Page 130 of Passed Ball

Panic spikes in my chest, and I'm moving before I can stop myself. "Holland?" I blurt, already grabbing my keys to go to them.

Her words calm me a fraction, but something's still off. "She's okay, but . . . I just . . . I don't know, Vivi. I feel like I'm being watched. Like someone's been following us, but I can't be sure."

A shiver runs down my spine and I grip the phone tighter.

"I don't know what it is. I just . . . I need someone with me tonight."

My heart is racing--her fear becoming my own. "I'll be there in twenty minutes, okay? Just hang tight. And if anything seems off--a car behind you, someone at the house--you call nine-one-one."

"Okay. Yeah," she agrees.

"And send me a pin so I can track you," I add.

I'm shaking when I hang up, running out the door, barely remembering to stop and lock up after myself. My fingers fumble with the deadbolt, my mind already running through all the worst-case scenarios. Fuck, I should've had her call the police. What if she's actually being followed?

Does Xavier know? He's in the middle of a game. Getting a hold of him is going to be difficult. We haven't exactly had time to go over emergency contact protocol during the postseason. Fuck, that seems like it should have been a priority given everything that's happened.

First, I need to get to Tenley and Holland to see what's going on. I can get there faster than him and I don't want to waste precious time trying to get in touch with him when I could be making sure the girls are okay.

Once I've checked on them, I'll figure out if I need to bring Xavier into it during his game, or if it can wait until after.

I jump into my car, dumping my phone in the cup holder with Tenley's location pulled up on the screen while I drive. My eyes dart down to it every few seconds until I see she's pulled into the driveway. I give her a minute and then I call her.

The dial tone rings through the speakers, each unanswered ring making my foot press harder on the gas. I'm only a few minutes away now.

Finally, she picks up.

"Jesus. Tell me you're inside," I say, my voice tight with nerves.

"Yeah. And I locked up behind me."

"Okay, I'll be there in three minutes. Keep the door locked until I'm there. I'll stay on with you."

Tense silence fills the car and three minutes seems to stretch into hours before I pull into the driveway, scanning the area quickly before stepping out.

"I'm here, let me in," I say, breathless, my heels clicking sharply on the pavement as I rush up the driveway.

As soon as I'm inside, I lock the door and glance out the window. "Let's go sit down and you can tell me what happened."

Tenley nods and follows me, clutching Holland to her chest.

"Want me to take her?" I ask

"Yeah, actually, that'd be great," Tenley says, handing her over. "I can't explain it. I didn't see anyone, but we were at the park earlier and I had this creepy feeling that someone was watching us. Every time I looked, there was no one that seemed out of place, but I couldn't shake it. And then when we were coming back from the store, I swear I saw a car from the park earlier, but it was empty. I don't know, it creeped me out. It was probably nothing, but I didn't want to be here alone until Xavier got home."

"You did the right thing. Did anyone approach you at the park?"

"No. No one. Like I said, it was just a feeling. God, this is silly," she says.

"It's not silly. I'm proud of you for trusting your gut."

I grab my phone from my pocket, googling the non-emergency number for the Denver police and hit the button to call. When the dispatcher answers, I explain the situation, give them Xavier's address and request additional patrols overnight.

I run a hand over her hair like I used to when she was little. "Why don't you relax and try to calm down a little? I'll get her ready for bed and put her down."

"Yeah, okay. Maybe some trash TV will help," she says, grabbing the remote from the coffee table.

I head to Holland's room and lay her down on the changing table and pull open the drawer to grab a fresh diaper and wipes.

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