Chapter 59

CHAPTER 59

Skye

N oon. Parking my Jeep on Beverly Glen, I hop out with my backpack in tow. Slung over my shoulders, it feels weighty with my notebook, laptop, and phone, which now has a recording app. Briskly, I head into the park, wondering why a celebrity of this magnitude has chosen such a public place to meet.

Passing elderly men and women, elegantly clad in all white and engaged in a leisurely game of lawn bowling, I make my way to the other side of the leafy oasis. Swings and slides come into view. Squealing toddlers and youngsters occupy them, with parents and caretakers close by. With the low-seventies sunny weather, it's a perfect fall day to spend here, and for a moment, I wish Maddie was here with me. How fun it would be to push her on a swing or catch her in my arms after gliding down a slide.

Shoving these maternal thoughts aside, I search for the sandbox and find it quickly. I scurry toward it, my eyes scouring the surrounding park benches in search of Nicole. A few feet away from the toddler-filled sandbox, I spot her, seated all alone. A smile warms her exquisite face, easily recognizable though she's trying to be incognito, wearing oversized dark sunglasses and a big floppy hat to hide her signature red hair. Faded jeans, combat boots, and a baggy sweater complete her ensemble, mine almost the same except for my baseball cap.

"Nicole?" Though I'm certain it's her, my tone is more of a question than a statement as I approach her.

Averting her sight from the sandbox, she glances up at me. "Scarlet?"

Taking off my shades, I inhale a deep breath. "No."

She cocks her head, her expression puzzled. My gaze doesn't stray from her.

"My name is Skye. Skye Collins."

As she clasps a hand to her mouth, I sit down beside her.

***

It doesn't take me long to tell Nicole my story after she gets over her initial shock. She listens intently, hanging on to every word, her eyes occasionally darting to the sandbox and then back to me. Her dark glasses mask her emotions, but they can't hide the tears that trickle down her cheekbones. I tell her about my lengthy and painful rehabilitation, then about my subsequent entry into the Witness Protection Program, and finally about how fate brought me back to my husband and daughter.

She takes my hand, her lips quivering, the tears falling. "I-I'm so sorry. I almost cost you your life. It's all my fault."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you remember?"

"Nicole, that's why I'm here. I don't remember the accident or anything leading up to it."

"Oh my God."

"Nicole, I need you to help me remember. To help me find the person who did this to me and put them away."

"I knew your accident had something to do with me," she splutters. "I should have gone to the police."

"Why didn't you?"

She hangs her head in shame. "I was too afraid. Soon after your tragic accident, I got married and adopted a child."

Her gaze shifts again to the sandbox. A darling little boy in overalls, who looks to be the same age as Maddie, waves at her. My companion forces a smile and waves back.

"That's my little boy . . . Skyler."

"Skyler?"

"Yes. I named him after you. I believed you died for me. I wanted to keep your memory and bravery alive with my son. I went to your memorial service."

My heart swells with emotion. "Thank you," I say softly with a squeeze of her hand.

The little boy goes back to building his sandcastle. A short stretch of silence ensues before I break it.

"Why were you afraid?"

"I was afraid he would come after me . . . "

He . The pronoun spins in my head as Nicole continues.

"And hurt me. Just like he did to you. He's very powerful." She brushes away a tear. "He hurt me once and I swore I'd never let him do it again... to anyone."

"What do you mean?"

"You don't even remember the two of us meeting a few weeks before your accident?"

I shake my head. "I have no recollection."

"We met for coffee. I told you what he did to me. I wanted the world to know."

My need to know grips me like a vise and stifles any other thought.

"Nicole, tell me again. What did he do to you?"

The color in her face drains. A painful memory has stolen it. Her lips tremble, her hand grows cold and clammy. I give it another reassuring squeeze.

"It's okay, Nicole. I'm here for you. You can tell me." You must tell me.

For a quick second, she checks on her son and then faces me. My blood roars in my ears, draining out the laughter and chatter of the children around us.

Nicole bites down on her bottom lip, taking in a shuddering breath. Then, her lips part. The words tumble out one by one. "He. Raped. Me."

"Jesus," I mutter.

"And there's something I didn't tell you the first time we met. He threatened to kill me if I didn't submit and sign his non-disclosure agreement."

"Who did this to you?" Every muscle in my body clenches as I await her response. My heart slams against my chest, every beat faster.

When his name spills out, I gasp so loud it hurts. It's my turn to clasp a hand to my mouth, not because I'm shocked, but because I may vomit.

My heart almost stops.

I flash back a dozen years.

Oh my God!

It's the monster that assaulted me!

My husband's backer.

Sheldon Greenberg!