Free Please Don't Leave Me Here by Tania Chandler

sorry, really sorry, she shouldn’t have done that. She ignores her immediate reaction to want to touch her hand to his face.
    He takes a few steps backwards. Angry or hurt? ‘I know what you did, Brigitte.’ A drop of water from his hair rolls down the side of his face, onto his collar. ‘I know where you worked. I know what you were.’
    She steps towards the doorway, but he stands in her way, blocking it. A pair of boxing gloves hangs on the hook next to the window. He puts his arms on either side of the door frame, trapping her. ‘I know everything about you.’
    He’s making it up; he’s going to do something to her, hurt her. She sidesteps, looks around him to the safety of the house, but Sam’s already left for work.
    â€˜I know what Sam did.’ He leans down, close to her face, ‘And I know who Matt Elery is.’
    She fiddles with the cuff of her shirt. ‘I don’t know anybody called Matt …’
    â€˜Elery. Apparently, he’s a crime-thriller writer.’
    â€˜Sure you don’t mean James Ellroy?’ Too smart, not funny .
    â€˜He remembers you.’
    She looks away — at his book on the bedside table, In Cold Blood — and then back, directly into his eyes. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
    â€˜How many other men have you fucked over, Brigitte? How about Eric Tucker? Does that name ring something?’
    She forces her face to stay blank, but he might as well have tipped a bucket of ice over her head.
    â€˜Oh, that’s right, you don’t remember. Just like you didn’t remember me from Manny’s party.’
    She shrugs, and twists her mouth.
    â€˜You’re so fucking self-centred.’ His voice goes up a few decibels.
    She frowns.
    â€˜Did you really think my interest in you was non-work related?’
    â€˜What?’ Another ice bucket.
    â€˜Yeah.’ He nods. ‘I’ve been investigating you the whole time.’ His eyes are shining — they’ve turned almost black, inky. ‘An easy fuck on the side was just a bonus.’
    She goes to hit him again, but he’s too quick this time, catching her wrist before she can strike him.
    â€˜So Elery was telling the truth. About your violent streak.’
    Her heart beats so hard it’s going to explode, but she doesn’t flinch.
    â€˜Don’t you touch me again.’ He pushes her hand away. ‘Or I’ll charge you with assault.’ He snatches his phone and keys from the tri-fold table, his jacket from the back of the chair, and turns and strides out across the yard.
    She stands in the doorway, hugging her upper arms against her chest. ‘Aidan!’ No response. ‘AIDAN!’ He’s gone down the sideway. She drops the bread and sits on the step with her head in her hands.

11
    It’s after midnight when Sam gets home, but she’s still awake. He places his watch and keys quietly on the bedside table. His clothes rustle as he undresses in the dark; the bed creaks when he sits on the edge to pull off his shoes and socks.
    â€˜Aidan’s working on the case you were working when we met.’ The sound of her voice seems to hang in the darkness. ‘He thinks I did something. He says you did something, too.’
    â€˜No,’ Sam says, ‘he’s just got things mixed up.’
    â€˜I don’t know, Sam. He sounded pretty serious. Scared me.’
    â€˜Is he out the back?’ He reaches for his clothes.
    â€˜No, he hasn’t come home.’
    He drops his shirt, and takes her hand. ‘I’ll sort it out tomorrow. And he can move out if he’s upsetting you.’ He slides into bed, and she snuggles up against him — warm, strong, a hint of sport deodorant and dried sweat. She needs him more than ever now.
    â€˜Don’t worry.’ He strokes her hair. ‘Did Serra say anything about what he thinks happened that