The reborn, p.10
The Reborn, page 10
“So . . .” I said. “Your turn.”
“My turn?” She reached over and wiped Elizabeth’s face with a napkin, getting most of the chocolate ring around her lips. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, don’t you think it’s time you told me the truth?”
Her hand fell but she didn’t meet my eyes. She knew exactly what I meant. The truth we’d been dancing around since the moment she handed me that note. The big, fat multicolored elephant that was dancing circles around us and juggling knives.
“He didn’t care about . . .” Her voice dropped, choked. “Us.” Her eyes finally lifted to mine, heavy with emotion as she whispered. “I’ve had a hard enough time with the shame of what I did back then. I’m just not able to wrap my mind around . . .” Her words fell away as if it was too much.
“You don’t have to wrap your mind around anything or worry about it. That’s why I’m here,” I said, my voice low but firm. “Just give me the details and I’ll take care of it.”
Elizabeth, sensing her mother’s distress, grabbed for her hand and began to wiggle to be held. Olivia finished cleaning her up and lifted her from the chair. She faced me, her expression one of fierce maternal protection. Without words, it was clear she would give me what I needed, but that Elizabeth was to be spared.
I nodded my agreement as she turned and took her from the room. While they were gone, I went and grabbed my security folder, ready to take notes. The page where Elizabeth’s father’s information should be was frustratingly blank. That needed to change today.
Olivia reappeared, her face stoic and a bit paler as she met me on the couch. She curled herself around a pillow and started without preamble, as if she were ripping off the Band-Aid. “I met him in Italy. He was charming and larger than life. I really thought . . .” She stopped herself and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter what I thought. I was wrong. So fucking wrong,” she spat. “He wasn’t the man I thought he was, and he was willing to throw me away, throw our child away . . .” Tears filled her eyes and began to course down her cheeks. “I don’t think he’d expend an ounce of time or energy to come here and do these things.”
“How can you be so sure? He could’ve changed his mind.”
She scoffed. “No. The way we parted . . .” She shook her head with certainty. “He wouldn’t have changed his mind.”
I tried to bank my irritation at her lack of details. How did she expect me to help her? I gripped my pen so hard my knuckles ached. “What’s his name?”
“I don’t think—”
“Olivia. His name.”
“His name is Chris—” She was cut off by the ring of her cell phone on the coffee table in front of us.
I growled in frustration as she leaned over and picked it up to answer. As she spoke to whoever was on the line, I jotted down in my notes the name: Chris?
When I glanced up, her face was pale and panicked, her wide eyes on my face. Something instantly protective roared up inside my chest as I slammed the folder closed and slid it to the side.
“I see,” she murmured. “Okay. You’re there now?” She nodded, her free hand gripping the couch cushion with a death grip, her knuckles white. “Oh God.” This was whispered under her breath.
“Olivia,” I growled, the demand to know what the hell was happening clear in that one word.
“Yes, okay.” She squeezed her eyes closed and bowed her head. “I’ll be right there. Thank you, Officer.” She dropped the phone next to her without ending the call as she curled in on herself.
“Olivia,” I said again, automatically scooting toward her as she began to shake. “Tell me.”
“Why?” she cried, her face in her hands. “Why would someone do this to me?”
It took everything I had not to shake her for answers, but every cell in my body was vibrating with the violent need to act. To move. To protect. So I did the next best thing, the thing she seemed to need most in that moment. I took a breath and bent my body around hers, shielding her from whatever was making her feel this way.
After a moment, she turned and curled into my chest, fisting my shirt, her breath hot on my collarbone.
I rubbed her back gently and held her as tight as I dared as she trembled. “You’re safe with me,” I whispered. “Nobody is going to hurt you or Elizabeth as long as I’m here, I swear it.” I repeated that over and over until she seemed to hear me.
Her hands eventually relaxed against my chest. Her breathing evened.
“Tell me,” I repeated. “I’ll take care of it.”
She nodded, her cheek still pressed against my chest. She tried to pull away, but I held her firm, lying to myself that it was for her, when I was getting just as much out of holding her and giving her my strength. “That was the police,” she finally said, her voice exhausted. “They were responding to a call from the security company at the center where the dance studio is . . .”
Something in my gut automatically began to churn. I knew what she was going to say even before she said it, and an unreasonable anger began to boil deep in my veins.
“Someone got inside and vandalized Colomba, Justin.” Fresh tears quivered in her voice as I heard what this did to her spirit—her hard work, her passion being violated. “They need me to come down and look over the damage. See if anything is missing.”
I mentally kicked myself for not securing her workplace faster. Her home had to be the priority, but still. Damn it. “We can take my truck.”
“What about Elizabeth?”
“Is there someone who can watch her? Your parents or your brother and sister-in-law maybe?”
“I’m sure any of them would, but I don’t want to worry my family with this right now. At least until we know more.” She shook her head when I opened my mouth to argue. “I’ll call Sofia and see if she can babysit. She’s always happy to do it. If she’s busy, I’m sure Whitney will.”
“Whatever you need to do.” But if she thought I wasn’t going to be updating Camden, she was crazy.
Within the hour, she had Sofia over, who seemed a bit less skittish around me, but still clearly wondering who the hell I was. I’d hand it to Olivia, she kept our cover story brilliantly, even under the stressful circumstances.
Once we were in the truck and pulling away, I turned to her. “You okay?”
“Not really, but I’m hanging in there.” She glanced over. “Thanks for being here.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to say I was being paid to be there, but I bit it back. It felt callous in the moment, but more than that, being with her felt like so much more than a job, and that was the most dangerous part of the mission. So, instead, I said nothing and just nodded.
After a while, she said, “I don’t think Sofia is buying the story about you being my old college friend. Maybe we should tell her the truth too.”
“Bad idea.”
“What? Why?”
“We agreed the fewer people read in the better.” I shot her a glance. “Did you tell her about the studio?”
“No. I just told her we had plans I forgot about. Kept it vague.”
I nodded. “Good.” I signaled to turn onto the highway. “But if it makes you feel any better, I’ve been thinking on it, and I’m inclined to put her ex toward the bottom of the suspect list. For now anyway.”
“Really? Why?”
“No motive.”
She frowned. “No motive? What about screwing with Sofia and I’m just caught in the crosshairs?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t say I’m ruling that out; it just doesn’t make sense. My gut says this is all about you.”
She didn’t say anything, which told me whether she wanted to or not, she agreed.
We eventually pulled up to the dance studio, and I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but the absolute lack of action wasn’t it.
I scoured the well-lit parking lot as I made a circle, scoping everything out. No movement. Nothing. If it weren’t for the lone police cruiser parked in front of her dance studio, I would’ve thought she’d been tricked.
She was visibly tense as I parked in the main lot several feet diagonal from the front door and killed the engine.
I turned to her and waited until she looked over at me. “Stay with me the entire time until I can fully assess the situation.” It was not a request.
Her eyes widened. “You don’t think it’s safe in there?”
“I have no idea what’s in there. That’s why you’re by my side until I say otherwise. Got it?”
She swallowed, the gravity of the situation seeming to settle on her in a whole new way. “Justin . . .”
I opened my door and stepped out, double-checking my concealed weapon. “With me you’re safe.” Our eyes met. “Now let’s go. We don’t need to keep the officer waiting.”
She didn’t say another word as I helped her out of the truck and she stayed by my side as we walked over to the patrol car.
A tired-looking officer stepped out to greet us, his dark eyes sliding from her to me, then back to her. “You Mrs. Creed?”
“I’m Olivia Creed, yes. This is my studio.”
His gaze tracked back to me. “And you are?”
“With her,” I said. “Can you please provide Ms. Creed with your report?”
He scrutinized me closely for a moment before seeing he was clearly not getting more. “Of course.” He turned back to her. “As you know, we were dispatched when the folks at Nationwide Security called us. Apparently, the security officer saw something suspicious while he was making rounds . . .” He flipped to the notes in his report. “He said he saw some lights and movement inside that are never there this time of night, so he knocked on the door to investigate and make sure everything was alright and nobody needed assistance. He got no response, so he made his way to the back entrance, where he found the door ajar. He made entry to make sure no one needed aid. What he found upset him quite a bit so he called it in.” The officer’s gaze lifted to Olivia at that time.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I think it’s best if you see for yourself.”
She nodded and stepped forward, but I put out a hand to hold her back, causing a brow lift from the officer.
“Any sign of forced entry?”
At my question, his gaze narrowed. “You a cop?”
“Are you?” I shot back.
“Justin!” Olivia hissed as the officer’s cheeks grew ruddy and our eyes deadlocked.
“Because I’m not sure,” I ground out, ignoring her. “Seems to me you’re asking the victim of the crime to go tromp around in a crime scene without having properly worked it for potential evidence.” I folded my arms across my chest to hide my clenched fists. “Seems like policing 101 to me, but who am I?” I shot Olivia an angry glance. “What do you think? Should we ask your brother? Think Camden would approve of the Huntsville PD’s handling of this?” I snapped back to Barney Fife. “Because I sure as fuck don’t.”
If looks could kill, I would’ve been incinerated on the spot. But he stepped away from us and spoke into the radio on his shoulder, calling for backup and a crime scene unit, so I’d made my point.
Olivia snapped around at me. “Really?”
“What? All of that should’ve already been in the works when we arrived. He was just being lazy.”
We sat back in my truck and waited until the rest of them arrived and got to work, Olivia watching on dejectedly as they swarmed her beloved dance studio. At one point, she shot a text message to Sofia to check on Elizabeth, but mostly, she just watched as police officers moved in and out of her place of business.
I stepped out and made a quick call to my boss, Kade, to update him on this latest development.
“The police are still doing their thing, but it looks like the threat level is escalating quickly. Just wanted to let you know.”
“Thanks for the heads-up. Is there anything you need?”
“I think I’m good for now.”
“Good, good. But even though I trust that you’ve got this well in hand, I think it goes without saying that I need you to do whatever it takes on this one, Justin. Whatever it takes. You hear me?”
Camden Creed was a gold star client. Message received. “Yes, sir. It’s all under control.”
“Good to hear. You call me anytime if you need me.”
“Will do.”
I peeked into the cab to check on Olivia, who had her head back on the headrest with her eyes closed. I had no explanation for the protective feelings she stirred in me . . . or the other, more primal, feelings she brought alive in me that I seemed to have no control over. I just knew I had to find a way to get a handle on that and fast.
Turning away, my next call was to her brother, Camden. This news would likely piss him off, but I’d promised to keep him up to date, so I would do just that.
He was pissed, yes, but at himself. Because he threw me a sudden curveball when he told me we needed to meet—because he had a new, viable suspect that had nothing to do with Olivia, and everything to do with him.
Thirteen
Olivia
After what felt like hours of waiting and feeling totally out of control of my own life, Justin and I were finally allowed to go inside of Colomba. He spoke in hushed tones with the officers still milling by the door as I peered around, trying to get a clue as to what had happened to cause all the concern.
The front desk seemed in order, the stack of papers still neatly piled on the corner where I’d left them that evening. No broken glass, no upturned drawers. Nothing to make it look—
“Ma’am?”
“Yes?” I turned to the young officer with kind green eyes and ruddy cheeks, my gaze landing on the wall of photographs just beyond his shoulder. Several of them were of past dancers who had gone through my studio, the other teachers, our recitals, but there were also some professional shots of my time in the Houston Ballet.
“Oh God!” My mind froze with what I saw, scarcely able to comprehend the horror. My stomach seized up and I suddenly thought I might vomit. My hand flew to cover my mouth and I spun away as terrified tears flooded my eyes, but try as I might, I couldn’t block the images from my mind.
Every photo had been left intact, except for the ones of me. Every single picture of me had been violated in some way. My eyes blacked out, horns drawn on my head, the word WHORE scrawled across one. And the largest—my last and biggest part in Swan Lake as Odile the black swan—had been completely eviscerated with red marker, DIE BITCH written in bold letters across my face.
I startled when a hand settled gently on my lower back. “I’ve got you,” Justin murmured for my ears only. He waited until I met his fierce, icy gaze. “You hear me?”
Something warm and solid settled in my chest, reassured by his presence and his words, even in the midst of this crazy circumstance. “I hear you.”
He nodded, then he stayed so close to me I could feel his body heat as we made our way slowly through the studio, taking in the damage. It became clear pretty quickly that this wasn’t a robbery or random vandalism, though I could’ve guessed that the moment I saw the photos up front. But that was all confirmed after we bypassed a completely untouched studio and arrived at my office.
“Jesus H.,” Justin said under his breath as we stood in the doorway.
Here, the ugly words telling me to die and calling me a whore and worse were carved right into the sheetrock of my walls, every picture I had defaced.
I choked back an outraged cry as I realized it was not just photos of me, but of Lizzie, that had the eyes either blacked or crossed out. I spun around. “Justin!”
“I know. Check your security feed on the app on your phone. Do you remember how?”
I blinked at him, momentarily frozen, before I mentally shook myself into action. Security. My baby could be in danger. “Yes, yes.”
My hands were trembling as I pulled my cell phone out of my purse and fired up the security app. He had to take over at one point to help me maneuver through the different cameras as we checked on Sofia and Elizabeth and the entire property. Everything was good. They were safe. I took a breath, so grateful for him right then, even though so much of this had felt like an intrusion in my life. “Thank you.”
“Just doing my job.”
I blinked, feeling like I’d been slapped back to harsh reality. I wasn’t sure why his words stung so badly, so I shoved my reaction aside. It had been a crazy night, and I was probably overemotional. “Well, still. Peace of mind right now is priceless.”
He nodded, his gaze roaming around the room, scrutinizing everything, as if searching for some sort of invisible clue in the damage. “Does any of this feel familiar to you?”
“What?”
He tilted his head toward the ugly words. “Has anyone ever called you those things before?”
“I . . .” I thought back to all of the hateful, spiteful things Christoph had said to me in the heat of the moment when we parted ways. He’d been casually cruel, but nothing like this. “No,” I finally said. “It doesn’t feel familiar.”
“Okay. Well, you’ll need to cancel classes until this is cleaned up. I suggest telling folks as little as possible. Say you have some emergency plumbing repairs, and the studio is unable to be used for the time being.” He pulled out his phone when it buzzed from his pocket and punched out a return text before facing me again. “And we have plans to go meet your brother for breakfast.”
“My brother?”
“Yes. He has some information for me, and he wants to see you.”
I gaped. “You told him about this, didn’t you?”
“Of course I did. He’s paying the bill.”
I closed my eyes briefly, suddenly too tired to argue. Honestly, I could really use a Camden bear hug to make all of this feel better. “Fine.” I turned and strode out the door, unable to stand a moment longer in that room. Then I froze in the hallway as I caught sight of the back door. The one that they said had been ajar.
I spun around so fast that Justin nearly slammed into me. “I don’t remember setting the alarm.”
