Page 102 of Danger Close
“Just let her go.” How long had Ray kept me on my knees in front of him as he sat in a dusty, broken arm chair, half the fabric gnawed off by the woodland creatures of Upstate New York? Faded floral yellow wallpaper surrounded him.
He looked like a cruel king on a broken throne.
“Dad, why are you doing this?” Trinity asked, her face a mask that showed me nothing.
How was my baby so calm? How was she so strong when I was falling apart?
Ray waved the gun in his hand, his face a mask of absolute sadistic glee. He was enjoying himself. I didn’t need to look to know that he was aroused.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he drawled. “Your Mom and I have been together a long, long time. Almost thirty years. Did you know that?”
He bit his thick lower lip. My gut swirled, as I wondered how I could have ever thought he was attractive.
“But it’s time to end this little game of cat and mouse, pretty little Teresa. It’s time for you to come home, where you belong.” He licked his upper lip. “Just as you are. On your fucking knees.”
He groaned and fondled himself, adjusting his cock with his large hand.
“It’s been a lot of fun, baby. You wanted my attention? Now you’ve got it. Boy, do you have it.” He smiled, coming to his feet. Springs creaked at the loss of his weight. “I should have listened when you told me you’d leave. I should have listened.”
He tapped the pistol against his temple, as if to indicate that he was thinking.
“I didn’t think you would. I mean, all those other women meant nothing to me! I was a man, and men have needs. But God!” He threw back his head in pleasure, his cruel smile made my stomach churn. Then he pointed at me with his gun, using it like a finger as he laughed. “You? Oh, baby. You showed me what it was to be a real man.”
Every place on his pistol pointed heated with fear, my skin burning, anticipating the slice of a hot bullet.
Ray pounded his chest with his free hand.
“You knew, didn’t you?” He looked so happy, so pleased with me that I wanted to vomit. “You knew I’d like it. Why else would you burn my house down and run away. Right?”
Sweat dripped down the back of my neck, even as I shivered against the frigid cold autumn air. “Please, just let Trinity go. She has nothing to do with us.”
“Oh, she has everything to do with us,” he chuckled. “You tookmydaughter in the middle of the night and burned my house down.”
Trinity’s eyes widened. Her head jerked to me.
“She’s not your daughter.” There was no conviction in my voice, not because I didn’t mean it, but because it made no difference what I thought, or what I said.Imade no difference.
Heat crawled up my skin. My daughter already hated me, and now I’d given her another reason. Just one more drop in the ocean…
“And I was fucking pissed, baby. I could barely get out of bed. I was heartbroken, ya know?” He laughed, tapping his forehead with the pistol.
He was talking like a supervillain, laying out his side of things like a maniac.
“But then I realized… you were just fucking with me, weren’t you? You were playing hard to get.” He smiled at Trinity, and I wanted to launch myself in front of her, to keep his filthy gaze far, far away from my baby! “But your mom? Oh, your mom knows how to get men, let me tell you. She knew I’d love the hunt. The chase. I figured that out when she made it so fucking easy to find her.”
I shivered in shame. I’d tried to make it very, very difficult to find us.
“I mean, baby, you renewed your license, and with a name like Teresa Louise Guerro? It was easy to find you every time you went to the DMV!”
Fuck. I hated this. I hated this so much!
I hated that I couldn’t disappear. That I needed identification to get Trinity into school because if she didn’t get an education, if she didn’t have a chance at her own life, then what was the point? I might as well give myself to Ray. Let him kill me. I should have sent her to Joe decades ago when it was so clear that the ghosts of my past would never die.
A tear slid down my face.
“You were stalking us?” Trinity’s voice was firm, and sure. How was she not terrified?
“Stalking? No, no, no, sweetheart,” he cooed, like he was trying to soothe a wounded bird. “It was just a game your mom and I played to keep things…” he chuckled. “To keep things fresh.”
