Page 20 of Sweet Like a Psycho (Secrets of Suburbi 2)

Forever and always,

Joel

They were all high school nonsense and signed the same way. Promises of forever. I tossed the notes back in the box. It was none of my business, but I wanted to know if Joel was Zeke’s father. And how "forever and always" became "never and goodbye." He seemed to love her. So why would he leave when she needed him the most?

Violet snored, pulling me out of my thoughts. I closed the lid of the box. I wanted to put Joel’s name into the system and see what I could find. I wanted to know what kind of man would abandon his beautiful family. But I wasn’t going to do that. Violet was slowly opening up to me. Maybe she’d tell me about Joel soon. And Zeke’s father, if they weren’t the same person.

I turned to put the box back where I had found it when my eyes landed on something I never expected. A pistol. Right there under the floorboards. I looked back at Violet sleeping and a chill ran down my spine. All night long I had been captivated by her, completely ignoring my suspicions from a few days ago. But Violet wasn’t as sweet and innocent as she seemed. She wasn’t a damsel in distress in dire need of someone to take care of her. She could clearly fend for herself. After all, people that couldn’t even kill flies didn’t own guns.

Chapter 9

Violet

I woke up with a smile on my face, and for the life of me I couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. My nose was still stuffy, but my throat and head hurt less. I took a deep breath and ignored my sniffling noise. I felt go

od. I felt alive. And I felt warm. Very, very warm.

The sun streaming through the blinds was somehow warming me from head to toe. The sunshine felt amazing on my face, like it was the first rays of springtime instead of the impending winter. I slowly opened my eyes and glanced at the alarm clock by my bed. It was only six in the morning. The sun must have woken me early.

I looked at the blinds and my good mood faded. I always closed them before bed. Always. After I double checked that all the doors were locked downstairs. And then triple checked. Because it was the only way to ensure that intruders wouldn’t come bursting into my home. I couldn’t remember doing any of that last night.

And I…I looked down at my layers upon layers of clothing. I definitely always changed into pajamas before bed. I never just collapsed in bed without going through my usual routine. It was a routine for a reason.

I groaned and pushed myself into a seated position. What the hell happened last night? I touched my forehead, expecting a sharp pain, a reminder of times when I drank too much in high school. But there wasn’t one. I felt good and well rested and…betrayed.

Betrayed? The thought settled around me, making it hard to breathe. Shit. I shoved the blankets off of me. No. No, no, no. I climbed out of bed and ran out of my bedroom, down the hall, and descended the stairs. It had just been a dream. It had just been a wonderful, perfect, stupid dream. The only problem with that theory was that I never remembered my dreams. The other problem with that theory was that there was a note from Detective Reed sitting on my kitchen counter.

A detective had been loose in my house while I slept. I eyed the bottle of medicine on the counter beside the note. That son of a bitch had brought me Nyquil to make me pass out. Giving him free reign to snoop. Why had I let him in? What was wrong with me?

This was bad. This was really, really bad. He could have gone anywhere. Seen anything. I swallowed hard.

You do not lie about big things. My mother’s words came back to me. Big lies have big consequences.

But for the first time, I wasn’t thinking them to reprimand myself. Detective Reed came here under false pretenses, drugged me, and then did God knows what in my house while I slept. As far as I was concerned, his big lies would have big consequences.

I ignored the note, grabbed my cellphone, and dialed 911. I had warned him to stay off my property. This wasn’t a game to me. This was my life. And my number one responsibility was to protect my son. Going to prison wasn’t an option for me. I wouldn’t let Zeke go into the system. He needed me.

“911, what’s your emergency?” The dispatcher asked.

“Hi, it’s not technically an emergency, but I want to file a complaint about...”

“Ma’am, this line is for emergencies only…”

“Right.” I cut her off. “Well, I was drugged by one of your detectives and then he snooped around my house without a warrant.”

“Ma’am, we can get an ambulance out to you right away. What is your location?”

“No, I don’t need an ambulance.” I started pacing back and forth. “I’m fine now. He drugged me last night and I just woke up.”

“Ma’am, did the man who drugged you sexually assault you?”

“What? No.” God, this conversation was pointless. “It’s not technically an emergency. I just need to file a complaint.”

“Then an emergency response is not required at this moment. But I will send an officer out to speak to you as soon as possible about your complaint. In the meantime, are you sure you’re not in need of an ambulance to take you to the nearest hospital? The drugs in your system may…”

“I don’t need an ambulance!” This woman was driving me insane.

“Alright then.” She verified my address and phone number and then the line went dead.

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