PROTECTED
by
Shelley Michaels
Text copyright ã 2016
Shelley Michaels
All Rights Reserved
Table of Contents
PROTECTED
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapteen Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
Chapter One
I stepped outside of Denver International Airport and glanced around at the crowds of people scurrying around eager to reach their intended destination. Whether they were flying into unknown horizons or returning from new discoveries, they were hugging, some crying, with the emotion of being reunited, or possibly separated, from their loved ones. This fleeting realisation causes pain to sear directly through the centre of me. I knew there would be no one here to welcome me, to hug me tight and promise me that everything was going to be okay, but witnessing it first-hand only brought home how alone I truly am.
I intended for my first visit to Denver to be a memorable occasion of another kind, something I had been looking forward to for almost two years. We had made strategies, promises, spoken weekly on video call to formulate our plans, plans that were no longer possible. I suck in a deep breath to prevent the tightening in my chest from spreading through my entire body.
What happened, Ollie? I scream inside my mind. Why you, why now?
Someone bumps into me, and in the usual British manner, I apologize, although this interaction distracts me from the misery inside my head. I wander aimlessly until I locate the yellow car rental sign. I follow the directions until I have joined a queue that will bring me closer to Krystal, a small town just two hours outside of Denver City, where my brother had been attempting to reshape his future.
While I wait in line, I bring out my mobile phone and send a text to Shauna, my best friend, notifying her of my safe arrival.
My phone immediately rings, Shauna! I glance at the three people in front of me in the queue, to estimate the time I have to reassure my best friend I am okay. Calculating I have enough time I bring the phone to my ear.
‘I’m fine, Shauna,’ she had wanted to accompany me on this trip, but having a baby just six weeks ago meant that she was still adjusting to becoming a new mum and all it entailed. Besides, the last thing I would want to do is bring her down from the incredibly high that she and her husband were currently experiencing, with my tragic dramas.
‘I wish I were with you,’ she worries. ‘I hate that you are alone right now,’ she admits, softly.
‘I know,’ I close my eyes, I wish she were with me too. I wish I had someone, anyone to share the grief and burden with, unfortunately, I don’t. I don’t think I have ever had that, not really; it has always been me, standing alone against the world.
I had hoped, desperately, that Ollie and I reconnecting four years ago meant that I would finally have someone for me, to trust and depend on, someone that would love me unconditionally, listen to my anxieties and fears as I would them.
It seems fate had other ideas.
‘What time is it there?’ I glance at my watch, it was almost midnight here, which meant it was early morning for London.
‘Seven,’ Shauna yawns, ‘it seems my daughter is an early riser.’
‘How is she doing?’ I ask, softly. Shauna and Matt were ecstatic at the arrival of their daughter, Emily-Jane, and they had every right to be. Shauna had struggled to conceive for eighteen months before the line on the applicator finally turned positive.
‘Adorable,’ the warmth in her voice is unmeasurable. ‘Although, she wants her godmother back in the same country sometime soon,’ she remarks, dryly.
I smile, ‘I only left this morning, Shauna,’ I remind her.
‘I know but,’ she begins, and then stops.
‘What?’ I encourage.
‘Well, what if you love it there and don’t want to come back?’ She questions playfully, although I hear a hint of uncertainty in her tone.
‘Shauna, I am here for Ollie,’ I curb the impatience in my voice, knowing her words are coming from the heart. ‘Do you seriously think I want to be here?’ I test, unfairly.
How can she not know that I would prefer to be anywhere in the world, rather than here? If she’d asked me the same question before the devastating phone call of yesterday morning, I may have felt a pang of guilt at the recent deliberations of maybe building a new life in Krystal, with my brother. Now, however, nothing could prevent me from dealing with whatever it is that I face, as quickly as possible, before racing back to London, to resume my life and put this heartbreaking event firmly in the ever increasing vault in the back of my mind. The vault that carried all of the wreckages from my thirty-one years of life.
‘No,’ she murmurs, quietly. ‘I’m sorry babe I am cranky through lack of sleep and upset that you are facing what you are facing, alone. Is your dad flying in?’ Shauna ignores my impatience and guilt punches me clean in the gut, none of this is her fault, she is a supportive friend.
‘No, it’s me that should be sorry,’ I admit. ‘I am also sleep deprived and now have a two-hour drive ahead of me. My dad hasn’t replied to my calls, so I have no idea what is going on there.’
My father’s silence is nothing new, my relationship with him is non-existent. We know nothing about each other’s lives, we are strangers that share genetics, it’s as simple as that.
‘I’m sorry, Soph,’ Shauna sighs, I know in frustration at her inability to help.
‘I’ll be fine,’ I assure her, gently. ‘Listen, Hun. I am almost at the front of the queue to get my rental car, I’ll call you later,’ I promise, noticing that there is now only one person in front of me.
‘Okay, Soph. Drive safely, can you send me a text, so I know you have reached Krystal?’ She pleads. ‘I will worry otherwise,’ and there it is, my Shauna, always fretting about me.
‘Of course, I’ll catch up with you soon,’ I disconnect as I move forward to the cashier’s desk.
Thank goodness the Jeep has a Sat Nav system. It is pitch black outside, and I have no idea of where I am heading. Fatigue, and concentrating immensely on driving on the opposite side of the road from London, has provided me a thumping tension headache.
By the time I pull in alongside the Barbers shop, situated halfway down the small high street of Krystal, it is almost three in the morning and the whole area is understandably deserted.
I stare at the red and black sign that has ‘Ollie’s’ slanted in italics, with an image of a set of clippers set on one corner, a pair of scissors in the other. I swallow down the lump that’s a combination of emotion and exhaustion as I climb clumsily out of the vehicle. I take a deep gulp of the mountain air to prevent me from melting into an emotional heap on the pavement.
I lean back against the car, my body feeling weak with tiredness, and gaze at the pretty row of shops. On our weekly video call, Ollie had said he was doing brilliantly, building up a clientele and making new friends. I have to question what the hell happened between last Wednesday, and two days ago?
I turn to the sound of an engine rumbling, as a car moves into the street from a distance and pulls in behind me. A police car.
I push off of the Jeep and watch as a tall man, maybe six-foot-tall, greying hair in
a dark uniform, gun at his hip, steps out and regards me cautiously.
‘Everything alright here, Ma’am?’ His hand at his utility belt, he steps closer.
‘Hello officer,’ I reply politely, ‘yes, I have just arrived from the airport,’ I explain, fear filling me with the knowledge he has a gun at his fingertips. I find it hard to accept that in the UK, the police have now started to carry guns at the airports, seeing one out on the street on the belt of a police officer is even more intimidating.
He nods, looking into my Jeep with interest. ‘You staying in Krystal?’
‘Yes,’ I nod to the vehicle, ‘you want to have a look inside?’ I asked sarcastically, but he nods.
‘If you could open up the vehicle, Ma’am, and step back onto the sidewalk,’ his hand is still hitched to his hip belt. Jesus, don’t they need a search warrant to explore your car?
‘Don’t you need a warrant?’ I test irritated, but I open both doors that lean against the sidewalk regardless before stepping back, as instructed.
‘You just gave me permission, Ma’am,’ his accent is lazy, his gaze informs me otherwise.
The officer refuses to turn his body away from me, but glances casually inside the empty vehicle. My luggage is in the boot, my handbag on the front passenger seat along with my travel documents.
‘Can I see your ID and license, Ma’am,’ he twists in my direction and grasps his radio calling in my car details.
‘My papers are in the car if I am permitted to fetch them?’ I arch an eyebrow towards him in question. He nods his agreement. I climb over the driver’s seat and bring out my handbag, which holds my passport and license.
‘Move your hands slowly, Ma’am,’ he commands, I comply, fear sobering me from my fatigued state.
I watch as he keeps one eye on me and another on the paperwork that I hand to him.
‘You Oliver Parker’s sister?’ His eyes flicker up to me, his tone less severe.
‘Yes, sir,’ I swallow, painfully.
‘I’m sorry for your loss, Ma’am,’ he nods. ‘Where are you heading? Forensics haven’t quite finished here, expected to be finished by Friday.’ He returns my paperwork.
‘Oh!’ I feel my shoulders sag; I am dead on my feet. I would die for a shower and a soft, clean bed right now. ‘I didn’t know that,’ I hear the squeak in my voice, the tears that have been threatening the entire journey about to erupt at this unwelcomed information.
‘There’s a hotel on the hill, not sure anyone is there to book you in this time of night,’ his eyes soften at my evident distressed state.
‘Okay, am I free to go?’ I ask, I’ll sleep in the car if I have to.
‘Of course, Miss Parker. Let me just call through to Marnie, she owns the hotel, see if she can help you out. Sit in your vehicle,’ he encourages, his eyes softening at my obvious emotional state.
‘Thank you, officer,’ his kindness is doing nothing to suppress the locked emotion that curls in my chest.
I take a deep breath and wipe away one stray tear that has somehow managed to escape. ‘I can get through this,’ I recite to myself, as I climb in the Jeep and lay my head back against the soft headrest closing my eyes against the throbbing in my temple.
‘Miss Parker?’ the officer is leaning into the car, ‘you okay, Ma’am?’
‘Yes, sorry. I have been on the go since yesterday,’ I explain.
‘Of course,’ his previous hostile glance now exposes his concern. ‘Marnie said if you go on up, she’ll get you a room prepared.’
‘I am so grateful,’ I murmur, expelling a relieved breath at this news.
‘No problem, Ma’am. If you continue up to the second set of lights and turn a left up the hill, you’ll see the hotel before you. Marnie will meet you there.’
‘Thank you again, Officer,’ I call as he closes my door with a courteous nod.
True to his word, as soon as I pull into the hotel car park and turn the engine off, the front door of the hotel opens. A middle-aged woman, who I suspect is Marnie, wrapped in a white towelling dressing gown, waves at me warmly.
I wave back as I open the boot, and lift out my rolling suitcase.
‘We can get your things in the morning, honey. You come in now and get yourself some sleep,’ Marnie calls over affectionately.
‘It’s okay. I need my toiletries,’ I explain, as I lock up the vehicle and move towards the doorway.
‘Come on in, honey. You look like you are sleeping on your feet.’ Her accent is warm and welcoming, instantly calming my insides.
I send her a watery smile, ‘Thank you so much for opening for me, Mrs?’ I question.
‘Just call me Marnie, honey. You go straight on up, we can deal with the booking-in tomorrow,’ she passes me a key card. ‘First floor, room seventeen. You think you can manage from here?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ I take the key card and search for the lift to take me up to my bed, ‘I’m Sophie,’ I smile.
‘Elevator on your left Sophie honey, sweet dreams now,’ her hand squeezes my bicep gently, reassuringly.
********
I wake and glance at the bedside clock, which enlightens me to the lateness of the hour. Two-thirty in the afternoon and I have slept solidly for ten hours. Stretching out against the soft white sheets, I lay and take in my surroundings. I didn’t take much notice in the early hours of the morning, all I had in me to do, was shower and flop into the waiting bed. The room is clean and comfortable providing everything that you would require as a guest. The décor is neutral, the shower room basic, but again clean with grey fluffy towels.
Stepping inside the bathroom, I go about my business and take another shower to wash away the lingering fatigue. Dressing in black skinny jeans and a black tank top, I dry off my short elf shaped dark locks enticing the longer front over to one side. I apply my daily makeup of liner and mascara and line my lips, colouring them in with gloss, before pushing my feet into my cute ankle boots. I look in the mirror and notice how sad my huge hazel eyes appear beyond the long lashes.
My stomach grumbling distracts me from my perusal. I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning, not relishing the thought of airplane food. Grabbing my handbag, I push it over my shoulder and make for the outside world.
‘There she is,’ Marnie greets me like an old friend from behind the reception desk. ‘Oh, you look rested you, beautiful girl, you,’ she remarks. ‘You must be hungry do you want me to make you something, honey?’
‘Do you have a restaurant area?’ I ask, softly.
‘The restaurant isn’t open until tonight now, honey. You want something, I can rustle you up something,’ she offers. Her brown hair, sprinkled with grey is pulled into a bun at her nape, her friendly grey eyes lined with mascara, her mouth painted pillow box red.
‘That’s really kind of you Marnie, but I need to report to the police station, I need to find out what’s happening with my brother’s investigation, I’ll get something in town. Anywhere you can recommend?’
‘Go to Ellie’s, honey. She’ll set you up with something delicious,’ her eyes soften, ‘I’m so sorry this has happened to you, Sophie,’ she touches my arm. ‘If I can do anything to lessen your pain, you tell me.’
‘Thank you,’ I drop my eyes to my passport held in my hand. ‘Do you need a credit card on file, or for me to sign anything?’
‘It’s okay, honey, we will sort it out another time. You do what you need to do for your brother, and I’ll see you later. You want me to book you a table for dinner?’
‘I don’t think so, thank you. I will eat now,’ I smile. ‘Can you direct me to the police station?’
‘It’s the sheriff’s office, honey. Back down the hill and take a right, second left. Ellie’s is on the same stretch,’ she notifies me, ‘I’ll call her now and tell her to prepare you something.’ Marnie’s perceptive gaze lingers on my slight figure, ‘when was the last time you ate, honey?’
‘Yesterday morning,’ I admit ignoring the growl of my
stomach.
‘You have to eat, child,’ she tuts, her hand at her hip.
I smile, it’s been so long since someone had fussed over me, I’d forgotten how warm it makes you feel inside. ‘I’m okay, Marnie. Thank you,’ I turn with a wave.
********
‘Yes, Ma’am?’ A blonde, slim built police officer sits on the reception desk of the sheriff’s office; his eyes fixed on the computer screen in front of him.
‘Yes, I wonder whether I could speak to someone regarding Oliver Parker, please?’ I request, politely.
His alert, blue eyes move to mine, ‘Miss Parker, we were expecting you,’ his gaze moves over me appreciatively. ‘If you would like to take a seat, I will check if Detective Austin has a moment to speak with you.’ He picks up the phone set beside him and without taking his eyes off of my breasts, I hear him speak into the receiver. ‘Mo, can you tell Nate, Miss Parker is here to see him.’ He grins salaciously before moving his eyes up to mine, ‘Frank was right, absolutely stunning!’
I glare at him as I turn and take a seat beside a blonde woman, who looks slightly worse for wear. She’s dressed in a denim mini-skirt that leaves very little to the imagination, her low cut tank exposing her well-endowed cleavage.
‘Hey doll!’ she slurs.
‘Hi,’ I attempt to breathe through my mouth to prevent me getting drunk on the alcoholic fumes that are emanating from her.
‘You sure have pretty eyes,’ she announces through the squinting of her eyes. ‘I do girls, too, you interested,’ she states. I almost giggle at the seriousness of her proposal.
‘I’m good thank you,’ I smile, ‘I like penis’s.’
‘Me too doll, me too,’ she shakes her head with a small smile set on her lipstick smeared mouth.
I wait for a full five minutes that I have to admit feels closer to fifteen until I see a tall, dark-haired man with the bluest eyes I have ever seen, swagger into the reception area from behind the counter. He’s dressed in jeans and a grey button-down shirt, the shield of his badge hooked on his leather belt. He speaks quietly to the guy in the uniform for a minute before moving his gaze curiously to mine.
Protected Page 1
