Julia
I stared straight ahead. Not blinking. Not breathing. Not moving.
This couldn’t be happening.
Any minute, I’d wake up and learn this was just a dream.
Or, more appropriately, a nightmare.
Just like the other day when I dreamed of Nick strangling me. That was all this was, too. Right?
But when I felt Imogene’s arms around me, I knew this wasn’t a dream. This was real.
My ex-husband had managed to escape custody.
My serial stalker, rapist, and murdering ex-husband.
My serial stalker, rapist, and murdering ex-husband who would love nothing more than to add me to his list of victims.
He was currently free, his whereabouts unknown.
A dizzying sensation consumed me, but I did my best to keep it together. For Imogene’s sake.
I had to be strong… For Imogene’s sake.
Had to remain in control… For Imogene’s sake.
“How is this possible?” I squeaked out. “How could he escape?”
“I understand how upsetting this must be,” Captain Dawson offered, his voice deep and commanding, yet still filled with compassion. “Investigators are still scouring through the crash scene to figure out the details. What we do know is that this morning, Domenic Jaskulski was being transported from the prison in Trion down to the diagnostic prison in Jackson. According to the warden, the prisoner had been exhibiting certain…behaviors that made him believe he may benefit from reclassification to a more secure unit.
“Approximately fifty miles in, the van went off the road and down an embankment. As I mentioned, investigators are still on the scene, piecing together what happened. Search dogs are combing through the wooded area and attempting to pick up his trail. Right now, we have no reason to suspect foul play.”
“Really?” Lachlan scoffed, vein in his neck throbbing. He glanced at Imogene, struggling to temper his remarks. “A prison transport van carrying that bastard just so happens to go off the road and crash. Miraculously, he’s the only one who manages to escape with his life. Probably without so much as a scratch on him, since he hasn’t been located. And you don’t think that screams foul play?”
“Until we find physical evidence supporting that theory, we need to base our determination on what we do know. In addition to Jaskulski, there were two other prisoners in the van, all three men chained and shackled. Since Jaskulski was sitting the farthest back from the source of impact, we believe that was what saved him. The guard in the front and the driver most likely died the instant the van hit a tree at what investigators believe to be full speed. It’s possible the impact of the crash dislodged the restraint bar the prisoner was shackled to, allowing him to escape.”
“Great. Bloody great.”
“I appreciate what a shock this is.” Captain Dawson turned his eyes toward mine. “How uneasy you must feel. Atlanta PD is fully aware of the situation and has assigned twenty-four-hour surveillance over these premises in the event Jaskulski attempts to pay you a visit.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but Lachlan interjected.
“You think that’s a comfort?”
“I understand you don’t have the best…history with some people in the department.”
“You’ve got that right,” he muttered.
“But I can assure you, they’re treating Ms. Prescott’s safety with the highest level of importance. As is the GBI.”
“GBI?” I asked, brows furrowed.
“Georgia Bureau of Investigation. They’ve been called in on this matter, as has the FBI and US Marshals. We’re utilizing every resource possible to find Jaskulski and return him to custody. Most convicts don’t last more than twenty-four hours on the run, the majority found in less than four.”
Lachlan parted his lips, about to argue once more. But before he could, I placed a hand on his bicep, giving him a look of warning.
“Thank you, Captain Dawson.” I passed him a congenial smile. “I appreciate your concern. And everything you’re all doing to keep us safe.”