I had officially lost it. Talking to kittens in the back alley of my place of work, the remnants of tears on my face, and dried blood on my hands. I was a freaking mess.
A car door slammed a few shops down. The kitten bolted. I jumped to my feet, trying to track it with my eyes, but I lost sight of the tiny furball two shops down.Shit. Shit. Shit.That little baby should not be on its own. My shoulders drooped. I needed to get back to work. But first, I’d leave out a little milk just in case my new friend came back.
4
Liam
Isat the guitar down with an aggravated thud. The instrument didn’t deserve my rough treatment, but I was frustrated as hell. It was as if the harder I pushed for lyrics to come, the more stubborn they became.
I leaned back against the couch, rubbing my temples. I couldn’t create like this. Well, create anything halfway decent anyway. Expectations of fans and pressure from the label were a surefire way to quash any creative mojo.
I blew out a long breath and let my hands fall to my sides. I stared up at the ceiling, letting my mind wander. It drifted to a place it had many times over the past few days. An image of Tessa shrinking away from my touch filled my mind, her gorgeous eyes flashing.
A melody began to tickle the recesses of my brain. I closed my eyes, trying to catch it. It was there, a whisper of something. I hummed, trying to find that progression of notes. I couldn’t quite capture it.
My phone buzzed on the coffee table, nixing any possibility of harnessing the fleeting wisp of a song. I cursed and roughly grabbed for the object that had interrupted the first inkling of music I’d had in months.
“Hello.” My voice was not welcoming.
“This is Detective Ruiz with the LAPD. Am I speaking with Liam Fairchild?”
My spine straightened. “You got him. How can I help you?”
“You’re a tough man to track down.”
That was exactly as I’d intended it, but I didn’t share that with the cop. “Sorry about that. I can’t exactly have a listed number.”
“I get it. We were just concerned when we couldn’t find you at your place of residence, and your record label couldn’t tell us where you were.”
I toyed with the guitar pick that had been lying next to me on the couch. “Why would you be concerned?”
The detective cleared his throat. “I’m the Los Angeles police detective handling your stalking case.”
My fiddling ceased. I’d known the St. Louis police were going to inform the LAPD of what had happened, but I had no idea that it had progressed past that. “Oh. I don’t know that this should really be a stalking case.”
“Sir, Ms. Speakman’s actions definitely qualify as cyberstalking.” I could hear the shuffling of papers in the background. “I just got off the phone with her doctor at the facility where she was being treated.”
My stomach dropped. “Is she all right?” Thoughts of further self-harm filled my head.
“She’s been released.”
“So she’s better?”
The detective sighed. “She’s been on an extended mandatory hold…” He let the words trail off.
“Okay…” I let my own trail off, unsure where the detective was headed with his statements.
“It’s difficult for medical professionals to secure an extended mandatory stay for patients that want to go home. They must prove the patient is a threat to themselves or others at the current point in time. Ms. Speakman claims she’s better.”
A wave of nausea rolled over me at the reminder of the young woman trying to end her life because I hadn’t acknowledged her. Guilt pricked at my chest, followed quickly by a burst of frustration. Surely, this was too high a price to pay for simply wanting to make music and share it with people who would value it.
The detective pushed on. “Her psychiatrist asked for Ms. Speakman’s hold to be extended, but the request was denied.”
I started twirling the pick between my fingers again. “What does that mean?”
“It means that she’s gone home, but her doctors are concerned.”
I didn’t fill the silence that hung on the line. I had no idea what to say. The woman was a danger to herself, and her mind had twisted in a way where I played a role in that. A role that I wanted no part of.
