48
Zeke followedLiv through the house, willing the mass of caterpillars in his gut to disappear. They had fallen there, bulbous bodies writhing and tiny feet scrapping, after Rohan’s early morning announcement.
During the endless drive, he’d convinced himself that the “something’s come up at home” was nothing but an excuse to flee what she perceived was a terrible mistake.
Not him, though. Having Liv in his bed again was like taking the first bite of Grams’s pecan pie. Delicious and warm and like Dorothy’s Kansas.
Home.
Pausing outside Brodie’s bedroom, Liv glanced at him as if to say “brace yourself” before motioning him in ahead of her.
One look inside, and the caterpillars drop-kicked him in the solar plexus. “What the fuck?” The place looked like a gang of Tasmanian Devils had played ping-pong inside. Then he noticed the jagged carving above the bed.
A loss 4 a loss.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“I don’t know.” She stooped to pick up a large garbage bag. “I’ve plowed through memory after memory, trying to find a connection. But nothing’s popping.”
“Do you think they were looking for something? Or was this some sort of payback?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. I’ve run through my recent cases and can’t tie in any of them to this.” She stooped down and picked up a decapitated Wonder Woman from the pile of disfigured action heroes. “This was personal. Deeply personal.”
Zeke gently pried the toy from her fingers and dropped it into the garbage bag. “What about the guy stalking the social media influencer?”
“Jeremy Jackson.”
“Is he still bothering Ivy?”
“I checked in with her a few days ago, but she hasn’t returned my phone call.”
“If he was that into her, he wouldn’t like being cut off.”
“Jackson’s a coward. I can’t see him risking a B and E. He likes to play in the shadows.”
“Just because he avoided a face-to-face confrontation with you doesn’t mean he’s not capable of violence.”
She rubbed her right temple. “You’re right.” If anyone should understand the vagaries of human behavior, it should be her.
“What about your volunteer work? Callie mentioned once that you help women in need. Any recent issues there?”
“Everyone I’ve assisted through the women’s center has been nothing but grateful.”
“What about a pissed-off spouse, significant other, brother, father, son—someone negatively impacted by your good works?”
“Nobody who would have cause to react like this—” Her words cut off abruptly while she stared at the boarded-up window.
“You’ve thought of something.”
“One of the women, Claudia Rogers, is married to a man who likes his habitat—clothes, home, meals—a certain way. In the past year, when his wife’s efforts fell short of his expectations, he let her know. The abuse started with a few isolated outbursts, then came the gaslighting, rough handling, and finally the beatings.”
Men who used their strength to intimidate those weaker than them ranked right up there with pedophiles and serial killers in his book.
“Yesterday, the center’s director called me. Claudia returned with a bloodied nose and a busted-out front tooth.”
“Fucking bastard.”
She nodded. “The director made arrangements for Claudia to go to her cousin in Raleigh, while I worked with my aunt to get an order of protection.”