Page 51 of Finders Keepers

She answers on the first ring. “Bailey! Thank god!”

“Lisa, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” She takes a shaky breath. “But Bailey… Matt broke into my house yesterday.”

The room spins. I grip the counter to stay upright. “What?”

“He stole my phone. I just got a new one today, and when everything synced from the cloud… Bailey, he has access to all our messages, and your number.”

My legs give out. I slide down to sit on the kitchen floor, cold tile against my legs. “Did he… did he hurt you?”

“No. But Bailey, no one’s seen him since. The police are looking, but…”

“Oh god.” Bile rises in my throat. I force it down. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

“Don’t you dare blame yourself. Listen to me—You never texted me your exact location. We were always careful about that.”

I think back frantically through our conversations. I’d been paranoid about exactly this possibility. “No… no, I never told you where we are. Just that we were safe.”

“He won’t find you. But Bailey, please be careful.” Her voice breaks.

After we hang up, I sit there shaking. My first instinct is to run. Grab Sophie and drive until we hit the ocean. But where would we go? We’re safe here. Ms. Lucy’s property is gated. Matt doesn’t know where we are.

Still, I find myself moving through the house like a ghost, checking locks again. And again. Each shadow makes me jump. Every creak of the house settling sounds like footsteps.

Sleep is impossible. My mind keeps spinning worst-case scenarios. Instead, I channel my nervous energy into cleaning. I scrub the already-clean kitchen counters. Organize the contents of our cabinets. Fold and refold the stack of towels in the bathroom.

At 2 AM, I’m on my hands and knees scrubbing the baseboards with my old toothbrush when my thoughts drift to Ms. Lucy and Gavin. I wonder if I should let them know the actual situation. The real reason Sophie and I ended up here.

Should I tell them? But what would I say? ‘Hey, my abusive ex might be hunting me down’. But Matt isn’t my ex, not until I file for divorce. I need to contact an attorney. And that’s what my mind keeps circling back to, over and over again.

My hands are raw from scrubbing. But I can’t stop. If I stop, I’ll have to think about Matt having my number. About him possibly tracking us down.

I check on Sophie again. She’s rolled onto her side, blonde hair fanned across her pillow. Looking at her peaceful face, my resolve hardens. I can’t let him find us. I won’t let him hurt her.

The rest of the night passes in a blur of cleaning and anxiety. I reorganize Sophie’s art supplies. Sanitize every doorknob. Line up her shoes perfectly by the door. When dawn finally breaks, pale light creeping through the windows, I’ve cleaned every surface in our tiny house twice over.

Just as the sun is peeking up my phone buzzes again. This time it’s Ms. Lucy.

Would you and Lil Bit like some breakfast this mornin?

Breakfast. Normal life. I have to keep going, keep pretending everything’s fine. I can’t let Matt’s shadow darken this new life we’re building.

Yes ma’am, sounds good. I also need to talk to you about something.

My mind is set. I need to tell Ms. Lucy what’s going on for our safety and hers.

The coffee maker clicks on signaling to me that it’s 6:30am and that I stayed up all night. Sophie will be up soon, ready for breakfast and another adventure. She can’t know how scared I am. Can’t see the way my hands are still shaking as I grab my coffee mug.

I head to the bathroom to shower, hoping the hot water will wash away some of the night’s anxiety. In the mirror, dark circles ring my eyes, stark against my pale skin. I look haunted.

“Get it together,” I whisper to my reflection. “You’ve got to be stronger than this.”

But as I step into the shower, Matt’s face flashes through my mind, the way his eyes would turn cold before he struck, how his hands could shift from gentle to cruel in an instant. The water can’t wash away those memories.

When I hear Sophie, I force myself to take deep breaths. She needs me to be strong, to be brave. I can fall apart later.

“Mommy?” Her sleepy voice calls out.

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