HE STOOD OUTSIDE THE FRONT door, eagerly anticipating the reaction he might get while at the same time kind of fearful of it. He didn't know how to approach it—ring the bell, make her think a stranger was at the door or let himself in? He had the key. He opted for knocking. It would make for a more dramatic reaction.
He could hear the shuffling on the other side of the door, and then he saw her pull the curtain back. The front light came on. The door opened. "Ethan?" Brooke's reaction was a mixture of emotion. There was some happiness to see him, but it was quickly overrun by anger.
He did his best to smile. "Out on bail." He walked into the house. She stayed at the doorway.
"Bail? Well, why wouldn't Mr. Golden have informed me?" She closed the door, following behind him into the kitchen.
He disregarded her words. He noticed the soft glow seeping from the other room. It must have been the television. He remembered where it was from before. "Where's Megan?"
*****
"YOU IGNORED MY QUESTION," Brooke said.
"I have already explained it to you."
It was then that she noticed there was something different about him. His eyes revealed recognition but no feeling. Jail and all that he'd been through recently must have changed the person he was.
"Megan. Where is she?" He repeated his question impatiently.
"Don't you think we should talk first?" There was so much she needed to know, so many questions she needed answers for. Leaving him in the visiting room without consoling him had filled her with regret.
He was pacing as if he was looking for something.
"What are you doing?"
He came to a stop in front of her, inches from her face. "I'm looking for Megan."
A tear slid down her cheek. Its source was conflicting. She didn't do so out of an emotional response to pain but out of fear. He looked the same, but different. It wasn't just in the eyes. She didn't remember the freckle under his right eye. And when he smiled a moment ago, a small dimple formed on the left. Wasn't his dimple on the right? Not that that made any sense, she must be losing her mind. Had it been that long since she'd seen him?
He kept moving.
She didn't know whether to go along with this or fight against it. For their safety, she went along. "Well, Meg's in bed, Ethan." She had intended his name to sound more convincing, but it came from her lips as if spoken by a B-movie actress.
He moved toward her and grabbed her arms. She struggled with him but forced herself to be quiet for her daughter's sake. It wasn't hard to do since her vocal cords had constricted with fear.
"Where is Megan?"
How many times had he said her name? Ethan never called her that. It was either Meg or Princess. Whoever this man was before her, it wasn't her husband.
She heard a bedroom door creak open. "Mommy."
He went behind Brooke and put his hands around her neck.
Tears streamed down Brooke's face. "Please. Please leave her alone."
He tightened his grip. She tried to stand taller and pulled on his hands. He whispered into her ear. "Never did it with my bare hands before."
Her heart was thumping so hard in her chest. Her main fear was not for herself but for Megan.
"Ple...ease...." Brooke's word was chopped as she struggled to breathe.
Little footsteps headed toward the living room, and the man released his grip on her.
Her hands instinctively went to her throat, rubbing at it to soothe the burning irritation.
"Daddy?" Megan rubbed sleepy eyes. "You're back." She went running toward him.
"No, honey..." Brooke lunged in front and stopped her short of reaching him. "He's tired, baby." She sniffled.
"You crying, Mommy?"
Brooke was thankful that the room was dimly lit.
"A little, baby—" She was cut off when the man wrapped his arm around her and squeezed her side. It hurt enough that fresh tears fell. She tried to compose herself, convince her daughter everything was okay. "Just happy to see daddy."
The man let go of her and bent down. "Let her come to me."
Brooke tried to barricade them from coming together, but Megan fell out of her reach and hugged her father. At least who she thought was her father. Brooke maintained a vigil stance as they hugged each other. What Brooke noticed now surprised her. The corners of the man's eyes were wet, that much she could see in the pale light. He put his hands over Megan's ears and kissed her forehead.
Brooke saw that as her cue. "Come on, sweetie, let's go to bed. We'll visit with daddy in the morning."
"Okay." Her little voice was sulking. She walked to her bedroom, dragging her feet the entire way. Brooke heard the door close behind her.
"All right, now where were we?" His hands were back on her neck faster than she could will herself to move. "Ah, yes, here we were."
Brooke could hear the smugness, the smile in his voice. "Who are—"
His calloused hands had a firm grip on her, but they weren't tightening. Maybe if she could keep him talking... "I know you're not my husband."
She felt his grip slip a little before tightening.
*****
HOW DID SHE KNOW? Was it the way he was treating her or did he just scream not quite good enough? He tightened more.
Brooke managed to get one word out. "Why?"
He tried to summon everything from inside to go through with this, to finish taking everything away from Ethan for good, but he couldn't do it. He hadn't slept in more than two-hour intervals since Evelyn...Mother.
Her last words were singed on his psyche like a branding iron marks livestock—I loved you. He knew in that instance his mother recognized him. He inhaled deeply, and everything within him liquefied. His legs weakened. He released his grip altogether and stepped back.
*****
BROOKE WAS IN A DAZE AND LIGHT-HEADED. She turned, trying to figure out what she could hit him with to make him unconscious. Then she saw it. The wrought iron candle stand, the one Ethan had always insisted stay out on display.
The man draped his hands over his face. She maneuvered to the side of him, grabbed the candle holder, and took a swing at him.
His hands dropped before impact. Her blow was shy of his head. He took her by the wrist, squeezing it so tight her hand released the holder. He pulled her against him.
"Shh, quiet. You'll wake the little girl." He smiled smugly. His cheeks were stained with tears. He threw her on a nearby sofa, handling her like a twig. He moved over her.
"Please no..." She squirmed on the couch and did everything she could to keep his hands off her neck.
Then all of a sudden he stopped.
Brooke was thankful for the reprieve but also nervous as to why.
He stood to full height.
"You called the cops?"
"Wha...what," she stuttered and tried to rise to her feet. Colored flashing lights shone through the window. Her heart lunged.
"When...why?"
"I never did..." Brooke hadn't left his sight the entire time.
There was a banging on the front door. "Stiles PD! Open the door!"
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Ties That Bind
Mistério / Suspense"Madison Knight is a tough, sassy, and intelligent detective. She is a straight shooter and takes no crap." -My Blissful Books The hunt for a serial killer begins... Detective Madison Knight concluded the case of a strangled woman an isolated inc...
