Page 15 of You for Her (The Edge of Retaliation 2)
She knows better than that now.
“It was Tatum,” I tell her.
“It was?” she gasps. “Oh.”
I know she’s still disappointed about Tatum’s involvement in this. I know they talk more than I know. I know she’s confused and things are complicated. I feel for her, I really do. It sucks when someone you thought was good, lets you down.
“I don’t know what he was going to do, but he didn’t manage to get away. The cops took him. He won’t end up in serious trouble, but I just want them to know their little plan has a fucking big hole in it. Me being that big hole. They’re not going to torment me anymore.”
“Callie…”
“He deserved that, Jo. I don’t deserve them to hurt me any further.”
She exhales. “No, you don’t. What do you think they were going to do?”
“I don’t know, I’m not even sure I want to know. Probably another picture, or some horrible word, something to shake me up.”
Jo exhales. “I have to go, honey, they need me here. I’ll talk with you further when I get home.”
I hang up with her and am about to put my phone down when I see Tanner’s name flash across the screen. Well, isn’t that good timing?
“Hello,” I say, answering it, trying to keep my voice casual.
“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice husky. “How are you?”
You mean, has anything horrible happened to me yet? Have I found out someone tagged my car? He’s ringing to check on me, or check if I’m home yet, one or the other. I decide to play dumb. Really fucking dumb.
“I’m okay, a bit shaken up actually.”
“Why is that?” he asks, his voice suddenly curious.
“Well, I came home from my dinner out with Jo early because I was feeling unwell and the next thing I knew the cops were outside. Someone was trying to do something to my car, but they got whoever it was. It was scary. I didn’t even know anyone was around. Whoever has a problem with me is clearly not going to give up anytime soon.”
Tanner goes silent for a moment. “See who they got?”
“No,” I answer, “But it was scary, Tanner.”
More silence.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
He clears his throat. “Do you want me to come over? Check the place out? Make sure you’re safe.”
Over my dead body.
You liar.
“I’m certain we’re past that, don’t you? Considering our differences in opinion?”
He exhales. “Callie, listen…shit, I have to go.”
Of course he does.
I would bet Tatum is calling right now from the police station.
“Oh, okay,” I say, my voice sounding disappointed.
“We’ll talk, okay? We will. Bye.”
He hangs up, and I put the phone down, exhaling loudly.
So it begins.
It’s time to really start digging now.
It’s time to bring this little plan to a huge crashing halt.
6
“HI,” I SAY, STARING at the woman who is standing in the open doorway, staring at me.
She looks tired, her black locks tied up messily on her head, her grey eyes dull and exhausted. She’s wearing gardening clothes, and I’m guessing I caught her right before she was about to go and shower, judging by the towel hanging over her arm and the dirt coating her clothes. Does she know about any of this? Does she know who I am?
I can only hope the blonde wig I just paid way too much money for, and the floral sundress I would never ever wear, will throw her off in the small chance that she may have seen me before. I need to talk to Chase’s family, and I’ll do just about anything to get my answers, even if it means she recognizes me. She could have an essential clue that could push me in the right direction.
“Hi there,” she says, her voice scratchy. “Can I help you?”
“Oh, I hope so. I’m an old friend of Chase’s. We used to go to school together. I’ve only just come back to town and a friend of mine told me he still lived here. I couldn’t believe it! I thought for sure he would have moved on by now. Is he home?”
The woman’s face falls, it just drops. Like the very name makes her heart break just a little bit more. That upsets me. One thing I don’t like doing is upsetting people, especially people who have never done anything to me. “I’m afraid Chase doesn’t live here anymore. I haven’t seen him for six years.”
I blink.
Oh, this poor woman. She has no idea where her son is.
Which means she doesn’t know what happened, either.
I feel a little deflated, but I decide to keep asking questions anyway.
“Oh,” I say, my voice getting softer. “Did he move away?”
She smiles, a little broken. “After Celia died, he couldn’t handle living here. We had an argument and … he moved away. He calls every now and then, but I don’t see him. I don’t …”
