Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2 — The Counterstrike
I didn’t wait until morning.
I picked up my phone and dialed Alex’s number.
It rang twice before he answered.
"Hey," his voice was gravelly, heavy with sleep. "Is Leo okay? Are you okay?"
Even at 2:30 in the morning, his first thought was my safety.
"Alex, you need to wake up," I said, my voice shaking. "You need to lock your doors."
"What’s going on?"
The sleep vanished from his voice instantly.
Replaced by the cold, tactical tone of a soldier.
"Victor found us," I whispered. "He left a letter in my mailbox. And a picture of you."
I heard the sound of rustling sheets.
The metallic click of a drawer opening.
"Read it to me," Alex said.
I read him the two sentences.
There was a long silence on the other end of the line.
"Alex?"
"I’m here," he said softly.
"He's threatening you, Alex. He's going to hurt you to get to me."
Alex let out a low, humorless laugh.
"He can try."
"This isn't a joke!" I cried, the tears finally spilling over. "He's crazy, Alex. His family has money. They can hire people. They can—"
"Listen to me," Alex interrupted, his voice steady and grounding.
"Victor is a coward. Cowards write letters in the middle of the night. Men handle their business in the light."
"What do we do?" I asked, looking toward the hallway where Leo was sleeping.
"First, you go check your locks. All of them."
"I already did."
"Good. Second, you pack a bag for you and Leo. Three days' worth of clothes."
"Are we running?"
"No," Alex said firmly. "We don't run anymore."
"Then what are we doing?"
"I'm coming to pick you up in twenty minutes. You’re staying at my place."
"But the letter—"
"The letter is proof of a felony," Alex said. "He violated the restraining order and issued a terroristic threat."
"We are going to take that letter to the police."
"And then?"
"And then we bury him."
Twenty minutes later, Alex’s truck pulled up to the curb outside my building.
I carried Leo down the stairs, his small body wrapped in a thick blanket, fast asleep against my shoulder.
Alex was waiting at the lobby door.
He didn't look scared.
He looked angry.
A quiet, dangerous kind of angry.
He took the diaper bag from my shoulder and guided us to the truck.
Once we were inside, with the doors locked and the engine running, I handed him the envelope.
He turned on the dome light and studied the photograph.
He studied the handwriting.
"He took this picture yesterday," Alex noted, pointing to the background. "That construction sign wasn't there on Tuesday."
"He's watching you," I said, shivering despite the heater.
"Let him watch," Alex replied, putting the truck in gear.
We drove to the downtown police precinct.
The same precinct where Victor had been booked six months ago.
The desk sergeant looked exhausted, but when Alex laid the letter and the photograph on the counter, his expression sharpened.
He called for a detective.
Detective Reynolds. The same woman who had taken my statement at the hospital.
She walked out of the back office, took one look at me, and sighed.
"Tell me he didn't do something stupid," she said.
"He did," Alex answered.
Reynolds read the letter.
Her jaw tightened.
"I’ll request an immediate warrant for his arrest," she said, looking at me. "Violation of a protective order, stalking, and communicating threats."
"Will it be enough?" I asked, my voice small.
"With his prior conviction? Yes," Reynolds said. "But he knows that, too."
"What does that mean?"
"It means men like Victor only make threats like this when they have nothing left to lose."
Reynolds looked at Alex.
"Watch your back. And keep her out of sight."
"I intend to," Alex said.
We left the precinct as the sun was beginning to rise.
The sky was painted in shades of bruised purple and dull gray.
I held Leo tighter against my chest.
May you like
The nightmare wasn't over.
It was just changing shape.
