by Ladew, Lisa
Hide My Thoughts
by Lisa Ladew
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons or organizations, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Copyright © 2014 Lisa Ladew All Rights Reserved
Cover design by http://www.stunningbookcovers.com/
Special Thanks to my beta readers. I needed all the help I could get with this one ;) and you delivered.
Lisa Howard, Nicki Small, Verna Watson, Barbara Stockton , Beth Readd, Lizette Rosado, kelly lamley, Kelli, Debbie Beatson , Cynthia, Christa McCoy, dawn, Sue McAlee, Josephine Skweres, Marilyn Maldonado, Sue Brown
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
This is book 2 in the Hide Me Series. You must read book 1 first, which is located here, and is FREE.
http://www.amazon.com/Hide-My-Memories-Romantic-Suspense-ebook/dp/B00U4NBAPM/
Chapter 1
Lance powered through the grocery store, pulling water, crackers, and beef jerky off the shelves in huge amounts. He wasn’t looking forward to the two hour drive back to his farm, but he always shopped in grocery stores where there was no chance he would see anyone he knew. An unnecessary step? Maybe. But today, more than ever, he had to be careful. He didn’t want anyone looking at him cross-eyed.
He paid for his items, piled them in his truck, and started off for home. While he drove, he let his mind wander. Of course, his mind returned to his brother again and again. His brother, who was now some sort of a weirdo, sitting in a hospital, useless, and completely unpredictable.
For the fiftieth time, Lance pondered the wisdom of killing Zippy, now that Zippy was a liability.
Zippy – gah, he hated the nickname their father had given his little brother. In fact, he hated all his father’s nicknames, but here they were, more than forty years later, still using them. Their father had been a powerful man who used powerful correction, and once he beat something into his boys’ heads, it tended to stay there.
But could he kill Zippy? Zippy was his only ally in the world. Or he had been, before he’d been caught.
If he could kill Zippy, should he even try? Lance shook his head, frustrated. This was all the fault of the bitch who’d shot Zippy. Katerina Holloway. She’d done something else to him too. What exactly, Lance didn’t know. But apparently she had some sort of power – some ability to see people’s thoughts – and destroy their minds. She had to be the reason Zippy was weird now. Just getting shot in the chest wouldn’t turn someone into a different person, would it? The doctors say it could have been caused by a lack of blood to Zippy’s brain, but Lance was skeptical. Zippy seemed too different now – not just stupider. Instead, he seemed like a different person… Lance’s mind cast around for an appropriate word. Finally, he settled on innocent. Yes, Zippy had been made innocent, in a way he hadn’t been since he was a baby.
Lance remembered Zippy at three years old, and then four years old-he wasn’t innocent then. He’d already transformed into the hard, conniving person that all of the males in their family ended up as. They had run around together on the farm, collecting first flies and ants and setting them on fire with a magnifying glass – then, when they were older, they had graduated to bigger animals.
Lance grimaced. He had never minded the flies or the ants or any of the bugs, or even the lizards, but he had hated the rest of it. The noises bothered him. He was fascinated with the killing, but couldn’t stand to hear the cacophony that went along with it. Later in life, when they’d gained some sophistication, he’d pressed his brother to come up with a way to kill without all the noise. The redemption was in the thin slice of time between living and dying. If there was screaming, that narrow window of time could easily be missed in the onslaught of adrenaline created by their commotion.
Zippy never seemed to mind anything, but he was always willing to go forward with what his big brother wanted. He’d been that way since they were little. So together, they’d found a paralytic that did exactly what Lance wanted; it blurred the line between life and death, making the transition smooth and easy, so Lance could watch it, study it, learn from it.
He had a role to play in this fake world they were all traipsing through. His role was of victor, conqueror, master. Zippy liked to play at that role also, but they both knew that Zippy’s true role was that of assistant. And everyone else in the world? Most of them had been put on the planet as stage dressing, playing their own bit parts, but what they didn’t know was they were all really a type of pet, or possession for Lance. He knew his true self. He was God. He’d gotten bored, so he’d created the entire planet, with all of its pleasures and horrors, all of its truths and distractions, all of its realities and lies. He created it and everyone in it, then he’d thrust himself into his world as a helpless infant, with his memory of who he really was wiped clean. He figured he must do this often, and this current incarnation was just one of many. Looking back over history, he easily picked out who he had been in the past: Attila the Hun, Jesus, Hitler, Tesla. The list was long and noteworthy. But in this life, he was doing things a bit differently. He always had to obey the law of the land and the rules of society, to a degree, or pay the consequences. He had created the justice system and knew how to play inside it, but he was still a nobody. He didn’t want his current experiments to be known about just yet. Not until he had achieved his goal. In all of his lives, he had the same goal, and hints along the way to help him get there, but he took a different path each time.
The goal was simple. Master death. Once he did that, he would rest, or think of another game to play. Oh but this was a worthy game. It had taken him a multitude of lifetimes to get where he was right now. And he was so close. There was something to be learned in the actual process of dying and he had almost grasped that something. He just had to keep trying.
The obstacles he had put in his own path just made things more interesting. Police. Societal laws. Norms and values against killing. But what was Katerina Holloway? He knew he had created her and her ability, and put her right in his path, but he couldn’t figure exactly why. Was she the final hint? Or just another obstacle? If he could kill her, or control her, would he understand her power?
Zippy had provided the only clue he had so far to her nature. Lance had been the one to call Zippy a lawyer and send him over there. When the lawyer had sent word that Zippy was awake, Lance had waited for what seemed like a prudent amount of time, and then visited. He had walked in the hospital room, not a bit concerned that Zippy would give him away. But when Zippy had weakly turned his gaze on Lance, then smiled and called him by his childhood nickname, Lance had panicked. His eyes had flicked to the cop in the chair, pla
ying on his phone, but the cop hadn’t seemed to notice.
“Hey, why don’t you take a break? I’ve got him for ten minutes,” he’d said to the obviously bored cop.
The cop had shot to his feet and disappeared with a grateful smile.
Zippy’s cheeks were sunken, as if he hadn’t had anything to eat for weeks. His skin was pale and his eyebrows stuck every which way, giving him a creepy old man look. His eyes were unfocused and innocent, with no guile in them. He lay docilely on his pillow, and even moving his neck had seemed to take a great effort. Confusion overlaid his every breath.
“Frank, what in the hell happened? How did she shoot you?” Lance whispered, not liking what he saw.
Zippy licked his lips and his eyes unfocused. “Shoot me Bubba? Who shot me?” He spoke in a hesitant, stuttering way. His voice sounded juvenile to Lance, as if he had regressed to childhood in his pain.
“The bitch,” Lance had hissed. “And don’t call me Bubba, you know better than that.”
Zippy’s hand had floated up and grasped Lance’s hand. Lance stared at it in disbelief. What was he doing? Zippy never touched him if he could help it.
“Bubba, it hurts. What happened to me?”
Lance flipped his hand so it was on top of Frank’s hand and he squeezed, hard. “Don’t call me Bubba, asshole. You know it’s fucking dangerous.” Lance had let up at the pain in Frank’s eyes. He tried again, his voice softer. “You got shot Frank. Katerina Holloway shot you at the old morgue. Don’t you remember?”
At the sound of Katerina’s name, Frank’s gaze focused slightly and his eyes narrowed. He then said the only helpful thing of Lance’s entire visit. “Her guilt is terrible.” For just that one moment his voice was deeper, mature.
Driving down the dusty road, watching for his turn off, Lance contemplated the rest of that visit.
He had glanced at the door, making sure they were still alone. Then he had bent down close to Frank’s face and asked the important questions. “Frank, who have you talked to? What have you said about the bodies?”
“Bodies? What bodies?” Frank’s eyes had drifted over the medical equipment, unfocused and relaxed again.
Lance gritted his teeth. What the fuck was Frank playing at? “The bodies! The fucking bodies under your house!” he hissed through his teeth, his jaw tense enough to snap.
Frank’s gaze landed on him for a second and flitted away again. Lance didn’t like what he saw in his brother’s face. Nothing that he’d ever seen before. Condemnation? Accusation?
“We shouldn’t have done that to Sherry,” Frank had said. “Is that why I’m under arrest?” He lifted his hands so the handcuffs that kept him in the bed clinked.
Lance shook his head. Who in the hell was Sherry? He fought back an urge to twist his brothers ear. “What the fuck are you talking about-Sherry? Sherry who?”
“Sherry Sadowski. You know what you did. And what I did.” Frank shuddered and closed his eyes.
Lance couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Sherry Sadowski had been more than thirty years ago. During his freshman year of high school maybe. Lance couldn’t even remember the exact details of what they had done, it had been so long ago - something to do with a drug in her pepsi and the two of them taking advantage of her. But Lance specifically remembered how excited Frank had been back then and how he had hounded Lance to do it again. Why the hell was he bringing that up now?
Lance reached out and pinched the skin on his little brother’s arm. This wasn’t a fucking game. There was no time for this shit. He twisted the skin hard and an instant bruise popped up beneath his fingers. Lance was so mad he didn’t even care. Fuck the guard. Fuck the nurses. Fuck the doctors, and fuck the whole damn hospital. His little brother needed correction.
Frank tried to pull away, his handcuffs stopping him short.
“I don’t give a shit about Sherry Sadowski. That was a long time ago. Now answer my question. Who have you talked to and what have you said about the bodies?”
Frank’s eyes showed fear. Good. “I don’t know about any bodies. Everybody keeps asking me about the bodies. But I haven’t said anything. I don’t have anything to say.”
Lance shook his head, confused. Was this a fucking act? Why would Frank try to fool his own brother? But if he hadn’t said anything that was good. “I told your lawyer to make sure no one could ask you any more questions. You don’t have to say a word to anyone. It’s better if you don’t. If you don’t say one fucking word there’s a chance we can get you out of here at some point. If you talk, to anyone, about anything, you’re going straight to prison. Do you understand?”
Frank had turned his head towards the wall, away from Lance. He hadn’t said a word. Red covered Lance’s vision. His hands crept up of their own accord and snuck towards Frank’s throat, but then the door had opened and the cop had returned.
That had been almost a week ago. He hadn’t dared to go back to see Frank again. He wanted desperately to know what Frank was telling people. No police reports had turned up yet, which was a good sign. That meant he probably wasn’t saying anything. Lance wanted to talk to the lawyer face to face, but he knew he couldn’t. Not until he was ready to give up this life he had made for himself. He knew it would probably come to that, but he wouldn’t do it until his hand was forced. This life had been good to him.
Lance turned onto the long, dusty driveway leading to the farm, his mind churning away from Zippy and back towards Katerina Holloway. He had to decide which woman to use this time to fuck with her. He’d taken the hint that Frank had given him about Katerina and her guilt and had run with it. He hadn’t yet seen her reaction to the body with her face on it though. It was time to hit her again, while she was surely still reeling from the last one. But how to make this one an even bigger hit?
Chapter 2
West Shepherd paced through Katerina’s apartment. He felt completely helpless, and was absolutely infuriated by it. He imagined he could hear Katerina crying softly in the bedroom. That’s what she’d been doing for almost two days now and he didn’t know how to help her. She’d rejected every attempt he’d made so far. They were both on indefinite leave from the fire department. When Lieutenant Masterson had suggested it, Katerina’s eyes had showed panic. But there was another killer out there – and Katerina was his obvious target.
West wasn’t surprised this was hitting Katerina so hard. He knew she had already felt guilty enough about Pam, the receptionist at her old workplace, who had probably been killed because the last psychopath was looking for Katerina’s address. And now there was a new dead woman? And nobody could figure out her name or who she was but she had been found with a picture of Katerina’s face over her own face. The message was clear. I killed this lady because I couldn’t kill you. The guilt was eating Katerina alive. Add that to the fact that they had thought this was over, but now there was another killer and he could totally understand it. He was rocked himself.
A text came through on West’s phone. Blaise. Can I come over in a bit? West texted back in the affirmative and asked Blaise to bring him some beer. He had already drank the three beers he had in the house and it wasn’t enough. Neither he nor Katerina had been able to sleep for days now. Maybe more beer would help. If he could get Katerina to drink some that would be even better.
Wait, he could do better than beer. This situation was heinous, and nobody was going to blame Katerina if she needed a little bit of chemical help to get past it. He snatched his phone up again and scrolled through his contacts. Thomas Chastain. He dialed the number without even a thought to what time it was. They had the shades drawn in the tiny apartment and hadn’t been outside since the discovery of that body. Days and nights blended together and meant nothing when you couldn’t sleep.
The phone rang in his ear. Come on, pick up.
“Dr. Chastain,” a deep male voice spoke in his ear.
“Thomas. It’s West Shepherd.”
“West! It’s good to hear from you.” The j
oy in West’s father’s oldest friend’s voice carried clearly through the phone.
“Thanks, Thomas, but I’m sorry to say this isn’t a social call. I need help.”
“Of course. What can I do for you?” The tone became businesslike immediately and West was glad. He didn’t have any energy to spare for social comments right now.
“My - uh - my girlfriend is going through a really hard time right now. She can’t sleep. In fact neither of us can. She’s having some - uh - mental issues I guess is the easiest way to say it. I was wondering if there’s anything you could do for her. Get her some sleeping pills or something?”
The voice on the other end of the line was silent for a moment. West could almost hear him gather his thoughts. “Well West, it’s not really that easy. I shouldn’t prescribe anything to her without doing an examination first. And sleeping pills for a temporary issue is not always the smartest path. This is a temporary issue?”
“Have you been watching the news Thomas? Did you see anything about the body they found in the industrial area the day before yesterday? My girlfriend is being targeted by the man who did that. In fact, Katerina thinks the only reason the guy did it was to send her a message.”
The man on the other end of the phone sucked in a breath. “Okay, that’s pretty bad. I will call you in a prescription for something strong. How about an anti-anxiety medicine too? Do you think she needs that?”
“She might.”
“Give me her name.”
West gave the doctor Katerina’s information and hung up. He knew she wouldn’t want to leave the apartment and he didn’t want to leave her alone. Maybe the pharmacy would let Blaise pick up the medication? He texted Blaise again, then was startled by a small noise at his elbow.
