Beyond

I had been watching the news when the doorbell rang. I rarely had visitors, so I looked over at the entrance with unease. When a knock came, I stiffened.

Yes?" I called. "Who's there?"

"Miss Harper?" a woman's voice answered.

Sighing, I opened the door to find a man and woman standing there. They were both very attractive, and also, very serious. The woman shifted and I caught sight of the badge clipped to her holster. They were cops.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm Detective Mason and this Detective Malloy. We're with the New York City Police Department. Would you mind if we asked you a few questions?"

New York City.

Police.

Questions.

"What are you doing here?" I asked before I could stop myself.

Detective Mason frowned and swept her long, red hair over her shoulder. "We understand that you're a survivor of John Hayes."

I shuddered slightly at his name.

"That's not exactly correct," I muttered, stepping aside. "Would you like to come in?"

"That would be nice," Malloy said kindly. He looked around the apartment, his eyes falling back on me. "Do you live here alone?"

"Yes. I mean, no. Well, sometimes."

Malloy raised an eyebrow.

"My boyfriend, Devon Russell, he stays over sometimes. Does he need to be here for this? I can call him, he's just at work."

"No," Mason answered. "We just need to ask you about the night John Hayes abducted you. We're trying to figure out why he let you go, and since the police here seem to be doing absolutely nothing to help—"

"They don't know about me," I said, lowering my gaze.

"They don't?" Malloy's eyes narrowed. Damnit, he was handsome. "And why not?"

"I didn't tell them." I sat down on the couch. "After John stabbed me, he took me to a hospital I didn't recognize. I knew we'd left Denver but I couldn't figure out why. But now I understand. He wanted to get caught, just not by our police. He didn't want any ties to this town, to me. But he escaped the prison and came back here."

"I see," Detective Mason said, nodding. "Have you seen him since?"

"No."

I kept a serious face, like John taught me. He knew someone would come asking questions, though he probably didn't expect it to be these people.

"Not to be rude, but—" I started.

"You want to know why we're here," Detective Malloy responded. "This case came across my desk recently and I thought he sounded like something Charlotte and I could deal with. We haven't gotten much for a while, so this was interesting enough to get us out here."

I nodded. "I have a slight headache. Can we talk another time?"

"Yes, of course." Mason handed me a card. "Call us any time, we'll be in town for some time. Thank you for your help. I'm sure we'll catch this psycho soon enough."

When they were gone, I pulled out my phone. It took three rings, but he answered. He seemed out of breath, and I had a knot in my stomach at the thought of why.

"Two detectives just came to my apartment," I told him. "What were you doing?"

"Murder takes a lot out of you, darling," John replied. "Now tell me about the visit."