The Last Invitation (39)
A hiccup of air escaped her. She scrambled to sit up through the thumping mass of aches and the tightness clamping down on her chest. When she finally stopped shifting and crawling and doing all she could to make her body smaller, less of a target, she heard the quiet. Only her heavy breathing and silence.
Her gaze shot to the front door. Closed. Then to the back of the house. The French doors to the deck stood open.
Oh my God. Oh my God. She didn’t know if she said the words or just thought them. Tiny shards of glass from the shattered lamp covered her pants. She saw the ripped shade and a black mark along her white wall. She shoved the table off her as she fought to breathe through the pounding in her chest.
She realized she still had her phone. Her hand ached from her crushing hold around it. Blood ran down her arm, but she had no idea why.
Her body shook as she hit the SOS button.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Jessa
Jessa watched her life implode in real time. She mentally jumped back and forth between crying and throwing things. She’d slammed her laptop against the kitchen counter, welcoming the satisfying crack. Now it didn’t turn on.
On the second full day of hiding, she lost it. She’d spent every hour of every day secluded in Faith’s small apartment, obsessively reading news about the Bartholomews that framed her as an out-of-control, man-hating, incompetent fraud. She hadn’t answered her phone, but she did listen to messages, which consisted of misogynist screeds, seething with hate and talking about how she deserved to be raped and killed, and of reporters asking for quotes. Two people specifically asked about rumors of a “problem” in law school.
She deleted her social media accounts.
Reporters digging into her background blew through the last of her control. She grabbed her bag and a baseball cap and jumped on the bus. She needed to hoard all the money she had, so a taxi was out of the question. She picked the bus, thinking it might be easier to hide there than on the Metro.
She curled into her seat and stared at the floor. A change and fifteen minutes that felt like hours later, she stood outside the gate in front of Retta’s house. She leaned on the buzzer, but no one answered. She did it a second time, and a man appeared on the other side of the ornate metal bars. Broad shoulders and a familiar military buzz cut. The same man from the last time she was here.
“Judge Swain isn’t home. I’ll tell her you were here.” He turned back toward the house.
“No, please.” She reached out, but the gate stopped her from getting far. “I need to come in.”
“You can’t.”
“Trent, it’s fine. I’ll handle this.” Earl, Retta’s husband, patted the other man on the shoulder and stepped in front of Jessa. “What are you doing here?”
His voice sounded soft and soothing. No accusations or anger, but not exactly welcoming either. Jessa didn’t know why he was home in the middle of the day or what the magic words were to get him to open his home, but she tried anyway.
“I need to speak with Retta . . . I mean, the judge.” The pleading in her voice sounded thick and near tears. “Please.”
Earl stared at her for a few seconds without saying anything. When he finally spoke, he sounded firm and in control, every inch of the self-made millionaire he was. “I will not allow my family to be dragged down. Retta isn’t your shield or your punching bag, and I will do whatever it takes to make sure you understand that.”
“I just want to talk with her.”
His eyes narrowed. “Be very sure which side you’re on before you come inside.”
The words didn’t make a lot of sense. Jessa blamed the emotional whirlwind of the last few days. “I don’t understand.”
“You’re poison right now. Being seen with you could be a problem for her.”
Jessa’s body caved in on itself. Everything inside her shrank, and the few dribbles of self-esteem she’d managed to gather up and hold on to dropped away. “I get that, but—”
“Unless you’re ready to make a change.”
His words broke through her weepy desperation. She clung to the bars of the gate as reality set in. “You know about—”
He nodded. “I support Retta fully in all things.”
Jessa didn’t know what that entailed, but she got that he was offering her a chance not only to come into the house but to pick a different way forward, and she grabbed it. “I’m ready.”
Earl smiled. “Then come in.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Gabby
Hours later, Gabby sat on the edge of the emergency room bed at Sibley Memorial Hospital. She’d delivered Kennedy here. Breathed through terror and confusion, both of which she experienced now but in a different way. Still wild and out of control but now trembling and gasping at the thought of someone trying to hurt her. Having to deal with Detective Schone didn’t help. The woman showed up everywhere, including here.
Before the detective could get off another question, Liam shoved the curtain aside, rattling the hooks on the rod and pushing his way into the small area. “What the hell happened?”
Through all the emotional upheaval and dragging pain, seeing him still comforted her. She wanted to reach out but was convinced she’d lost that right.