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Chapter Thirteen
V
The muffled crash caused every muscle in my body to tense, my gaze darting in the direction of the cellar’s locked door. What the hell was X doing down there? Whatever it was, it didn’t sound good.
The deputy looked to me with a slight frown, as he settled back in his seat after having used the bathroom. I’d kept an eye on him to make sure that was exactly where he’d been, worried he was using it as an excuse to poke around my house, but he’d gone straight there and back again, slamming the bathroom door behind him when he did. He’d heard the noise from the cellar, too, but didn’t know quite as obviously as I did about what the cause had been.
I forced an exasperated shake of my head, my nostrils flaring. “Damn raccoons keep getting in the trash.”
“Isn’t it a bit early in the day for raccoons?”
“Yeah, but they start it, and then the local stray cats and dogs get in. Should call animal control, really.”
“I think you have bigger problems to worry about,” he said.
“Yeah, you’re right.” I was relieved he seemed to accept my excuse, but I needed him out of the house. I had to find out what X had done to cause the crash. “Anyway, if there’s nothing else, Deputy,” I gave a big yawn, that started off fake and then morphed into the real thing, “I really need to get some sleep before my shift tonight.”
He realized he’d been excused and got back to his feet. “Yes, right. Well, if you need anything, Viola, or if you see anything or anyone suspicious, you know where to get hold of me.”
“Yes, of course, thank you.”
He was one of the last people I would ever call if I was in trouble, but he didn’t need to know that. In fact, I didn’t have anyone I would ever call. No one I truly trusted—not even my own sister. If she had a way of getting rid of me, I honestly thought she would take it at the first opportunity. The only reason she hadn’t up and left me and gone back to New York already was because the U.S. Marshal had told her they would be unable to protect her and that someone would be likely to shoot her if she did. It was fear for her own life that kept her with me, not any kind of love or loyalty.
The deputy took a final gulp of his coffee, while I stood by, anxiously willing him to leave with every fiber of my being. I had to clench my fists to stop myself from grabbing him and attempting to physically throw him out myself, and I bit the inside of my lip to stop myself from screaming, ‘get the fuck out!’ at him. At any moment, I expected another crash to sound from the other side of the cellar door, this one closer and far more aggressive. If X had gotten free, he’d be pretty pissed, and he had no idea an armed cop was on the other side of the door.
It occurred to me that I should be wanting the deputy to stay instead of leave. That, assuming he was innocent, he would be there to protect me, but I didn’t feel that way at all. If the cop shot X, I would never get any more information about the reason two different sets of men had been sent into my house when I was in Witness Protection, to kill me and do God only knew what to my sister. If I lacked knowledge, I lacked the power to protect us. I’d been hiding here for months, waiting for the day to arrive when I could finally put this mess behind me, when I could look my father in the eye and tell him how much I hated him for what he’d done, and how he’d go down for a long, long time. But now I thought the authorities were unable to protect me or Nickie. They clearly hadn’t been able to keep our location a secret, and if they moved us again, what was there to prevent the same thing from happening? Only the next time we might not get so lucky and I wouldn’t wake up in time to stop us being killed. The next time we might both end up dead.
No, I was starting to realize I couldn’t rely on anyone else. I never had been able to, and it seemed nothing had changed. I needed to be the one to keep Nickie and me safe, and if it meant finding out who had sent both sets of men to kill us, then I would, and I would take matters into my own hands.
There weren’t many benefits to being a young woman, but one of them was we were always underestimated. If I’d been born with a dick, I’d probably have already been killed.
Deputy Kier gave me a quizzical look over his shoulder as he left via my front door. I hoped I hadn’t acted too nuts and made him suspicious. But if he’d expected to find me dead, he’d already be wary about what had happened.
I was relieved to shut the door on him, but I didn’t have time to take a breath. I waited until his vehicle had started up and driven away, before hurrying back to the cellar door.
Before opening it, I reached up onto the shelves and took down one of the guns I had put there. I had a sickening feeling I would need to use it.
My heart pounded as I went back to the cellar door and placed the key in the lock. I turned it slowly, keeping the muzzle of the weapon pointed at the door. If he’d gotten free, I imagined he would wait until the moment the door was unlocked and barge through, catching me by surprise and knocking me backward.
But as I turned the lock, cautious, my mouth running dry and my heart palpitating, nothing happened. This did nothing to ease my anxiety, and instead conjured up all the other possibilities that might be waiting for me.
I’d left the light on, and so entered with my arms outstretched, pointing the weapon. I wasn’t inexperienced with a gun. The attack still didn’t come, and instead of warding it off, I found myself looking for him. The chair wasn’t in the same place as I’d left it, and my stomach lurched once more as I’d thought it had suddenly vanished, but then my eyes alighted on a mound near the old dresser on one side, the chair legs sticking up into the air, and it dawned on me what had happened.
He’d fallen over.
Feeling cocky again, I gave a laugh and started down the stairs toward him.
His growl came from beneath the chair. “Laughing at me is a bit cruel, don’t you think?”
I came to a stop beside him. “You came into my house to kill me, I’ve stabbed you, and you think the laughing is the cruel part?”
“Kicking a man when he’s down,” he grumbled.
“Are you requesting that I kick you now?”
“No. I need help up. My ankles twisted at funny angles when I fell. I think if I try to move like this, I’ll break them.”
I pursed my lips. “Maybe I should let you. It would prevent any ideas of you wanting to escape.”
