by L. L. Akers
May as well get to the unpacking and laundry, she thought. Get back to life as I know it.
She sighed and dumped her bag out on top of the bed. Her phone landed on the top of the pile. Gabby had brought it to her just before they’d talked when she was packing at the beach house. Grayson had kindly found it outside after the storm, and had packed it tightly inside a Ziploc bag of rice. Said it should dry out all the moisture.
Humph. Doubt that.
She pressed the on button and was shocked when it showed power. It chimed, alerting her she had a voicemail. She pressed it and listened. It was Ember. The message cut in and out. Bad signal.
“—a dark room...dank...nothing here but a mattress—stacked boxes—no windows—let me—Keep saying Taco Bell—find my phone—”
The message cut off.
Olivia checked the time stamp. It was left an hour ago. She’d barely missed her call.
She listened again...something about a room. A dark room? Dank? Sounds like a basement. Ember had said her manager was trying to find her on the pm she’d left Olivia a few days ago. Maybe he’d locked Ember in? She knew Ember didn’t want that life anymore, and would try to get away. Good for her. Now she just had to find her.
Olivia blinked rapidly.
It all clicked together. Grayson had a basement with a room. Had it been dark? She couldn’t remember if it had a window. It did have a mattress on the floor, and stacks of boxes. What are the odds of that?
She rubbed her hands over her face. No way. Grayson couldn’t know Ember...
She gasped as she realized it. FindHerKeepHer could know Ember. She’d met Ember in the same online support group that she’d met him.
If she was right about Grayson being FindHerKeepHer, than it wasn’t too much of a stretch to believe he knew Ember.
This is a really big deal. Almost too big for Olivia to get her head around. Ember could be in trouble.
But...this was a really big accusation, too.
No, Grayson can’t be dangerous. Can he? And he couldn’t be a manager—a pimp.
Emma and Gabby would laugh their butts off. This is Dusty’s brother, for Pete’s sake...Dusty...the cop?!
But if Grayson did have Ember, then she was right. More than right. He was not a good person. A tremor ran through her. She’d rather be wrong and have Ember turn up safe somewhere, and laugh at her interpretation of her message later. So maybe she found a room, with a friend, and it sucked, and Ember was just complaining? A hint that she wanted to come back to Olivia’s?
She sat down and took slow breaths in through her nose and blew them out her mouth. She had to stop going back and forth here.
In her gut, she knew Grayson was somehow involved. There were no coincidences in life. At least not that many.
But before she called Dusty and accused Grayson of something so outlandish, she needed her ducks in a row.
First, he said he didn’t play sports. He’d rather watch them on TV with a beer. FindHerKeepHer had said that, too. Of course, millions of guys watch sports on TV with a beer in their hand. That wasn’t proof.
The avatar and the tattoo weren’t identical, but both were a heart with a double arrow pierced through it.
But he’d said, ‘finders keepers.’” He’d said that. She’d been so sure when he’d said that.
She shook her head.
Everyone said that.
She and her sisters had said it to each other all their lives when fussing over something. That was an old rule, argued between kids for ages.
It wasn’t enough. This was crazy. She needed more sleep. That was all. The hurricane, the wedding, the whole trip. It was all catching up to her.
Now she was embarrassed. She’d wished she’d had time to process everything before she’d accused him of lying to his face, and gotten Dusty and Gabby involved. And of course, Emma would know about it too...and Jake.
She laughed at herself. He must think she was a kook. They all must think that. She was going to look really silly trying to explain this. And she was going to have to apologize, too...
But back to Ember. She still needed to call Dusty and tell him about the first message, and this one. Ember would just have to realize this was way over Olivia’s head. It was time to call in the troops. Literally.
She just couldn’t lose another girl. The past three months, she’d lost nearly every one of them. Just vanished. Back to the streets.
Olivia gasped. That was it! Three months. She’d started losing her girls three months ago. And Grayson had come to town three months ago. Someone had said he and Graysie had been living in an apartment out of suitcases until the house freed up.
It’s him. He has to have something to do with it.
Betrayal washed over her. Not only did he use her to get to Ember, but he’d used her, used her. In that way. As though she was just another street girl. Her face burned in shame.
That pig. That sneaky, devious...criminal. The tragic story of his wife drowning? Omigod. He used that bullcrap to get what he wanted from me. And I fell for it? I’m an idiot.
He’s.A.Narcissist.Freaking.Psychopath.
She almost didn’t want to even tell Dusty. He’d be devastated to discover his brother was somehow involved in all this, but worse, he’d be embarrassed that Olivia had been dragged into the middle.
Or will he even believe me? Blood is thicker than water...
And Grayson seems like such a normal person, she argued with herself again. Can somebody really lie that much?
Maybe she needed to just outright ask him. Even if she sent Dusty over there unofficially, without the badge...if he didn’t have Ember, she would look like the raging psychopath.
And Gabby would definitely accuse her of tilting at windmills then.
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Olivia dialed the number before she chickened out. She’d bluff him. Act like she knew for sure. If he had her, he’d panic that she’d figured it out and was going to call the cops. He’d let her go.
If he didn’t have her, he’d probably call Dusty and ask what the heck her message was all about and then she could get Dusty’s help finding Ember, wherever she was.
There. She’d finally made a decision. And a plan.
His voicemail picked up and Olivia spoke quickly before she lost her nerve. “You’ve got something that doesn’t belong to you there...I know. Release her now or a heap of trouble is headed your way.”
She hung up and threw the phone down as though it had burned her. She stared at it, breathing hard.
Now what?
Now you wait. Give him thirty minutes to call you back and tell you it’s either all a mistake or he’s letting her go. If he doesn’t call, you drive over there and SEE if she’s there, dummy. And Ozzie. Don’t forget Ozzie, too.
She waited forty minutes.
Time to stop stalling.
***
Olivia grabbed her purse and opened the front door.
She’d just drive slowly down his road with the lights off and see what happened. She didn’t have to get out. If she saw something, she’d call Dusty then.
She walked down the steps into the parking lot. Great. The parking lot light was burnt out near her car. And her key fob had died a month ago and she hadn’t taken the time to get a new battery in it. She’d probably scratch the door trying to find the keyhole.
And it was late. And spooky out here with only the moonlight. She rolled her eyes. She was just tense. Scaring herself.
She dug in her purse as she walked to her car, feeling around for the little flashlight she normally kept.
A limb cracked, ringing out like a gunshot in the night.
She jumped.
Someone was standing just behind her car, ducking low under the branches, covered in the shadows that lay across everything else. A man. She couldn’t see his face.
Might be one of her neighbors.
“Hello?”
He didn’t answer.
She stopped walking.
&nb
sp; Her hair felt like it was standing on end. She was ten feet away from her car.
But so was he.
He took a step just out of the sparse tree-line and she had enough light to see his face.
Or would have, if he hadn’t been wearing a mask.
42
Olivia dropped her purse and ran.
Her heart pumped loudly in beat with his heavy footsteps pounding the asphalt right behind her. He couldn’t be far.
“Help!” she screamed.
Her shirt pulled behind her, slowing her down.
He has me!
As she resisted, fighting to continue running, and feeling as though she was moving in slow motion through water, thoughts of Billy grabbing her from behind flashed through her mind.
Her clothes. Her hair. Whatever he could seize onto to pull her into his reach where he’d pummel her with his fists, taking out all of his frustrations and problems on her defenseless body.
Still running, and feeling the resistance of his fingers on her shirt, her heart beat like a hammer against her chest. Any moment the man would get a better grip and take her down.
The fear was palpable...tasting bitter and blanketing her skin with cold chills even as she broke an immediate sweat underneath.
With Billy, she hadn’t fought back. She’d been too afraid to run from him. One roar of his voice and she’d stupidly crumbled in fear, cowering in front of him with her hands and arms in front of her face. For years she had given in and gave up—never fighting back or running—until one day she did.
I’m not defenseless anymore, she thought.
She screamed; a long and painful scream that threatened to steal what breath she had left.
Her jaw tightened and she bravely reached back in mid-stride, knocking his hand loose with a sharp and painful crack of her wrist.
Almost not believing she’d gotten out of his grasp, her steps faltered. Her legs wobbled in fear, losing her stride. She nearly fell, but caught herself, stumbling back into a clumsy run.
Too afraid to risk looking behind her—what if he was right there, ready to pounce—she realized she felt no more resistance. She had pulled free of him.
She pushed on, throwing herself into the run harder, pushing to run faster, her hair flying behind her.
“Help!” she screamed again.
The sound of cicadas and frogs seemed to drown out her cries. She frantically looked around, looking for a light on in one of the apartments. Every light was off. It was a work night.
Her mind scrambled for something that would help her. The trash can! It was just ahead. If she could reach it before him she could cut quick right behind it and hopefully gain a few more steps on him.
He was right behind her.
The trash can was coming up.
She could feel his breath on her neck.
The trash can was right beside her. She cut right, feeling him whoosh on past her. A sliver of hope...
And then she fell.
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Grayson slammed the phone down on the counter. “What the hell? Damn woman can’t make her mind up. She said I could take him.”
He ran his fingers through his hair. Just like a woman to change her mind. And a heap of trouble coming my way?
“Pfft. I’d love for her to come my way. I might finally get to give her a piece of MY mind. Or a piece of something,” he said aloud.
She’d said something that doesn’t belong to me? Hell, I told her I’d give him back if his owner showed up. And release her? She said release ‘her.’
Ozzie lay spread out on the floor beside his feet. He had one eye open, watching Grayson talk to himself.
Grayson reached down and scratched Ozzie’s tummy. Predictably, Ozzie lifted his leg. Grayson took a good look. Not that he needed to—couldn’t miss that package. But just to double-check.
“Sorry, boy. Just making sure. Your foster mama called you a ‘her’. Of course, she’s wrong again.”
Grayson heaved a deep sigh and stood up. He grabbed Ozzie’s new toys he’d bought just a few hours ago and stuffed them back into the bag. He hooked his leash on him and squatted down to meet his eyes.
“You’re going back to Olivia, boy. But we’ll get this sorted out later. It’s just best not to mess with a woman when she’s mad. Trust me on that.”
He dug his fingers in around his neck, giving him a good scratch. Oh, what the hell...he leaned in and wrapped Ozzie in a big hug.
Damned if he didn’t love this dog. He wiped his eyes. Felt stupid for tearing up. Must just be exhausted, he thought.
He stood and walked Ozzie into Graysie’s room to say goodbye, but she was curled up on the bed asleep. He smiled when he saw a bit of the sand-dollar peeking out through her closed hand.
Maybe she was gonna come around, finally.
He dragged his feet through the house, grabbed his keys, and pulled Ozzie along with him. He was hoping she’d call back and tell him never mind. That he could keep him. He was dead-tired and didn’t want to go out. And...he didn’t want Ozzie to leave.
But the last thing he needed was more woman-trouble. Especially from this woman. She’d already blown into his life and turned his head into kindling. He didn’t need to add fuel to the fire.
“Come on, boy.”
***
Grayson pulled into the apartment complex directly beside Olivia’s car and got out. He opened the back door and Ozzie climbed out.
At the same time he saw the bag, Ozzie tore out of his hand, barking and running like the wind, his leash flying behind him.
Grayson reached down and picked up the bag.
This is Olivia’s purse. I saw her carrying it on the island.
He took one look at her dark apartment windows and ran after Ozzie.
Ozzie turned the corner on the opposite side of the complex from where they’d turned in.
Grayson ran faster to catch up.
Sounds of snarls and growls rang out loudly over the night bugs and frogs and Grayson knew Ozzie had someone—or something.
He rounded the corner to see Ozzie hanging out of a black van. No back windows. The dome light was on. There was a man was in the driver’s seat with the door open, clutching the steering wheel with both hands. Whoever it was, Ozzie didn’t like him at all.
Ozzie had his front paws up on the floor board, pulling ferociously on the man’s leg. The man was struggling...kicking with all his might back at the dog, trying to get him to let go.
“Hey!” Grayson slowed down and yelled.
The man looked over his shoulder. He was wearing a black ski mask.
Grayson picked up his speed.
The man panicked when he saw Grayson and doubled his efforts, landing a heavy kick with his free foot against the side of Ozzie’s head.
It was enough to knock him loose.
Ozzie stumbled away from the van and before he could get up, it pulled way, screeching all four tires.
“You okay, boy?” Grayson slid to a stop next to a dazed Ozzie, reaching down and rubbing his hands all over his head.
No blood.
He grabbed the leash.
“Come on!” He needed to check on Olivia.
Grayson hurried away and was stopped short when the leash hit full tension. He looked over his shoulder to see Ozzie sniffing in a circle, as though trying to pick up the guys trail again.
Papers.
Grayson hurried back and picked them up.
Advertisements. To current resident. It had an address on it. He folded them up and stuck them in his pocket and pulled Ozzie away.
44
Grayson slammed the papers down on the desk of the police station.
“Yes, Dusty. I committed a crime. I went into her apartment. But dammit, she wouldn’t just lock her door, drop her purse with her keys in it, and leave with someone else. And leave her phone at home? You can throw the book at me later, but we gotta go check this address out! Now!”
Dusty held up his hands as though
in surrender. “I hear ya, Brutha. And I will. I agree. Something’s fishy. I just want to call Gabby and be sure Olivia’s not with her first. This falls into my area. So, just give me a minute, okay?”
Grayson dropped into a chair. “Okay. Do it. One minute, then I’m going without you. I have the address memorized. Ask if she’s got her phone code too.”
Dusty was already dialing the phone. He covered it and answered, “I’ll ask. But if she says yes, I’ll listen to her messages. Not you.”
Grayson rolled his eyes. This wasn’t a case of goddamn jealousy. Something was wrong. He could feel it in his gut. That, and vomit, trying to climb its way out.
“Gabby? Were you sleeping?”
There was a pause.
“Oh. So Olivia’s not with you?”
Another pause.
“Do you happen to know her phone security code?”
Dusty grabbed for a pen and paper. “No. Well, maybe. I’m not sure. I need that code. If there’s a problem, I’ll call you back. Can’t talk about it right now.”
Dusty scribbled down a four-digit number.
“Thanks, Gabby. Yeah...I’ll keep you in the loop. Soon as I know what’s going on.”
Dusty picked up Olivia’s phone and entered the security code. He listened. He played it again.
He laid the phone on his desk.
“Johnson!” he yelled.
An older officer came in.
Dusty handed him the two pieces of mail. “I need you to run this address. Give me the information on it. Call me. I’m ‘en route to it right now. Off the record. Just a look and see.”
He looked at Grayson and jerked his head to the door. “Let’s go.”
“What did the message say? Who was it?”
“It was one of yours.”
“What? One of my what?”
“One of your girls. The one you call Ember. She’s been picked. I think it’s a go.”
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