“Harrison Finch.”
Graham has his arms folded across his chest. There’s a smile curling his lips, and I want to punch him in his smug face. He thinks I’m going to come with him, but I’m not. No way. He can’t make me. Not while Harry is here.
“That was a beautiful kiss you gave my wife,” Graham continues. “Very passionate. I enjoyed watching that. Thank you.” He adds, “It’ll give you something to remember when you’re sitting in prison, Harry.”
I look up at Harry, who has turned pale. I try to reach for his hand, but he won’t take it.
“He’s not going to prison,” I speak up. “I came here willingly. And I want to go with him.”
Graham scoffs. “Right. I’m sure you do. But here’s the thing, Tess. It’s not up to you. You have severe cognitive deficits. I am your guardian. And Harry here is breaking the law. Aren’t you, Harry?”
“No, he’s not,” I shoot back. I look over at Harry, who still has not said a word. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”
“He did plenty wrong.” Graham bares his teeth like a feral animal. “First off, he cheated on you with your best friend—”
“That’s total bullshit!” Harry breaks his silence to shout. “You and Lucy set me up, you asshole! You made her believe
—”
“The truth,” Graham finishes. “And she doesn’t know the truth now either, does she?” He lifts an eyebrow. “Do you want to tell her, Harry, or should I?”
The sirens are getting louder. Harry looks like he’s going to be sick.
“It’s not what you think, Tess.” His brown eyes are darting around the parking lot. “I swear. I didn’t—”
“Tess, you have a restraining order against Mr. Finch here.” Graham folds his arms across his chest. “Because he wouldn’t leave you alone, even when we told him he was harassing you. He was putting all these crazy ideas in your head and taking advantage of the fact that you have memory problems. I had to go to court.” Graham flashes Harry a seething look. “And the court saw it my way.”
My jaw drops open. “Harry? Is that true?”
He opens his mouth, but before he can get out any words, a police car pulls into the McDonald’s parking lot. An officer comes out of the vehicle, and Graham waves him over. I can’t believe this is happening. I want to tell Harry to run for it, but it’s probably not a good idea.
The officer approaches Harry, a stern expression on his face. “Harrison Finch?”
Harry nods, his eyes on the ground.
“Mr. Finch, you’re under arrest for a violation of a restraining order.”
Harry doesn’t protest as the officer handcuffs him and leads him to his police car. Graham watches the whole thing with barely disguised glee. I can’t believe it. There was a restraining order against Harry. No wonder he didn’t want to come here and meet me. But he came anyway.
God, I don’t know what to think anymore.
“Good riddance,” Graham says to me as the police car speeds off to take Harry to jail. His eyes soften as he turns to face me. “I’m sorry he tricked you that way. I didn’t want you to know he’d been harassing you.”
“He wasn’t harassing me,” I mumble.
He shakes his head. “All you know is what he did today. I had to take him to court, Tess. He was stalking you. It was scary and very inappropriate. But now you’re safe.”
Except somehow, I don’t feel safe.
Graham holds out his hand and waggles his fingers. “Give me my keys.”
For a moment, I consider refusing. But what good would that do me? There’s no chance of me making a run for it to the car and taking off. He would catch me in half a second. So I fish the keys out of my pocket and hand them over to him.
“Where’s my car?” he asks. “I hope it’s still in one piece.
You weren’t a great driver, even before.”
I point to the far end of the parking lot. I tried to park in the corner so nobody would see it. An expensive car stands out like a sore thumb.
We trudge back to the car. Ziggy sees us when we’re about ten feet away and starts barking like crazy. Graham stops short and glares at me. “Are you serious, Tess? You put that mutt in my car? On my leather upholstery?”
“Yes.”
“Fine. You sit in the back with the dog. He better not chew up my car or I’m going to be really pissed.”
Ziggy growls at Graham when he gets into the car, but I stroke his fur until he calms down. As we start driving back home, he rests his head on my lap. He looks as dejected as I feel. I didn’t think I would ever be going back to that house. Certainly not within half an hour of leaving.
I had a chance to escape and I blew it.
“I know you’re feeling upset about this whole thing,” Graham tells me as he halts at a red light. “But try not to think about it.”
I grumble something under my breath.
“I’ll delete all the messages from him on your phone,” he continues, “and tomorrow it will be like it never happened. I’ll block the number. You’ll probably never see or hear from him again.”
I squeeze my knees with my fists. He’s right. All he has to do is delete those messages, and I won’t know they ever existed.
“And I’ll let you have your phone back,” he adds. “It’s good for you. And it helps me know exactly where you are. I never would have found you so quickly if you hadn’t brought it with you.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying not to cry. I don’t know what to think about what happened. Graham was telling the truth about the restraining order, considering Harry just got arrested. But I’m not sure what to believe. I don’t think Harry was using me or manipulating me. After all, I was the one who made him come out tonight.
When we get back home, Graham makes me put Ziggy out in the backyard. I don’t know if Ziggy is used to sleeping in the house, but he doesn’t seem to want to go out there. When I shut the door, he starts whimpering. It’s a nice night, so I don’t feel that bad about it, but I wonder what we do when it’s cold or raining. We don’t still make him sleep in the backyard when it rains, do we?
I wish I had left my phone behind before I went to McDonald’s. If I had, we would be on our way somewhere far away right now. Graham would probably still be working in his office, oblivious to the fact that I was even gone.
After I shut the back door, Graham digs out his keys to lock it. I’m now officially trapped in the house again. Just like I was when I woke up this morning. I have accomplished nothing, except to get Harry thrown in jail.
“I don’t know if I’m in the mood to go out to dinner anymore,” he says. “What do you feel like eating?”
My stomach turns at the thought of eating any food prepared by this man. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll make myself a sandwich or something.”
“I don’t mind making it for you.” “I said don’t worry about it.”
He hesitates by the refrigerator door. “There are some pills you’re supposed to take at night. To prevent seizures. I should…”
“Forget it.”
“A doctor prescribed these for you. I can show you the bottle…”
“I said forget it, Graham. I’m not taking anything you want to give me.”
He turns his blue eyes on me. “You still believe that asshole was trying to help you, don’t you?”
I don’t know what to say. The answer is yes, and that isn’t the answer he wants to hear.
“You caught him with another woman.” A muscle twitches under his eye. “Your best friend. He betrayed you in the worst possible way, and I was there for you when you were heartbroken. He blew it, and he despised you for refusing to take him back. And then you got in this accident, and here I am, doing everything I can to take care of you. But Harry…” He sucks in a breath. “He saw what happened to you, and he figured this was an opportunity to mess with you. To make you hate me.”
I just stand there, staring at him.
“I am so sick of this bullshit,” he growls.
With those words, he storms off. It’s a relief that he’s gone, and I take the opportunity to dig around in the refrigerator for some food. I find a loaf of bread and some cold cuts, and I make myself a quick sandwich. And I grab one of the glasses above the sink and pour myself some water.
Ziggy is barking his head off outside the door—I can’t believe our neighbors don’t complain. I wish I could let him inside. I’d rather sleep with my dog than with my husband. But I can’t open the door anymore—I don’t have the key. I just have to try to ignore him, even though every bark is a jab at my heart.
I’m about five bites into my sandwich when Graham returns to the kitchen. But this time, he’s holding a sheet of paper and a pen. He slams the paper down in front of me.
“We are going to nip this in the bud,” he says. “Once and for all.”
I look down at the piece of blank paper. “I don’t understand.”
He holds out the pen to me. “It’s time for you to write another letter to yourself. We took it too easy on Harry in the last letter. You need to let yourself know what a bad guy he is, and that you need to stay far away from him from now on.”
I remember reading that letter first thing this morning. I found it comforting because it was in my own handwriting. I didn’t know who I could trust, but I knew I could trust myself.
Now I have a bad feeling about how the letter came about.
“I’m not doing it,” I say.
“Yes,” Graham says. “You are. It’s for your own good.”
Ziggy’s barking has gotten louder. I push the piece of paper away and take another bite of my sandwich. “Forget it. Maybe you can lock me in this house but you can’t make me write a letter to myself.”
“You really don’t believe me, do you?” He adjusts his spectacles on his nose. “You saw the police take Harry away. And you still trust him over me?”
I lift my chin. “Yes. I absolutely do.”
Two spots of pink appear on Graham’s cheeks. “Well, that’s too damn bad. You’re writing the letter, anyway.”
“No. I won’t.” I take a sip of water, peering at him over the rim of my glass. “You can’t make me.”
“Can’t I?” There’s something in Graham’s voice that makes me feel uneasy. “Because I think I can.”
I stare at Graham, my heart pounding. Ziggy sounds almost hysterical outside the door. Graham turns around, walks to the back door, and slams on it with the palm of his hand, loud enough to make me jump. “Shut the fuck up, you goddamn stupid dog!”
I cringe, but it works. Ziggy’s barks subside back to a whimper. Graham turns around and strides back over to me.
“Here’s the thing, Tess. I have total control over every aspect of your life. If you don’t write the letter, first thing tomorrow, Ziggy and I are taking a little drive down to the local pound. The one where if you don’t get adopted in a week, then…”
The pieces of the sandwich in my stomach churn. I’m going to be sick. “You wouldn’t…”
“Oh, I definitely would.” He smiles at me. “And in the morning, you won’t even know Ziggy existed. Except he’ll remember you. He’ll remember you when he is in a cage, wondering where you are, why you let this happen to him. Maybe you’ll be his last thought when they give him the injection…”
I feel like I’m going to choke. I look into Graham’s eyes, and I realize he means it. He will absolutely do what he’s threatening.
“Fine,” I manage. “I’ll write the letter.”
He lifts his eyebrows. “Now was that so hard?” I glare at him.
He slides the paper toward me again. “I’ll make this easy for you, Tess. I’m going to tell you exactly what to say…”
