Page 3 of Freeing Ruby

I’ve often wished I could trade my life for hers.

Maybe then my father wouldn’t hate me so much.

Mentally, I shake myself. To keep my mind from wandering down a dark path that leads to nothing but pain, I disappear into the spare bedroom, which I turned into my painting studio. In here, I can lose myself in colors and shapes. I busy myself with my latest commission—a tiny portrait of a little white dog with a pink, diamond-studded collar—and try to forget the fact that a complete stranger is going to invade my home today.

Chapter 2

Miguel

I arrive at the office building fifteen minutes before my early-morning appointment with my boss, Shane McIntyre. I have just enough time to stop by the martial arts studio to say hi to one of my best friends—Liam McIntyre, Shane’s youngest brother. Liam and his girlfriend, Jasmine, are teaching a women’s self-defense class for new hires. I watch through the glass viewing window as they demonstrate some maneuvers to the students.

Jasmine smiles bigtime as she catches sight of me. She waves, and I return the gesture. It’s good to see her looking so happy. Only months ago, she was living on the streets, selling her body just to survive. That is, until she met Liam. Now she’s happy and safe and looking forward to a bright future.

Liam catches my gaze and gives me a thumb’s up. I wave as I walk away. With five minutes to spare, I take an elevator up to the twentieth floor, where the executive offices are located.

Shane called me late last night and asked me to come meet a new client this morning—well, meet the new client’s godfather anyway. The actual client is the man’s 24-year-old goddaughter, Ruby Foster.

When I approach Shane’s office, the door is partially open, so I peer inside. Shane’s seated behind his big mahogany desk, and there’s an older, gray-haired gentleman seated across from him. The man’s dressed in a brown corduroy jacket, a red plaid shirt, and khaki trousers—he’s definitely got a professor vibe to him. This must be the godfather, the guy who’s hiring me.

Shane spots me loitering in the doorway and waves me in. “Perfect timing, Miguel. Take a seat.”

I suck in a breath before walking in and take the empty chair next to the client.

Shane leans back in his black leather chair. “Mr. McCall, this is Miguel Rodriguez, the bodyguard I’m assigning to your case. Based on everything you’ve told me about your goddaughter, I think Miguel is the perfect person to assess her situation.”

The man seated beside me smiles as he offers his hand, and we shake. “Nice to meet you, Miguel. Your boss here—” he nods toward Shane “—speaks very highly of you.”

“Thank you, sir,” I say.

Shane gestures to me. “Edward, why don’t you bring Miguel up to date on what you’ve told me?”

McCall sighs. “Ruby, my goddaughter, lives alone in an apartment in Wicker Park. She’s lived there for two years now—and never once has she stepped foot outside her apartment. She suffers from agoraphobia, as well as anxiety and paranoia. She experienced a terrible tragedy when she was young—the poor girl witnessed the murder of her own mother. Despite what happened to her, I think Ruby’s doing relatively well all things considered. She completed a university degree in art—online, of course—and got herself an apartment. She’d been living with her father up until then, but sadly their relationship has deteriorated over the years, ever since Helen’s—Ruby’s mother’s—death. Ruby lives a very frugal lifestyle, and she manages to support herself from her work as an artist.”

McCall shifts in his chair to face me directly. “Helen Foster was a dear, dear friend of mine. We met at University of Chicago and became inseparable friends. Shortly after she graduated, she married Allen Foster, a financial investment broker here in Chicago. They had one child—Ruby. When Ruby was eight, she and her mother were out shopping in downtown Chicago. As they were returning to their car parked in a public parking garage, they were the victims of a carjacking. Ruby was already buckled into the backseat when Helen was pulled out of the driver’s seat. When she fought back, the assailant shot and killed Helen right in front of Ruby. As you can imagine, the poor child was traumatized. The carjacker took off with Ruby in the car. He drove around the city for hours before he finally dropped her off at a convenience store in South Chicago.”

“Ruby was never the same after that,” McCall says. Frowning, he shakes his head. “She developed a deep-seated belief that the world isn’t safe. Honestly, can you blame her? She’s coping as best she can, but things have taken a turn for the worse over the past year. She claims someone is terrorizing her—that she has a stalker. Allen—her father—thinks it’s all in her head. He’s been pressuring her to move back home with him, but Ruby refuses.” Edward slumps back in his chair, looking defeated.

“Allen had Ruby in therapy for years when she was younger,” he continues. “She’s taken a variety of prescription medications over the years, but nothing has helped. Since the carjacking, she did all of her schooling online from home. When she graduated from the university at twenty-two, she moved out on her own. By that time, she’d already built a career for herself as an artist.”

Shane nods to me. “Miguel, your assignment is to determine whether or not Miss Foster’s claims are valid.”

I turn to McCall. “Do you think her claims are valid?”

The man nods. “I believe her. Ruby has her challenges, no doubt, but I’ve never known her to make things up. If she says someone is stalking her, then I’m inclined to believe her—which is why I’m here.”

I nod. “When do I start?”

“Today, if you can,” McCall says, looking hopeful. “The sooner we get her some help, the better.”

“I’ll text you her address,” Shane says to me. “I’ve recommended to Mr. McCall that you stay with Miss Foster in her apartment. Hopefully, we’ll soon have an idea as to what’s going on.”

“I’ll need to make a quick stop at my place to pack a bag,” I say.

“Why don’t you meet Mr. McCall at Ruby’s apartment around—” Shane looks to the client “—when? Ten o’clock?”

McCall nods. “Perfect. I’ll call Ruby to let her know what time to expect us.”

* * *

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