Page 46 of Lost on Ice
At the playground,it takes less than five seconds from the time Lilah and Chase run to the equipment for Sophie to start dropping heavy questions.
“Have the cops said anything yet?” She’s staring a hole through my forehead. “Have they made any progress catching the guy stalking you?”
I don’t turn to Sophie and instead keep gazing over the playground at Lilah as she runs around with Chase and some other kids, playing in the snow, looking adorable in their little coats, hats, mittens, and boots. I remind myself that she totally has a right to ask these questions. And I should answer them. Yes, Ishouldanswer them.
“Let me sit down first,” I sigh.
We plop down on a cold, hard bench. Thankfully, we’re just as bundled up as the kids.
“So?” she asks.
“No.” I shake my head and look up at her. “Nothing yet.”
She furrows her brow. “My God, how have you been putting up with this for so long? This is so scary!”
“I know,” I murmur as guilt slams through me. “I’m so sorry again that Chase was put in any sort of danger. I really thought things would be okay here.”
“Oh, Abbie, you’re my best friend.” Her tone is soft and sympathetic. “I know you’d never put Chase in harm’s way intentionally. This stalking thing isn’t your fault. It’s the asshole who’s harassing you that’s causing all this, and that’s the part that I want answers on!”
I give her a small, grateful smile. “You and me both. Seriously, though, thanks for being so understanding. It has been stressing me out — like crazy. I don’t know how I was handling it without any help until now.”
She wraps her arm around me and squeezes. “Well, Carter called Detective Peterson and asked him to take on the case. Trust me, if anyone’s going to catch this freak, it’s him. He’s like a dog with a bone. Just look at how determined he was to bring Carter’s dad to justice.”
I raise my brows and feel a wave of gratitude crash over me. “Oh, my gosh, tell Carter thank you for doing that. I really appreciate it.”
“It’s no problem,” she assures me. She hesitates a moment before asking, “have you told your dad?”
“Yep. That wasthemost fun conversation of our lives,” I scoff. I try not to remember it. Dad freaked out — no surprise — and had tried to insist I move in with him and Vivianne immediately. “It’s okay now, though. All those Papa Bear instincts are kicking into overdrive though, and I’m worried it’s going to raise his blood pressure?—”
“You are such a nurse.” She laughs, and to my relief, a laugh seeps out of me, as well. Her expression warms, and she pats my hand. “At least you have Jake staying with you now.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, dropping my gaze again. “It is nice having someone around. It feels more secure, I suppose. Even if it’s Jake.”
I can feel her gaze on me and I know what she’s going to ask me next before she says a word.
“So, have you told him yet?”
“No, I haven’t.”
I glance up at her and don’t miss the flash of disappointment in her eyes.
“Abbie, you have to tell him,” she insists. “He’s living with you, for crying out loud! He probably already suspects the truth.”
It’s been four days now since he moved in, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Sophie was right. How could he not suspect that Lilah was his? They’ve been spending so much time together the last few days, and last night, Lilah and I even watched his game on TV even though I really don’t keep up with hockey. My little girl kept pointing at him on the screen and chanting, “Yake!”
“You promised you’d tell him,” Sophie continues, “and I can’t keep this a secret from Carter forever. I actually think he might have figured it out because he’s just not asking about anything to do with you and Jake anymore.”
I sigh. She’s right. I did promise, and it’s not fair that I’ve dragged this out for so long and put her in this position. Before I can respond to her, I see a figure in the distance waving to me. I don’t wave back—this stalker business is stressing me out way too much to wave at anybody I don’t know—but the figure approaches.
Oh, shit. It’s him. That patient from the other day—Stuart.
“Abbie!” He cries out, clearly self-conscious. “Hey!”
Stuart jogs toward us, dressed in the same dirty jacket he was wearing in the clinic parking lot, kind of ratty athletic shorts, with long compression pants underneath, and running shoes.He’s also got a stocking cap, earmuffs, and gloves on. He doesn’t look as grungy and unkempt as he did the last time I saw him. As he comes near, he pulls an earmuff away from his ear.
“How are you?” he asks, stopping in front of us.
“I’m good,” I answer with a polite smile. Looking up at him now, in a public place in broad daylight, he’s not nearly as creepy as I initially thought he was. Still, how much of a coincidence is it that he just happens to be running by while we’re here?
