Never Let You Go(71)

“What if they can’t prove it was him? Will we have to stay Vancouver?” She’s getting more upset, her face red and splotchy, her hand wrapping around a strand of hair.

“I don’t know. If your father finds us at Jenny’s, we’ll have to go somewhere else.”

She sets her drawing to the side, tosses her pen on top as though she’s giving up. “He came into the coffee shop last night when I was there with Jared. He sat down with us.”

My eyes widen before I can stop them. That’s why she went straight to her room. I’m upset she didn’t tell me, but I don’t want to scold her. Not now.

“What did he say?”

“He was angry because I’ve been ignoring him. He followed me there, Mom.” She looks really scared. “I don’t know how to make him leave me alone.”

“That is exactly why we have to get out of Dogwood.”

“What about Jared?”

“You can call, Skype. Maybe he can come visit on the weekend, but I don’t know, honey. Your dad could use him to follow us.”

“He kept insisting he wouldn’t hurt Angus—and he sounded so convincing. It was like he even believed himself.” She leans toward me. “I don’t want to ever see him again.”

“You won’t. I’ll make sure of it.” I stand up from the bed. “Why don’t you shower, and I’ll drive you to school. I’ll talk to your principal and we’ll work it all out.”

“Can I at least tell Delaney and Jared where we’re going?”

“Tell them we have to leave, but don’t mention Vancouver.”

“Do you think we’ll be back for my birthday?”

“I hope so, baby.”

“This is so surreal.”

“I know, but it’s going to be okay. I promise.”

I pour myself another cup of coffee and listen to the water running in the shower. I wonder what my daughter is thinking. I can’t imagine what this must be like for her—scared of her father, unsure of her future. I promised her everything was going to be okay, but I don’t know how I’m going to deliver on that promise. I just have to get her away from here.



Greg has been outside for a long time. I check the bedroom, but he’s not there. I walk down the stairs, noticing a cold draft. The front door is open. “Greg?” I almost trip over him sitting on the front steps. He’s holding his hand to the side of his head, his fingers red with blood.

“Greg! What happened? Are you okay?”

He looks up at me, wincing. “I was shoveling the top of the driveway, bending over, you know? And I heard a vehicle coming up fast. I tried to move out of the way, but it hit me, in the shoulder—must have been the side mirror.” He takes his hand away, looks at the blood. “I smacked my head on a rock when I fell.”

“Come inside and let me look.” I help him to his feet and we slowly walk upstairs, where I sit him at the table, grab some ice from the freezer, and wrap it in a towel. He flinches as I gently press it to the wound. “I think you’re going to need stitches,” I say. “Did you see the car?”

“Sounded like a truck. By the time I looked up it was already around the corner.”

Sophie comes into the kitchen, dressed in school clothes and with her hair wet. She stops abruptly when she sees us. “What’s going on?”

“A truck hit Greg when he was shoveling the driveway, but it took off.”

“Do you think it was Andrew?” she says, and I nod.

“It could have been an accident,” Greg says. “It’s hard to see through the trees at the end of the property. I should have been wearing my reflective vest.”

I give him a look. “You have to talk to the police—and we’re taking you to the hospital.”

“I just need some Tylenol.” He stands up and walks toward the bathroom, but he looks unsteady, his face pale. I follow after him, Sophie close behind.

“You definitely need stitches,” I say. “I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

He’s looking in the mirror, gingerly touching the wound. “I can take my truck.”

“That’s crazy. You can’t drive right now.”

“You should let her drive you,” Sophie says. “At least that way blood will get all over our car, not your truck.”

“She has a point,” Greg says. He’s smiling, but he’s not meeting my eyes, and I wonder if it has something to do with our talk last night. I can’t do anything about that, but I’m getting Sophie out of this house and far away from Dogwood before Andrew can make his next move.





CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN


LINDSEY



On the way to the emergency room, I call Corporal Parker, who comes to the hospital right away. She speaks with Greg while Sophie and I go for coffee in the cafeteria, then comes down and meets us. I wait while she stirs sugar into her coffee. She licks the spoon with a little smile of satisfaction before setting it to the side. She catches my surprised expression.

“It’s an old habit,” she says. “My mother never let me have sweets, so I always licked her spoon when she wasn’t looking.” I smile out of politeness. I’m too anxious to enjoy any childhood stories. She straightens her body as though ready to get down to business.