Page 34 of My Destiny
“Really?” She pauses and looks down at her lap. “I had no idea. But if it’s true, it explains so much.”
“I’m not making it up.”
“Wait, you fired him?”
“You better believe I did.” She sighs as she turns to look out the window. “Brooke, I had no choice.”
“I know,” she says, looking back at me. “I just feel bad for him. His job meant everything to him.”
Her comment pisses me off. “Obviously, the drugs meant more to him than his career, and his secretary meant more to him than his wife.” I remove my arm from around her when she gasps, and scrub my hands over my face. “I’m sorry. That comment was uncalled for.”
“You’re probably right,” is all she says, as she wraps her arms around herself before gazing back out the window.
Resting my head back onto the seat, I rub my hands down the front of my jeans. I feel like an arse.
No words are spoken on the drive to the police station. It’s a short commute, but it feels like an eternity. Her comment caught me off guard because I can’t fathom why she’d have any empathy for him, especially after what he did to her. I blow out a long breath. I guess I need to understand that Jake was once her husband and probably meant the world to her. Either way, he doesn’t deserve her compassion, but she’s probably not as cynical as me. My job has hardened me over the years. I’ve dealt with enough scum and stopped giving a fuck a long time ago.
“You okay?” I ask as I extend my hand, helping her from the car. She just shrugs. “You don’t have to deal with this alone.”
“Thank you,” she says, squeezing my hand.
We have to wait for a while to be seen, and Brooke’s on edge. When I ask, she assures me that she’s okay, but the persistent bouncing of her leg tells me otherwise.
Eventually someone comes to greet us, and I learn he’s one of the officers who attended her home the other night. I’m glad it’s someone who’s already familiar with the case.
“Take a seat,” he says, leading us into one of the interview rooms. “I believe you received a threatening text message?”
“Yes,” Brooke answers, taking a seat. I take the chair beside her as she proceeds to pull out her phone and pass it to him.
“A restaurant was vandalised down the street from your place the same night as the brick went through your window, so we presumed it was just some punk being a dickhead. Now I’m not so sure.”
“I actually work at that restaurant,” she says, bowing her head.
“I see,” he replies, leaning back in his chair. My jaw ticks as I listen.
“I know we spoke about this the other night, but do you have any idea who could be doing this?”
She shakes her head. “I’m not sure.”
“Have you ever received messages like this in the past?”
She pauses briefly before answering. “Yes, but that was months ago.”
The officer picks up his pen and jots something down. “Do you know who sent the other messages?”
“Yes. My estranged husband.”
“Were they threatening in any way?”
“Mostly, yes. But then I changed my number and they stopped. As I told you the other night, I’ve had no contact with him for eight months.”
“Has he ever been violent towards you in the past?”
Her eyes dart to me before falling to her lap. “Once—the day I left him. He tried to strangle me.”
Keeping my composure is imperative, but in this instance I’m struggling. Pushing my chair back, I stand and begin to pace back and forth as I analyse her words. The day she left him was the same day I let her go home to face that animal on her own.Fuck.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
