He jumped out of the shop’s door and whipped around the corner coming straight at her. Hot on his heels was Hanna Barnes, the local drug addict. Deb didn’t need to see his color rise as he spotted her, the way his hand was inside his jacket and his furtive demeanor said it all, he was stealing again.
“Damn it, wait,” she called and set her chair off in pursuit.
Brett changed direction. Hanna was not as quick and she stumbled on her three inch heels and flailed her arms as she almost went down. Deb was so close; she reached out a hand but Hanna was up and running, her long brown hair flapped behind her as she tottered away with a surprising turn of speed despite the tight blue mini-skirt. They dived across the road and Deb followed. She had her eye on Brett, imagining the roasting she would give him and she missed the lowered section of the curb and crashed into the raised concrete so hard it felt like she had hit a wall. The chair pitched sideways, and Deb circled her arms to stay upright, but she started to overbalance as she neared a tipping point. Deb's focus was totally on following Brett that she did not comprehend the danger and had not seen the large blue panel van that was roaring toward her until the last moment. Panic filled Deb’s chest and like a swarm of angry bees, it buzzed inside her. What had she done? A gloved hand tilted her chair backward and lifted her onto the pavement.
The van roared past with a honk of its horn as her wheels touched down on the pavement and she released her breath just as Brett ducked around a corner followed by Hanna. They were gone. Deb put her hand down to her wheels. The urge to follow was overwhelming but as she turned the chair, she came face to thigh with her rescuer.
“You’re welcome,” he said with a laconic smile.
Deb looked up and up, past long firm thighs, a thin waist and broad shoulders, to a smiling face that was all man. He had a chiseled jaw, a high brow and wore dark glasses that were topped by thick blonde hair and a mocking smile. Deb felt color hit her cheeks, she was staring. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Thank you, but I was chasing my brother.”
“Ah, that’s who it was. I thought maybe I had competition.” Reaching down he offered her a gloved hand. “My name’s Alix Sakharov. It’s a pleasure to meet such a beautiful and adventurous woman.”
Deb took his leather clad hand in hers and felt a tingle of pleasure run up her arm. Her cheeks flamed and she seemed unable to speak. At last her tongue loosened. “I’m Deborah Marshall and I want to thank you for saving me.” She let go of his hand and her own dropped back to her lap.
“It was my pleasure. I hear there is a dance tonight, maybe I could have the pleasure of escorting you?”
Deb looked up at his face, he was so pale yet she found him attractive. The urge to reach up and take off his glasses came to her and she grunted with disgust because she could not reach. “I… I… I don’t know,” she said and looked down. Suddenly she wanted to be just an ordinary girl, not the niece of the host, but more than anything she wanted to dance with Alix Sakharov.
“Don’t worry Deborah, we will maybe meet there.” He turned and walked away, straight into the door of the Coltrane Herald.
Deb wanted to follow him, wanted to grab onto his coat and say, “Yes, please take me to the dance.” She wanted to have some fun and she wanted someone to find her attractive. The thought that this gorgeous man had asked her for a date filled her with a confidence that she hadn’t felt since the accident. Yet she would not do it, would not go with him.
“Wow, who was that?” Nova asked as she came up behind Deb.
“His name is Alix Sakharov and he helped me.”
“Yeah, we saw,” Summer said. “The guy’s a hunk and a hero, so why did you say no?”
Deb looked up at her friends. That was why, they lived on a different level now and they just didn’t understand. “It was just pity, I don’t want a sympathy date.”
Summer looked at Nova and winked. “Well, I think maybe I will ask him. There’s no way a man like that’s going to waste.”
Deb felt a spark of panic, the last thing she wanted was to see Summer with Alix. Anger surged through her, any man would much rather be with her gorgeous friend than with a useless husk like Deb.
“So Deb, should I ask him or will you?” Summer challenged.
“I have to go to work, do what you must,” Deb said and she wheeled away from her friends and into the Herald.
“That was mean,” Nova said to Summer.
“Really? Do you think I got her mad enough to ask him though?”
Laughing the two girls went back to the grill.
Inside the Herald, Deb spotted Alix immediately. He had removed his gloves and glasses and he looked even better if that was possible. The bees were back in her stomach, buzzing around as she sat there too afraid to go over. This was stupid, the man had asked her out and she should call his bluff. Anger gave her a boost; she knew that Summer could have him tonight but maybe if she asked first. Well, what had she got to lose?
“Hi Deb,” Hillary from accounts called as Deb crossed the room.
Deb nodded, but she was on a mission and if she stopped now her courage would fail. This is madness, I can’t do this. Damn it, Deb you never gave in to anything in your life.
Deb squared her shoulders and put her hands on the wheels. It was nothing, just a question and it was one that millions of people asked every day so surely she could ask one man to the dance?
Alix had his back to her and was talking to one of the advertising managers, Jones she thought but was not sure. Maybe she should wait till he finished?
He turned as if he knew she was there and all Deb saw were ocean blue eyes so deep she could drown in them.
“Hi Deb, it’s good to see you again,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Yes,” she said as the bees buzzed in her stomach causing the words to stick in her throat. This was not cool, she took a breath and the words shot out of her like bullets. “I wondered if I could reconsider tonight.”
Alix smiled an almost mocking smile and then he nodded. “That would make me very happy. Why don’t I meet you at seven?”
Chapter Five
Deb sat in the sunshine taking pictures of Bonnie, the deep red Boxer and her owner. The dog was amazing and despite her initial horror at the assignment, Deb was enjoying herself and was getting some fabulously good shots. They were on a sports field which backed onto the woodlands and as the sun set, the dog's coat, the color of ginger biscuits, looked spectacular against the backdrop of the trees. The owner Ben had done a double take when Deb knocked on the door, but he had been respectful and made her feel at home. They had talked about her accident and he had amazed Deb when he told her Bonnie had taken to her wheelchair and never looked back.
As Deb focused through the lens, the dog dribbled a solid yellow football back to Ben, who then kicked it away. With a wag of her tail she raced after the ball, almost tipping the chair as she took a corner too fast.
“She must get depressed,” Deb said.
Ben laughed. “No, never, and if she’s not in the chair she just pulls herself around on her front legs.”
“That’s amazing. Is she in any pain?” Deb asked and she profoundly hoped that the answer was no. The thought of this brave dog suffering had tears prickling the back of her eyes.
“No, she has no feeling in her back end,” Ben said. He continued to explain that the disease was progressive and eventually Bonnie would lose the use of her front legs and then her lungs.
Deb bowed her head. There were so many injustices in the world. She asked some more questions and took some fabulous shots. “Would you mind if I use this piece to raise awareness about the disease?”
“Ben shot her a look and a smile dawned on his face. “That would be brilliant. I have some information I got ready just in case you were interested.”
Deb nodded; this may not be investigating, but she could do some good. Now the best part of the day. “Can I meet her?”
“Of course. Bonnie, come here sweetie.”
The dog turned and pushed the ball towards them. Deb had a sudden flash of fear. The remembrance of something dark coming towards her fast and then it was gone. Stop it, she admonished herself. You can have a life.
Ben grabbed hold of the Boxer and produced a towel while she stood panting, unable to take her eyes off the ball. “I need to wipe her mouth,” he said.
“Wait,” Deb called and snapped a picture of Bonnie looking up. Her eyes were alight with joy and her muzzle was covered with white froth. It was a magical image and Deb grinned with joy.
So the job was over, and she wondered what Mace had thought when he gave it to her? Yeah, good joke that one; send the girl in a wheelchair to interview the dog in a wheelchair. Not that she minded, now she was here. She loved dogs.
“Now let me get some doggy hugs.” Debbie rolled across the short grass with relative ease, but she could feel the workout in her arms and abs. As she approached, the good natured dog went into guard mode. She pulled herself out of Ben’s arms and launched toward Deb, a deep menacing growl coming from her throat.
Ben’s arm shot out and grabbed hold of Bonnie’s collar. He managed to pull her up short, but she almost dragged him to the floor in the process. Bonnie pulled back her lips to expose savage teeth. Saliva flew from her jaws as she raged and pulled as if she wanted to rip Deb to pieces.
“Bonnie, enough,” Ben shouted and the dog stopped pulling but a deep growl started in her throat and the hackles that lined her back were raised giving her fur a dark red Mohican tone. “I don’t understand,” Ben said, and the look of horror on his face said she had never done this before.
Deb moved herself away and the dog calmed down returning to the soft, friendly creature that she had been moments before. Deb’s delight had disappeared. This was the third time a dog had launched at her since the accident and she did not know why. Everybody said it was the chair, but she knew that was not true, she had seen other people in chairs who dogs loved. Just last week she had approached this cute Labrador all wagging tails as it sat on the side of the road. But the minute she reached out her hand, its teeth turned faster than a jack rabbit and a low menacing growl filled its throat.
It wasn’t the first time this had happened either, all dogs seemed to hate her now. Perhaps they sensed her self-loathing or maybe they really didn’t like the chair? Whatever it was, it caused just another problem in her already shit life.
“It’s alright,” Deb said. “Some dogs don’t like the wheelchair.
Chapter Six
Deb applied a cherry passion lipstick in two smooth strokes and pursed her lips. It was darker than she usually wore, but it made her look older, more in control. A last brush of her hair and she was pleased with the effect. Now just a flick of blusher across her cheekbones and she was ready. She checked her watch; she had three hours until Alix arrived and she intended to make the most of it. It was a quick ten minutes to the home of James Markoff. He had agreed to talk with her to discuss the environmental policies that his mines were implementing. Markoff wanted the world to consider him a philanthropist, someone who gave more than he took, but Deb knew differently. The company spent much less than one-hundredth of a percent of its profits on these policies and the mines made billions. Over the years, they had improved but they still paid their workers the bare minimum and their environmental policies just about covered the legalities.
Deb reviewed her file. It had been difficult and had taken all her skill, but she had been able to trace a direct link to Markoff with the first five murders. Since then, the victims had become more random. In Deb’s mind, all this meant was that he was learning.
The gravel drive crunched beneath her tires as Deb pulled up in front of the mansion. Gravel, it was the worst thing for her chair, and she scanned the area looking for somewhere to park where she could avoid her wheels sinking and the strain of getting across the loose stones. There was nowhere and with a feeling of foreboding - this was going wrong already - she pulled the car around and parked outside the front door.
Deb wheeled up to an impressive entrance. It was under a broad archway that cast shadows over her and gave the evening an ominous chill. The doorbell was at least a foot out of her reach and for a second she wondered if she was doing the right thing. Should she be here? If he turned on her, how would she escape? Could she even end up his next victim?
Her hand went to her pocket and checked to make sure the tape was running and as she reached across to knock, the door swung open in front of her.
Deb was astonished that Markoff stood before her.
“Miss Marshall, please come in.”
Deb looked up into a smug face, full of its own importance and wondered why he answered the door himself. At five foot ten he towered above her and was an average looking man with receding black hair and thick repugnant lips. “Thank you,” Deb said and followed him across an impressive hallway. To one side stood an ornate full-length mirror and Deb cringed at how small she looked in the chair. He led her across the room; it was all oak panels and endless ceilings. The wooden floor was polished to perfection and Deb smirked a little wondering if her wheels would damage the pristine surface.
“Let’s go into my den,” He said opening double doors with an excessive flourish.
Love yourself much, Deb thought as she followed him across the thick carpet. Her mind was working overtime. She had to make him feel at ease before she tackled the murders. “Do you live here alone?”
“Yes, I have a housekeeper, but she lives off site. Would you like a drink?”
Deb’s throat was dry, and the thought of a little Dutch courage was tempting, but she needed to keep her head clear. “Just water, please.”
Pouring himself a whiskey and grabbing a bottled water for Deb, he sat behind the gigantic desk and sipped before turning his dark eyes toward her. “Now, I have prepared a statement for you, to make this a little easier. The folder slid across the desk.
“Thank you. I was hoping to ask a few questions about yourself. Let our readers learn a little about…” Deb wanted the correct word to stroke his ego. “The power behind the company.” Ducking her head, she hid a smile at the way his shoulders straightened.
“Of course, what can I tell you?”
The next twenty minutes dragged as Deb pretended to take notes while Markoff bragged about himself. Luckily she had managed to get a few bits of pertinent information. He was an expert in several martial arts and liked to hunt. “Do you eat what you kill?” Deb asked.
The smile slipped slightly on Markoff’s face; he was on guard.
Deb’s pulse kicked up a beat. What the papers hadn’t reported and what she had learned by getting Nova to hack the coroner’s office was that they believed The Slasher was taking a piece of his victims. It was not known if this was for a trophy, but there was some conjecture that this was part of a cannibalistic ritual. The bodies all had a different piece missing. At first, they thought it was part of the attack, however, as the postmortems were conducted, the coroner believed the cuts were identical to those a butcher would make. “I’m sorry, please don’t take offense. What I meant was, do you use the meat in your household or does it go to market?” Deb flashed her cutest smile and watched as he relaxed.
“Yes, most of it is used here: pheasants, rabbit, duck and the occasional deer. I prepare it myself and cook does the rest.”
“So I guess you’re not scared of a little blood?”
Markoff’s face darkened. “What are you trying to say?
“A little bit touchy aren’t you?” Deb waited to see what he would do, but he merely crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat. “I hear that you knew Joanna Carling. How did you feel about her death?” Deb asked wondering if she was pushing her luck mentioning the first victim.
“You silly little girl, if I were really a killer why would you come to see me alone?” He stood and leaned across the desk.
Deb wheeled backward and her chair crashed into a table. Fear spiked dow
n her arms and gave them the strength to turn herself away but as she moved, Markoff was before her. He peered down using his height to intimidate as his hands grabbed her chair effectively preventing her escape.
“You have no evidence or you would not be here,” he said as he leaned over her and lifted her chin with one hand. “You are so weak, so vulnerable, just a silly little girl playing at being grown-up. I could snap your neck with my bare hands if I so wanted.”
Deb tried to move her head, but his grip held her tight and as she struggled against him, his fingers dug into the tender flesh of her throat. Fear traced an icy finger down her spine, stopping at her waist. She was weak and vulnerable, but she wasn’t beaten. Maybe she would die here but she would not go down easily. Anger overtook her fear and she threw back her head and gave him a look of pure hatred. For so long she had felt like a feeble, pathetic little creature. She had given up on her dreams and downgraded her hopes for the future. While she mourned the loss of her parents, the world had continued to turn and as her life was destroyed everyone else’s just went on as normal. She had put up with the looks, the sympathies and the ‘get over its’. Now all her anger and frustration boiled to a point and was aimed directly at him. “Get away from me,” she spat.
Markoff stepped back slightly as if she had struck him and his eyes clung to hers. She let go with all her fury, all her anger and desperation and focused it like a laser and fired it at him. “You killed those girls. I know it. I will find the proof and I will send you to jail. Now, why don’t you save me some time and go confess.” Fear took over her fury and Deb turned the chair and rolled from the room.
Greenwood: Paranormal Vampire Romance (The Darker Side of Deb Book 1) Page 3
