Baxter grabbed my arm and started pushing me toward his bedroom. “I’m not leaving you out in the open. If someone were to break in, they’d get to you first out here.” He gave me a final push into the bedroom and pointed toward a door at my right. “There is an extra toothbrush on the counter for you. Go to bed.”
His fingers gripped the doorknob and yanked it closed. I stood there staring at the door. Curling my shaking arms around my body, I wondered what to do. Baxter might kill me himself if I tried to argue with him again. Really, all I could do at that point was brush my teeth and get in bed…Baxter’s bed. The next time I saw my sister, I was going to strangle her, after asking a few burning questions.
I hadn’t considered until Baxter brought it up, the fact that Bernadette had taken off before I arrived and left me to fend for myself in this city. At the time, I was so focused on starting school and moving, and all the excitement and fear that entailed, that when she told me she had to leave for Spain before I would arrive, I didn’t look at it as a good or bad thing. I was nervous, but she had to leave and I had to finish out my two weeks’ notice at the bakery. It was what it was. Now, I was a little irritated at her about that, too. Especially given the insanity she’d left me to navigate on my own.
Feeling slightly calmer, I did as Baxter commanded and brushed my teeth. I tried to ignore the sound of Baxter’s voice filtering through the thin walls. He sounded angry, quietly yelling either to vent his frustration at me, or to someone he might have been speaking to on the phone. I didn’t want to know which it was.
I was standing next to his bed a few minutes later, contemplating actually getting into it when the doorknob started to turn. Panicking, I sprang onto the bed and yanked the sheets up over my bent knees. I hardly looked natural sitting there like a posed mannequin when Baxter burst in. He didn’t notice as he stomped through to his closet. Only when he reemerged with a pillow did he seem to see me.
His steps slowed, then stopped all together. He stared at me, the irritation in his expression mellowing. The hand holding the pillow dropped to his side. “Are you scared?” he asked.
I didn’t want to admit any weakness to him. He already thought me incapable of surviving on my own. I wasn’t even sure I was afraid of the intruder finding me in Baxter’s apartment…unless he watched him pick me up from work. If he tried my apartment and didn’t find me, this would be the next logical place to look. Even still, I felt protected here, for some strange reason. There were other things that scared me, though, and eventually I nodded.
Tossing the pillow on the end of the bed, Baxter reached for a padded wing-backed chair sitting next to the wall that seemed out of place with the rest of his décor. It was pale blue, but looked too soft for his rough personality. He dragged it over next to the bed without comment and sat down. “Go to sleep,” he said again, this time with less hostility. “I’ll stay here until you fall asleep.”
Instead of arguing with him again, I slowly pushed myself down in the bed, tugging the blanket up to my chin as I lay down. Baxter watched, making sure I obeyed him, I guess. Only once I was settled did his eyes close. I highly doubted he’d last long enough for me to fall asleep, but I had to admit it was comforting to have him nearby and within sight. Feeling some of the tension leech out of my body, I relaxed into the pillow.
The scent of cedar and pink pepper enveloped me. Hints of peppermint and nutmeg were there as well, mixing with more subtle scents that reminded me of some of my favorite recipes. It lulled my fears and made me forget why I was sleeping in Baxter’s bed. I nestled deeper into the pillow and breathed in the scent of the man who couldn’t stand me, but had saved me more than once. Everything else slipped away and I slept.
10: Assaulting a Witness
I woke slowly, not wanting to move or leave the comfort of my warm bed. My eyes fluttered open slowly, greeted by the false dawn creating rich shadows. The creamy yellow walls of my apartment seemed darker than usual. I couldn’t figure out why until I shifted and Baxter’s sleeping form came into view. I froze, staring at him sitting uncomfortably on the high-backed chair, his head propped awkwardly against one of the wings.
He must have fallen asleep like that. Knowing he would wake up with a terrible crick in his neck and an even worse mood, I wondered if I could slip away before he woke and I had to listen to him blame me for this, too. His alarm clock shone sickly green, telling me it was barely five in the morning. I didn’t need to be up for another hour, at least, but there was no chance of me falling back asleep. Sliding my legs out from under the blankets, I swung them over the bed and touched them to the floor soundlessly. I crept past him to the living room where I’d left my bags.
Seeing my phone sticking out of the pocket on my backpack, I slid it out quietly and checked for a message from Sonya. I found one saying everything had been fine with her grandmother and that I should call her. There was one from Bernadette, too. I clicked on that one after replying to Sonya.
Call me as soon as you wake up!
She was getting to be as bad as Baxter. I debated leaving it for later, but instantly felt bad for such a catty response. Sighing, I tapped on her number and listened to it ring as I looked for my shoes. She picked up before I found them.
“Why didn’t you call me last night?” Bernadette snapped. It wasn’t often she got angry with me, and even though her raised voice would have usually inspired guilt, I’d already had enough of that from Baxter and instantly went on the defensive.
“I had a long night and I was tired. It’s not like I have to report in every twenty-four hours, Bernadette. You’re not my boss, and if you’re worried about me being in the city, maybe you shouldn’t have taken off like you did.” My words came out sounding harsher than I’d meant them to, but as I spoke them, I realized my frustration was real and justified.
“You’ve been talking to Baxter, I see,” Bernadette snarled.
She was the one who told me to trust him, that he was a good guy and would help me out if I needed it. Now she wanted to be judgmental? I wandered into Baxter’s kitchen, hoping to keep my voice from waking him. “What is your problem, anyway? So I didn’t call last night to tell you about my first day at the diner. Was it really that time sensitive?”
“Oh, you mean telling me that the guy who attacked your friend showed up at the diner? That wasn’t time sensitive?” she shrieked. “Are you serious? Why would you not tell me that?”
I didn’t respond right away. I remembered hearing Baxter’s raised voice as I brushed my teeth the night before, thinking he was probably just complaining about me ruining his night. Had he been yelling at Bernadette? About her leaving me here alone? I didn’t understand why he would do that. Except, maybe he was blaming her for him having to step in and rescue me so often. I knew good and well he didn’t appreciate that.
“I was worn out, and freaked out,” I said in defense. “It didn’t occur to me, okay? I just wanted to go to bed and forget it all, so quit yelling at me.”
Bernadette started to say something else, but her voice cut off abruptly when I yelped in fright at the feel of a hand on my shoulder, pushing me aside. Baxter didn’t seem to notice or care about my shock. “Next time, if you’re the first one up,” he grumbled, “start some coffee.”
Next time? Why on earth would he think there would be a next time? Or that I’d want to stick around and have breakfast with him? Not really in the mood for an argument, I said, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I was actually leaving.”
“Leaving?” Baxter asked. He closed the lid of the Keurig machine and turned to face me. “Why are you leaving at five in the morning? Why are you even awake? Why are you waking me up at five in the morning?”
I pulled my phone away from my ear, and looked at it as I tried to think of a response that sounded more grown up than I was fighting with my sister over whether or not I was obligated to tell her everything that happened in my life. It took me a minute to realize Bernadette’s voice was pouring out o
f the phone. I put it back to my ear and instantly wished I hadn’t.
“…at Baxter’s all night? What are you thinking? There better be a perfectly good reason, Eliza. I am too stressed out worrying about you with this murder spree to add in you getting involved with Baxter. What is wrong with you? Do you even realize Baxter is…”
I stopped listening and pulled the phone away from my ear to stare at it. What was wrong with me? What was wrong with her? That was what I wanted to say. She talked me into moving here, told me to trust Baxter, insisted I could handle being on my own in a big city. Now she was yelling at me like I was twelve again, because she didn’t like my choices?
Baxter watched in silence as my expression went from confused to angry. Putting the phone back to my ear, I interrupted my sister’s rant with one of my own. “You left me here by myself,” I snapped. “I am doing my best to navigate school, this city, and not getting myself killed. I’m sorry you’re worried, but not everything is about you, Bernadette. I’m the one living in this nuthouse while a killer is on the loose. I’m the one scared out of my mind that I’m going to be the next victim. I’m the one who showed up here, not knowing a soul, and got shoved into the middle of a basketful of chaos. You’re worried? You’re worried? Well, guess what? So am I!” I shouted.
“If I want to stay the night at Baxter’s because I don’t feel safe alone in my apartment, I will! If I don’t want to report my every move to you, I won’t! I am a grown woman, Bernadette. You may not think I can handle things on my own, and Baxter may think I’m a clumsy, weak little girl who screws everything up, but I’m stronger than both of you think.” I clenched my fingers around the phone, wanting to throw it at someone. “If you were so concerned about me being here without you to hold my hand, you should have stayed long enough to do it.”
Ripping the phone away from my ear, I ended the call and shoved the phone into my pocket. I’d pretty much forgotten Baxter was in the kitchen with me until he pushed away from the counter and grabbed his now-full mug. Silently, he tore open four sugar packets and poured them into the strong smelling coffee. I was still standing in the same place when he turned around and met my gaze. For a moment, we stayed like that, him calm while my heart raced from the fight with Bernadette and the intensity of him looking at me.
Taking a step forward, Baxter continued on his way until he came up even with me. “I don’t think you’re weak,” he said before walking past. I kept standing there, not sure what to do or how to respond. I heard him pull out a chair from the kitchen table and sit down before he spoke again. “The coffee is in the cupboard above the machine if you want to make yourself some.”
After standing there for a few more seconds, I realized I did want some coffee. Maybe it would jumpstart my brain. Baxter didn’t say a word as I waited for the machine to brew. Even when I sat down across from him at the table, he was more interested in his phone than what I was doing. I sipped at my coffee, slowly relaxing more than I had any right to.
I was nearly done with my cup when banging startled me into jumping and almost spilling what was left all over Baxter’s table. The banging came again and I looked toward my apartment. Baxter’s gaze followed mine and he frowned. It took a few seconds for my adrenaline to scale itself back enough that I could think. When my brain started functioning, I set down my cup and stood.
“Eliza,” Baxter warned.
Rolling my eyes, I said, “Anyone intent on killing me isn’t going to knock on my door and announce themselves to the whole floor.”
I stepped away from the table and heard his chair scrape across the tile as he moved to follow. The pounding came again as I unlocked the door and stuck my head out. Confusion set in as I stared at a disheveled Officer Williams raising his hand to pound again. Fearing one of my neighbors would jump out and throw something at me for disturbing everyone this early in the morning, I rushed out after him. Baxter’s hand grabbed at mine, but I slipped through his grasp and rushed to the hungover cop about to bang on my door again.
“What are you doing?” I snapped as I yanked his hand down. “It is way too early for you to be pounding on people’s doors. Don’t you have any common sense?”
Officer Williams stared at me with bloodshot eyes. “You called me. It sounded like you were in trouble.”
“Yeah, last night, you idiot. What are you doing here now?”
“To make sure you’re okay,” he said. He rubbed at one eye, then stared at me like he was expecting some kind of praise.
“Well, you’re a little late, but thanks for the effort, I guess.” I pushed him away from my door with a shake of my head. “Go home and sleep off your hangover. You look terrible.”
“Wait,” he said, grabbing my arm and yanking me to a stop.
Facing Baxter as I was, I saw him bristle and take a step forward. Officer Williams didn’t seem to notice. When I tried to pull my arm out of his grip, his fingers tightened and he yanked me back toward him. “Why did you call me last night?”
“Because I needed help,” I spat. I tried to yank my arm away from him again, but his grip only tightened even more. Beginning to fear he might hurt me, I opted for stillness in the hopes that his grip would relax enough for me to get away. “You were too drunk to be of any assistance, though, so never mind.”
He pushed in closer, pressing me against the wall. “Why did you need help?”
Fear kept my mouth shut. The way he was acting scared me. I never believed he was competent enough to solve this case and protect me. Now, there was a hard edge to his gaze, one that spoke of strength and intellect. I might have been imagining it, but icy fear twisted my gut and I balked at telling him anything.
“Why?” Officer Williams hissed.
He barely got the word past his lips before his hand was ripped away from me. I stumbled forward, unprepared for the sudden loss of pressure. Baxter caught my shoulder to keep me from falling while still twisting Officer Williams’ wrist in a way that was clearly painful. Once he was sure I wasn’t going to fall over, Baxter took his hand from my shoulder and grabbed a fistful of the cop’s rumpled t-shirt. He leaned in close, scaring him and me.
“Leave, before I call your sergeant and report you for assaulting a witness.”
“I just wanted to talk to her,” Officer Williams snarled. He flinched when Baxter pulled him closer, even though they were close to equal in height and the cop had about twenty pounds on him.
“She doesn’t want to talk to you.”
“She called me,” he argued.
Baxter twisted his shirt, putting them nose to nose. “The situation’s been handled. Your help is no longer needed. Leave.”
Shoving the officer away from his body, he sent him stumbling down the hall, away from me. Officer Williams was livid, but he righted himself and took another step back. Yanking his shirt into place, he glared at Baxter. I didn’t move or breathe until he turned around and stormed back down the stairs. We listened to his angry exit as the front door slammed closed behind him. A huge breath of relief rushed out of me at the sound and I had to lean against the wall to keep from collapsing.
“Why didn’t you tell him about last night?” Baxter asked, still looking down at the front door.
I had to pull in a deep breath to steady myself before speaking. “I don’t know. Something about the way he was looking at me…I didn’t trust him.”
Baxter nodded slowly. “Don’t ever call him for help again.”
I wanted to roll my eyes. Like he really needed to tell me that. I planned on avoiding Officer Williams for the rest of my life if I could possibly manage it. Even so, I nodded so Baxter knew I would obey yet another of his unnecessary commands. His temper was hardly the biggest motivator. I reached for my arm and rubbed at where I’d been grabbed.
Before I realized Baxter had moved, his hands were on my arm, pushing up my half-sleeve and inspecting the red marks left by Officer Williams’ abuse. His touch was surprisingly gentle as he ran his thumb over the slightly
swollen flesh. My gaze followed his movements, matching the ripples of gooseflesh his touch inspired. Warmth melted away the fear still lingering in my chest.
“I’d say you should report him for this,” Baxter said, oblivious to anything but his own thoughts, “but I think you’re right not to trust him. He should have shown up here worried you’d been hurt if he was really concerned about your safety. Instead, he was angry you wouldn’t tell him what had happened. Something isn’t right about him.”
All I could do was nod in agreement. Baxter was still cradling my arm in his hand. I couldn’t think with him distracting me like that. Either he noticed my silence or my stalled breathing, and came out of his thoughts enough to look at me. Calculating eyes regarded me for a half-second before widening. He backed away and dropped my arm.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to crowd you after what that jackass just pulled.”
“It’s…okay,” I said. “You weren’t scaring me. It…uh…”
Baxter looked back to his open apartment door. “I’ll get you some ice for that. Come on.”
He didn’t wait for me. I followed slowly, shaken by more than just Officer Williams’ belligerence. When I crossed the threshold back into Baxter’s apartment, he was already filling a sandwich bag with ice. He stood and pressed the zipper closed as he shut the bottom-half freeze door with his foot. Focused on his task, he didn’t look in my direction as he wrapped the bag in a towel. He barely even glanced at me when he handed over the covered ice.
“I need to shower,” he said on his way out of the kitchen. “Don’t leave.”
I pressed the ice to my arm and walked over to the couch. As I sat down, I willed my brain to wake up. There were things I needed to figure out, but I wasn’t firing on all cylinders. Questions swirled in my mind. How had the intruder known where to find me last night? Why was Officer Williams so hell bent on knowing what happened, and angry when I wouldn’t tell him? Baxter was a mess I didn’t even want to attempt unraveling, but as I held the ice against my arm, another question occurred to me.
Trouble Magnet Page 11
