Pinch Me [Suncoast Society] (Siren Publishing Sensations)

by Tymber Dalton

  * * * *

  When Rob picked up Laura from the shop a little after four that afternoon, she told him what she’d found. He hugged her.

  “It’s okay, baby girl. We’ll figure it out.”

  He wouldn’t let her help with dinner, knowing she was emotionally worn out. She decided to explore the Classfriends site on her laptop. Maybe if nothing else she would remember something. The username and password combo was her usual, and she logged in. Her last recorded login date was the afternoon of the attack.

  Nothing.

  Something itched at her conscious, though. It was a feeling she hadn’t had in weeks, like a buried memory wanted to come through. But it didn’t feel like it was about the attack. And frankly, that’s all she cared about at the moment was remembering who did it to her.

  Rob didn’t want to leave her, but he was scheduled to work a twelve-hour shift starting that evening. “I could call in or swap off.”

  “No, don’t do that. I’ll be okay. Really.”

  “You want me to call someone to come stay with you? Or I can take you over to Seth and Leah’s.”

  She shook her head. “No. I’ll be okay. I’ll probably go to bed and watch TV until I fall asleep. You’ll be home tomorrow night, right?”

  “Hopefully. Depends on this storm.” He stared at her. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m just…” She stared at the iPad, which she’d left on the coffee table. “I need to read through everything.”

  He cradled her face in his hands. “We’ve talked about this. You knew it might not be a magic pill. And you’ve got so much back.”

  “I know.” She let him pull her close, holding her tightly. She couldn’t take her eyes off the iPad. Somehow, she sensed it still might hold the answers.

  If she could just figure it out.

  * * * *

  Thomas called her cell phone that evening.

  “Two calls in a week?” she quipped. “To what do I owe the honor?”

  “Are you at home?”

  She didn’t like his terse tone. “Yeah?”

  “Doors locked?”

  “You’re freaking me out.”

  “I’ve dispatched a deputy to your house. He’s already on the way.”

  She shivered and walked to the living room where she closed the curtains. “What’s going on?”

  “We discovered a woman’s body late this afternoon down in Placida. Not far from your shop.”

  “What?” She gripped the phone tighter.

  “She was strangled and beaten pretty badly.”

  “What does that have to do with me?”

  Laura knew. In her gut, she knew.

  “Have you checked your email lately?”

  She walked to the table where her laptop was set up and opened her email program.

  Her blood chilled. Sure enough there was a message from MedicineMan.

  Her spit dried up. “How did you know?” she hoarsely asked.

  “He left a computer-printed note on the body. I can’t tell you what it said because of the investigation. What does his email say?”

  Her hand trembled as she clicked on the message.

  Sorry I’ve been too busy to pay you any attention lately. Storm’s around the corner, Laura. I’m ready to finish our business pretty soon. Here’s a preview of coming attractions. ;)

  Attached was a picture of a woman’s body.

  The face beaten beyond recognition.

  She dropped the phone to the table and ran for the bathroom, barely making the toilet in time to puke her guts up. After she could walk, she drew the gun from her holster and returned to the living room. She heard Thomas screaming into the phone, and when she picked it up to talk to him, someone started pounding on her front door.

  “I’m okay. I got sick. Sorry. There’s someone at the door.”

  “Don’t open it. Ask who they are.”

  She went to the front door. “Who is it?”

  “Sheriff’s Department. Are you okay, ma’am?”

  She spoke into the phone. “He says he’s a deputy.”

  “Can you see out the door?”

  “Peephole.”

  “Ask for ID.”

  “He’s in uniform.”

  “Ask, dammit!”

  She called through the door. “Det. Thomas told me to ask for ID.”

  She watched as the deputy held up his ID to the peephole. In the driveway, she saw his marked cruiser. “He’s got ID. And he’s in a cruiser.”

  “I don’t give a damn if he’s in Santa’s sleigh. Get his damn badge number.”

  “What’s your badge number?”

  The deputy read it to her, and a moment later, Thomas said, “He’s legit, let him in.”

  She did. The deputy stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “Ma’am, would you mind putting that away?” He pointed to the 9mm she still gripped at her side.

  Still stunned, she looked at the gun as if she’d never seen it before and returned it to her holster.

  “Laura, let me speak to him,” Thomas said.

  She handed her phone to the deputy and tried to ignore the dangerous roll her stomach took. The deputy spoke to Thomas for a moment and turned to her. “Ma’am, where’s your computer?”

  Laura pointed to the laptop. “The message is still up.” She walked into the bedroom so she couldn’t hear him read it to Thomas. A moment later the deputy knocked on her bedroom door and she emerged.

  “Here’s your phone. They’ve already notified your husband. They’ve sent a car to pick him up from the firehouse.”

  “What did the note on the woman’s body say?”

  He shook his head. “You don’t want to know. I couldn’t tell you even if you did, because it’s evidence.”

  Doogie quietly watched everything from the living room, and when she sat down on the couch he curled up next to her, his head in her lap. The deputy stood guard by the front door and twenty minutes later, another deputy brought Rob home.

  He ran inside to her, hugged her. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. I guess.”

  Thomas wasn’t far behind. “Hutchins tracked the email already. It was sent locally.”

  “What do you mean, locally?” Laura asked.

  He looked at her. “The guy accessed the Internet through your shop’s wireless modem. His computer ID was fudged, but he apparently wanted us to know where he connected at. You don’t have it password protected, do you?”

  She numbly shook her head. “I…I don’t know. I never thought about it.”

  “Whoever he is, he’s local. And he was either in your shop or parked outside, close enough to grab a signal and send the email.”

  “Meaning I might have seen him today,” she numbly said.

  He nodded. “Yeah. Meaning that.”

  * * * *

  Stir-crazy didn’t begin to describe Laura’s state of mind. But when two weeks passed following the discovery of the woman’s body with still no sign of an attack, Laura let her guard down, angry that she’d let herself be scared yet again.

  It didn’t help there was another tropical storm out in the Gulf headed their way.

  Late Tuesday afternoon, Laura flipped the Open sign over, turned the showroom lights off, and locked the front door. She’d sent everyone else home a couple of hours earlier so they could take care of their storm preparations.

  She felt tired and needed to go home, but frankly, she didn’t want to return to an empty house. Well, Doogie was there because she didn’t want to have to wrestle with keeping him from running out into the rain. She’d gone home and walked him at lunchtime before returning to the store.

  Rob picked up on the third ring.

  “Hi, baby girl.”

  “When do you think you’ll be home, Sir?” she asked.

  His tone of voice immediately changed to concerned. “Why? Is there a problem?”

  “No.” She looked out the window at the sky. The tropical storm was predic
ted to skirt to the south of them, but she still needed to double-check the boats’ mooring lines and stow some stuff inside the cabins in case the wind picked up or the storm changed course. “I just don’t want to go home yet.”

  “They have me on stand-by because of the storm. I can probably get away for a couple of hours. Do you want me to come home?”

  “Could you? I’m at the shop right now. Meet me here, maybe we can grab a bite and you can follow me home?”

  He paused. “What’s going on, baby girl?”

  “I think it’s just the storm.” She walked to the back door and glanced at the weather station. “The barometer’s dropping a little already. I think it’s got me on edge.”

  “Okay. I’ll be there in about an hour. Gotta wait for Cal to get back from the store.”

  “I need to check the boats anyway.”

  She hung up, feeling better. She left her cell on the counter and went out the back door. The boats were secure but she liked to double-check. She clung to a piling and carefully climbed down into the larger cruiser, feeling for her keys in her pocket and finding them. The engine hatch was secured, and when she lifted the bilge access cover, the pump float was working and everything looked dry.

  Good. It meant one less worry.

  She replaced the cover then checked the ports and top hatch inside the cabin. Secured. She climbed out of the cabin hatchway and spied the hose and boat brushes on the dock. Dang it.

  She sighed and struggled up to the dock, grabbed the brushes and dropped them onto the deck, then unhooked the hose. She’d stow them in the cabin instead of trying to wrestle them into the already crowded dock box.

  Laura thought she heard a car pull into the lot at the front of the building, but then shrugged it off. Probably someone at the real estate office across the street.

  She dropped the hose into the boat and was about to climb back in when she heard a car door shut. Sure it was nothing, but realizing she had to go to the bathroom, she returned to the shop and took care of business first. When she emerged from the back room she was startled by a dark figure standing by the counter.

  “Hello, Laura.” Don Kern.

  “Jesus, you scared me!” Her heart pounded in her chest.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “We’re closed. What do you want?” she snapped as she walked past him and back outside. She didn’t want to be rude but between the fright and the impending storm she was on her last nerve.

  He followed her out to the dock and didn’t offer to help when she climbed into the boat and opened the cabin hatch.

  “I just had a couple of questions.”

  She turned her back to him to pick up the boat brushes from the deck and toss them into the cabin. “Sure, go ahead.”

  Laura heard the sound of his feet hitting the deck and felt the boat rock under his weight. Before she could turn, he shoved her into the cabin, leaping on her and pinning her to the floor.

  She screamed but she couldn’t reach behind her to get the gun. His knee dug into her back and he laughed.

  “Oh, little momma’s packing heat.”

  She felt him pull up her outer shirt and slide the gun from the holster. Then she froze as he pressed the muzzle against the back of her head.

  “We have unfinished business, Laura.”

  She felt a blinding pain as her world went black.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Laura came to in the cabin and found herself lying on her side on the bunk. She heard the diesel engines running, smoothly throbbing under the deck.

  Her head hurt like a son of a bitch where he’d hit her, and when she tried to move she realized her hands and feet were bound. And there was duct tape over her mouth. At least her hands were taped in front of her. She was still fully dressed, so he hadn’t raped her.

  Yet.

  She hoped the baby hadn’t been hurt when she hit the floor.

  The cabin hatch was closed. From the way the boat rocked she knew they were moving. Too fast for the long no-wake channel leading to the mouth of the bay, and the swells felt too big, too long, for the shallow channel.

  They were in open water.

  She managed to shift herself around so she could look out a starboard port. The gunmetal grey sky threatened with dark, heavy clouds building. She tried to see behind them but couldn’t get a good enough vantage to see land.

  Or else they were too far out.

  With no sun, she couldn’t use shadows to guess which direction they were heading, either.

  Goddammit, what the fuck?

  She started to struggle her way off the bunk and then realized her memory had fully returned.

  All of it.

  She knew.

  Two days before the attack, she had signed up for the Classfriends site and filled out a profile. A message from the site arrived that very night from Don Kern.

  She politely replied before deleting it.

  And several more arrived the next day, until she finally set him to ignore.

  And deleted all his messages, which explained why she hadn’t seen them when she looked in the account.

  Kern showed up at her apartment Friday night. She’d been aggravated by the knock on her door, and it was so stupid of her to open it in the first place when she spotted him through the peephole. She was going to tell him to leave or she’d call the police, but when she opened the door he shoved it, knocking her off balance as he rushed in and attacked her.

  He kicked the door shut behind him and went after her. She’d screamed, clawed at him, ripping a few nails down to the quick in the process.

  “I just want to talk to you, Laura,” he’d said in a creepy voice, sounding very calm. “But you’re such a bitch, you won’t let me. So I won’t let you talk to anyone else, either.”

  He’d hit her, beat her, and still she fought. She tried to get to the kitchen, where there was a knife on the counter from preparing dinner, and he slammed her into the wall. She knew she surprised him with the ferocity of her resistance. He wanted to tie her up and rape her before strangling her, he told her that. Then when she wouldn’t stop fighting, he kept hitting her, finally getting the rope around her neck and strangling her…

  Laura folded against the bunk.

  How could I have been so fucking blind?

  He’d wanted to get together with her and she’d politely declined, feeling a little creeped out by his enthusiasm and insistence. She’d made the mistake of putting the shop’s website in her profile.

  That’s how he must have tracked her down.

  Dammit!

  MedicineMan.

  She silently groaned, feeling terminally stupid. He’d baited her that day at lunch, told her what he did for a living and knew he was safe when she didn’t react at all.

  Shit. Of course, that’s how he knew she was pregnant. He’d been at the doctor’s office the day she found out. Probably overheard the receptionist asking her about Lamaze class information.

  Now she wondered if he’d really just “happened” to drop by. The receptionist had said she hadn’t been expecting him.

  He’d likely followed her.

  Wincing, she peeled the duct tape off her mouth, trying to stay quiet. And now her fear took over. He was going to kill her. He’d lied at lunch, knowing her memory was gone.

  He had asked her out in college, and she’d refused him because she was dating someone else. The psych prof. Yes, that part was true.

  She’d turned him down again after joining the Classfriends site when he asked her to go out through the private messages. She’d meant to tell Rob about it and kept forgetting, not thinking anything of it, used to turning down harmless FetLife creeps without a second thought.

  In college, she’d paid little attention to Kern, too caught up in her relationship to even notice him, really.

  Scanning the cabin, she spied a filet knife stowed in its scabbard, tucked into a cubby next to the small galley sink. Working with the rolling of the boat she m
ade her way to it and managed to free it without stabbing herself.

  Then she heard footsteps on the deck. She flopped back onto the bunk, turning her face away from the hatch, the knife clutched in her hands, and lay still.

  She heard the cabin hatch open, then close again. He was likely checking to see if she was still out.

  She wasn’t sure he was gone until she heard his steps on the deck again. Sitting up, she held the knife handle between her knees and sawed through the tape. Once her feet were free she looked around for a weapon. She couldn’t bring a knife to a gun fight—he’d simply shoot her.

  She needed distance.

  Unfortunately, the knife was her best—her only weapon. Then she had to grab the counter as the boat hit a hard swell and pounded into a deep trough, nearly throwing her off her feet.

  Dumbass obviously doesn’t know how to pilot a boat.

  But a metallic rattle overhead drew her attention and she looked up.

  Of course!

  * * * *

  Rob arrived at the shop and walked around back. “Laur?”

  He went inside and found her cell phone on the counter. “Honey?” He stuck his head into the office, no sign of her. Then he realized what was wrong.

  He ran to the back door and looked out again.

  The cruiser was gone. “Shit.”

  He called 911 first, then Steve. Thomas showed up twenty minutes later while he was giving his statement to the responding deputies.

  “How do you know something’s wrong?” Thomas asked.

  “She would never take the boat out in weather like this, for starters. And she was waiting for me. Plus there’s a strange car in the parking lot.”

  Steve ran in. “What’s wrong?”

  Rob gave him the short version. “He’s right,” Steve said. “She wouldn’t do that. Not willingly.” He went behind the counter to the VHF radio, turned it on, and grabbed the mic.

  “Lemon Dive One, Lemon Dive One, this is Lemon Dive Base, over.” He let up on the button and they waited.