The Price of Secrets and the Fall of My Abusive Husband
“Stay inside,” Marisol said. “Lock the bathroom door. I’m calling the detective now.”
I dragged my suitcase into the bathroom and locked the door behind me.
The air in the bathroom was cold and smelled of bleach.
I sat on the edge of the tub, my knees pulled to my chest.
Minutes dragged by like hours.
Outside, a siren wailed in the distance, getting louder.
It stopped right outside the hotel.
There was a loud commotion in the hallway, voices shouting, and then silence.
My phone buzzed again. It was Marisol.
“They got him, Elena,” she said. “He was in a rented sedan in the alley.”
I let out a breath I felt like I had been holding for years.
They took Derek to the Miami-Dade County Jail.
Because he had violated his bail conditions and threatened a witness, the judge revoked his bond.
He would stay behind bars until the trial.
I moved out of the hotel and back into my condo.
Marisol hired a private security firm to install new locks and cameras.
Every morning, I woke up to the smell of salt air from the balcony.