Page 48 of Love Under Siege

"Secondly, I would like to speak with you and your sister if possible. I know this may not be the best time or place, but I am heading out to New Jersey and wanted to fill you in on some updates regarding the case."

"Oh, of course! Let me go find my sister," I say as I scan the room for her. Spotting her talking with a group of people, I make my way over and apologize for interrupting their conversation. Quietly informing her of the situation, she excuses herself from the group and we join the detective in another room.

“Thank you for taking the time. I'm sorry we couldn't do this later,” the detective says as we both nod in understanding.

He continues, “Detective Collins and his team caught the guys who were terrorizing Anya, and the men who killed your mom and Mrs. Parker have confessed to the murders.”

Marissa responds angrily, “Why wouldn't they? It would be foolish to deny their involvement!”

The detective nods in agreement before adding, “However, they did mention they were hired by someone from her past.”

“What do you mean from her past? Like her ex-Paul?” I ask.

“No, sir. We looked into Paul, and he is currently in Miami, Florida. We also examined his financials, and there was no indication that he had anything to do with the attack or hired anyone to carry it out,” Detective Morrison explains.

While this eases my nerves a bit, there are still unanswered questions about who could have possibly hired these men. Before I can voice them, Marissa asks, “So do you have any idea who hired these men?”

“Yes, a man named Caleb hired the men,” he reveals.

My head shoots up at the mention of Caleb's name. “Wait, Caleb? As in Lana Caldwell's ex?”

“According to what Detective Collins told me, yes. But apparently, he knew Anya from her past and only used Miss Caldwell to get to her,” Detective Morrison clarifies.

“So are they all in jail now?” Marissa asks anxiously while biting her nails and placing a protective hand over her belly.

“Yes ma'am,” he confirms. But something about this entire situation doesn't sit right with me - it all seems too easy and straightforward. Plus, over the summer, Caleb didn't seem particularly interested in Anya. In fact, he seemed infatuated with Lana.

“I'm sorry Detective, but are you absolutely sure about all of this?” I press.

“Yes, sir. He confessed to everything last night,” he replies confidently.

“Thank you for informing us, Detective,” Marissa says gratefully as he bids us farewell and leaves.

“This is fantastic news! It's finally over, Anya doesn’t have to keep looking over her shoulder!” Marissa exclaims with relief.

“Yeah...I guess,” I reply, still feeling uneasy.

“What's wrong? This is a good thing, Jacob!” Marissa insists.

“I don't know...something just doesn't feel right about all of this,” I admit.

I explain to Marissa my concerns and that we should still be vigilant. My gut is telling me that this isn’t over, I need to talk to Anya. No doubt they told her the same thing and I don’t want her to let her guard down.

I step out of the funeral home and dial her number but it goes straight to voicemail.Why isn’t she picking up? I just spoke to her a few hours ago.

Anya

I sit in the front row with my family inside the funeral home, surrounded by a sea of people. Friends of my grandmother, distant relatives—faces that blend together in the fog of grief. They’ve all come to pay their respects, but all I can do is stare at Nana, lying so still in her casket. The funeral home did a beautiful job; she looks as if she’s simply asleep, her favorite deep blue wrap-around gown draped perfectly over her. The one Pop bought her for their 35thanniversary. She looks so beautiful, so peaceful—but it makes the ache in my heart even worse. Because I know the truth. I know that I brought this on.

“Hey, you okay? Ugh, I know, stupid question,” Lana whispers, forcing a small chuckle to lighten the mood.

I try to smile, to keep it together, but the sight of Nana lying there, forever silent, shatters something inside me. There will be no more stories, no more laughter filling the kitchen, no more afternoons baking together. There will be no more of her.

“I can’t do this!” I suddenly sob, the words ripping out of me as I bolt from the room. I don’t even know where I’m going; I just know I have to get away.

Lana is right behind me. “Hey, hey, talk to me,” she says gently, catching up to me in the hallway.

“I can’t stand there and pretend that I’m okay. I’m NOT okay, Lana! I don’t deserve to be okay!” My voice breaks as I fight back the tears threatening to spill over. The guilt is a heavy fog, suffocating and oppressive. “My problems! My life! ME! I brought this on her!”

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