Cruel Trust

Twenty-Eight

I pulled up in front of the mall at 5:30 pm, ready to do some major retail therapy. Julia hadn't felt like coming—I couldn't remember the last time she turned down a trip to the mall—and Andrew was working late again. He promised this would be the last week for it, though, and I was happy to pass a few hours shopping. 

Truth be told, it was much easier to shop for clothes without Julia and Andrew. Julia wanted to see everything I tried on, treating me like a contestant on "What Not to Wear"; Andrew lurked outside stores and constantly checked his watch. By myself, I didn't have to model every piece I tried on and I could take my time.

I hit up all my favorite stores, and by the time I rolled back around to the food court for a frozen yogurt, it was already 8pm and I had two fistfuls of shopping bags. I paid for my yogurt, turned around, and stopped dead in my tracks, nearly dropping everything in my hands, including my frozen treat.

Liam.

He was all the way across the food court, but I would know him anywhere. We locked eyes for a split second, and I swear my heart quit beating for a moment. I backed up, never taking my eyes off him. I pulled out my phone to call Andrew, and when he saw me with my phone, he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked away.

"No," I rasped. I couldn't let him get away this time. I looked around and spotted a security guard fifty feet away. I dropped my yogurt in the garbage and ran to him.

"Sir! I need help!" I exclaimed, tapping him on the shoulder. He turned around and smiled.

"All right, what's the problem?"

"There's a man over there—he's following me!" I cried, pointing toward where I had seen Liam.

The guard squinted and looked across the food court, then looked down at me, his eyes wary. "Miss, there's about fifty men over there," he said dryly.

I turned and looked, ready to describe him, but it was no use; he was gone. The crowd was full of strangers again, as if he were a figment of my imagination. I shook my head, tears filling my eyes.

"Never—never mind," I stammered, turning away.

"Miss, are you sure?" the guard asked, but his words were just white noise. I rushed out the door and to the parking lot.

As soon as I got to my car, I locked myself in and dialed Detective Sherman. He answered on the second ring.

"Sherman." 

"Detective, it's Charlotte Jameson," I said, breathless.

"Charlotte. What's wrong?"

"I'm at the mall...and I just saw Liam. He was watching me in the food court...and he knows I saw him too."

"What? Did you tell security? Which mall?"

"Opry Mills. I told them, but it was too late, and Liam was long gone. What do I do?"

"I'll update the officers around the Opryland area, and we'll find him. Right now, I want you to get home as soon as you possibly can."

"Yes sir. Andrew should be home by now. I'll have him meet me at my car."

"Good thinking. Keep me updated."

"Same to you. Thank you, Detective," I said, and I hoped my sincerity showed in my voice.

"Stay safe, Charlotte," he said, and the call disconnected.

I drove home, glancing in the rearview every few seconds. I was really getting tired of constantly looking over my shoulder. Something had to give, and soon.

I decided not to call Andrew; I needed to tell him about this in person. But I had to tell someone, so I called Julia as I was nearing my exit.

"Hey, Char," she greeted me. "What's going on?" I could tell she was busy, but I didn't care.

"Well, I just left Opry Mills...guess who I saw?"

"Who?" she asked distractedly.

"Liam Covington."

"Wh—What? You saw Liam? Where? Did he talk to you?" she asked, sounding alarmed.

"In the food court...and no. He wasn't close enough to me, but he knew I saw him. We made eye contact."

"Son of a bitch," she said under her breath. "Did you report it?" she asked, and I detected a note of something in her voice besides concern for me, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

"I tried, but by the time I got to the security guard, he was gone."

"Well, it's probably for the best, right? I mean, if he didn't talk to you, then he didn't hurt you. And if you report him, don't you think that might make him even angrier?"

My mouth dropped, and I almost rear-ended the car in front of me as they stopped at the end of the exit ramp. "Julia. Are you hearing yourself right now? He did hurt me. And you. His being on the street is a danger to society. Do you not understand that?" I asked, knowing I was probably pissing her off, but not giving a shit.

She huffed. "Yeah, yeah. I know. And the cops are doing their best to find him, I'm sure. But he must be laying low or something, not using any credit cards or whatever."

Before I could stop myself, the words came tumbling out of my mouth. "Why haven't you pressed charges on Liam?"

She was silent for a good ten seconds. I was about to ask her if she heard me when she finally spoke. "What are you talking about? We've discussed this. I did press charges."

I couldn't believe she was lying to me. "Julia, cut the shit. I know you haven't. Why?"

"It's really not any of your business. You're pressing charges; what does it matter if I'm not?" she asked indignantly.

I laughed, a high-pitched, frantic sound. "You've got to be shitting me right now, Julia. It's not my business? Really? He came to your house to hurt you because of me. He needed to make sure you didn't show up at my house because he was planning on raping me. How is that not my business? He deserves to be punished for every crime he's committed!" I exclaimed. By this time, I had reached the condo, and I sat in my car, fuming.

"Oh my God, Charlotte. You really are self-centered. Do you think the entire world revolves around you?" she asked, and I could tell that this was my Julia, not whatever monster had emerged on that day at my apartment—on her meds, but angry as hell and I wasn't sure why.

"Julia, what are you talking about?"

"I'm just saying, did you ever consider that there's more to this situation than you and your fling-gone-wrong?" she asked, and her voice dropped off at the end; I could tell she had said more than she intended.

I sat up in my seat, my mind racing. "Julia, what are you saying?" I asked, my voice quiet and steady.

"Nothing. Forget I said anything. I have to go, Charlotte."

Before I could say anything else, the Bluetooth beeped, signaling the end of the call. I sat back, leaning my head against the headrest. I found myself thinking this more and more often, but what the fuck?