Page 22 of Bliss: Part 2
I didn’t say a word to anyone in the house. I just grabbed my keys, walked out, and drove into town. My chest felt heavy the whole way. Holloway had the updates I’d been desperate for.
They had found him.
The asshole who raped my daughter.
I wasn’t ready to hear his name. I wasn’t ready to picture his face, or worse, see it. But I needed to know. I needed the closure that came with facts, even if those facts left me shaking with rage. I needed to hear what they planned to do with him now that they finally had him in custody.
When I got to the station, I signed my name in at the front desk and took a seat in the waiting area. A clock on the wall ticked loud enough to get on my nerves. I sat there, hands clasped so tight my knuckles ached, until Holloway’s voice called me into her office.
She gestured for me to sit across from her desk. “Thank you for coming on such short notice,” she said.
“Yeah,” I answered, my shoulders stiff. “I was glad to get the news.”
She gave me a small smile, then looked at her computer screen. “There are a few things I need to go over with you before we take the next step in this case. But first, I want to make sure I answer all your questions. I’m sure you want to know his name?”
“Yeah. Not that I care about the bastard.”
She lifted a brow, waiting for me to choose different wording.
“Sorry. Yeah, I’d like to know who the man is.”
She straightened in her chair and cleared her throat before speaking. Her tone was careful, but her words landed like a punch. They had been piecing together details for days. His name was Dillon Toller. He was my age. He’d been working carnivals since he was a teenager. Never had a stable home or family. His lifewasthe carnival.
Over the past ten years, he had raped six girls. My daughter was one of them. Six girls before they caught him. That fact alone made me sick enough to grip the arms of the chair so I wouldn’t put my fist through her desk.
Holloway turned the screen so I could see his picture. He looked exactly how I’d imagined—dirty in a way that had nothing to do with a lack of soap, with eyes that made my skin crawl. Knowing those hands had been on my daughter made something inside me twist with anger. I wanted to walk into the holding cell where they were keeping him and kill him with my bare hands.
But I couldn’t. I sat there, forcing the rage down, reminding myself that he was caught, that he couldn’t hurt her or anyone else again. For now, that had to be enough.
“Is there anything else you’d like to know? Any other questions?” Holloway asked, her voice softer now, her expression sympathetic but professional.
I ran a hand over my face. “Yeah. How am I supposed to tell her? Should I even? I don’t want to drag her back into those memories. I don’t want her to hurt all over again.”
Holloway’s smile was warm. “I’d suggest taking it slow. Ask her if she’s ready to talk. If she is, let her lead. Answer only the questions she asks, instead of giving her everything at once.”
It was good advice. Maybe the only way this wouldn’t break her all over again. I nodded, rubbing my palms against my thighs. “Alright. I’ll try that. Thanks.”
“Of course.” She turned back to her computer and began typing. “Now, about the paperwork.”
I stayed in that chair for another half hour, answering more questions, signing my name in more places than I could keep track of, before she finally let me go.
I didn’t drive straight home. I knew I wasn’t going to talk to Bliss today, but I wanted to be ready when I did. I wanted something to soften the weight of the words. I ended up at the grocery store. I grabbed milk and eggs, deciding I’d make her a homemade chocolate cake for when I told her. Maybe it would be a small gesture, a way to mark the fact that the man who hurt her couldn’t hurt anyone else ever again.
Maybe she’d see it as a celebration. Maybe not. I didn’t know. All I knew was I wanted to make it just a little more bearable for her.
Later that night, I went looking for the kids. I hadn’t seen them since breakfast, and I wanted to make sure they were alright. The barn was the most likely place, because I couldn’t hear them anywhere else in the house. They’d been spending a lot of time in the barn lately, which they had turned into a cozy place to hang out. Just as I reached for the door to head outside, Odin’s voice stopped me.
“You don’t want to go over there right now,” he said from the couch.
I turned toward him, my hand still on the doorknob, and raised a brow. “Why?”
He mirrored my expression. “Do I have to say it out loud?”
Right. I didn’t need him to explain.
“No, you don’t.” I let out a slow sigh, let go of the door, and kicked off my shoes by the mat. The urge to see the kids was still there, but they wouldn’t want me walking in on them. I crossed the room instead and dropped down onto the couch beside him. “Just wanted to check on them.”
“They’re doing okay. Bliss is doing okay. Let them be,” he said, his voice quieter this time as he reached for my hand.
