Page 30 of Prairie Nights

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Hayden and Whitney exited the plane at Pearson International Airport and made their way to the luggage claim. Whitney had been quiet the entire flight, and Hayden ached painfully for her. He could see the worry in her eyes and wanted desperately to take this burden from her. Finding out what had happened, he immediately made arrangements so he could go with her. Whitney should not have to her deal with this alone and the thought of her ex-husband threatening her made him want to act as a protective shield around her. Paul would not get near Whitney.

They retrieved their luggage and hailed a cab to take them to their hotel. After dropping off their luggage, they headed to her apartment.

The property manager for her building met them at the front door of the complex. “Hey Whitney.” he greeted, giving her a quick hug. “I’m so sorry you had to rush here under these circumstances.”

Whitney gave him a sad look and gestured to Hayden. “James, this is my boyfriend, Hayden Hastings.”

The men shook hands and James guided them to the elevator as he updated them on the situation.

“I’ve not touched anything. The police have dusted for fingerprints, looked for any evidence they may need, and did everything they can do right now. Your apartment just needs to be cleaned up. I’m not sure what your plans are for your lease coming up?” James asked, pressing the sixth floor button.

“I will not be renewing.”

“Okay, then painting and patching will need to be done so I can rent it out on February 1st. I changed the locks, so here is the temporary key for you,” he said, handing it over. “When you’re done, you can just drop the key in the office mailbox.”

They walked down the hall together and Hayden took Whitney’s hand in his, giving it a supportive squeeze, letting her know he was with her through this. Whitney glanced up at him, so much emotion in her deep brown eyes.

“Let me know if you need me,” offered James, turning to head back downstairs.

Whitney turned the key and opened the door slowly, apprehensive of what she might find. Immediately, Whitney gasped and her hand came over her mouth in shock. On the wall were the words, “Stupid Bitch.” written in spray paint. Her couch was turned over, the cushions ripped and shredded, their stuffing strewn about the apartment. The bookshelves toppled and her books were torn and thrown around the room. She walked over to her kitchen and all her dishes, glasses and serve ware were smashed, piles of glass all over the hardwood floor. Her coffee pot was smashed, as were her small appliances she had on the countertop.

Hayden looked around in horror at the rubble that was left of her apartment. Rubble being the only way to describe the disaster before them. Whitney silently picked up a piece of a decorative glass bowl and looked at it sadly, then threw it aside in the pile of glass on the kitchen floor. Hayden felt tears prick his eyes, as all he could do is watch her, taking in all that she owned broken and destroyed. The scene was devastating, and Whitney was somber in her perusal of the damage. She walked slowly down the hall, stepping carefully over piles of her belongings to what he assumed was her bedroom. She stopped and stood pale faced in front of her bed. Not until he reached her did he see what she was looking at. Written across her headboard in spray paint was the word “SLUT”. At that moment, Whitney crumpled to the floor, her knees giving out on her. Loud, frantic sobs, escaping her throat as her body convulsed with each piercing wail of anger, utter devastation manifesting outward with her other worldly cries. Hayden went down to the floor with her and lifted her into his lap, cradling her as she let go. She turned, burying her face in his shoulder, the sobs wracking her body violently. Hayden, shaken himself, couldn’t hold back his own tears as he held her, so confused why anyone would do this to her.

* * *

Hayden and Whitney had been in Toronto for four days, cleaning, painting, and repairing all they could. Exhausted and with the final inspection done by the Property Manager, Whitney held a box of items she managed to salvage and took one last look at her apartment. A place she loved for the past five years and now it was time to say goodbye. Carrying her box of books and keepsakes that survived the ransacking of her apartment, she took one last look around, then closed and locked the door to her old life.

“Are you okay?” Hayden asked, putting his hand on the small of her back.

“I will be,” she said, giving him a half smile. “These past few days have been a lot to deal with.”

Hayden acknowledged her, leaning down to give her a chaste kiss and rubbed her back supportively.

When they had arrived and had seen the devastation, they paid a visit to the police station to give a statement and press charges against Paul. Whitney reported the threatening emails and texts she received from Paul and applied for another order of protection. They had already matched his identity with the surveillance camera and a warrant was out for his arrest. There was nothing more she could do for now but hope they would be able to apprehend him.

Hayden grabbed the box she was holding, and they made their way to the elevator. Setting the box down at his feet while they waited for the elevator, he pulled her into him for a hug as he rubbed her back and kissed her head affectionately. The elevator dinged, and the doors opened, and a tall, lanky man walked out. He wore a black bomber style winter jacket, a toque slung low, his head was down. Hayden caught his eye, an unsettling smirk on his lips. He nodded, acknowledging Hayden, their eyes meeting, then looking down quickly, he stuffed his hands in his pockets. Hayden grabbed the box and took a double take at the man now opening his apartment door, two doors down from Whitney’s old apartment. Something about him felt suspect. His dark eyes, piercing, almost sinister. His smirk, not friendly, but showing a meanness that made Hayden’s gut ache. A deep uneasiness enveloped him by the brief encounter as he followed Whitney into the elevator and to the waiting cab outside the apartment building.

* * *

Back in their hotel room, Whitney climbed into bed next to Hayden and nestled into his chest, her hand resting on his stomach.

“You’re quiet. Something on your mind?” she asked, noting his mood change since they left her apartment.

Hayden took a moment to think through her question, then replied. “Yes, it's probably nothing, but do you remember that guy that got off the elevator when we got on at the apartment building?”

“Vaguely. Why?” Whitney asked, popping her head up to meet his eyes.

“There was something about him that seemed off.” Hayden commented, furrowing his brows. “Was he a neighbour of yours?”

“No, I knew all my neighbours. I had lived there for five years and knew everyone. Perhaps he had just moved in?” she suggested with a shrug, as she laid her head back down and nestled into Hayden.

They both lay there a while in quiet contemplation, but Whitney could feel Hayden was still tense and deep in thought. Breaking the silence, Hayden asked. “Do you have a picture of your ex, Paul?”

“No, but I bet he has social media.” she answered, sitting up and grabbing her phone. She combed through her phone for a few minutes and turned it to show Hayden. The profile picture of Paul before him. He had greying hair, thinning on top, and looked tall, thin and lanky in build. He enlarged the picture and surveyed his face for a moment. Dark eyes stared back at him, the same dark eyes he saw earlier today. He looked at Whitney, her eyes curious and imploring him for answers. Hayden looked up at her, his face paling as he spoke. “Whitney, Paul lives two doors down from your apartment. We need to call the police.”

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