Page 42 of Operator
She wasn’t wrong. I contemplate her words as I go about the house picking up and cleaning. Part of me had planned to stay in this house forever. It’s one way to hold on to Ian for as long as possible. I have enough money from his retirement account and life insurance that I don’t need to work. At least not for a little while. But I will eventually have to figure out what I plan to do.
I would have thought Bunny would want to keep us close. It warms my heart a little to think of her pushing me out of the nest like a baby bird. She may be nosy and intrusive, but I love her. For every moment where she’s overbearing, she’s also kind and considerate.
It wouldn’t hurt for me to look at job openings. Looking doesn’t mean applying, and applying doesn’t mean interviewing, and interviewing doesn’t mean accepting. I would just be keeping my options open.
Once the house is clean, I sit down at my laptop and peruse openings in my specialty. Due to the great resignation, employers are vastly understaffed, and fortunately for me, there are a plethora of options. I flag a few locally that are well beneath my qualifications but would keep me from having to uproot our lives. There’s another in Washington and one in North Florida. Isn’t that where Alec lives? I should give him a call. I know Callum had some concerns about him, but I always liked him. I’m not really going to apply for the job, but it’s interesting to consider.
I’m scanning through a few more job openings when my phone starts going insane. So many notifications of text, social media alerts, and phone calls occur at the same time that it locks up and freezes. For a moment, I’m bewildered. Can phones catch a virus? Did it get hacked? Then my heart stumbles. Could it have been the person who planted the suicide note? My palms grow sweaty. I’d set the alarm this morning after Callum left for the diner, didn’t I?
With my breath stuttering out and my heart pounding a wild tattoo in my chest, I get to my feet and move to the closet, where I keep the weapon in a lockbox. I put in the code to retrieve the weapon and load a clip. I flip off the safety. I’m overreacting. I have to be overreacting.
While I wait for my phone to unfreeze, I check the locks. All are engaged. So is the alarm system. I can’t use my phone or my tablet, but the monitor Cal installed for the cameras outside show that no one is around. Daisy is snoozing in a puddle of sunshine, blissfully unaware of my deteriorating mental state. So much for a guard dog. Maybe I should invest in a pit bull mix.
Somehow, I managed to wade through the sea of notifications and alerts and disable all or most of them. There are a dozen or more voicemails from various friends, coworkers from the diner, Bunny, and one from Cal. I listen to the one from Cal first.
I can tell from the sound of his voice the moment I hit play something is gravely wrong. “Gwen. It’s Cal. Baby, I know you’re not going to listen to me, but please do what I say. Do not go on social media. Keep your phone on you, but do not go on social media. I’ll be home in ten minutes. Wait for me. Please do this for me.”
My first instinct is to close out of my voicemail and go to Facebook, but something in his voice stops me. Fear. Cal hadn’t been afraid before his spec ops training to become an operator. He hadn’t been afraid before any of his deployments or even after losing Tate. But that’s what I hear on his voicemail. Fear.
My thumb hovers over the app before finally turning off my phone to stop the notifications. I’m safe inside the house. Cal will be here soon. Whatever is wrong, he’ll be here soon.
I don’t read into the relief I feel at the thought. All I know is everything will feel better with him next to me. In fact, now that I’ve made the decision, I simply turn off my thoughts and focus on checking on the baby.
Naturally, she hasn’t noticed a thing. The seconds tick away, feeling like hours. Daisy perks up at something only she can hear. I hurry to the window after her and find Callum striding up the front walk. I hastily input the security code and throw the locks just as he’s reaching for the front doorknob.
“Cal.” The relief in my voice is almost palpable. “What’s going on?”
“Let’s go inside.”
Well, shit.That can’t be good news.
He guides me to the couch and sits next to me. “You didn’t look on social media, did you?”
I take his hands automatically, needing his touch to steady myself. “No, of course not. You said not to. Why? Tell me what’s going on.”
As though he can’t hold himself back any longer, he presses a brief kiss to my lips. The sense of comfort I derive from such a simple action is a sad tale of how much I’m craving affection. Security. Someone to lean on. It’s been weeks since I got so much as a crumb from him, so even though I’m panicking, my eyes flutter closed for one moment of bliss. Then I put a hand to his chest.
“Cal?” I say on a breath.
He brushes my hair back, leaning his forehead against mine. On a sigh, he says, “Someone posted a video from Ian’s social media accounts. It had to have been taken the day he died.”
I find myself pulling back, eyes going wide. I nearly choke. “What? Let me see it,” I say automatically. Then I hesitate. Do I really want to see it? A headache brews behind my eyes.
He still has my hands in his and gives them a gentle squeeze. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”
“Yes,” I answer firmly, my voice steadying. We’re still facing each other so I can look directly into his eyes. “I think I should. I’m going to look at it the first chance I get anyway. You may as well be here when I do.”
Wordlessly, he gestures for me to take out my phone. I once again navigate through dozens of notifications and manage to access the first social media account I can. The sight of Ian’s name on my screen sends a stab of hot, pulsing fear to my stomach. I click on it and his face appears in front of me.Oh, God. Maybe Callum had been right. Maybe I shouldn’t watch this.
But it’s too late. His voice fills my ears. “If you’re seeing this, then I’m sorry. I never planned for you to let me just say that first before we go any farther. I don’t mean to hurt anyone I just—I just can’t take this anymore. The guilt. The shame. It’s so hard to survive every day knowing what I know and not doing anything about it. Why do I deserve to live, and others don’t?” He lifts his eyes from where he’d been staring at his hands. “Gwen, baby. I never meant to hurt you. I love you so much. I only want you to be happy.”
The video stops. Silence explodes around me, filled only by the sound of my harsh breaths.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CALLUM
It’sa while before I realize he’s finished speaking. When I look up, I find Gwen with tears trailing down her face. Wrecked. That’s the only word that comes to mind to describe her.
