“Look, I was trying to say that I’m sorry I was a little over the top.”
“A little?” She looked about to say something more disparaging but managed to hold her tongue.
“I’m trying to apologize.”
“And I’m trying to accept it. But I can’t. You know why? You seem intent on ruining my life! Do you know how embarrassing that was, or what it’s going to be like for me at school on Monday?”
“You mentioned it, yeah.”
Marilee ripped one of the Airpods from her ear and her face threatened to collapse in on itself, her chin trembling. “It’s going to be horrible. Everyone will know what happened. Well, they already do. It’s all over IG and TikTok and everywhere! But at school they’ll be pointing and laughing and talking behind my back. And Nick . . .” Her voice drifted off on a sob. “Oh, just . . . just leave me alone.”
“But—”
“Mom,please! Just go!”
“I’m trying to apologize.”
“Are you?”
“You’re not making it easy.”
“Leave me alone!” She turned her back to Brooke again.
Knowing the fight would escalate if she stayed, Brooke finally did as she was bid and stepped into the hall. A split second before she pulled the door closed behind her, she thought she heard, “I hate you” whispered under Marilee’s breath.
Her heart shuddered.
She’d blown it.
Pure and simple.
Everything she’d worked hard to create for decades was crumbling apart and it was all her fault.
Gideon had infiltrated her mind, her body, her soul, and now . . . now her family.
Before she could take a step across the hall, her cell phone buzzed in the back pocket of her jeans. She retrieved it and stared at the message on the screen:
Your daughter is as beautiful as you are.
Be careful.
It would be a shame if you were to lose her.
She couldn’t breathe.
Gideon wasn’t just threatening her; he was now threatening Marilee.
Oh no, you prick. Don’t you . . . no, no, no!Her heart was thumping in her chest, fear running through her veins. He wouldn’t dare. He wouldn’t . . . for a second she thought of Allison Carelli . . . Oh Jesus, no! Gideon couldn’t be involved in her disappearance. There was no way. But as she stared at the message, she wondered.
Should she go to the police?
She shuddered at the thought. She had her own memories of dealing with authorities, how things could be misconstrued, witnesses unreliable, charges brought . . . She couldn’t go there. Not now.
But this was dire. Should she call in an anonymous tip?
Her mind was spinning with unthinkable, horrible scenarios. She leaned heavily against the deck’s rail and tried to recall any evidence, any indication that Gideon could be involved.
She wanted to frantically type a text message, to warn him to back off, to leave her and her family alone. But she knew that he was baiting her, hoping to engage, and on her personal cell phone, the one Neal could access if he called the phone company.