Pierced: Pierced Trilogy Boxed Set

by Lashell Collins

  Chapter Five

  Samantha

  I have never been so happy to see my brother before! Heck, I’ve never been so happy to see anything before. My short stint with blindness seems to have affected me profoundly and, as Lucas and I drive over to the police impound lot to retrieve my car, I am looking out the window in wonder. It is unusually warm for September in Seattle. Much warmer than the typical high sixties that we normally see. And there is still plenty of sun and the trees are still lush and full and green. Everything feels vibrant and alive and I feel a small frisson of zeal run through me, as if part of me is expecting something exciting to happen. Who knew that getting released from the hospital could inspire such joy? I smile to myself as I continue to look out the window, grooving to Corinne Bailey Rae as she sings on the radio, and watch a small group of children playing in a park. They look as if they haven’t a care in the world and I envy them. They don’t have to worry about things like muggings and stolen cars and black, swollen eyes.

  “Are you listening to me, Sam?” Lucas’ voice cuts through my groove and my idle thoughts.

  “Yeah, I’m listening,” I lie. He glances over at me with a smirk and then back at the road. “Sorry,” I mumble. “What were you saying?”

  “Oh, nothing important,” he responds sarcastically, rolling his pale green eyes at me. “Just giving you details about the locksmith and your new keys and such. But watching the kids on the playground is much more important.”

  I roll my eyes at him. And then I marvel at how good it feels to be able to roll my eyes at him and I smile. I am such a dork! “I’m sorry, Lucas. It just feels really good to be able to see everything,” I offer apologetically and he smiles at me. “But thank you for taking care of the locksmith and driving me to the DMV to get my new ID and everything. I really appreciate it. You didn’t have to give up your Saturday just to take care of me; I could have done this on my own.”

  “It’s not a problem, Sam,” he says with a small smile. “I just want to know that you’re settled and okay. Besides, you would’ve had fun fighting your way through that small throng of paparazzi outside the hospital on your own.”

  I groan at his words because I know that he’s right. I can’t believe there were sleazy photographers trying to get pictures of me leaving the hospital. How did they even know I was being discharged this morning and why does anyone care? It’s not like I’m some famous actress or anything, I’m the daughter of a much beloved dead billionaire. That doesn’t make me front page news.

  “And Mom would have a fit if I told her I was letting you handle all this on your own,” Lucas is saying. “Anyway, I was saying that the locksmith gave me three copies of the new key. There’s the one I just gave you, and I kept one. Just for emergencies.”

  He looks at me as if he expects me to protest but I just nod at him. I like the idea of him having an extra key to my place. Just in case I lock myself out or something, which has been known to happen in the past. “Okay.”

  “I left the third key on your kitchen counter. You might want to keep it someplace handy, where it’s always with you. Just in case you lock yourself out again,” he says with another roll of his eyes, and I smile.

  “It happened one time,” I say indignantly.

  As we pull into the police impound lot I get a wave of butterflies at the errant thought that I might see Detective Pierce, but I know that’s unlikely. I’m certain he has much better things to do than sit around an impound lot waiting for me to show up to collect my car.

  Freeing my car from police custody is a surprisingly hassle-free affair, and when I slip behind the wheel I am comforted by the sense of familiarity. I take a moment to look around, checking the glove box and the console. I don’t know what I’m looking for. Just reassuring myself that all is right with the world, I guess. Only I know, in the back of my mind, that all is not right. I know that somewhere out there, someone has my ID and my keys, and what he’s planning to do with them, I have no idea. I try not to think about it. I tell myself that it’s all a moot point now because my locks have been changed and he can’t get to me anymore. The police checked out my apartment a couple of days ago and Lucas was there just yesterday to supervise the locksmith so, everything is just fine.

  I pull out of the impound lot and drive directly to the market. The same market where I was assaulted on Tuesday night. Lucas tried to talk me out of it but, I just feel like it’s something I have to do. I don’t want to be one of those people who becomes the victim of a violent crime and then allows that incident to paralyze their entire life. I want to move past this and get on with it. I don’t want to give this creep, whoever he is, the power to ruin my life. I refuse to be a victim.

  As I pull into a parking spot and turn off the car, I can feel my breathing quicken. My heart is pounding and my palms are sweating. And I slowly become aware that I am gripping the steering wheel fiercely. I look down at my hands and see that my knuckles are white. And I jump as least a foot when someone taps on my driver’s door window. Rolling down the window with an irate frown, I grumble, “What are you doing, Lucas? You scared me half to death!”

  “I’m sorry, Sam. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He sounds as if he’s speaking to a small child and he looks contrite. “You know, you don’t have to do this right now.”

  “Yes, I do,” I say, after a slight hesitation. “What are you doing here?” I ask him as I open the door and exit the car. “I thought you were headed back home.”

  “Well, I know how stubborn you are,” he replies with an exasperated look. “I thought if you were so determined to come to the market, then I should be here for you. Just in case.”

  I study his face for a moment and then give him a slow, grateful smile. My big brother. Always looking out for me, even when I don’t want him to. “Thank you, Lucas,” I say, throwing my arms around him.

  He pats my back for a moment and I can feel him smiling grudgingly. “Come on, Pita,” he says, pulling away from me. “Let’s go get you some groceries. You know, you really should hire a housekeeper who could do this sort of thing for you.”

  “I know this is going to shock you, Lucas,” I tell him, smiling sweetly, “but I actually enjoy doing things like cleaning my own apartment and cooking my own food. It’s fun!” He smirks at me and I roll my eyes at him. “You’re sounding like Mom, you know?”

  We walk into the store arm in arm and he grabs us a cart and proceeds to push it throughout the store while I fill it with lots of fresh, organic produce, pasta, chicken, salmon, eggs, juice and toiletries. All of the items I bought on Tuesday night that went flying all over the parking lot when I was attacked. As we shop, Lucas and I talk about Megan’s upcoming wedding, and he tells me about his plans to ask his girlfriend, Karen, to marry him.

  Lucas and Karen have been dating for about three years now so, it’s really not a surprise that they’re talking about marriage. Still, I am incredibly happy for him and I give him some suggestions of romantic ways to pop the long-awaited question. I love Karen. She’s a model and she is drop-dead gorgeous. She has a very fun-loving spirit but she’s also levelheaded and she seems to balance Lucas out nicely. My brother has a tendency to be all-business sometimes and Karen brings out his sense of adventure.

  As I listen to him go on and on about the seven carat rock he just bought her, it suddenly dawns on me that both he and Megan will soon be officially grown-up married people and I’m still terminally single. And I inwardly groan at the thought of yet another bridesmaid’s dress in my very near future. What is that old saying? Always a bridesmaid, never a bride. Not that I want to be a bride. It’s not something that I have ever pined away for like other girls. I mean, I guess that I want to get married … someday, I suppose. But really, right now I’m just too focused on trying to find my way. Trying to build an identity for myself that’s separate and apart from the family business. I really want that docent job at the museum. And then, I think I might like to go back to school for a Master’s
degree, or maybe get my teaching certificate to teach art to youngsters in elementary school. My mother would just love that. A Colby, teaching school! She always says that she understands my desire to be my own person and that she supports my efforts. But her way of showing support is to push me to find my identity in a ‘suitable’ man instead of encouraging me to find it within myself. It’s so frustrating.

  By the time we head to the checkout counter, I am too busy thinking about bridesmaid’s dresses and Lucas’ proposal and my future plans to feel the least bit weird about my assault. In fact, we are halfway to my car with my groceries when it dawns on me that I haven’t stressed about being back in the parking lot at all, and I am grateful that Lucas insisted on following me. We load the groceries into my car and I try to say goodbye to him there in the parking lot, but he insists on following me home as well. I roll my eyes at him but, secretly, I am thankful that he’s so concerned about me. Lucas and I have always been close, even though we’re not exactly close in age. There is an eight year difference between us and Mom likes to tell the story of how little Lucas adored his baby sister from the moment I was born. The thought makes me smile.

  Once we get to my place, he helps me carry the bags into the building and up to my apartment where I offer to cook him a late lunch for all of his trouble. But he declines, saying that he and Karen have dinner plans. Leaving the bags of groceries on the counter, I walk him to the door.

  “Hey, don’t forget to put that key somewhere smart,” he says, pointing to the extra key he’s left me on the counter.

  “I will, I promise.” I kiss him on the cheek as I open the door.

  “Take care of yourself, Pita,” he says to me. “I’ll call later to check on you.”

  “That’s not necessary, Lucas,” I say. “I’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll call anyway,” he says. “Make sure you lock this door.”

  “I’m locking the door,” I say with a fussy sigh. “Give Karen my love.”

  When he’s finally out the door, I do as I’m told and lock it securely. Then I wander back into the kitchen and begin putting away my groceries. I work quickly and absentmindedly, the way one does when doing routine tasks they’ve done a hundred times before. As I finish up my chore and fold the eco-friendly bags that I like to keep in my car, I hear a noise coming from the other room. It wasn’t a loud noise. It just sounded like something falling or a door closing or something. And ridiculously, I feel a small sliver of fear.

  I know that it was nothing. I know that the police have checked my apartment and my attacker hadn’t been here. And I know that everything was fine when Lucas had the locks changed yesterday. I’m just being silly. I take a deep breath and place the bags on the table by the door. I’ll return them to my car tomorrow on my way to work.

  Work. I have called and talked to my supervisor at the museum gift shop and she was very sympathetic when she heard about my ordeal. She told me not to push myself and that I should take some extra time off if I felt I needed it. But I really think I need the distraction of work right now so, I can’t wait to get back to it. Plus, I’m more than a little anxious to find out about the docent job. Ms. Clark, the human resources manager said they could be making a decision as early as the end of the week. And since the museum isn’t open on Mondays, the end of the week could mean Sunday – tomorrow.

  It feels really good to be home and in my own space. I can’t imagine how antsy I’d feel right now if I had agreed to go back to Mom’s when I got out of the hospital. I shudder at the thought as I take the toiletries that I’ve just bought at the market and head into my bedroom and into the en suite bathroom to put them away. As I do, I am suddenly overcome with the creepiest feeling that I am being watched and I turn at once to look behind me. There is no one there. Yet, my scalp begins to prickle and I feel unnerved. This is crazy, my subconscious whispers to me. There is no one in my apartment; I know that. I take a deep, uneasy breath and continue putting my things away. I had intended to take a much needed shower once I got home but, now I’m not so sure.

  No!

  My subconscious screams at me, and I know she’s right. I can’t let this creep make me afraid to be alone in my own apartment. I am not a victim! I know there is no one here. It’s all in my head. Once I’ve put my things away, I march back into my bedroom and take a good look around. I am quite alone. I check behind the floor length drapes that cover the doors leading out to my balcony. Nothing. And I feel incredibly silly but, I turn and get down on all fours and check beneath the bed. Nothing.

  I am kneeling by the bed feeling foolish when my eyes suddenly light on the doors of my walk-in closet. That’s where he always is in the movies, isn’t it? Hiding in the closet. I swallow and slowly get to my feet. As I walk over to the closet doors, my heart is pounding as if it’s trying to leave my chest. My hands on the knobs of the double doors, I try to take a couple of deep breaths but my lungs don’t seem to want to function properly right now. I count to three in my head and fling the doors open!

  I am confronted by my clothes. Nothing else. No one here, just my clothes. I shake my head and laugh slightly at myself. I am such an idiot. I leave the closet doors open and turn and head back toward the bathroom, stripping off my sweats and my t-shirt as I go. I step out of my underwear and walk into the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I can’t wait to shower and wash my hair.

  ~~~~~~~~

  He waits until he hears the water turn on in the bathroom and then steps out from his hiding place in the corner of her large walk-in closet. He chuckles to himself as he looks at the bathroom door. She was so close. He could have reached out and touched her. He almost did. But it’s not time yet. Soon. But not yet.

  She thought that she could keep him out, he muses to himself as he wanders slowly around her bedroom. She thought that she’d be slick and change the locks on him, but he lives a charmed life. He laughs again. He really couldn’t believe his good fortune yesterday when he’d finally let himself into her apartment. He had been smart about it. He knew the police would come and check the place out after he stole her keys and her ID. So he had waited a couple of days. He had sat on the street in his car and watched as they got out of their police car and walked into the building. Then he had gotten out of his car and gone into the building himself. He watched as the police went up to her floor; he even followed them up there and watched as the apartment manager let the cops in. Then he had gone back down to his car and waited until he saw them leave. Then yesterday, when all was quiet – or so he thought – he finally let himself in to have a look around and get to know her better.

  He was wandering around in her bedroom when he heard the two male voices. He almost wet himself when he realized they were coming in and that he might be discovered. He quickly found the perfect hiding place and watched as some uptight guy dressed in a business suit let a locksmith into the apartment and changed the locks. He had listened to their conversation about lock safety and maintenance. And he had seen the locksmith give The Suit a set of three keys. The guy had taken two of the keys with him and placed the third on the kitchen counter for safe keeping. And then they left.

  It was perfect. Like it was meant to be! He had crept from his hiding place and swiped the new key and left right away. He went straight to the hardware store and had a copy of the new key made. Then he had tossed the old one. He had come back today in order to return the swiped key, lest anyone become suspicious. At least this time when he heard voices in the hallway, he knew exactly where to hide. What are the odds that he would nearly get caught twice in a row! His plan was to go out the balcony doors when they came in. But when he saw that it was her with The Suit, he just had to wait around for a few minutes. He couldn’t help himself. So he hid in the closet.

  Bending down, he picks up her discarded panties and smiles. Stuffing them into the pocket of his pants, he walks over to the closed bathroom door and places his face against it, feeling the cold, rough grain of the wood against his cheek. Wit
h his hand, he caresses the door frame as if he’s caressing her body. He shudders. Soon. He’ll have her soon. Slowly, he backs away from the door and walks out of the bedroom. He meanders through the apartment to the door and quietly lets himself out.

  ~~~~~~~~

  I come out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around me and I bend to gather up my discarded clothing. Where are my panties? I know that I was wearing panties when I undressed, so where did they go? I am distracted from the puzzling question when my cellphone begins to ring. I quickly toss the clothes into the hamper and rush to my bedside to grab it. It’s Megan and we talk for several minutes about how good it feels to be out of the hospital and about what a sweetheart of a brother Lucas is. Megan is always going on about how wonderful Lucas is since she doesn’t share a close relationship with her own brother, Dennis. Maybe it’s because she’s older than Dennis and they just never bonded the way Lucas and I did as children.

  Then, out of the blue, she asks the one question I’ve been secretly asking myself all day.

  “So, I guess now that you’re out of the hospital, you won’t be seeing too much of Detective Yummy anymore, huh?”

  “Megan!” I am shocked at her bluntness but, I don’t know why. It was a very Megan thing to say. And even though she can’t see me and no one’s around, I blush scarlet.

  “Oh, tell me you haven’t thought the same thing at least once today,” she demands.

  I sigh and roll my eyes at her. “Fine, I … thought about it,” I say quietly.

  “Ha! I knew it,” she says in triumph. “You like him. A lot!”

  “I don’t even know him, Meg,” I say with an irritated groan.

  “But you’d like to,” she offers. I roll my eyes again and avoid her statement.

  “Listen, Megan,” I say distractedly, “I just got out of the shower and I’m dripping water everywhere. Can I call you back later?”