It began to storm.
Connor thought the howling wind, pouring rain, rolling thunder and flashes of lightening were appropriate for the story Lacey was about to tell him.
She held his hand and clung to it, so instead of sitting on the coffee table facing her as he had intended he sat beside her. “Tell me about him, Lacey, what’s his name?” Maybe he would get more out of her if he asked her questions, let her tell him one thing at a time.
“TJ,” she whispered, her hand tightening around his until it hurt.
“How did you meet him?”
“I’m a dancer, a ballerina, I moved to the city as soon as I graduated high school. Callie and I moved together, we shared an apartment, worked nights as as waitresses to pay the bills and went to auditions during the day. We met TJ at the restaurant, he took a liking to me. He was a lawyer, he was wealthy and good looking and charming, and I fell for it,” she said, tears brimming in her beautiful blue eyes.
“How much older than you was he?” Connor asked, knowing that there was probably at least a ten year age gap, the man had taken advantage of the fact that Lacey was young and innocent.
“I was nineteen when I met him, he was twenty-nine. When he proposed he said he wanted to take care of me so I could pursue my dreams, but once we were married he changed. He expected me to wait on him hand and foot, to cook and clean, and be available whenever he wanted me for …” she trailed off and her cheeks turned bright red.
“He hit you?” Connor asked, forcing his voice to remain even despite the anger bubbling inside him.
“How long were you married?”
“Nearly four years,” she replied.
“How did you get out?” he asked, but before she could answer he saw shadows moving at the bottom of his door.
Someone was out there.
“Lacey, shh,” he whispered, his hand moving for his gun. He stood and walked to the window, carefully pulling back the curtain so he could see out. The street below was mostly empty but he saw a woman standing at the bottom of the apartment building steps.
She looked familiar.
Connor tried to place her, then all of a sudden it clicked. She was the woman who he had thought was Lacey when he first arrived home.
“You were followed,” he said, letting the curtain fall closed.
“Followed?” Lacey echoed, her eyes going wide with fear.
“A woman, and now they’re outside the apartment.”
“How are we going to get out of here?” she asked, voice squeaky with barely suppressed terror.
That was a very good question.