style="font-size:15px;"> “Thank God you’re here,” he said in a low growl. “He’s driving me nuts.”
Josh was pacing the small room, energy coming off his body in waves that were nearly visible. With his face a scary shade of red, he looked like he was about to blow from the pressure building inside him.
“Josh,” Sam said, since he hadn’t seemed to notice her arrival.
Whirling around, he said, “You gotta let me out of here. He’s going to find me. I’m like a sitting duck here.”
“Calm down—”
“Don’t tell me to calm down! You don’t know him! You don’t know what he’s capable of!”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
His lips tightened as he shook his head. “Take my word for it.”
“I wish I could, but I just met you on Friday, and his reputation is legendary, so you’ll have to forgive me if I need more to go on.”
He took a series of deep breaths, obviously trying to calm himself down. “He raised me, and I’m terrified of him. What else do you need to know?”
“Specifics. Why are you terrified of him?”
“He’s ruthless. Nothing I ever did was good enough for him. If I screwed up, he beat the shit out of me. If I mouthed off, he beat the shit out of me.”
“Just you, or your siblings too?”
“I don’t know if he ever hit them. They’re older than me, and by the time I was old enough to be his punching bag they were out of the house.”
“And you never asked them?”
Shaking his head, he said, “Until now, I’ve never told anyone that he hit me.”
“Did your mother know?”
“I think she did, but she never said anything, and she certainly didn’t try to stop it.”
“So she wasn’t in the room when he hit you?”
“Never. It was only ever the two of us.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this the other day?”
“Because! It’s not something I just blab about. I know who he is and what people think of him. Who’s going to believe me over him?”
“I believe you, Josh.”
He stopped moving, and his shoulders sagged, as if he’d been relieved of a weighty burden. “You do? Really?”
“Yeah, I do. I’ve been in this business a lot of years, and I know the difference between someone who’s playing the sympathy card and someone who’s been the victim of violence.”
At that, he stood up straighter again. “I am not a victim. I’m a survivor. Huge difference.”
“You’re right. There is a huge difference.”
“I can’t stay here. He’s going to find me, and when he does, he’ll kill me.”
Sam exchanged glances with Freddie, who looked as tense as she felt. “Give me a minute to talk to my partner, okay? We’ll figure something out.”
Josh didn’t acknowledge her question or her statement, so Sam turned and took Freddie by the arm. “Hallway.”
They stepped outside the room.
“You’ve got a key?”
“Yeah.”
She nodded toward the alcove next to the elevators, which was just around the corner from the room. “What’s your take?” she asked when they were out of earshot of the room.
“I believe him. He’s legitimately terrified.”
“I agree. I think it’s time to call in the brass on this. I didn’t want to until we were sure we had something, but his fear is enough for me to involve the department. This is way above my pay grade.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that. How do we explain what we’ve done so far?”
“I’ll figure that out on the way to Farnsworth’s house.”
“You’re going to his house?”
“That’s where I’m most likely to find him on a Sunday afternoon, and PS I grew up going to his house, remember?”
“Since I wasn’t actually there, no, I don’t remember.”
“Very funny. I’m suspended, so they have to cut me out of this, but you’ll keep me in the loop, understood?”
“Of course. What do we tell Josh?”
“That I’m going to talk to my chief to figure out how to keep him safe while investigating his claims.”
“He’s gonna freak. He’s been ranting that people are going to find out the truth about Troy Hamilton and how someone’s going to kill him.”
“You think he’s mentally ill?”
“No, I think he’s truly terrified. When the calls from his father started, he did a one-eighty. Before that he was calm, we were chilling, watching TV. After the calls, he was unhinged. I’ve seen nothing that smacks of mental illness, and I’d recognize it if I saw it.” The comment was a reminder that Freddie’s father, who’d recently reentered his life after a twenty-year absence, suffered from bipolar disorder.
“I’ll talk to him and explain the plan. Your job is to keep him calm until I get back.”
“Lucky me.” They rounded the corner and Freddie withdrew the keycard from his pocket to open the door to an empty room. “Aw, shit, he’s gone.”
“Check the bathroom,” Sam said, her heart sinking.
“Gone.”
“Fuck.” She rushed out of the room and ran for the stairwell at the end of the hallway, well aware that he had a decent head start on them. Freddie’s pounding footsteps followed behind her. They went down seven flights and burst into the lobby, startling an older couple.
“You’re the second lady!” the man said.
Ignoring him, Sam said to Freddie, “Take the back.” She ran for the main doors, hoping for a glimpse of Josh before he disappeared, but there was no sign of him. Motherfucker. She jogged to the corner of Fifteenth Street, but he wasn’t there either. Goddamn it.
Freddie came out the front door and ran over to her. “Anything?”
“No.”
Sam powered up her phone and tried to call Josh, but the call went straight to voicemail. She left a message, begging him
