Page 235 of This Woman Forever
“I said don’t lose your shit,” John warns.
“I’m not losing my fucking shit. Send me a picture of it,” I demand, hanging up and dialing Cook, standing, needing to feel my legs. Not so much the burn in my gut. She tore it up? And why the fuck didn’t she tell me? Cook doesn’t answer, so I try again. And again. And again.
He eventually picks up on a hushed, impatient hiss. “I’m in an operation debrief.”
“It’s important. I just found out Ava’s been getting threats. She didn’t tell me, tore the first up, but I have the second.”
“What did they say?”
“I don’t know exactly. Some rubbish about her not knowing who I am.” Fuck, she didn’t know who I was. “They told her to leave me. You need to talk to Coral Seymour.” It’s her—it’s got to be. It’s another dimension of shit for Drew to deal with too, but so be it. If he’s unlucky, his kid will be born in jail. If he’s lucky, he’ll get full custody so Coral will be out of his life.
“I’m nearly done here,” Cook says, sounding thoughtful. “I’ll head over to The Manor. You said you have the message?”
“I have a picture of the message. I’ll send it. John has the original.”
“I bet his hands have been all over it already, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Call him and tell him not to touch it again.”
“Okay.” I hang up and text John rather than call him, just as the boys clock me sweating pure stress nearby. Both turn on their bar stools, ready to come check on me. I hold a hand up, keeping them back from the blast that might happen. I dial Ava.
Breathe, breathe, breathe.
It rings and rings, and I see her in my mind’s eye plucking up the courage to answer.
Breathe, breathe, breathe.
“Please don’t shout at me,” she cries when she answers.
Breathing has not worked. “What the fucking hell were you thinking?” I ask, seeing Sam and Drew lean back on their stools, eyes widening. “You stupid, stupid woman!” I get up and start pacing, up and down, arms flailing. “I’ve been pulling my fucking hair out trying to work with Steve Cook and figure this shit out, and all along you had a handwritten threat? And you tore it up? Evidence, Ava. Fucking evidence.” I gasp for some air, hearing her quiet, emotional apology, willing myself to calm the fuck down before I send the bar up in smoke. Or burst my wife’s eardrums. She shouldn’t be stressed. Her blood pressure can’t get high. “Fuck,” I whisper, mentally punching myself in the face. “Tell me you’re not leaving that office this afternoon.”
“I have a meeting with Patrick,” she rushes to remind me. Yes. At two. It’s nearly two. “I’ll speak to him about Mikael.”
I move to a nearby table and rest a palm on the wood, leaning into it, my head hanging, my eyes closed. So now she’s keen? Now she appreciates the danger? “This isn’t the work of Mikael, Ava.” She said it herself yesterday. “Steve confirmed Mikael has been back and forth to London over the last few weeks, but completely legit.” Maybe I should have shared this news as soon as I learned it. I didn’t because maybe I thought that would be the excuse Ava needed to never tell Peterson she can’t work with Mikael. “He couldn’t have drugged you and he couldn’t have been driving my car because both of those times he was in Denmark.”
There’s a beat of silence. “What about the man in the CCTV footage?”
And that’s a point. It was definitely a man. Definitely not Coral. But did I see the suited guy who looked like Van Der Haus actually put anything in Ava’s glass? No. I just assumed it was him because he resembled Van Der Haus. It could have been anyone in that bar. Even Coral. My head banging, I rise and rub at my temple. Sarah’s standing on the threshold of the bar observing me having a meltdown. I turn my back on her, uncomfortable. “I don’t know, Ava. My car was found yesterday. Steve’s looking into it. The tracker’s been deactivated.”
“Should I come to The Manor after work?” she asks quietly, so willing.
“No,” I say, as Sarah passes me, settling with some gents on a table in front of me, now able to see my face again. I turn and walk out of the bar. I’m not surprised when Sam and Drew follow me and meet me on the steps, both concerned. “John will take you home as soon as you’ve spoken to Patrick,” I say. “I’ll meet you there. Given this new information I’ve just found out, I’ve got Steve swinging by. Don’t leave that office, and once John’s taken you home, you stay put. Do you understand me?”
“I understand,” she says quietly.
“Good girl.” Fuck, I shouldn’t have yelled at her. “I’ll speak with Steve, but I’m out of here the second I’m done.” She needs a hug. I need a hug.
“I love you,” she blurts in a panic.
“I know you do, baby.” I look to the heavens, praying for some answers soon. I can’t say I will ever relax completely when it comes to Ava and the babies, won’t bother even trying to convince myself I will, but knowing who’s responsible for all this shit will obviously take the edge off. “We’ll have a bath when I’m home. Deal?”
She agrees, and I hang up. Sam’s on my left, Drew’s on my right. All of us staring down the driveway. “Ava’s been getting threats,” I say, almost robotically, like drama is all I have to give today. It is.
“Coral said she didn’t drug Ava,” Drew murmurs. “Or run her off the road.”
I look at him, shocked. “You asked her?”