Page 53 of Redemption

Webber moved to stand in front of me, a conciliatory look on his face.

“We’ll do what we can to find your sister, Ms. Bishop. I’d like to speak with you later today or tomorrow. Get your statement about what happened today. I am anxious to find justice. I’ll need the evidence against the mayor and the chief.”

Absently, I nodded my head at his request. Horrifying images of what Phebe must be going through continued to race through my mind. I vowed I would do everything I could to find her.

Two months later

“I’ll call againin a couple days and stop by next week, okay? Oh, and please stop giving Philip a hard time when he comes by, will you? He hates making you feel so uncomfortable, and he tries to leave you alone as much as possible. He’s a friend, Casey, and I swear, he won’t hurt you. I love you. Bye.”

I hung up the phone after ending my twice-weekly call to Casey. I’d invited her to come live with Miles and me after we’d moved in together, but she declined. She said she wanted to stay in the cottage she’d been taken to when I’d liberated her from my father’s house. She still refused to go outside so I’d hired Philip, the bouncer from Eden, to stop in every few days and take her groceries and to check the property to make sure that everything was secure. I was monitoring the inside, but Philip was former military, and I trusted him to help look after Casey.

Both of us were dealing with our father’s death in our own way. For me, I still woke from the occasional nightmare. I hated that he could return from the grave like that and manage to fuck with my life. But, it was difficult to get over having a gun shoved in your face by your father no less. After his death, my mother took to her bed, alcohol and Valium her coping mechanism. Honestly, I thought she’d be relieved that she was finally free, but no. She was so mentally broken down she didn’t know how to be now that she was no longer under his control. It was as though my father had entirely removed her free will over the last thirty years. It was sad to see, but any sympathy for my mother had long been destroyed. If she wasn’t strong enough, then there was nothing I could do for her.

Other than dealing with the occasional flashback, I was happy. Miles made me happy. Knowing my father could have killed me made me truly realize how precious and short life is, and I refused to waste any time by not grabbing what I wanted and holding it tight. Three weeks after my father’s death, Miles packed up his apartment and moved into my house. A week after that, I was searching online and found a gorgeous leather cord necklace with silver O-ring.

My fingers had twitched over the keyboard as I contemplated if I was ready to take that step. Asking Miles if he’d accept my collar was a huge leap in our relationship, and I was terrified of what he would say. I’d silently argued back and forth with myself, my cursor hovering over the purchase button, before, finally, I took the plunge and bought it. He was still learning how to be submissive, and I wasn’t sure if he was ready for the level of commitment a collar represented.

The collar had been buried all the way in the back of my underwear drawer for the last month. Every few days I took it out and looked at it, picturing it around Miles’ neck. Each day the urge grew stronger to place it there, until finally, I knew it was time. This weekend, I was planning on asking Miles to accept my collar. I started sweating at the thought.

Tearing me from my musings, a ping sounded from my computer. I logged in and clicked a few icons. Praying my eyes weren’t deceiving me, my fingers flew across the keys, tapping out a staccato of sound that pierced my ears. Tears formed at the information in front of me.

“Miles,” I screamed.

Footsteps pounded down the hallway as a breathless Miles stumbled into the room, sleep still in his eyes.

“What happened? Are you all right?”

I turned my head to him as the tears poured down my face.

“I found her.”

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