Page 85 of Marc

The security guy perks up. “Is there proof that he violated the restraining order before?”

I nod. “There are several police reports. I filed one each and every time, but nothing was ever done.”

He strums his fingers on his steering wheel. “Do you, by chance, have a copy of the police reports? If not, I can get them from the police station.”

I don’t think the police department will willingly hand over the police reports that will get their friend thrown in jail. Luckily, I’ve saved my own copies.

“I do. They are locked up in the office. I can make you a copy if you will be around for a few minutes.”

He glances at his watch before saying, “Yeah, it’s still early. Plus, I’ll be here as long as you are. I appreciate the copies because it will help me expedite things.”

Turning around to head back inside, I yell over my shoulder, “I’ll be back in a few.”

I dig out my keys to unlock the door. The familiar beeping of the alarm lets me know I only have thirty seconds before the siren will go off. I type in the code to disarm the alarm and grab the police reports from the bottom drawer of my desk.

Using my small three-in-one printer, I place the five reports on the tray to make a copy of each of them.

The printer beeps but doesn’t scan the pages.

Out of paper.

“Great.” I mumble as I search for more.

Checking all of my drawers, I come up empty. Where would I have put the extra?

Do I even have any extra paper?

It’s been a long week and I haven’t been on top of things like I normally am.

I search in the only other cabinet I have in the studio, which is the coffee cabinet, and find half of a pack of paper. Chuckling, I carry it to the printer and put all of it in the paper tray.

While waiting for the machine to make the copies, I grab an empty folder to put the security guy’s copies in.

When the machine is finished, I place the police reports back in the drawer, arm the alarm, and lockthe front door before handing the security guy his copies.

He starts reading the first one.

Since he seems to be experienced, I ask, “Do you really think we have a chance to get Jared to stop harassing me?”

His eyes widen before his eyes narrow, like he is surprised that I am asking that.

“Absolutely. I’ll get all the evidence together and file a new emergency restraining order in this county, and we will take it from there.”

I don’t want to get my hopes up, but he seems confident, and I want to have hope that the Jared destruction saga will finally be over.

Sure, it might have led to me wanting to sell my house and me having to buy four new tires, but I just want to live a normal life.

With Marc.

As his girlfriend.

“Where did Marc go?”

Marc is nowhere to be seen.

The security guy finishes reading the reports and puts them in his passenger seat. “Around back. The tow truck arrived a few minutes ago.”

“Oh, great. I’ll go check on things.”

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