Page 68 of Tear Me to Pieces
“We’ve increased security here since then, but you never know what’s going to happen. We can’t be too careful until we understand the full extent of what we’re dealing with.” Butch’s dark eyes fix on Becca’s face. “What they’re willing to do to shut you up.” His voice gentles. “I know you hate this, but you’ve just got to deal with it a little longer. My sources?—”
“Your sources don’t seem to know shit about what’s happening.” Becca snaps at him, her voice a little raw and raspy. “And what I’m dealing with, is living in a building with no running waterand a hole in the roof while my sister is out there suffering way worse than I am.”
Plenty of people offered up their spare bedrooms for Becca to stay in, but she refused every one of them. Claimed she was a person who enjoyed her personal space, and didn’t want to inconvenience anyone.
I think I just got a hint at the real reason she turned everyone down, and it’s kind of a revelation. I didn’t even know Becca had a sister, let alone that she was suffering somewhere.
Becca turns from Butch, obviously done with the conversation. She steps into my house, striding past me. “I’ll text you when I’m done.”
Simon looks at me, then at where Becca’s moving into the back portion of my house. “I think I’ll give you girls a little privacy.”
“That might be good.” I’m not sure what has brought Becca here, but it’s weird she didn’t take whatever it is to Felicity or Shelly since she’s known them for years. It has me curious.
And maybe a little worried.
Simon presses a quick kiss to my lips before turning to wrap an arm around Butch’s shoulders. “Come on. Let’s go check out the house situation you’re dealing with.”
I close the door behind them, flipping the lock into place before going to join Becca in the kitchen. When I get there, she’s perched on one of my barstools, head in her hands.
“Is everything okay?” I take in her appearance, looking a little closer than I did a few seconds ago.
She looks like shit.
Her hair’s messy. Her clothes don’t fit right, and there are bags under her eyes.
“No.” Becca takes off her glasses, setting them onto the counter before rubbing her eyes. “Everything is awful.” She sniffs and I can’t tell if it’s because she’s about to cry or because she’s having an allergic reaction to all the mold in the place where she’s staying. “I came to tell you I’m sorry about the other night.” Her lips press together. “And that I didn’t tell you guys the full story of why I’m here.”
I slide onto the barstool next to her. “What is the full story?”
My understanding is she was being stalked by some guy she tried to turn into the police—the reason she’s with Butch now.
Except the Memphis PD didn’t do shit about it, because most of the department is as crooked as my grandma’s pointer finger—the reason Butch is no longer a cop.
The explanation did feel a little bare bones when they gave it. But at some point—after dealing with something terrible—you get tired of explaining all your trauma over and over again, so you start offering a simplified version.
Becca’s shoulders slump. “There’s a human trafficking ring here in Memphis.” Her lower lip trembles. “They have my sister.”
My jaw drops. Now I feelreallyfreaking bad for pulling her hair. “What?”
“Yeah.” She scrubs at one eye, making the reddened edges even more inflamed. “I feel like I haven’t slept since I found out she was gone.”
“It’s probably not helping that you’re sleeping in a derelict house.” I scrunch my nose. “I understand you feel bad beingcomfortable when you know your sister’s not, but being miserable won’t help her.”
“It won’t hurt her either.” Becca sucks in a deep breath, blinking fast. “And I feel bad enough being here. If anyone does come after me, I sure as heck don’t want them breaking into one of your houses to get me.”
Okay. So I might like Becca. “Why are you telling me all this?”
She shrugs. “You’re the only one here who doesn’t know me.” She gives me a half smile. “And I know you won’t just try to feed me bullshit about how everything will be okay because we’re friends.”
I look over the woman next to me and wonder if this was how Lydia felt. If she struggled to sleep when Matthias cut off my communication with the outside world and she didn’t know where I was or if I was okay. “You know, my sister had to rescue me.”
I know my situation isn’t nearly the same as Becca and her sister’s, but there are some similarities. And I know she doesn’t want to be fedbullshit, but maybe it will help to know I’m okay. That even when things were at their worst, I found ways to push through.
To survive.
Becca’s bloodshot eyes fix on me. “From?”
“My ex-husband.” I take a breath, waiting for the tightness that always squeezes my chest when I talk about the man my father made me marry. “He was abusive in a lot of ways.” My breathing is still okay, so I continue. “He hurt me physically. Broke medown mentally. Assaulted and raped me.” It’s weird how far away those days seem right now. “For years.”
