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Chapter 15
I’m half asleep when I hear a lullaby coming over the baby monitor. I wake up with a start and check the clock. It’s 10:43 PM. It must be Chase singing to CJ. I didn’t even hear our son wake. I lie in bed looking at the ceiling, waiting for Chase to finish.
“Was he crying?” I ask when Chase appears in the bedroom. “I didn’t even hear him.”
“No. I wanted to see him, and when I touched him, he woke up.”
“I heard you singing.”
“I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I like it,” I reply softly. “It’s sweet that you sing to CJ. How was work?”
“Busy. A lot of sports injuries today. I didn’t get a twenty-minute nap, and I’m exhausted.”
“Come to bed. I need to tell you something.”
Chase strips off his scrubs and slides into bed next to me. “Now, what do you need to tell me?”
“It’s probably nothing, but I keep seeing this man.”
Chase bolts upright in bed and reaches over to turn on the light, which causes me to squint.
“What, man?” His voice is serious.
“I’ve seen him a few times, but it’s been over the past few months.”
“What does he look like?”
“You, but with a beard and long hair. His clothes were dirty and wrinkled.”
“Barrett,” he breathes.
“Chase, you haven’t seen him for years. You don’t know if he’s even alive.”
“I have something to tell you. I didn’t want to scare you, but now that it might be Barrett, I need to.”
My brow scrunches. “Has he done something?”
“I think so. I can’t be sure, but I’m ninety-nine percent positive.”
“That’s pretty positive.”
“The night of my accident… I think it was Barrett that hit me.”
“What?” I clap my hand over my mouth.
“I was tired and wasn’t watching where I was going. It was right after I left the hospital, and a car came screaming down the road. He could have swerved and missed me, but he didn’t even make an attempt. When he hit me, I rolled up onto the windshield and shattered it. For a few seconds, I could see the man at the wheel because the streetlights lit the car. It looked like Barrett.”
“Did you tell the police?”
“No. Barrett hadn’t even been a blip on the radar for years.”
“But how do you know it was him?”
“I found out later that it more than likely was. The police found the car that hit me had been reported stolen. It was wiped clean of fingerprints. I hired a private investigator who found evidence that led to a man living in a basement apartment near where the car was taken. They said the man had dark hair, and when they showed them a picture of me, they said that was him except with longer hair and a beard. Then the trail went cold.”
“Why would he do that to you?”
