Never Let You Go

  “It’s an old habit,” she says. “My mother never let me have sweets, so I always licked her spoon when she wasn’t looking.” I smile out of politeness. I’m too anxious to enjoy any childhood stories. She straightens her body as though ready to get down to business.

  “It will take another day to get Andrew’s phone records. In the meantime, I’ll ask him to come in for an interview. He probably won’t tell me much, but he might slip on something and we’ll see if he lets us examine the truck without a warrant, which will take longer to get. If he’s parked it on a street or in a public area we can have a look without his permission.”

  “We’re going to stay with my friend in Vancouver,” I say. Jenny called back while we were waiting for the doctor, insisted we stay with her. I’m making up the beds now.

  “I think that’s a good idea,” Parker says. “I’ll keep you updated on the investigation.”

  “He might go to my house. He’ll try to find out where I’ve gone.”

  “I’ll do some drive-bys.”

  “Excuse me.” Sophie stands and walks over to get another coffee.

  I lean closer to Parker. “Please tell me you’ll arrest Andrew.”

  “If we have enough evidence to prove he’s the one responsible, then yes.”

  “Who else could it be?”

  “We just need to make sure.” There’s something in her eyes, something she’s holding back, and I wonder what Greg told her. I glance at Sophie. She’s staring out the window as she waits for her coffee, one of her hands tugging at her hair, winding it around and around.

  * * *

  Greg’s quiet on the way home and doesn’t say much when we drop him off, either. The doctor said Greg is going to be okay, but he has multiple stitches, a bruised shoulder, and he might be out of work for a day or two. He has painkillers, but I still feel like the worst girlfriend—ex-girlfriend—in the world when I tell him we want to catch the afternoon ferry. “Do you mind?” I say. “Do you want me to call anyone for you?”

  “I’ll just watch TV,” he says. “I’ll be fine, but you guys should get to Vancouver.” He grabs my hand. “Take care of yourself, okay? You need anything, you call me.”

  “Thanks.” I smile, blinking back tears. Why does he have to be so damn nice?

  After we say good-bye, we go by Sophie’s school, speak to her principal, and pick up her lesson plans, which Sophie would have been more than happy to leave behind. Then we get Angus from the clinic. Though Marcus offered to pay for the vet bill, I put the whole amount on my credit card, wincing when I see the balance. Angus was so excited to see us he nearly dragged Sophie out of the clinic and leapt into the backseat.

  Parker meets us at our house—she offered to escort us while we closed up the house and got some more belongings. When I shut off the last light and lock the door, I pause on the porch, looking back in the window. Our Christmas tree is still standing there, alone in the shadows. Our life has stalled, just like it did eleven years ago.

  I can feel Parker and Sophie behind me. Sophie shifts her weight, moves closer and gently touches the back of my arm. “Let’s go, Mom.”

  * * *

  The terminal is lit up and the ferry—almost the size of a cruise ship—looms in the water. Headlights bounce up and down as cars unload, and the metal ramp makes a hollow whoomp as each vehicle passes over. I watch the workers in their reflective vests direct the traffic, their hands moving in a well-choreographed dance. We’ll be loading soon.

  We didn’t travel often to Vancouver when I was a child—the ferry tickets cost a lot for a family of four—but Andrew and I took Sophie over a few times, a concert, a school trip to the science museum, a visit to the aquarium. Sophie loved all the names of the boats: Queen of Coquitlam, Queen of Cowichan, Queen of Oak Bay. For her it was a wonderful adventure. She wanted to ride the elevator, walk outside on the decks and look for orcas and humpback whales, eat burgers and fish and chips and chicken fingers with fries and thick gravy in the cafeteria.

  I rarely ate on the ferry. My stomach was unsettled on the choppy water, but more from the turmoil in my life, my fear of Andrew as wide and vast as the ocean out the window.

  I glance in my side mirrors now and out my back window, looking for a white pickup truck. We’ve been waiting in the car for an hour, hoping to catch the five o’clock boat, only getting out to walk Angus a couple of times.

  Sophie’s worried Andrew will try to contact her again—“He was so mad when I walked out on him, Mom”—but so far she hasn’t gotten any texts or voice mails. I watch her playing on her phone for a moment, thinking about how her cell is always with her wherever she goes.

  “Was your father ever alone with your phone?”

  She looks sideways at me. “No. Why?”

  “I wondered if he could have set it up so he can track us.”

  She stares down at her phone as if it had turned into a mass of snakes. “You mean like one of those find-a-phone apps?”

  “Yes, but he’d have to set it up, right?”

  Her face calms as she thinks it through. “It was always in my pocket when I was around him.” She looks at me. “Could he put something on the car?”

  “God. I don’t know. Maybe we should check.” We get out and peer underneath my car. “Look for anything small and square,” I say. “Like those boxes people hide their keys inside.”

  We use our phones as flashlights and feel with our hands, which get grimy from dried road salt and cold with crusted snow. People in the line of cars behind us are probably wondering what the hell we’re doing, but I don’t care. I’m just relieved we don’t find anything. Back in the car, Angus whines and licks my neck frantically like I’ve been gone for five days, not five minutes. Then he shoves his head between us, using the console as a pillow, and closes his eyes. Sophie’s phone chirps with a few texts. One after another. Her fingers tap out a response.

  “Did you tell Jared we’re going to Vancouver?”

  She shakes her head. “Just that we’re going away for the week but I can’t tell anyone where we’re going. He’s worried about us too.”

  It’s strange for me to think of this boy worrying about my daughter’s safety, let alone mine. “Things seem to be getting pretty serious between you two.”

  Her fingers pause and she turns to look at me with her eyebrows raised. “Really, Mom? This is when we’re going to have a heart-to-heart?”

  “We’re not doing anything else.”

  “We’re running away from my psycho father.”

  “You can joke all you want, but I know you’re upset.”

  She puts down her phone. “Why couldn’t he be normal? He didn’t have to be perfect, you know? I just wanted a dad.”

  “I’m really sorry it didn’t work out like you hoped. I wanted that for you too. It’s one of the reasons I stayed with him for so long.”

  She lets out her breath in a heavy sigh and leans back against the seat. “You must think I’m really stupid for falling for his lies.”

  “Not at all.” I touch her hand so that she turns to face me. “I know how charming he can be. I married him, remember?”

  “Yeah, what you were you thinking?” She gives me a look.

  “I was thinking I might get a great daughter out of the deal.” I smile.

  She stares out the window and fiddles with her phone case. “What are we going to do tomorrow? I don’t want to sit around being scared all day.”

  “How about we visit some art galleries?”

  “Okay, and maybe we can go downtown.”

  “Sure. Whatever you want.”

  The parking lights flash from a car at the beginning of the line. Finally we’re loading. We wait on the vehicle deck until the ferry pulls away from the terminal, then we weave between the cars and walk to the side of the boat, hanging our heads out the large open windows. The salty wind plays with our hair as we watch the harbor lights grow smaller behind us, then disappear.

  * * *

&nb
sp; We arrive at Jenny’s exhausted from the stress of the day and the boat ride. Chris called when we were unloading from the ferry—I’d left him a message earlier, but he was working late. His girlfriend said he’s been putting in some extra hours, trying to save up before the baby comes. When I told him about Greg being injured, I had to hold the phone away from my ear, he was swearing so much. After a bit he calmed down and said, “Come stay with us.”

  “It would be too much for Maddie. You need to focus on your family.”

  “You are my family, dumbass.”

  “I’ll be fine in Vancouver. I promise.”

  “You better be.”

  The words sounded ominous, but I know the threat isn’t aimed at me. I’m glad Chris has Maddie and the baby in his life, or I would be worried about him confronting Andrew. I called most of my clients while we were waiting in the ferry lineup and explained that a sudden emergency has come up and rearranged the schedule so Rachelle could cover my jobs.

  I wasn’t sure how things were between me and Marcus since our awkward good-bye the other morning, so I texted him: Have to get out of town. Will call you later and explain.

  He texted back. Everything okay?

  Not really but we’re all right. I’ll fill you in soon.

  Sophie goes to bed with her phone, and Jenny and I stay up late, talking over wine while Angus keeps us company. We’re in our comfy clothes—leggings and slouchy sweater for me, yoga pants and a NAMASTE T-shirt for her. She’s been teaching yoga and her arms are sinewy, her movements almost ballet-languid. I’m enjoying the time with my friend, if not the reason for the visit. We’ve had a few glasses of wine and my face feels warm. Jenny’s is also flushed, her eyes brighter, her voice louder. Our serious conversation turns to bawdy jokes and black humor about the state of our love lives. She’s been trying Tinder, shows me how to swipe right, and I help her pick out some new photos for her profile. After midnight she urges me to get some rest.

  “This mess will all still be here tomorrow and you need some sleep,” she says. “I’ll make breakfast. You’re starting to look like a bag of bones.”

  “Gee. Thanks a lot.”

  She gives me a wink. “I’d still jump you.”

  I laugh. “Times that tough, huh?”

  Her expression turns serious. “I’m sorry he’s putting you through all of this again.”

  I lean over and give her a hug. “Thank you.”

  * * *

  It’s only six in the morning, but I’ve been tossing and turning for the last hour and finally decide to get up and make coffee. I pour a cup, pause for a moment, then add two heaping tablespoons of sugar. I need the jolt. My eyes feel puffy and I’m sure I look like hell. Sophie is still sleeping, but Jenny will probably bounce out of her room soon and offer to make me a spinach power smoothie, or a flaxseed pancake, or something else guaranteed to give me energy. I scroll through my Facebook news feed, mindlessly reading celebrity gossip.

  A text pops up from Marcus. Give me a call when you can. Worried about you!

  You up now?

  Yes!

  I grab another cup of coffee and dial his number. He answers immediately. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, sorry I didn’t call last night,” I say. “I was exhausted.”

  “What happened?”

  “A truck hit Greg when he was shoveling the driveway. He didn’t see who did it, but I think it was Andrew.”

  “Oh, shit. Was he hurt badly?”

  “He has a minor concussion and stitches, but he’s going to be all right.” I hoped this was still true. I texted him last night letting him know we arrived safely in Vancouver and asking how he was feeling. He never answered.

  “Where are you?”

  “In Vancouver. We’re going to stay with Jenny until they arrest Andrew for drugging Angus. They’re also checking his phone records to see if he was around Greg’s house.”

  “They haven’t arrested him yet?” He sounds as shocked as I feel.

  “They have to interview him first and look at his truck.” I glance at the clock. “I’ll call Dana soon. She’s the officer who’s been working our case.”

  “How is Sophie handling all this?”

  “She’s shook up, seems to be wrestling with a lot of guilt, but I’m the one who let her down. It was hard enough on her with my dragging her over to Greg’s, then we break up, and now we’re in Vancouver—miles away from her best friend and her boyfriend. The poor kid has been through so much. What the hell am I going to do?”

  “Whoa. Back everything up. What happened with you and Greg?”

  “We realized we don’t have a future so there’s no sense pushing things.” I wait for him to say something about how he knew this was going to happen, but he’s just quiet. The seconds stretch out and I have to fight the urge to fill in the empty space with chatter.

  “That’s a big change,” he finally says. “You okay?”

  “Yes.” I look around Jenny’s tidy kitchen, feeling a pang for my home, my normal routine. I’d be getting up and heading over to train with Marcus at his house, then we’d visit over coffee. I’m disappointed that I won’t be seeing him today. I’ve come to rely on those workouts, the endorphin high, then sitting and having deep talks about life or laughing about nothing.

  “I won’t be able to work out with you today,” I say. “You going to miss me?” I’m trying for a joking friendliness, to ease the stress and brutal reality of my current situation, but maybe I am a little curious. Will he miss me?

  “It’s definitely not going to be the same. The time goes a lot faster when I’m torturing you.” His tone is also friendly and teasing. Nothing more.

  “Maybe I’ll do a few push-ups and get Jenny to yell at me.”

  He breaks out into a laugh. I lean into the phone, intrigued by the sound. He seems different, lighter. I’m not sure what’s changed.

  Then I think about Andrew again. He probably knows I go to Marcus’s house. He may have even watched us through the window as we talked and drank coffee. I feel another surge of anger, hate how he’s invaded my life. “Be careful today,” I say. “He might be looking for me.”

  “I hope he shows up here. I’d like to have a few words with him.”

  “Please don’t do anything crazy. If you see him just call the police, okay?”

  Silence for a moment, then, “Okay. Give me a call as soon as you know what’s happening. If you need anything from your house, I can bring it over on the ferry.”

  “I really appreciate that.”

  “Stay safe, okay?”

  “Always.” We’re both silent now. I think of him standing in his kitchen, or maybe he’s sitting on the side of his bed and looking out the window at the ocean. I wonder what he wears in the morning. The black robe I’ve seen hanging on his bathroom door? Boxer shorts?

  “I should go,” I say. “It was nice to hear your voice.” My own voice is softer and more revealing than I meant it to be. I hang up the phone before he can respond.

  * * *

  My next call is to Corporal Parker, who tells me she interviewed Andrew last night.

  “He’s been very accommodating and insisting it isn’t him, of course,” she says. “I’m still recommending charges and we’ll be arresting him later today, but I have to warn you that if the Crown doesn’t feel we have enough for a case, he’ll be out within twenty-four hours.”

  “What about the phone records?”

  “They don’t show him around Greg’s house in the morning, but he admits he followed Sophie home from the coffee shop last night, which isn’t a violation because Greg’s address isn’t on the bond, just yours.”

  “Why did he follow Sophie? He had to be looking for me.”

  “He said he didn’t know that you were staying there. He thinks someone is stalking you and Sophie and he wanted to make sure no one was following her.”

  “This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. You don’t believe him, do you?”

&
nbsp; “It’s about what we can prove, and right now we don’t have evidence he hit Greg with his truck. There aren’t any marks or dents, not even a scratch. It could’ve been someone angry at Greg. He mentioned he’s had a few problems lately, but I can’t go into that with you.”

  “Problems? He’s never…” I remember the call he got the morning he was attacked. And his joke about needing to borrow money. Maybe there’s some trouble in his life I don’t know about. I’m upset that he didn’t confide in me, but then again, I haven’t exactly been open to listening lately. “It doesn’t matter,” I say. “I know this was Andrew.”

  “My gut says it was Andrew too, but the Crown doesn’t care much about instinct.”

  “I’m going to have to live in hiding for the rest of my life.”

  I hear her take a breath, then let it out through her teeth. “I’m going to keep a close eye on him. I promise, Lindsey.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate that.” I glance down the hall. I can hear Jenny moving around in her bedroom and Sophie will be awake soon. “I have to go.”

  She’s quiet for a couple of beats, then says, “Be careful.”

  “I will.”

  I end the call and stare down into my coffee. A fruit fly has landed on top and drowned. Its little body floats in a circle. When I stab at it with my fingertip, it keeps drifting away.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  SOPHIE

  Jared’s face is a shadowed blur on my laptop screen, going in and out of focus, his smile frozen for a moment, his voice delayed like in a foreign movie. The walls of his bedroom come clear, then the rest of him. He leans closer, his black eyes inches from the screen. I feel like I could reach out and touch his wide bottom lip, have the urge to press my lips against his like I might have done to a teen movie star poster when I was a kid. I glance at the little thumbnail shot of my image in the bottom corner and try to turn my head in a way that makes my hair look the best and shows a little bit of my collarbone and the hollow at the top of my cleavage.