Page 51 of Weather the Storm

We all swivel our heads and see a brick on the ground with what looks like paper tied around it, secured with twine.What the fuck?

Byrnes and Benson walk over to it, the glass crunching under their weight. Byrnes whips out a pair of gloves from his back pocket and pulls them on while Benson snaps a few photographs of the brick where it lies.

Officer Byrnes unties the string and places it into a baggie before unfolding the note. His eyes bulge slightly when he reads what it says.

“What’s on it?” I ask, impatient and worried.

“It says…” He stops and clears his throat. “It says ‘whore.’”

Gritting my teeth, I move closer to where Officer Byrnes is standing. “It says what now?”

Looking everywhere but at me, Officer Byrnes reiterates the message scrawled on the paper, and I swear to God, I see red. There’s not a doubt in my mind who did this, and one way or another, that motherfucker is going to pay.

Benson and Byrnes finish up their investigation, snapping a few more photographs and asking a boatload more questions before packing up and leaving. They let us know they’ll be in touch and to call them if anything else happens.

“What are we gonna do about the window?” Azalea asks.

“I’ll head out to my workshop and grab some boards,” Cash informs the group.

“I’ll come with,” Myla Rose says, taking her husband’s hand in hers.

Drake springs into action and begins sweeping up the glass shards, Azalea holding the dustpan for him.

It’s not that I don’t want to help with the cleanup, but comforting Magnolia takes priority. I guide her back to the dispensary and lower myself into the first available chair, pulling her down into my lap.

“Talk to me, pretty girl.”

“I…I d-don’t know what t-to say, Simon.”

I run my fingers through her hair, detangling it as I go, giving her time to find the words I know she wants to say. Magnolia lays her head on my shoulder, and before long, I feel moisture seeping through the material of my shirt as her body shakes with sobs. “Shh, it’s okay baby.” I try to comfort her, wishing I could take away her sorrow completely.

Finally, the dam breaks. “I thought h-he was g-g-gone,” she wails, sniffling into my shirt.

“I know, baby. God, I know.” It absolutely kills me, seeing my girl hurting like this, and I swear, I’ll find a way to bring that asshole to justice.

Chapter Twenty-Six

GRANT

I watch as the backwoods, modern-day Andy Griffith and Barney Fife fumble their way through another investigation. I watch as they snap their stupid fucking photos, their mouths moving all the while—asking questions, I assume, questions they hope will lead them to me.

Fat fucking chance.If I don’t want to be found, I won’t be. It’s as simple as that, really.

My phone vibrates in the cup holder of the rental car I’m driving. After getting pulled over and served a protection order against my own wife, I knew I had to get smarter. The buzzing noise continues for a few more seconds before blissful silence fills the void around me once again.

Putting my binoculars back in place, I watch as another man puts his arms around what’s mine. I watch as she leans into him, holding on for dear life. Pathetic—women are all so damn pathetic.

It’s like my father always said:Women and dogs are all the same. With proper training and a strong hand, they can learn to behave well enough that pedigree can be overlooked.His words served me well up until the day my cunt of a wife broke her chain and ran away.

She hid exceptionally well at first, but I knew she’d fuck up and I’d find her; thank God she was stupid enough to use the health insuranceIpay for. One measly phone call to the company and her number and address were mine.

Begrudgingly, I’ll admit that she made it longer than I thought she would. Guess some of her trailer-trash street smarts must’ve kicked in, because God knows she’s as dumb as a box of rocks.

I take that back.

When we met, she was eager and bright and full of spirit. I took great joy in watching her break. I wore her down over time, dulling her shine until she fit the exact mold I required. A vessel…a trinket…a toy for me to play with and put away—and most importantly, she would give me an heir, someone to carry on the Ellington name.

Except, she couldn’t even manage to do that.So. Fucking. Useless.All the same, she’s mine, and through my carelessness, she was able to escape.

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