Curves Ahead: a romantic suspense novel

by Andi Jaxon

  “No, I haven’t heard from her in a few days. I’ve been busy at work and just crashing when I get home. Is everything alright? Did you guys get into a fight or something?”

  “Fuck! She went to her parents for dinner last night, a creep I work with showed up and I haven’t heard from her since. I’m sure she’s fine, I’m probably just tired.” I try to play it off but I’m damn near panicked. If it wasn’t for my years of training to be a cop and learning how to stay cool under pressure, I’d probably be a mess.

  “Okay, well sometimes she stays at her parent’s house. It’s rare but if she drinks too much, she’ll crash in her old room.”

  “Do you happen to have a phone number for them?” that’s a possibility. She really didn’t want to go and I know how well her body holds liqueur. Two, maybe three drinks before dinner and she would have been toast.

  “Yeah, you ready?”

  I jot down the number, get the address as well, and hang up. Immediately, I dial the house number and wait for someone to answer.

  “Collins residence.”

  “Hi, I’m a friend of Kristen Collins, I’m just trying to make sure she’s alright. Is she there by chance?”

  “I’m sorry but I’m not allowed to discuss the whereabouts of the Collins’ family. I’m happy to take a message though.”

  I growl in frustration, pulling on my hair.

  “Fine, let her know Alex called and would like her to call me back. She has the number.”

  “Noted, anything else I can help you with?”

  “I guess not.”

  “Good day, sir.”

  Tossing my phone on the bed, I stop for a moment to think. What do I do next? She’s at her parent’s house. It’s only eight am, so if she drank too much last night, she’s still asleep. Jen. I’ll see if Jen is awake and knows where JJ is. If he snuck out last night, she’s probably losing her mind with worry.

  In the hallway headed for the living room, someone starts pounding on my front door. Quickly, I fling open the door to see Jen on my porch, completely panicked and crying.

  “Alex! I can’t find JJ!” she all but screams at me.

  I put my hands on her shoulders. “He’s here, he’s okay.”

  Covering her face with her hands, she falls into my chest sobbing. I wrap my arms around her shoulders, hugging her tight. I can’t imagine how terrifying it would be to lose a child.

  “Come on, he’s in here.” Taking a step back, I lead her into the living room where JJ is somehow still asleep. In just a few quick steps she’s in front of him, arms around him and kissing his forehead.

  “M... Mom?” he asks, hardly awake.

  “I was so worried! Don’t ever sneak out like that again!” her ‘mom’ voice so stern, even I stand up a little straighter.

  “Sorry, Mom,” he says defeated and wraps his arms around his neck.

  “I was so worried,” tears threatening to choke her again. “Why did you leave?”

  JJ doesn’t answer right away, I can see him fighting with himself about whether or not to tell her the truth. I want to jump in and help him, I want to be the one that tells her so he doesn’t have to admit it, but he needs to. Part of growing up is learning how to tell people the shit they don’t want to hear.

  Jen sits back to see him better and JJ folds in on himself. His knees pull up and he wraps his arm around them, burying his face in his legs. “I don’t like Michael.” The words are muffled but clear enough to understand them.

  “Oh,” Jen’s head jerks back in surprise, obviously not expecting that answer. “Why? He’s a nice man.”

  “He’s nice to you,” JJ’s words are a little more confident now though his face is still in his legs.

  “What does that mean? Has he said something to you? Has he hit you?” Jen’s concern grows with each question. “Sit up and talk to me.”

  “He hasn’t touched me,” JJ says to his lap while he picks at his fingers. “But when you leave the room, he’s not the same. He doesn’t smile. He stares at me like he wants to hurt me.”

  “Oh honey, I don’t think he wants to hurt you. Why would he do that?” Jen’s questions are sincere, but JJ’s only response is shrugging his shoulders. “Are you sure you’re not just jealous that I’m spending time with him?”

  It’s hard not to roll my eyes. For any other kid, I would say that’s a valid question, but not JJ. He’s independent and wants his mom to be happy which is why this conversation is so hard on him.

  He doesn’t respond to her question, just sits there, still looking at his lap.

  “Hey, Jen, can I talk to you for a minute, outside?” It’s time to step in and help him out, especially since I know the creep.

  “Sure,” she kisses JJ’s forehead and stands. I open the door and follow her out on the porch.

  “I don’t understand where this is coming from,” she confesses.

  “Look, your personal life is none of my business, but I know Michael Preston and I believe JJ one hundred percent. I’ve never seen him be genuinely nice to anyone, there’s always a hidden agenda.” Jen looks at me like I’ve grown a second head. “I’m not going to tell you what to do, but I’m going to ask that you be very careful.”

  “So, you think a man can’t be interested in me without a hidden agenda?” tears are pooling in her eyes. Fuck.

  “No, absolutely not, that’s not what I mean at all.” My hands rest on her shoulders. “You’re an amazing woman who works hard every day to provide for the child she still has at home. You’re sweet, funny, and caring, not to mention beautiful.” I drop one hand from her shoulder and point toward the door.

  “I know JJ means the world to you, if he says there’s something off with this guy, you should believe him. That little boy wants nothing more than for you to be happy. Telling you that he doesn’t like the guy that makes you happy was probably the hardest thing he’s ever had to do, and I guarantee he’s berating himself for it right now.” Tears are trailing down both cheeks as she looks at me. It kills me to see her cry, to see her being used and having to make this kind of decision but it has to be done.

  “He snuck out to get away from Michael. Instead of just telling you he didn’t like him. He put your happiness first and removed himself from the equation. That should tell you something.” My hands drop to my side.

  I’ve said all I can, it’s up to her to decide what to do.

  “Thank you,” unshed tears making it hard for her to speak.

  “You’re welcome. Why don’t you guys go home, get some breakfast, and relax for bit. Talk about it later today.”

  “That’s a good idea. Thank you, Alex, I really don’t know what I would do without you.”

  I smile, pulling her in for a hug. “You’d figure it out, but I’m glad I was here to help.”

  Jen enters the house and a few minutes later. JJ wraps his arms around my waist and I hug him back, I can only imagine how difficult this was for him.

  “Hey Jen?” I call as she steps off the porch. She turns around and looks at me expectantly. “Do you remember seeing Kristen last night?”

  “Oh, yeah.” She says, surprised. “I saw her at dinner at her parent’s house.”

  “You don’t happen to remember anything strange happening, do you? Her acting weird or anything like that?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Like did you notice her acting drunk, maybe slurring her words or stumbling around? Did she all of a sudden look different, like she wasn’t feeling well?”

  “No, she seemed fine when I saw her. She wasn’t at dinner, her mother said she wasn’t feeling well and went up to bed. I didn’t see her after that.” She shakes her head. “Is everything okay?”

  “I can’t get a hold of her is all, just concerned.”

  Her and JJ come out and head home. Today has been a shit show. I need to go to sleep but I can’t until I’ve heard from Kristen. I have to know that she’s okay and that she’s safe.

  Heading inside, I pic
k up my phone from the bed but toss it back down when there’s no messages from her. This is going to drive me insane.

  Kristen

  I’M LYING FACE DOWN on a bed. My head is weird. I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus.

  Where the fuck am I?

  Hospital? No beeping.

  Home? Doesn’t feel like my bed.

  Alex’s? Doesn’t smell right.

  Smell. I’m at my parents?

  Cracking one eye open, I look at what I can while not moving. I’m definitely in my bedroom at my parent’s house. I’m lying sideways on my old bed, blanket and sheets plastered to my cheek. But why?

  My entire body aches, like a bad flu or what I assume running a marathon would feel like the next day. What is wrong with me? Why am I still here? My head is foggy, but this is definitely not a hangover. Hangovers come with drums being beaten on by toddlers inside my skull.

  A knock on the door startles me. The jumping making me moan as my muscles protest the movement. “What?” I holler as loud as I can.

  The door opens but doesn’t close so it’s not my mother. Probably a staff member sent to make sure I get ready for breakfast. I hate this place.

  “Miss, your parents are waiting for you in the dining room.” Ding ding ding. Called it.

  “That’s great, but I’m not moving.” I don’t actually think I can move. A long soak in the jetted tub sounds amazing though…

  “Oh, um…” this girl is new if she doesn’t know how to deal with me.

  “Listen, I don’t exactly know why I’m still here, but I need to soak in the tub, preferably with Epson salts.” I try to sound confident but it’s hard when your face is buried in bedding. “And my phone. I need my phone.”

  “Um… okay. I’ll start your bath.” She turns, her shoes scraping on the hardwood.

  “Wait!”

  “Yes, miss?”

  “Can you help me up? I’m pretty sure I was hit by a bus.” When in doubt, snark. Fear, anxiety, sadness, all of it is met with sarcasm and sass. It’s how I’ve survived.

  “Oh, are you sure you don’t want me to start the bath first so it’s full when you’re ready?” so eager to please this one, my mother must love her.

  “I’m pretty sure it would be overflowing by the time I was ready.” Even rolling my eyes hurts.

  “All right.”

  Taking a deep breath, I prepare myself for the scream of my sore muscles, then force myself to roll over onto my back. “Fuuuuuuck.”

  My eyes are squeezed shut as I take a few deep breaths. What the fuck happened to me? How did I even get in here?

  “Oh, here’s your phone,” she picks up my phone from the bedside table and hands it to me. Lifting my arm, I accept it and try to turn it on. Dead. Perfect.

  “Any chance you know where a charger is? It’s dead.” I hand the phone back to her and she slips it in her pocket.

  “Of course. Ready?” she grabs both of my hands in hers and pulls on them just enough to get some tension.

  “As I’ll ever be,” I groan.

  “One, two, three.” And she pulls me up to a sitting position.

  “God dammit,” I wince. Luckily, I’m small or this twig of a girl would not have been able to lift me up. She’s smaller than I am.

  “Okay, rest for a minute and I’ll start your bath.”

  “Sounds like a plan, Stan.”

  “Oh, my name is Cynthia.”

  All I can do is shut my eyes and shake my head. Sarcasm is lost on this one. Mother always did prefer the dumb ones, they’re easier to manipulate.

  The water turns on and what I’m hoping is bath salts are poured into the tub. That jetted tub is the only thing I miss around here. Okay, and not doing my own laundry.

  Cynthia comes back and stands in front of me. Lifting one arm she wraps it around her shoulders and working together, I stand. Slowly, grumbling the entire time, we make it to the bathroom. Leaning against the sink, she unzips my dress and helps me get out of it.

  “My God. What happened to you?” the shock in her voice has me looking up into the mirror.

  “Oh, my God.” My upper arms have bruises of someone’s hands. My inner thighs are blue and purple. Teeth marks mar my flesh from collarbone to pelvis.

  Catching Cynthia’s eye in the mirror, horror written clearly on both of our faces, tears stream down my cheeks. “What do I do?” I whisper.

  “I don’t know. Call the police? File a report?” she offers, her hand covering her mouth.

  “But I don’t know what happened.” My body trembles, I have no control over anything. I’m frozen in place. I don’t know what to do or where to go. I want to wash last night off me but logically I know I have to be swabbed for DNA… but I don’t want to do that either. “Phone. I need a charger for my phone. Now!” the last word is screamed and echoes in the small room.

  Cynthia runs from the room, closing my bedroom door behind her. Turning my body in the mirror, I inspect my back for more damage, but it appears to have been left out.

  Crumbling into a sobbing mess on the floor, I hug my knees to my chest and cry. I want Alex. I want to feel safe with his arms wrapped around me. I want him to tell me that everything will be okay and that he loves me. Right now, in the fear and panic, I realize I love him. I love him so much it hurts.

  He won’t judge me or think I’m crazy. He won’t tell me to cover it up and forget it happened. He will stand by me despite it all. For the first time in my life there is someone that will not only believe be but will help me.

  Cynthia comes rushing back into the bathroom to find me sobbing on the floor. She wraps me in a big fluffy towel before plugging a charger and my phone into the outlet next to the sink and shutting off the water in the bathtub. Sitting on the tile next to me, she puts an arm around me and rubs my back.

  “I told your mother that you were feeling ill this morning and are going to soak in the tub for bit and that you may be down for lunch.”

  I can’t speak through my breakdown, so I just nod and lean my head on her shoulder. She’s already offered me more comfort that my own mother would have. I’m so alone in this stupid house.

  My phone chimes that it’s on, quickly followed by notifications. Scooting us closer to the outlet so the cord will reach, Cynthia hands me the phone. Alex has called, texted, and left a voicemail. Ben has texted me twelve times and called twice. Jesus.

  Calling Alex, I slow my crying and attempt to slow my breathing.

  “Kristen, thank fuck!” the second I hear his voice, I break down again. I can’t speak through the sobs.

  “Kristen? What’s wrong? Where are you? I’m coming to get you, right now. Tell me where you are.” Alex is hurling questions at me faster than I can comprehend which makes me cry harder.

  “Would you like me to talk to him?” Cynthia offers. I hand the phone to her and let her retell it.

  “Please stop shouting.” There’s a pause. “My name is Cynthia. I work for Mr. and Mrs. Collins.” Pause. “I had to help Miss Collins get off the bed and walk to the bathroom. She said she felt like she had been hit by a bus. I helped her undress and it was clear from there why she felt that way. She’s covered in bruises and bite marks.” I can hear Alex’s voice but not what he’s saying. Focusing on his voice helps me slow my breathing, get myself under control a little at a time.

  “She says she doesn’t remember what happened last night.” Short pause. “No, of course I believe her, I only worded it that way so you wouldn’t assume I was putting words in her mouth.”

  “Okay,” I croak. “I can talk to him.”

  “Just a moment, here she is.” Cynthia hands me the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Gorgeous.”

  The nickname makes me smile through the tears, gives me hope that it’s going to be okay.

  “I’m sure you don’t want to go down to the police station to make a report, so I’m going to come to you, okay? I have an evidence kit, so I can do it all myself, but I�
�ll have to have another officer with me for statements and to turn in the evidence since I’m not on the clock. I will need to talk to Cynthia, and I would like to talk to your parents too, about last night.”

  “Okay,” even to myself I sound small, like a child. I hate being like this, weak and vulnerable.

  “Baby, I got you, okay? I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He pauses and digs through something. “Will it bother you if I’m in uniform?”

  “I’ll be okay, you warned me.”

  “That’s my girl. Look, I’m sure you want to shower and get dressed but you can’t yet. Don’t brush your hair or wash your hands, nothing, okay? Not until I’m done.” I’m not use to his serious tone, the tone he probably uses at work.

  “I understand.”

  “Alright, I’m going to call a buddy of mine to see if he can pick me up in a squad car so I can drive yours back okay? Call me if you need anything. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “Okay.” Knowing there’s a plan, that Alex is coming, helps soothe some of the panic that’s rioting through my veins.

  Alex

  JESUS. FUCKING. CHRIST. I knew it. I knew something bad was going to happen, but I couldn’t do a damn thing to fucking stop it. It’s Erika all over again. Except I will make damn sure she comes back to me. I can’t lose her.

  Pulling on my uniform, I text a buddy of mine that works the day shift, Ted. We use to be partners before budget cuts a few years ago cut our numbers basically in half. He was my wingman on occasion and killed me on the pool tables.

  It’s taking an immense amount of self-control not to drive to her parent’s house and demand they let me in. I doubt that would get me anywhere. Keeping a level head knowing the girl I love was attacked and I can’t get to her is a testament to my training. The girl I love. Fuck. I do love that girl. I can’t live without her. She’s burrowed herself into my heart and I’m not letting her out. She’s mine.

  My phone pings in my pocket, alerting me to a text message.

  A: I have a favor to ask, I need you to come pick me up,

  A: I’ll fill you in when you get here.