Coming Home - Chapter 2

Mandy looked up as the door opened, smiling at the person who entered.  She had begun to look forward to Ryan’s appointments, encouraged by the progress he was making.  With that killer smile, she almost forgot just how dangerous he was. 

“Hey Miss Mandy, how are you today?” his voice carried the smile on his face.

“Great Ryan.  How’s things with you?”  She noticed he was moving better on the crutches, his wounded leg bearing a small amount of weight.  She knew he had an appointment later that week to see Anna about getting a hinged cast, something that would make it easier for him to get around.

“Ready for some more torture.  Can’t you just do my physio instead of Genghis Kahn in there?” he laughed.  He too, had been looking forward to seeing Mandy.  Her smiling face and wonderful disposition had made his ongoing rehab almost bearable.  He enjoyed watching her interact with the patient’s, loved hearing her laugh.  Careful, Ryan, he told himself.  He was getting too close, and the last thing he needed was any more personal attachments.  Truth was, though, he couldn’t help himself.  He wouldn’t admit it out loud but he was grateful for the much needed human contact.

“Sorry, Ryan,” she laughed.  “Besides, how do you know I wouldn’t torture you worse?”

Ryan couldn’t help himself.  It was too much fun to tease her.  “Yeah, but with you, I’d enjoy it,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. 
His words brought up the crimson in Mandy’s cheeks and embarrassed, she looked away.  “You better get moving,” Mandy managed, “Or Jason will really have it in for you.”

“Trying to get rid of me, huh?  I’ll take the hint,” he said laughing when she protested.  “I’ll talk to you later,” he added, almost sorry to head to the exercise area.  He would have much rather continued his conversation with Mandy.  His rehab was going okay but as far as he was concerned it was too slow.  He hated being incapacitated, hated relying on others for help.  He sighed, refusing to let himself think about whether or not he would ever be back to 100%.  Despite what everyone else said, he was determined to get there.  If Dylan could do it then Ryan sure as hell could.  The difference was that Dylan had been a lot younger and the injury not nearly as severe as Ryan’s.  Ryan blew out a breath as he thought back to that day.  Dylan’s injury had been Ryan’s fault and had been the reason Ryan had left home, had left Hamilton. He never should have let DJ take out his motorcycle, should never have let him drive.  Because of his bad judgement, DJ had almost lost his leg, almost lost his life.  Dylan had forgiven him, but the old man never had.  Ryan had never really forgiven himself either.  Even though he had regained the use of his leg, it had been the end of Dylan’s promising hockey career. 

Steeling his resolve, Ryan entered the exercise area, letting his gaze travel over the other patients.  There were two others, both pedalling away on stationary bikes.  Making his way in their direction, Ryan gave them a little nod.  He had spoken to one of them, Kevin Delancy, previously, but the other one was new.  He inwardly sighed, not really wanting to face questions about his injury.  People tended to get a little skittish when they found out he had been shot.

As he propped himself up on the table to do his requisite stretches, Ryan heard the other two talking.  His cop instincts kicked in and he listened.  Kevin, in his early twenties, had injured his knee on the job and he was describing his surgery to the other man.  Gabe.  That was the other man’s name, and he had lower back problems.  As their words swirled around his, Ryan focused on his leg, and let his thoughts drift back to the pretty girl sitting at the front desk.

**

The feeling started as a tingle at the base of her neck.  Mandy had been engrossed in her paperwork, trying to put thoughts of Ryan out of her head, when she felt it. Immediately she knew.  Someone was watching her.  She cautiously looked up, and around.  There were no one in the waiting room and only three clients in the clinic, but none were looking at her.  She could see a few cars parked outside but she couldn’t see anyone in them.  She shook her head.  She must have been imagining things.  She lowered her head back down to the forms that sat in front of her but her concentration was lost.  She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself.  She had had these feelings before and they end result was the loss of most of her family.  No, she told herself, it wasn’t the same.  She had to be imaging things. He was locked up, gone away forever.  It had to be something else.  She looked up and looked around again, this time, catching Ryan’s eye.  He smiled and winked at her, but somehow, she didn’t think it was his gaze she was feeling.  It seemed more...sinister, somehow.  Her heart started racing, even as she tried to steady her breathing.  She needed to get out, needed air, but she had to cover the desk until Gina came back.  She just needed to hang on.  Her breath came in gasps as she felt the icy fingers of panic start to creep up on her, and she fought the panic attack she knew was coming. 

The sound of Gina stepping through the door was like a life preserver.  Mandy immediately shot out of her seat, and headed for the door.  “Need some air,” she called over her shoulder to the stunned figure of Gina, as she bolted out the door.

Mandy threw herself out past the outer door, turning to the left and heading down the walkway.  Finally, as she reached the side of the building she stopped, bracing herself with her hand on the warm concrete of the building.  She tried to force the air into her lungs, feeling as if she were trying to suck a watermelon through a straw.

A hand on her shoulder startled her and she whirled around, ready to fight, shocked to see who was standing there.

“Easy.  It’s okay, it’s only me,” Ryan said soothingly.  He put his hands gently on her upper arms, supporting her but not confining her.  “Look at me, Mandy.”

She gasped, feeling more and more light-headed as she tried in vain to bring in the oxygen her starving lungs needed, but she did as he asked.  She looked at him.

“Okay, Mandy, breathe with me.  In, out, in out,” he muttered softly, his eyes never leaving hers.  He was more than familiar with the signs of a panic attack, and he knew she would pass out if he didn’t help her regulate her breathing.  “That’s it, Mandy,” he soothed.  “Breathe in, breath out.  Breathe with me.”

She was terrified and mortified.  Why did it have to be Ryan to see her like this?  She closed her eyes and tried to focus on his voice as he told her to breathe.  She felt herself being drawn into his arms as he pulled her closer, his voice soothing, steadying her.  She couldn’t help fisting her hands in his shirt. “You’re okay, Mandy.  I’ve got you.”

Ryan held her as he felt her breathing start to even out, feeling her shaking.  He had seen the look on her face, had seen her escalating panic.  He had no idea what had upset her but something obviously had.  Although he loved the feel of her in his arms, he slowly moved her away, and looked down at her.  “Are you okay?” he asked softly.

She nodded, appalled with herself for losing control and letting someone else witness it, especially Ryan of all people.  “Yes,” she added when she found her voice and pushed herself away from his hard, warm chest.  “I’m sorry,” she started but Ryan shushed her.

“I know a few things about panic attacks,” he assured her.  “It’s nothing to worry about, as long as you’re okay.”

Mandy nodded again, unable to look Ryan in the eye.  “I’m okay.”  It was then she realized that his crutches were lying on the ground.  “Oh my God, Ryan, your leg, your crutches...” she started but he cut her off.

“Shhh, Mandy,  I’m okay.”  He smiled warmly at her, shifting his weight slightly to take a little pressure off his injured leg.  “But if you don’t mind picking them up, bending is still a bit of an issue.”

Immediately Mandy reached down and grabbed the crutches before handing them to Ryan.  She prayed he wouldn’t see how much her hands were shaking.  “I’m so sorry,” she mumbled again.  She wanted the sidewalk to open and swallow her up.

Ryan took one look at her and knew she was still on shaky ground.  “Tell you what,” he offered.  “You can buy me a cup of coffee.” 

**

Ryan found a table at the back of the coffee shop while Mandy placed the order.  Coffee black, steeped tea with milk and sugar.  Out of habit, he sat facing the door so he could see everyone in the place.  He could never be too careful.  As he found a comfortable spot for his leg, he watched Mandy, curious as to what had set her off.  He had seen the panic in her eyes when she had looked at him across the clinic, knew immediately that something was wrong.  Something, or someone, had spooked her.  The question was whether or not she would talk to him about it.  He knew he should just leave it alone and walk away, but something about this woman kept calling him.

“Here, one coffee, black,” she said as she placed the cup on the table in front of Ryan.  She still wasn’t sure that sitting here with Ryan Westbrook was a good idea.  As much as he intrigued her, he also scared her.  She still didn’t know what he had done to get shot, still wasn’t sure if he was one of the good guys or not.  She sure hoped so, but she had been wrong before.

He took a sip, the hot strong brew like an elixir to his system.  Despite all the reasons why he shouldn’t, he asked the question.  “So, Mandy, what happened?”

“I had a panic attack,” she said simply, bringing the cup to her lips.

“No shit,” he murmured. “Wanna tell me why?”  Despite the harsh words, his tone was gentle.

She sighed.  She didn’t want to tell him everything, or anything at all, for that matter, but she also knew enough about Ryan to know he wouldn’t let it rest.  Blowing out another breath, she fiddled with the tea cup in front of her.  “I felt like someone was watching me.”

Ryan looked at her, studying her.  This was going to be like pulling teeth.  “People watching you gives you a panic attack?” he asked gently.  The one thing he didn’t want to do was trivialize her fears, but he knew there was more.

Mandy stared at a spot on the table, trying to figure out how much to tell Ryan.  “I had a stalker...ummm...a while ago.  I could always feel when he was watching me.”  She looked up and met those warm chocolate eyes.  “I felt that feeling again.”

“A stalker, huh?”  Ryan mused.  “How bad was it?”

He murdered most of my family, Mandy thought, but instead she said simply.  “Bad.”

Ryan saw the pain in her eyes, and knew it was so much more than that one word.  “Could he be back?”  The thought of someone inflicting such pain on Mandy cause a surprisingly sharp stab of anger through his gut.  “Where is he?”

Mandy averted her gaze, looking out the window.  “He’s in a psychiatric institution, I think.”

She didn’t sound too sure to Ryan.  Just maybe he would have to do a little digging, and make sure this guy was where he was supposed to be.  As he was about to say this, his eye caught sight of a figure entering the coffee shop.  Spotting Ryan, he headed over.

“I thought you were supposed to be keeping a low profile, RJ.”  Mandy looked up, startled.  Standing beside her was the man who had been in the Anna’s office before her interview.

“Hey, DJ,” Ryan smiled.  “Care to join us?”  Ryan motioned to Mandy as she watched the newcomer pull out the chair next to her.  “Mandy, this is my brother, Dylan Westbrook.  DJ, this is Mandy.”

Mandy extended her hand.  “Detective.”  Now she knew why she had always thought Ryan had looked a little familiar.  They definitely looked like brothers, if not twins.

Both men looked at her, a little surprised.  “How did you know he was a detective?” Ryan asked, but Dylan was smiling.

“I remember you.  Anna took my advice and hired you, after all, didn’t she?”

Mandy blushed slightly.  “Well, I like to think it was because I was qualified, but you might of helped a little.”  She quickly filled Ryan in on her meeting with Dylan and Anna.

Ryan laughed.  “More likely she hired you in spite of what DJ said.”  He turned to his brother, loath to ask the question.  “So what’s up?”

“We need to talk.”  All traces of humour had left Dylan’s voice.  Mandy cast a glance between the brothers, immediately aware of some underlying tension.  It was time to make her exit. 

“I better get back,” she said, rising from the table and collecting her things.  “Thanks again, Ryan and I’ll see you.”  At least now, she wouldn’t have to explain everything to Ryan.

“Mandy.” Ryan’s tone stopped her.  “You let me know if this happens again, okay?  I mean it.  You let me know.”
Mandy gave him a quick nod before turning and heading out to the street. 

“What the hell are you doing, RJ?” Dylan asked, taking a sip of his brother’s coffee. 

“What?” Ryan grabbed the cup from his brother.  “Get your own.”

Dylan scrubbed his hand over his face.  Where did he start?  Ryan was older,  but there were a lot of times Dylan felt like he was the more responsible of the two.  “Seriously, weren’t you supposed to be laying low?  And now you’re sitting here in a crowded coffee shop?  C’mon RJ.  You gotta death wish?”

Ryan blew out a sigh.  They had been not just brothers but the best of friends growing up, due to the fact that they were only eleven months apart.  They had been in the same grade at school, more often than not in the same class.  They had played on the same sports teams, had often shared the same girls.  But they had been treated vastly different by their father.  Dylan had been the golden child, the one who could do no wrong, Ryan the one who could never do enough.  But even though he tried, William Westbrook couldn’t turn the brothers against each other.  God knows Ryan had every reason to hate his brother, but he didn’t.  Dylan was the only one who believed in him.  “Mandy was upset,” he said with a shrug.  “I thought this would be a good place to talk.”

“Mandy, huh?” Dylan huffed out a breath, scrubbing his hand across his face.  “Do you really want to bring her into this?  Or is this not about her?”  He knew his brother and knew he hated sitting still.  The problem was that Ryan had no choice.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, DJ.”  He had to chuckle.  No one had called him RJ for years and he was pretty sure that no one had called Dylan DJ, except maybe their sister.  Some old habits were hard to break.  “I’m just sitting here having a coffee, talking to a friend.”

Dylan sighed again.  No one told Ryan what to do.  Ever since that night when he was seventeen, Ryan had been making his own decisions, had been living on his own.  As much as Ryan saw that night as his fault, Dylan felt the same.  He was the one who wanted to take out the motorcycle, he was the one who didn’t see the truck until it was too late.  Ryan had been thrown out because of Dylan’s childish stupidity.  It was all in the past, but many times Dylan had wondered what if.  “RJ...” Dylan started, exasperated, but Ryan cut him off.

“It doesn’t matter, DJ,” he said, taking a sip of coffee.  “It may already be too late.  Mandy said she felt like someone was watching her.”  He let the words sink in to his brother.

The colour drained from Dylan’s face.  “You think they might have been watching you, not her?”

“Well, Mandy said she had a stalker so it just might be a coincidence, but it’s something we should look into.  She said the guy is in an institution.  Can you check the records and see what you can find?  Her last name is Maconnell and she’s originally from Saskatchewan so you might want to look there, too.” 

Dylan nodded slowly.  “Alright, but you need to be careful, RJ.  I hate to admit this but I’m getting used to having your ugly ass around.” 

Ryan laughed as they got up from the table and headed for the door, but his smile quickly fading with his brother’s next words.  “Mom wants to come see you, RJ.”

Ryan’s steps faltered.  “Oh fuck, DJ,” he muttered.  He hadn’t spoken to his mother since the night of the accident all those years ago.  He had been lied to his whole life, by the one parent he trusted, the one he saw as his only champion.

“RJ, she was there, at your beside the whole time.  I think you owe it to her to at least hear her out.” Dylan had stopped and faced his brother, his face stern.

“Yeah, says you.”  Ryan turned and limped away from his brother, his crutches clicking on the sidewalk.  He did not want to discuss his mother.  He still remembered that day, her look of guilt as William Westbrook’s spewed his wrath at Ryan.

That’s it!  I’ve had enough of raising your bastard child!  He tried to kill MY son and I want him out!  I don’t care what the fuck happens to him, I just want that bastard gone!  If he’s not gone by tomorrow I will kill him with my own hands!

She hadn’t denied it, hadn’t come to his aid.  And that was the last he had spoken to his mother in almost 12 years.  Despite his own injuries after the accident, Ryan had left home and after staying with a friend for a couple of months, he had turned 18, and joined the army.  He had gotten an education and had made a career for himself, never looking back.  Even when William Westbrook had died last year, Ryan hadn’t come home.  He had written letters to Dylan and his sister Stephanie all through the years, delivered through friends, but he had never talked to his mother about or after that night. 

Dylan shook his head.  Ryan said that it was behind him, that it didn’t matter, but Dylan knew otherwise.  Even after all this time, it still bothered Ryan that his mother had not told him the truth, hadn’t stood up for him.  It bothered Ryan more than he would ever admit.  Dylan also knew that his mother had been devastated at the thought of losing her oldest son.  Maybe after this brush with death both sides could learn to forgive.  All Dylan could do was try.
“Just think about it, okay?” he called after his brother.

Ryan just threw up his hand in a wave as he continued down the pavement. He’d talk to his mother when hell froze over.

**

The figure sat in his car, silently watching as everything unfolded around him.  He had seen Mandy Maconnell run out the door, had seen Ryan Westbrook come to her aid.  He had watched them make their way to the Tim Horton’s across the street.  There might be something going on between them, and that was definitely useful information.  Picking up the cell phone from the seat beside him, he scrolled to find the number he was looking for.  Time to make his report.

**

Mandy was startled when she heard the peal of the doorbell.  Her first thought was someone selling something, and she debated not answering the door.  She was trying to decide what she was going to cook for dinner and she really didn’t feel like dealing with a pushy salesperson.  When the sound echoed again, Mandy huffed out a breath and headed to the door.  The person standing there wasn’t a salesperson.

“Ryan?  How....?” she started but he pushed past her and into her house.

“We need to talk.”

Questions swirled through Mandy’s mind and she warred with her emotions.  What did he want to talk about?  Why did he come here?  Should be scared that he was here, uninvited?  If she were honest, she would admit that seeing him on her doorstep had sent a thrill through her.  But how the hell had he found out where she lived?  As she followed him into her house, she asked him just that.

He turned and flashed a smile.  “My brother’s a cop.  How did you think I found out?”  But the smile quickly vanished.  Something was on his mind.

“Is that legal?” she asked, still not sure if she was comfortable with him here.

He gave her a small shrug.  “Do I care?” he responded.  “You gotta do what you gotta do.” 

As she tried to figure out just what that meant, Mandy moved into the small kitchen.  Something told her that Ryan cared very little about what was legal.  She needed to put some space between them so she could sort through all the emotions coursing through her.  She motioned to Ryan to sit on a stool at the bar that separated the kitchen from the living room.  She was acutely aware of him, his presence in her small house almost overwhelming.  She suspected that she knew what he wanted to talk about, and she knew that it wouldn’t be good.  “I was just going to make myself some pasta for supper.  Would you like to join me?” she offered.

Ryan was still getting used to walking without the crutches.  He had seen Anna a couple of days ago, and she had replaced his full leg cast with a hinged one.  Now he could start to bend his knee, another step forward in his rehab.  “Sure, that’d be great,” he answered Mandy.  “Any home cooked meal is appreciated.”

Mandy nodded, pulling out the necessary pots and ingredients for the meal.  She took a beer from the fridge and offered it to Ryan who accepted it gladly.  She grabbed a can of Diet Coke for herself.

As he took a draw on the beer, Ryan took a look around the house.  It was small, but homey, reminding very much of Mandy herself.  He could get used to a place like this.  A home.  That was something Ryan hadn’t had for almost twelve years, since he had turned his back and walked away from this town.  Shaking off the thought, he turned back to Mandy, happy to watch her move about the kitchen.  She moved fluidly, gracefully, a natural in the kitchen, her movements precise.  She pulled a jar of what appeared to be homemade spaghetti sauce from the refrigerator and Ryan chuckled.  This was getting more and more dangerous because he was enjoying himself too much.

Mandy herself was acutely aware of Ryan watching her.  She tried to keep herself busy, mostly so Ryan wouldn’t see how effected she was.  She heard his chuckle and turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised questioningly.  “Problem?”

“No,” he smiled.  “Just don’t think I’ve ever had homemade spaghetti sauce.”

Mandy gave a little laugh.  “Yeah, well, you can take the girl off the farm...” she smiled.

“You’re not trying to poison me, are you?” Ryan teased.  Not like he didn’t have enough people trying to do him in.

“Should I?” She let the question hang, turning to open the jar of sauce.  Of course, it wouldn’t give, the more she tried.  With a huff she turned back to Ryan, not surprised to see the smug look on his face.  She handed him the jar, wordlessly.  With what seemed like almost no effort on his part, the top gave a little pop, as it opened.  As he handed the jar back, their fingers touched.

Mandy almost jumped with the surprise of the electric shot that flew across her nerve endings.  When she met Ryan’s eyes, she knew that he, too had felt it.  Maybe offering him food had not been a good idea.  Quickly, she turned back to the stove.

Ryan had indeed felt the spark.  The problem was he knew that nothing could come of this.  Something told him Mandy wasn’t a one night kind of girl.  No, Mandy would want, and deserve something more, something Ryan knew he couldn’t give, not now, probably not ever.  He had tried to have a relationship with Lisa, but that had been a spectacular failure.  Then there was Callie.  No, he couldn’t think about Callie now.  His selfishness had gotten her killed, pure and simple, and he wouldn’t do that again, especially not to someone like Mandy.  He tried to cover his disappointment by tipping the beer to his lips, wishing intently that his lips were on that sweet spot along her neck, instead.

Mandy composed herself, even as she realized that Ryan was still watching her.  She saw a flash of desire as his eyes met hers, but in a flash it was gone.  Mandy almost wondered if she had imagined it.  Why could someone like Ryan possibly seen in her?  Shaking her head, she leaned on the counter and crossed her arms across her chest.  “Okay, Ryan, what did you want to talk about?”

Placing the bottle on the counter, he took a moment to organize his thoughts.  She had believed that someone had been watching her, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that it might not be about her.  In all likeliness, it wasn’t about her, but him.  He had made some powerful enemies, and if they had discovered that he was still alive, all bets were off.  He needed to find out all he could about her stalker, to eliminate that possibility.

“Were you telling the truth about your stalker?”  Almost immediately, he realized his mistake.  He had put her on the defensive.
“
You think I’d lie about something like that?”  Her eyes blazed.  She had opened herself to Ryan and this is what he thought?  She turned to stir the spaghetti, but her sharp movements belied her anger.

“No, I didn’t think you lied,” he acquiesced, knowing this was not going well.  Things were about to get worse.  “It’s just Dylan checked both here and in Saskatchewan and couldn’t find any record of anything with your name associated with it.”

Everything in Mandy stilled.  He had his brother check out her story.  Slowly, she put down her wooden spoon and turned to face Ryan.  Her eyes were blazing even as she tried to maintain an outward calm.  “Why would you get your brother to investigate me?”  She knew that no matter how hard Dylan Westbrook tried, he would not find any record of her ordeal, but the thought that Ryan had asked him to investigate infuriated her.  “You really think that little of me that you think I would make up a story like that?  Well, you know what? You can just get the hell out of my house now, Ryan.”  She turned back to the stove, grabbing another spoon to stir the sauce.  How dare he?  What kind of person would make up a story about something like that?  Is that really what Ryan really thought of her?  She was so wrapped up in her anger, she didn’t hear him come around the bar to stand behind her.

“Mandy,” he said, gently, putting his hands on her shoulders and turning her to face him.  Even as he felt her tense, he kept his hands on her.  “I’m sorry.  This hasn’t come out like I wanted it to.  I just...” He hesitated, not wanting to draw her in deeper, yet knowing he would have to provide some kind of explanation.  He huffed out a breath.  “This may not be about you.”

She was tense and angry, but very aware of the warmth flowing through her from his touch.  Her anger wanted to shake off those warm wonderful hands, but she heart said otherwise.  She wanted them not just on her shoulders but all over her.  Her body was trying very hard to override her head.  “What?” she managed.
Although he didn’t want to, Ryan moved his hands and took a step back from Mandy.  She felt the loss of his touch almost immediately but she forced herself to focus.  “What are you talking about, Ryan?” she asked again.

“I wanted to make sure your stalker is still in the institution because whoever you felt might not be watching you.  They might be looking for me.”  He took a couple more steps, resuming his position behind the bar, missing her warmth already.

“The person who shot you,” Mandy said matter-of-factly.  They had never discussed who had shot Ryan or why and truthfully, Mandy had been afraid to ask.

Ryan rubbed a hand across his forehead.  “They don’t know I’m still alive,” he admitted, “But if they have somehow found out I’m here...” He let the words hang.

“They would try again?”  She had to ask, even if she was deathly afraid of the answer.  What had Ryan done to make such enemies?

“Undoubtedly.”  He sighed.  “I asked DJ to find out what he could to help eliminate the possibility, Mandy, not because I didn’t believe you.  I’m sorry, I should have told you I was going to ask him.”

Mandy looked at Ryan, believed he was telling the truth, but she also noticed he hadn’t really told her anything.  Giving a small nod, she turned back to the stove.  He seemed to be so relaxed even as he admitted there was someone out there who wanted to kill, someone who had tried once and failed.  She couldn’t help the shiver that ran down her spine, and it didn’t escape Ryan’s sharp eyes.

“I don’t want to involve you in this more than I have to, Mandy,” he said softly.  “This is my mess, not yours.”

“But you’re not sure, are you?  That’s why you want to check out my story.”  She kept her focus on dinner, prepping garlic bread for the oven.  “I’ll give you the information, but any inquiry you or your brother makes can’t be traced back to here.  You can’t let them know that this is where I’m living, understand?”  Mandy had worked too hard to get away, to change her identity to give it up now.  She would not lose that peace of mind, however small it might be.

“You changed your name.”  The realization came to Ryan as he watched her expression.  He was beginning to understand just what he was asking of Mandy to relive her experience, how hard this was going to be for her.  He wanted to go to her, to pull her into his arms, to hold her and ease her fears but he knew he couldn’t.  If anything, Ryan would only bring her more trouble.

Mandy nodded as she put out a plate in front of Ryan, the mix of wonderful aromas assaulting his senses.  It smelled heavenly and he found his mouth watering.  How long had it been since someone had actually cooked for him?  Years, probably.  He was an adequate cook, another skill he had been forced to master when he was on his own, but somehow, food always tasted better when someone else cooked it.  Mandy took the seat opposite him, before continuing her story.  “We changed our names, and the records were sealed.  In all likelihood, Dylan won’t find much, if anything going through official channels.”

The records were sealed.  That was an interesting tidbit, Ryan noted.  That was something that didn’t happen often in the Canadian justice system.  “Why did they seal the records?” Ryan asked.

Mandy felt the food in her mouth turn to dust.  She had thought she had put this past her, thought it was over, but now she wasn’t sure.  She didn’t want to think about what had happened to her family but she understood why Ryan wanted to know.  She needed to believe that her stalker was still safely locked in an institution, still locked away from what was left of her family.  She fought the overwhelming urge to call Robby, to make sure he was okay.  She was overreacting.  Ryan and Dylan would make some inquiries and they would find out that Braden Young was still in the institution in Saskatchewan.  Then maybe she would sleep better.  She took a breath and finally answered Ryan’s question.  “The records were sealed because his father was a Provincial Court Judge in Saskatchewan, and he was a juvenile.”

Ryan’s head went up.  “Juvenile?  How old was he?”

“Fifteen.”

Ryan looked at her.  “He was fifteen?  Are you serious?”

Mandy gathered all the strength she could muster to form the words she hadn’t spoken aloud in years.  She looked Ryan in the eye.  “He was fifteen and he murdered everyone in my family except me and my brother, because he said he loved me.”