with some disturbing information, which we take seriously.”

“What kind of information?” I ask, trying not to sound alarmed.

He hesitates again. “We have reason to believe he’s coming after you.”

A lump in my throat constricts my airway. I can’t breathe and put my head between my knees to keep from hyperventilating but I feel it building.

“Ms. Quinn? Are you there?”

“Yes,” I whisper, barely audible.

“We’re working with the FBI office in San Francisco. I’ve passed on your information to an Agent Mark Spencer, he’ll contact you.”

“Why is the FBI involved?” I ask. I want to believe this is all a dream and I’ll wake up soon but I know it’s not.

“Mr. Bane was implicated in a robbery here a couple of weeks ago. He’s committed another felony while still on parole here in Texas. Since we believe he’s already crossed state lines, the FBI’s involved. He’s made his intent clear that he’s coming after you.”

“I see.” I force myself off the floor, pacing like a caged animal, back and forth around the room.

“Ms. Quinn, my intent is not to scare you, but I urge you, don’t take this threat lightly and I hope you’ll cooperate fully with Agent Spencer. Bane went into great detail, which I don’t have the authority to share, with his cellmate.” I’m in utter disbelief at what I’m hearing. “As far as we know, he doesn’t know where you are. Make sure you’re aware of your surroundings at all times. Anything out of the ordinary, call the police immediately.”

“Okay.” The despair in my voice is clear.

“We’ll find him, Ms. Quinn. Remember, anything out of the ordinary.”

“I will,” I answer meekly.

“I’ll touch base with you soon. Is this the best number to reach you?”

“Y . . . yes,” I stutter.

“All right then. Take care. Goodbye, Ms. Quinn.”

“Goodbye, detective.” My arms clutch around my trembling body for protection as I melt to the floor in a fetal position.

Please god, no. Please don’t let this be happening. Long buried emotions hit me as tightness clinches my chest. A painful lump forms in my throat, as the heat behind my eyelids turn to heavy tears. Why is this happening now? I was letting go of my old fears and now this new terror comes along.

I can’t do this. Not again. I knew he’d get out one day. The fear of him coming after me never completely went away, just buried deep. I lie on the floor in my own despair. Images of that horrific night come rushing back, flooding my mind. All of the emotional and physical pain I suffered, was at the hands of Thomas Bane.

Sporadically placed street lamps provide the only light in the park. The smell of fresh cut grass invades my nostrils as we walk along the dimly lit walkway, small rocks and pinecones crunch under our feet. The wind picks up, blowing leaves across the ground into the air in a swirling dance. The pavilion’s old but will protect us from the approaching storm.

“Thomas, what’s the matter? Why are you acting this way?” I put my arms around his neck. He reaches up and grabs my wrist so hard I feel the bruises forming. “I love you so much. We can work this out. Don’t you want this baby?” He looks like I slapped him and takes a few steps back. His body tense, hands balled into fists, his eyes gleam with hatred.

Taking a menacing step toward me he asks, “You think I want to be with you? You think I want to be a father at eighteen?” His voice is eerily low, void of emotion.

“You said you loved me. If you give us a chance we can make it work.”

“Make it work,” he says weighing the words. It’s a statement, not a question. I’m frightened by the contorted look on his face, like he’s in severe pain. He continues walking until he’s in front of me. “No, Alixandra, we won’t. You and that baby are not gonna ruin my future. You sure as hell didn’t get the message when I never called back.” A flash of lightening illuminates the shadow of trees behind him, enhancing his sinister presence. I want out of here and away from him. He doesn’t want me. He doesn’t want our child.

I scream but a clash of thunder drowns me out. The pain from his fist as it connects with my face is excruciating. I fly backward and hear a thud as my head hits the concrete “Thomas,” I barely call out. My eyelids flutter open and closed.

There’s heaviness on my legs. I force my eyes open and focus on the person who I thought would never hurt me. Hurt the life growing inside me.

The blows, one after the other, are swift and painful as they connect with my ribs and abdomen. My survival instincts take over. I have to protect my baby. With renewed vigor, I will myself to fight him off. My body bucking wildly pushes him off balance and I pull one leg up, and with my entire strength ram my heel into his chest. I try to scramble away, but he grabs my ankles pulling me back. My shirt does nothing to protect my skin from being ripped by the concrete below.

He hovers over me as he raises his arm. Shiny metal flies toward my belly. Hot pain sears through me as his arm flay at me again and again. I put my hands up in defense and feel a slash across my palm. I’m pleading for him to stop. He’s trying to kill me. I see his arm moving back and forth but it no longer hurts. I’m numb. I stop fighting.

All movement stops. The heaviness on my legs is gone. My head lolls to the side and I see him running away. A door slams and gravel splatters as a car screeches away. Headlights shine on me. Oh god, he’s going to run over me.

A girl screams, “Oh my god, call 911. Call 911.”

I can’t focus. I think I see lights.

“You’re safe. We’re going to help you.”

I try to keep conscious but it’s hard to do.

“Stay with me, okay?”

Help me . . . my baby.

“Hold on. We’re at the ER.”

It hurts to breathe. Mama . . . Da . . .

“Stay with me. Don’t let go.”

I’m floating.

“ We’re losing her.”

My phone rings, snapping me out of my daymare and back to the present. It’s Jodi. I can’t talk to her now, so I let it go to voicemail. I can’t talk to anyone.

Detective Reed’s words echo in my ears and I bolt up. My shaking hands fumble as I check all the windows and doors, making sure they’re shut tight and locked, then close the blinds. I lean against the wall for support, but my legs are too heavy to hold me upright.

My phone rings again. It’s Bryce. Bryce. Oh, god. I can’t tell him about this. I can’t bring him into this fucked up world of mine, which has fallen from under my feet. My first instinct is to protect him from this, and at any cost. There’s only one-way: to end things between us. The thought makes me cry harder.

“No, no, no, no,” I scream at the top of lungs, pounding my fist into the hard surface of the floor.

Jodi and Bryce called several times. As I listen to the messages, Bryce sounds frantic and said he called my work. Shit. I know he’ll come here.

“Ali, I was so worried. I’m walking out the door on the way to your house.” I hear the relief in his voice. “With this weather . . .” he trails off. His confession makes me smile but sadness surrounds me.

“I slept through my alarm,” I say hoping he can’t tell I’ve been crying.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yes, I’m fine.” I put up a false front. “I’m leaving for work now,” I lie again. He won’t know if I’m there or not. I continue, “I’m sorry I worried you. I’ll call you later?”

“I need to see you tonight,” he says. I know I can’t see him right now and the thought breaks my heart. My face will show something’s wrong, and I’ll break down if he asks ask questions.

“Let me get to work and I’ll call you later?” I ask again.

“Okay, baby.”

We hang up, and I know my world will never be the same, which places a heaviness upon my heart.

Jodi’s going to be pissed or worried to death. “Hi Jodi. I’m sorry I haven’t been in. I woke up not feeling well, then went back to sleep and slept through my alarm,” I spit out before she has time to say anything.

“Thank goodness you’re all right. Bryce called here looking for you. Are you feeling better now?”

“Yes. I think I ate something which didn’t agree with me.”

“Go back to bed and don’t worry about coming in today. We have it covered. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Jodi. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say as I hang up.

I have to find a way to break the news to my mother and Steven, but I need to wrap my brain around it first. After crying myself into exhaustion, another horrific thought crosses my mind . . . those feelings I had of being followed, was it him? The hang up phone calls at work? I thought it could have been Mara, but now . . . oh my god. I don’t know what to think. Okay, okay. I’m freaking myself out and need to stop. There’s no proof he knows where I am. I have to get a handle on my fear. I won’t be afraid of him. Once was enough and at that thought, I get angry.

Ending my pity party of one, I draw from the strength I’ve learned through Martial Arts. I will not give him power over me anymore. Alone in the eerily quiet house, I dash upstairs and gather my things, so I can head out to my gym. Tae Kwon-do has taught me not only how to defend myself, but also how to commit myself to something and not quit. It has taught me confidence and control. Even though my confidence wavered earlier, I must always remember. Now’s the time I need these qualities the most. I can’t falter.

“Where are you, you bastard?” I whisper to myself. He’s out there somewhere and said he’s coming for me. Gone is the scared and timid teenager he once knew. He’ll meet the woman she became who won’t let him hurt her anymore.