Curves Ahead: a romantic suspense novel

by Andi Jaxon

  Pulling my phone from my pocket, I hand it over. “Thank you, man. Seriously.”

  “You owe me a bottle of Balvenie 21 when I’m finished.” He informs me as he moves to a different computer and plugs my phone into it.

  “You got it.”

  Standing behind him, I watch him hack into my phone with a few keystrokes. In less than sixty seconds he’s got my phones’ screen up on the computer and he’s digging through my files. Pulling up my last received text message he opens the picture and looks at it for a minute. He cocks his head and taps a few buttons.

  A black box pops up with information in it.

  “Okay, this picture was taken at 18:51:24 from 151 NW Highland Dr, Seattle, WA, 98177.” He flips back to the picture, zooming in on something.

  “Dammit, that’s her parent’s house.” Scrubbing a hand down my face, I want to punch someone. “Can you run a location on her number, see what the nearest tower to her was, the last time the phone was on?”

  “Yup.” He gets her number into the program and as it gets dialed, the more confused I become.

  “Is that Sumner?”

  “Yes is it. Does that help?” He looks at me expectantly.

  “Maybe. Sumner hasn’t been mentioned.” That’s a bit of drive but it’s nothing crazy. It’s maybe two hours from the Collins house with traffic.

  Matt hands me back my phone, “If there’s anything else I can do, let me know.”

  “Thanks…” I taper off when a thought occurs to me. “Are you able to run any checks on current officers? Check for properties they own?”

  “A current officer?” He looks surprised. “That’s getting into some deep shit. If you’re wrong and I get caught, it’s my job.”

  “I understand.” I can’t ask someone to risk their lively-hood. I’ll have to find another way. Taking a step back, I slap my phone against my palm as I think.

  “Name?” Matt asks, his back to me.

  “What?”

  “Name?” he prompts me again. “I said it would be risking my job, I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it.”

  “Michael Preston.”

  Kristen

  THE SUN IS COMING up, pink and orange streaks are covering the sky. Such a pretty sight from such a terrible place. I’m exhausted, physically, and mentally. I’ve been up all night, making sure Angel was protected. My cheek still aches, and it got really chilly in here, but it definitely could have been a worse night.

  Outside a car door opens and closes, then footsteps crunch on the gravel. Angel is awake, her head perked up when the door closed outside. Heels clack on some hard surface outside, concrete, maybe wood, then a squeaky hinge groans as a door opens.

  Snoring from somewhere else in the house stops, there are obviously two people here now, besides us. I can just barely make out conversation, not actual words, but the voices carry. A woman is here now.

  My stomach growls and my bladder is insisting on getting emptied. “Hey, where do you go to the bathroom?” I ask her.

  Her shoulders slump and her cheeks turn red when she points toward the closet. Fuck. With a nod and a forced smile, I get up and head toward it. I don’t want to open this door. I have no idea what I’m going to find but it’s going to be disgusting. The smell will probably make me throw up. Taking a deep breath, I open the door slowly. Inside is a bucket and holy shit does it stink but it’s not as bad as I figured. The bucket must be dumped regularly.

  Leaving the door open a bit, I do my business while trying not to touch anything. Just being in this closet makes me crave a shower. Finishing up, I close the door behind me and try not to dry heave.

  Sitting down on the floor again, Angel curls up against my side with my arm around her.

  “What do you do all day?”

  “Stay corner. Sometimes pay toys.”

  “Does he come here every day?”

  “No.” Her stomach grumbles and she whimpers.

  “How often do you eat?”

  She shrugs with her eyes closed, too distracted by the pain in her stomach. Outside the door, a rhythmic tapping starts, followed by moaning and a random slap of palm against ass. Great. They’re having sex while a little girl starves to death.

  I fold my legs and move her to sit in my lap so I can hold her and rub my hand up and down her back.

  “Yes, Mike. Fuck me.” Filters through the door. Mike fucking Preston. “You’re so much better than Dan.”

  “Fancy yady here,” Angel whispers, shivering against me.

  “Who is that?”

  “Fancy yady likes watch. Bad man hurts me more.” She buries her face in my chest and I tighten my hold around her. What kind of sick fucks are we prisoners for?

  The tapping stops and not long after that is followed by footsteps, then running water. Right outside the door keeping us in here, the woman laughs.

  The door opens and my mother enters, followed by Mike. Mother is wearing only a dingy, stained t shirt and Mike in only sweatpants. The sight makes me want to gag.

  “Good, the bastards are awake,” Mother says.

  “What are you doing here?” I demand, standing after getting Angel settled on the floor.

  “I’m finally going to get rid of you,” Mother states simply, Mike smirks behind her and licks his lips.

  “What? What have I ever done to you to make you hate me?”

  She takes a step toward me and slaps the same cheek Mike did last night. I gasp at the pain and cover my cheek with my hand. It hurts so much, and blood is once again in my mouth.

  “You were never good enough. Kristen Grace was an amazing, sweet, obedient child. You have always been defiant and self-centered.” She crosses her arms over her chest before continuing. “I told your father no, that no little orphan bitch would replace my perfect little girl, but he wouldn’t let it go. Mike had you, said he could break you, turn you into the good child I wanted, but you were too stubborn even for him. We tried. Multiple times I drugged you and brought you here to learn, but you never did.”

  Tears stream down my face once again. I don’t know what to think or how to process any of this. “I am Kristen Grace,” I say adamantly.

  “No. You were a no name little brat that even your own mother didn’t want. Your pretty face was nothing but a lie, but you looked so much like her that most people didn’t even question it. I died the day she did! I had to bury her in the backyard like a damn dog!” she yells the last sentence, making Angel and I both jump.

  Mike puts a hand on her shoulder, offering comfort to the psychotic woman standing in front of him. Whatever is happening here is turning him on if the tent in his pants is anything to go by. What the fuck is wrong with them?

  “Now you’re mine until I get bored and put you down like the bitch you are. You always did think you were better than everyone else. Except when I ripped through your hymen, thinking of the way you screamed still gets me hard,” he palms his dick over his pants and Mother leans back into him with a sultry smile. My lips turn down in disgust.

  “You’re a sick fuck. I can’t wait for someone to kill you. I’ll dance on your grave!” I yell. Anger fueling me, covering the fear and hurt, to protect myself. “If what you say is true, and that’s a big fucking if, I’m glad I’m not related to you. You’re a heartless, sadistic, vermin, feeding off the pain of innocent children!”

  “Don’t you talk to her that way! You ungrateful whore!” Mike hollers, pulling a belt off the floor in the hallway. Angel whimpers and backs into the corner to fold into a ball, but I refuse to cower to him. Never again.

  “What are you going to do? Beat an unarmed woman that’s half your size? What a man you are! So fucking macho!” I step toward him, daring him to swing that belt. “I hope I get to see Alex unleash his fury on you. You have no idea what you’ve got coming. So, you want to beat me? Go right ahead. You’ll get it back tenfold.” My conviction makes him hesitate, he knows I’m right.

  “Hit her. Teach her a lesson about respect!” My mother sho
uts.

  Mike whips the belt, the snap loud in the small room. Angel whimpers again behind me. My back straightens, defending the little girl that no one else deems worthy of love and affection. Never again will she feel unwanted. I will do everything in my power to keep her if she doesn’t have a family looking for her.

  Mike raises the hand holding the belt and I brace myself for the incoming pain. The belt swings through the air and snaps as it wraps around my torso. The immediate stinging pain steals my breath and I curl into myself to protect my body from more, but he swings it again and again, leaving inch wide welts on my back. I can’t breathe, my ribs feel broken, and I’m weak from pain when he finally backs off.

  “I hope you think about how much worse that could have been. Enjoy hunger, you just earned the little whore another day without food. Talk to me or Mary Beth like that again, and she’ll get your beating while you watch.”

  The door slams closed behind them and tears soak into the wear worn carpet. I want to sit up so I can rock back and forth but even the thought makes me hurt worse. I can’t move, I’m sure I’m bleeding through my dress but there’s nothing I can do about it. Angel comes to me and rubs my leg to avoid hurting me worse, her entire body trembling but she’s comforting me.

  I try to take a deep breath but fiery pain screams through my ribs when I do. “Thank you,” I whisper to her, afraid of the searing agony if I speak any louder. “I’m so sorry I lost you the chance to eat.” I tell her, sick at the thought of causing her more pain.

  “It otay. Hungry, no belt.” Her answer is quick and simple. I have a feeling she’s had to pick between the two before.

  Alex

  WAITING IS THE HARDEST part of any case, but this time it’s so much worse than normal. I don’t know what’s being done to Kristen, what’s already happened. Is she hungry? Hurt? Being tortured? After getting a few hours of plagued sleep, I couldn’t take being in the house anymore.

  Driving the streets to clear my head or find some little trace of her, I end up at her parent’s house. Pulling into the driveway, I roll the window down and wait for the guard.

  “Afternoon, sir. Name?”

  “Alex Bennet. The Collins family isn’t expecting me, but I have a few questions for them.”

  The guard nods. “Give me just a minute to call up to the main house.”

  He disappears into the guard shack for a few minutes before the gate opens, letting me in. I hold up a hand in thanks as I drive past and make my way up the driveway to park in front of the house. Digging around in the glove box, I find a note pad and a pen and shove them in my pocket before exiting my car.

  I ring the doorbell and wait for one of the staff to answer. This is the only residence I’ve been to that has staff who answer the doors. I’ve seen nanny’s and know of people who have cleaning ladies that come in a few times a week, but nothing like this.

  The door opens to show Cynthia looking somber. “Afternoon, Officer Bennet, please come in.”

  “I’m off duty today, please call me Alex.” I step through the entry way and she closes the heavy door behind me. She nods but doesn’t respond any other way. “How are things around here?”

  Cynthia doesn’t look up from the floor, just folds her hands together in front of her. “Not much different than normal. Mrs. Collins seems calmer. She’s not concerned or worried that I can tell. Mr, Collins is working his normal hours.”

  I don’t understand these people. “Do you think they know something? Think they’re somehow involved?”

  Cynthia shrugs but doesn’t comment. “This way, sir.” She turns and leads me down the hallway toward Jonathon’s office. I’m honestly not sure if he’s here or if that’s where she’s taking me. Along the walls are pictures, mostly family portraits, but one catches my eye.

  Stopping to take a closer look, the picture is of Mary Beth, Jonathon, and Kristen. Nothing out of the ordinary, while stiff and formal, there’s nothing weird about it. I’m not sure what caught my attention, but I’m drawn to the little girl. She has pale blonde hair, bright blue eyes, she looks to be about four, wearing a dress with flowers on it. There’s something off in the way she’s smiling, like she’s nervous? Not the typical awkward little kid smile that you normally see in pictures, where they might be smelling a fart.

  “Sir?” Cynthia calls, dragging my attention off the picture.

  “Coming,” I take another quick look at the picture then head into the office. There’s no one in here. Turning back toward the door where she’s still standing, I raise a brow in question.

  “The Collins’ will be with you in just a moment,” she says then closes the door behind her.

  Looking around the room I’ve only been inside once, I take a closer look at what’s on the shelves. Trinkets and a few pictures litter the bookshelves, but not much else.

  The pictures are of Jonathon and buddies on vacations, sandy beaches, cobble stoned streets, and expensive cars. I find it interesting that there’s no pictures of his family in here, no family vacations, graduation, or marriage even.

  Wandering around the room, I see a picture tucked in a corner of a bookshelf so it’s not as visible. Reaching for it, I shift the frame and see it’s a much younger version of Jonathon, Mike Preston, and Dan Trubrown. What the fuck? How does Jonathon know the man that tortured Ben?

  None of this makes any sense. Pulling out my cell phone, I take picture of the picture and put it back in the position I found in it. My mind is spinning with what this could mean, the possibilities and implications. If Dan knows Mike, then Mike is the one pulling strings to hide the abuse. Losing paperwork, finding a way to get into files to delete records. He might even have connections in the CPS office as well.

  But how did they meet?

  The door opens and I turn to watch both Mary Beth and Jonathon enter the room. Jonathon looks a little rough around the edges, like he’s had a few long nights, but Mary Beth looks perfectly fine. Her daughter is missing and yet she’s completely composed.

  “I know we spoke yesterday, but I wanted to see if you had any information.” I cut straight to the point, I don’t have time for bullshit.

  “She’s an adult. Have you thought that maybe this is her way of telling you to leave her be?” Mary Beth asks.

  “Trust me, that is not what’s happening here.” Pulling out my phone, I flip to the message with the picture of Kristen passed out in the back of a car and hand it to her. “That picture was taken here, at this house, just minutes before she disappeared.”

  Jonathon pales when he looks over his wife’s shoulder and sees the picture. Mary Beth isn’t bothered by it at all.

  “That’s staged. Obviously a friend of hers took it.” She shrugs.

  “She’s unconscious.” I counter.

  “You can’t know that unless you were there. Trust me, she’s a good actress when she wants to be.” She hands the phone back and folds her hands in front of her. “If that’s all, I have things I need to get back to.”

  “Things that are more important than finding your daughter?” I ask, flabbergasted by the nerve of this woman.

  “The world doesn’t stop spinning because someone stops talking to their fuck buddy.” The casual way she disregards Kristen’s life has my fists balled up tight and fury flowing through me. It’s no wonder Kristen is the way she is. No one at home ever gave a fuck about her. She keeps people at arm’s length so when they stop coming around, they don’t hurt her.

  Mary Beth leaves the room, closing the door behind her. Jonathon drops down into the chair behind his desk with a flop. “I’m sorry about her,” he says, rubbing his eyes. “It’s how she deals with things.”

  “It looks to me like she’s either not dealing with it at all or she knows something she isn’t telling us.” I stay standing on the opposite side of the desk from him. I’m too amped up to sit, it’s all I can do not to pace.

  Jonathon looks up at me, considering what I’ve just said. “You think she’s involved wit
h the disappearance of Kristen?”

  “She doesn’t seem to think she’s missing. What do you think?” crossing my arms over my chest, I watch Jonathon for any indication that he knows more than he’s telling.

  “It’s not uncommon for Kristen to go weeks without talking to us.”

  “In the last few months, I haven’t gone more than a few hours without hearing from her and I always know where she is and who she’s with. The fact that she was attacked, in your house no less, and now isn’t responding, is a huge red flag. Now your wife is acting like everything is perfect. That doesn’t seem strange to you?” My frustration is starting to leak into my voice. Even I think I sound like a dick.

  “You don’t know how things work around-”

  “How do you know Mike Preston?” I cut him off, not wanting to hear his bullshit line about privileges.

  “Mike and I went to high school together,” he answers, confused.

  “Doesn’t seem like the kind of person a man of your status would be friends with.”

  Jonathon leans back in his chair, trying to figure out what my angle is, I’m sure. I know Mike is involved. He has to be. It’s the only thing that makes sense, I just have to prove it. “He’s a shitty cop just waiting to retire, he can’t be used for any political moves. What’s the point?”

  “You have no respect for those who come before you, do you? Mike is a great cop, just because he’s gotten older and his body is breaking down doesn’t mean his mind isn’t sharp.”

  “What hold does he have over you?” I lean over the desk with my palms flat on the surface.

  His eyes widen just a fraction but I see it before he recovers. “I think we’re done here. Have a good day, officer.”

  I leave without putting up a fight. I’ve gotten a lead I can dig into as well. Mike and Jonathon went to high school together. Mike has leverage on Jonathon, and Mary Beth knows something about where Kristen is.

  Kristen

  AT SOME POINT I dosed off and curled up onto my side. I don’t know what to think about my back, but my dress is sticking to it in parts, so I know skin is broken. I’m not sure if ribs are broken but I imagine they’re bruised. All of the muscles involved in breathing are angry, bruised, and screaming at me. I can barely get enough air in my lungs to keep from suffocating.