Tethered Souls: A Nine Minutes Spin-Off Novel

by Beth Flynn

  "And all I can say," Mrs. Truncle continued, "is that I am grateful that my friend and Miriam's parents died before they found that poor girl. Do you know where they discovered her?"

  I could feel a wave of heat as it made its way up my spine. She was right. It was hot in here.

  "After holding her prisoner and torturing her for years, he murdered her and buried her on her own parents' property. What kind of cruel and evil mind would do that to a family? To put their dead child's body right beneath their noses?"

  I looked at her and I didn't see anger in her eyes. I saw sadness.

  "Like I said, I'm glad her parents and grandparents didn't live to see it. Of course Miriam's sisters know. They still have to live with what that horrible man did to her." Her voice had lost its bluster. She turned and headed for the door. "Thank the good Lord he's dead now. Of course, God only knows how many demon seeds he planted all over South Florida while he rained down terror. You be careful out there, young lady. You never know when you might be looking evil right in the eyes." She slowly turned around and headed toward the door.

  I heard her cane thump as she walked down the steps without shutting the door behind her. I started to close it when I heard her muttering to herself, "The Lord is slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love...but He will by no means clear the guilty, visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children, to the third and fourth generation."

  I remembered when I'd first learned about my biological father, Grizz, and how I'd refused to call him anything other than the evil sperm donor. And that was exactly what feisty Winifred Truncle had just implied. Her head would've exploded if I'd told her she was staring into the eyes of his demon seed.

  I watched as her driver helped her get into the back of a black Cadillac Sedan that had to be older than me. Closing the door, I grabbed the album and went back to my desk. I didn't have any museum visitors for the rest of the day. During that time, I managed to carefully remove the last tangible remnant of my father's childhood, and replace it with a picture from the same era that I'd found in a box.

  After closing up the museum I headed for my car, and reached for the flyer that had been tucked under my windshield wiper. It wasn't until I got inside that I unfolded the thick paper.

  WHORE was scrawled in bold black letters.

  Could this day get any crappier?

  Chapter 51

  Fort Lauderdale, Florida 2007

  I crumpled up the paper and threw it in my purse. "You could've just waited to hand it to me when I pick up Abby later," I said to an invisible Autumn. It was the second nasty note I'd received on my windshield in the past two weeks. I found the first one when I'd come out of the grocery store just over a week ago. It had simply said, He’s using you.

  The museum didn't have surveillance cameras, and I wouldn't bother to ask the grocery store if they had any. I already knew who was writing the notes, so it was a moot point. I was convinced Autumn was more bark than bite so there was no way I would involve Christian in something so adolescent. Once she got it through her thick skull that Christian and I were a permanent couple, she would slink away and stalk some other poor soul.

  I stopped for coffee and still arrived at my therapy appointment fifteen minutes early. The office complex was a modern structure with a bright and airy atrium in the center. I sat on a bench and enjoyed my coffee as I watched people bustling around me. I stared at the large corner space that used to be the gym where I had taken a few yoga classes and wondered what was going on behind the glass walls that had been covered with brown paper. A remodel had been going on for weeks with no sign of who would be occupying the space. I hadn't been speculating for more than a minute when the glass door opened and two men walked out. The older of the two was laughing and he stepped aside as the second man turned around to lock the door.

  "You got it, Nick?" I heard the older one ask. He had a thick head of silver hair and a neatly trimmed beard to match. I saw that he was wearing blue jeans, sneakers, and a T-shirt that said, "Diamonds in the Rough."

  The sensors in my head started to fire all at once. I watched and listened as the one called Nick replied, "I got this, Roger." Remembering what Christian had told me after admitting to attacking the man who'd attempted to rape me, my brain made the connection between Diamonds in the Rough and Nick Rosman. He turned around at that exact moment and our eyes connected.

  My head screamed for me to not look. Look down. Maybe it's not him.

  It was wishful thinking. My eyes betrayed me as I looked below his shoulders and saw the artificial limb. Instead of glancing back up I kept my eyes lowered as I concentrated on the coffee cup I had balanced on my left knee. I saw a pair of loafers come into view. I slowly raised my head when the person standing in front of me asked, "Are you Mimi Dillon?"

  "Hello, Nick," was all I said as I met his eyes. Having him stand over me felt a bit too submissive, so I stood up. "Or do you go by Elliott?"

  "It's Nick," he whispered breathlessly. "Mimi, I've waited a long time to talk to you. I have so much to tell you. So much to say to you."

  Just then the older man sidled up next to Nick and asked, "Friend of yours?"

  Nick didn't take his eyes off mine as he replied to his friend, "This is Mimi. I've told you about her."

  I chanced a peek at the older man who formed an O with his mouth. He obviously knew the story. Extending his hand, the man said, "Roger Kincaid, but my friends call me Jolly Roger."

  Before he could pull his hand away I replied, "Mimi Bear. Nice to meet you, Roger."

  "Bear?" Nick asked, his head cocked to one side.

  I held my head high when I answered, "Yes, Bear. I'm married to Christian. I guess Roger knows Christian's story too?" My eyes wandered to Nick's prosthetic arm.

  "Married?" Nick asked. He took a step back and swiped his hand through his hair. "Whoa. Wasn't expecting that one."

  I studied him and watched as he tried to make sense of what I’d just told him. He broke out into a wide smile and said, "I could see you marrying the older one. The one who beat me up that night. What was his name?"

  "Slade," Roger said before I could. Apparently he knew that part of the story too.

  He shrugged his shoulders sheepishly. "Unusual name. Easy to remember."

  I nodded my agreement, and waited for the awkward silence to descend. But it didn't. Nick immediately launched into an apology for what he'd done to me so many years ago. He explained that he even tried to find me after my family moved, but to no avail. I listened, mesmerized, as he delved into a story that I knew he'd shared with others by how articulately he described it. A story about a misguided and angry teenager, who didn't die from his injury, but was close to dying from despair. He made sure I knew he had no hard feelings for Christian by telling me, "If Christian hadn't done what he did to me, I wouldn't have paid any attention to Roger when I met him. I wouldn't have found God. I would still be wandering aimlessly looking in the wrong places for happiness." His eyes misted over when he added, "Truthfully, I probably would've killed myself."

  Apparently, Nick's friend and mentor had become an ordained minister, evangelizing and saving souls while in prison. Upon his release, Roger prayed that God would show him his next assignment. And according to Roger, God did. Nick and Roger met while standing in line at a Taco Bell. Roger honed in on Nick's desperation and sadness, and invited him to a prayer meeting. Just like Christian had told me, Nick had received a substantial amount of money from the Bears, and the two new friends embarked on creating a non-profit organization that would provide not just counseling to troubled young men, but education, housing, and other forms of rehabilitation.

  I pointed to the area behind them. "Is that what this is? Headquarters for Diamonds in the Rough?"

  "Oh no," Roger chimed in. "I don't think the other businesses would appreciate us having our Diamonds in the Rough crew in the vicinity. Let's face it, most of the boys we deal with are criminals." He stuck his hands in his pockets and roll
ed back on his heels. "This is an offshoot of that program, and it's a bit different. For starters, it includes girls."

  I grinned, interested in what he was saying.

  "We don't even have a name for it yet," Nick added.

  "But it's for the younger kids. From kindergarten through middle school," Roger told me with a wide smile. "It's an after-school mentoring program that helps them deal with bullying." He nodded toward Nick and said, "Nick's fiancée, Rachel, is going to run it."

  My smile got wider, and I focused on Nick. "You're engaged? Congratulations." And I meant it.

  "She's a wonderful woman. I'd like you to meet her, Mimi." He paused. "Anyway, we’ve been trying to get the funding for almost a year now, and a few weeks ago, an anonymous donor offered this space, and some money."

  "It's an answer to our prayers," Roger said with a smile.

  Nick then answered my unspoken question. "The money I got from my settlement is all gone. It was a huge figure, but it went to a good cause. Thanks to this"—he held up his prosthetic limb—"a lot of young men are leading productive lives instead of wasting away behind bars."

  I took a deep breath and measured my next words very carefully. "I'm truly glad you see it that way, Nick." I looked down at the ground. I didn't know why, but I couldn't bring myself to apologize on Christian's behalf. If there was ever going to be an apology, it needed to come from Christian. Not me.

  As if sensing my internal struggle, Nick asked, "Mimi, can I ask you for a hug?"

  I looked up and saw nothing in his eyes that indicated anything other than sincerity. Yes, a misguided teenaged Nick had deceived me all those years ago, but I believed he'd turned his life around for the better. I believed he'd found his place of peace.

  I nodded and we embraced. After pulling back, I asked him, "How is your grandmother? How is Edith?"

  "She's doing well," he told me. "She insisted on moving into an assisted living facility. She's happier than she's ever been. You wouldn't believe the place. It has everything—its own golf course, movie theater, restaurants. It's like its own little city. I still live in her house."

  "I don't want to be the one to bust up this happy reunion, but we gotta head out, buddy," came Roger's friendly reminder.

  "I have to run too," I added, looking at my watch. I was already five minutes late.

  "Will you stop in and meet Rachel once we're all set up?" Nick asked.

  "Yes, I promise," I assured.

  Roger grabbed my hand with both of his and shook it so hard I thought my watch was going to fly off my wrist. "Nice to meet you, Mimi. So very nice." His eyes disappeared when he smiled. He really was Jolly Roger.

  "Nice to meet you too, Roger."

  I watched them walk away, and I tossed my empty coffee cup in the garbage before heading for the stairs. My therapist was going to have a field day when I told her who I'd just run into and the story behind it.

  Chapter 52

  Fort Lauderdale, Florida 2007

  After my appointment, I saw a text from Aunt Christy inviting us to have dinner at her house. She'd experimented with a new Crock-Pot recipe and said she had enough to feed an army. Christian hadn't been lying when he said his mother wasn't a very good cook, but she managed to turn out some decent one-pot meals. I texted Christian who said he would meet Abby and me there, but would probably be a little late.

  I was grateful that Autumn wasn't at her mother's house when I picked up Abby. Autumn did everything she could to avoid Christian's parents, including leaving Abby with her disabled mother knowing that the Bears would have to pick her up, since the woman was bound to a wheelchair. I had no doubt if she knew I was going to be the one to get her daughter she would've done one of two things. Insisted on dropping Abby at our home as a means to snoop, or waited at her mother's place to give me a hard time.

  We'd just finished Aunt Christy's rendition of what I think was supposed to be beef Stroganoff when Daisy asked to be excused from the table.

  "Can I give Abby her bath?" She pushed in her chair, and then picked up her plate to carry it to the sink. Before either Christian or I could answer, she added, "I'll put her in her jammies so you don't even have to get her ready for bed when you take her home."

  I loved how much Daisy loved her niece, but I also knew that Christian had been reveling in playing the role of dutiful father, and he'd done it spectacularly. I saw the hesitation on his face, at the same time Aunt Christy chimed in, "You're on kitchen duty, Daisy. And I'm sure Christian and Mimi want to take Abby home soon. You can give her a bath tomorrow night when she's back here."

  Even though the court had given primary custody of Abby to Christian's parents, we still brought her to our home as often as possible. She had her own room, which Christian and I decorated with Daisy's help. Abby's room even had an extra bed for her aunt Daisy for when she wanted to stay over.

  Daisy didn't argue with her mother and started gathering the empty plates from the table. Abby was sitting in her chair playing with her noodles, not even paying any of us the slightest attention.

  I watched Daisy leave the dining room with an armload of plates.

  "Won't be much longer when she won't be making those kinds of offers," came Uncle Anthony's deep voice. We all looked at him. "Pretty soon it's going to be about boys and makeup. I'm surprised it's not already." I could see by his expression that he was already preparing himself to mourn the loss of his soon-to-be teenage daughter. I was inclined to agree. I’d noticed the way Daisy had looked at my brother Jason, and my cousin Scott, when she was visiting for our wedding.

  "Daisy is different," Aunt Christy interjected. "She's very family oriented. She prefers us over her friends."

  Uncle Anthony raised an eyebrow.

  "How was work? What's new with you two?" Aunt Christy asked, purposely changing the subject.

  After Christian described a difficult repair which only Uncle Anthony understood, I whipped out the picture I'd taken from the museum and passed it around the table. All three of them agreed it was Grizz in the old photo. Of course, I left out the part about Winifred Truncle's disapproval of mixed-race marriages, and the nasty note I'd found on my windshield. I started to tell them about running into Nick and his friend Roger when Aunt Christy banged her hand on the table, yelling, "What? You’re telling me he's in the same building as your therapist? Where you go every week?"

  Apparently Abby wasn't accustomed to seeing her grandmother angry, and she made a small squeak. We all looked over at her, but she only had eyes for her father.

  "Dabba," she said, while reaching for him. It was the first time she'd called Christian anything. I almost cried as I watched Christian lift her out of her seat and place her on his lap.

  Turning back to Aunt Christy, I told her everything that Nick had told me.

  "I don't like it. It doesn't feel right," she said.

  "It's not for you to like or not, Owani," Uncle Anthony interjected.

  "It's okay, it really is," I added, casting a sideways glance Christian's way. He hadn't commented yet, so I wasn't sure where he stood on the issue.

  "Look, they've been working on the place for weeks now and I haven't seen them. I was sitting on the bench across from the space at the precise time they were leaving. It was so random. Odds are slim that I’ll ever run into Nick again, considering I only have therapy appointments once a week." I took a breath and looked at my husband. "Are you okay with this? Do you think this will be a problem?"

  He shook his head slowly. "As long as he doesn't have any misguided notions that you'll be getting chummy or that we'll be double-dating with him and his fiancée, I don't see it as a problem."

  "Considering a condition of your parole is not having any contact with your victim, I don't see any double-dating in your future anyway," Uncle Anthony scoffed.

  "I think it's too weird, and way too much of a coincidence," Aunt Christy added as she placed her elbows on the table and leaned forward to address us. "What if Nick is up to somethin
g?" She leaned back and drummed her fingers on the table. "What if he's trying to get revenge for what Christian did to him?" She grabbed a salt shaker and nervously fiddled with it. She didn't give anyone a chance to answer when she looked at me and added, "I'll offer to relocate your therapist, and I'll make it worth her while. You said you told her about meeting Nick so she'll understand why it's so important. Right, Mimi?"

  The Bears lived well below their means in their quaint neighborhood, but they didn't have to. It was no secret that Christian's mother was an heiress, and worth millions. And his father had amassed a small fortune of his own through lucrative criminal endeavors when they'd lived on Florida's west coast. In her mind, Aunt Christy's solution was simple. She would write a sizeable check to my therapist to entice her to find another office. I didn't think it was necessary and apparently neither did her husband.

  "Owani, listen to what you're saying." All eyes shifted to Uncle Anthony as he reached for his wife's hand. Gently removing the salt shaker from her grasp and setting it aside, he continued, "Do you really think that Nick Rosman used up all the money he got from us on his charity while waiting for Mimi to show back up in Florida, banking on her marrying Christian? During which time he waited over a year for funding for his new non-profit, only accepting their money if they offered to put him in a building where he knew Mimi had an appointment once a week, in the hopes that he would run into her? All so he could exact revenge on Christian?"

  She blinked a few times before answering. "When you say it like that it does sound a little outlandish," she admitted.

  "A little?" Christian added.

  "Fine," she conceded. "So, it's ridiculously outlandish. I know I'm overthinking it, but I'm also a mother. We have a bad habit of imagining worst-case scenarios."

  I reached over and touched her arm. "I appreciate you looking out for me, Aunt Christy. But I felt no threat from Nick. And I highly doubt I'll run into him often or even at all."