The Dead King

by Pamfiloff, Mimi Jean

  “Sure. No problem.” I offered a polite smile.

  Rosie and I watched the two men head to their car before making our way around to the front of the trailer.

  “What was that all about?” I asked.

  Rosie stopped and faced me. “The body was fresh. Badly beaten, and the face was all smashed in.”

  Her words spun inside my head. “I don’t understand.”

  “No one does.” Her light brown eyes, a similar shade to mine, lit up. “The cops came back to do a more thorough sweep of the port, and they showed me a photo of the body they retrieved to see if I could identify him. He wasn’t the same guy I saw in the box yesterday.”

  “Are you sure?” That made no sense.

  “The guy from yesterday was lying on his side, so I couldn’t really see the face, but I saw his black pants and dress shoes. The body they picked up this morning was wearing jeans. No. Shoes.” She leaned in and whispered, “The coroner said the guy hadn’t been dead long. Killed last night. How’s that for fucking weird?”

  Oh God. My mind leaped to the most obvious conclusion: The man who helped me, whoever he was, had thrown Randall’s body in the metal box.

  But why? And what did he do with the other body?

  My face was likely puke green, because Rosie gave my arm a squeeze. “Don’t worry, hon. I talked to Mr. Ripley already. He’s got some security guys coming down from Tallahassee to keep an eye on things. Until then, the National Guard said they can spare a few warm bodies.”

  My stomach clenched. I wished she wouldn’t use the word bodies. And I wasn’t sure how she could be so calm about all this. The situation was beyond terrifying.

  “Don’t worry, Jeni. We’ll be okay.”

  I nodded. Mostly because my quota for conversation had been reached for the day, but also because I just wanted to get my work done and leave.

  “You really aren’t feeling good, are you?” She pressed her hand to my forehead. “Let’s get those forms figured out so you can go back to your motel to rest.”

  “Thanks.” I followed her up the stairs, inside the trailer.

  “Oh, damn. I forgot about you. Sorry, babe,” said Rosie.

  A man stood inside the trailer, next to her desk. He was tall with thick dark hair and beautifully sculpted cheekbones.

  “Not a problem,” he said, his voice deep and silky.

  “This is Jeni, by the way.” Rosie gestured toward me. “She helps out with expediting equipment parts and our insane amount of paperwork.”

  “Jeni.” He dipped his head in salutation.

  “Jack came looking for work this morning,” Rosie explained. “Just our luck since stupid Randall didn’t show up.” Rosie gave the tall man a smack on the shoulder.

  He didn’t react. Instead, his gaze steadied on my face, and I couldn’t pull my eyes off his elegant features, including his stunning blue eyes. He was tall, well-built, and lean—the sort of man who was far too beautiful to be wearing red flannel and muddy boots.

  My stomach jumped into my throat. I knew those boots. One of them had been wedged in my car door last night. Shit. Those are Randall’s.

  Our gazes locked once more. The flicker in his piercing blue eyes led me to believe that he knew what I was thinking.

  Slowly, he inclined his head, as if to say, You’re welcome.

  Every hair on my neck and arms stiffened. This was the man who killed Randall last night.

  Why was he here?

  What did he want?

  I spent the rest of the morning resubmitting forms, which took forever due to the slow satellite internet system. Meanwhile, my mind was never far from Jack, if that was really his name.

  Not that it mattered. Because even now, as he worked outside with the crew, helping to load scrap metal onto trucks, I felt his presence all around me. Didn’t help that Rosie kept going on and on about him.

  “He looks like that Italian actor,” she’d said. “The one from that dirty movie—365-whatever.”

  I knew the one, but this man made that Mafioso’s character look like a cuddly teddy bear.

  Around noon, I was done with my critical work and decided I couldn’t handle being there a second longer. The situation was no longer about the police or not drawing attention. The man outside was disturbed. He’d helped me, yes, but from the screams I’d heard last night, he’d taken his time killing Randall. He’d made it hurt. Then he’d smashed in his face and took his boots, afterward removing a rotting corpse from a crime scene.

  What had he done with that poor man’s body?

  I said goodbye to Rosie and told her to try my cell if she needed me. Otherwise, I’d check in tomorrow. “Maybe,” I told her.

  She gave me a look, like she suspected I wasn’t coming back. Honestly, I had no attachment to her or this job. It was work. The money was good. But I didn’t feel safe here.

  I grabbed my purse and stepped outside, my eyes scanning the port, which looked more like a war zone. Thankfully, the crew, including Jack, was on the other side of the damaged containers.

  Time to go. And never look back.

  I hurried around the trailer to my car, skidding to a halt. Fuck.

  Leaning against my car door, his arms crossed over his wide chest, was the man, Jack.

  I suddenly couldn’t move my feet. Likely because I wasn’t sure if I should run. On the other hand, if he wanted to harm me, I doubted he’d do it in broad daylight where people were constantly coming and going.

  “Sh-shouldn’t you be working?” I asked in my usual quiet voice.

  “On my break,” he said.

  No, he wasn’t. He was waiting for me. “Well, if you don’t mind,” I muttered pathetically, “I’m not feeling well. I need to go.”

  He arched a dark silky brow. A man with such elegant features seemed completely out of place here in the ruins of a hurricane.

  “How is your back?” His bland tone lacked sincerity.

  I wasn’t going to answer. I wasn’t going to discuss last night. Instead, I stared, praying he’d take pity on me and move out of my way. He didn’t.

  “What do you want?” I looked down at the muddy ground. It was uncharacteristically bold of me to ask a question like that, but the fear in my heart felt like a sobering drug—the kind that made a person feel awake and alert rather than groggy and high.

  In contrast to me, Jack’s voice boomed with confidence, like he couldn’t give two fucks about what anyone thought. “I am in need of a favor.”

  Whatever the hell this favor was, I wasn’t interested in hearing it. I just wanted to leave.

  “I-I can’t help you. Please get out of my way.” I met his gaze, my fear speaking now.

  His eyes narrowed like a menacing predator. After several moments, he lifted his body from my car and stepped aside, just far enough to grant me access to the driver’s side door.

  I couldn’t take this anymore. Being near him was terrifying. I had to go for it. I hit unlock on the remote and went for the door handle. His hand shot out and covered mine.

  “Let go…” A cold sensation spiked through my arm and into my chest, like frozen barbs. My knees almost gave out.

  “You will help me, Jeni,” he said, his deep voice like a rumble beneath my feet, shaking my foundation.

  What was that? “Please. Let go,” I whispered in a pathetic, subdued voice. I hated that my weak shell didn’t match my interior. I knew I was smart and resilient. I’d lived through the worst kind of garbage life had to offer. But with the way I acted, you’d think I was a piece of dog shit, waiting to be stepped on.

  “The police are about to call your friend Rosie there. They have seen the security footage of you speeding out of here at the time of Randall’s death, and they will be wondering what you are hiding.”

  “Nothing. I was attacked.” My eyes darted to his, and when I stared into their cobalt blue depths, I saw something swirling inside. Charcoal grays and midnight black. “Who are you?” I asked, really thinking another qu
estion, one I dared not speak. What was he?

  “Ah… Now we are getting somewhere.” He flashed a wicked smile, his lips grabbing my attention. They were sensual and full, framed by a thick wash of black stubble.

  “Jeni! Hey, Jeni!” Rosie yelled from the other side of the trailer, snapping me out of my fixation.

  “That would be your friend with news: The police just called,” Jack said.

  “I didn’t do any—”

  Calmly, he added, “No need to worry yourself. I will gladly admit to the murder and assure them you were not present when the man screamed for his life.”

  My stomach dipped and squeezed, forcing the contents into my throat. I swallowed it back. I didn’t want to be sick. I wanted to get in my car and drive away as fast as I could.

  “Make up your mind, Jeni. Be arrested for lying to the police? Or help me?”

  “What do you want?” He knew he had me over a barrel.

  “I want you to assist me in finding out who I am. And then I’m going to discover who placed me in that metal box to die.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Jack actually believed he was the dead guy they’d found washed up on the rocks, encased in a steel container.

  The man was insane, but apparently I was more afraid of going to prison for being an accomplice to murder than I was of him, so I didn’t protest when he slid into the back seat of my car.

  Why me? Why my help? I wondered as we drove away from the port, taking one of the many detours.

  “The answer is simple,” he said.

  “Sorry?” I glanced in the rearview mirror, finding those hypnotic blue eyes drilling into me. Yes. Drilling. Like he was boring inside my head, searching for something.

  But that wasn’t possible, and dead men didn’t come back to life. He was a con man. I bet he’s going to try to get some money out of me.

  “And you would be correct, Jeni. About the money part, at least. However, I am no con man.”

  What in the fucking world? I must’ve said that thought out loud.

  He turned his attention out the window, taking in the destruction left by Hurricane Mia. It was pretty shocking.

  Isn’t that right? I asked silently.

  See. He can’t read my thoughts. He was just good at predicting what any normal person might think in this situation. “S-so how much money do you want?” I asked timidly.

  “As much as it takes.”

  “What takes?”

  “I believe I covered that point already.” Every word he spoke came out filled with a subdued superiority, like a master might speak to his servant in the old world.

  “And why do you think I can help you?”

  “I have no money, no credit cards, and no identification. You will assist me with the resources I require.”

  If it was just about money, I could give him whatever I had in my checking account. All eight hundred bucks.

  “It is not so simple,” he said. “You have an honest face, dear Jeni. And your timid demeanor will be of use to me.”

  I pulled over, next to a pile of trees that had been pushed to the side of the road. I swiveled in my seat. I wanted to tell him to fuck himself. I wasn’t weak. I was… I was…

  “Yes?” Amused, he arched a dark brow. “Do you wish to say something?”

  My mouth flapped like a tribute to my introverted nature. And I didn’t care to change. I had no desire to be brave, stand out, or rule the world. I just wanted to be left alone.

  I drew a deep breath and turned back around, facing the steering wheel. “Where do you want to go?” I looked up at the rearview mirror again.

  He dipped his head of thick, lustrous black hair. “The police station.”

  Was he turning himself in already? Given what he’d just said, it didn’t make sense. But none of this did. He was a con man, after money, working some angle. He was also a killer.

  “Yes, and you’d best not forget that.” He added, “You will go into the station, ask for Officer Nelson, and tell him you understand they have questions.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  He ignored me and continued. “You will tell him you did not witness anything. Naturally, they will ask why you are there, and you will say that you have information: You may recognize the box from somewhere—another jobsite you have been on, though you are unsure. You were unable to get a proper look. You will then ask to see it so that you might confirm if it is the same.”

  What the hell? Where was he going with this?

  He went on, “And, Jeni, before you think up some wonderful excuse as to why you will not go along with my instructions, I will remind you that I hold the keys to your freedom. I may, at any time, tell the authorities you participated in Randall’s murder.”

  That angry feeling in my chest began stirring. It was the same one I’d had yesterday when Randall told me he wanted to fuck me nice and dirty.

  I pushed the morbid, vile thoughts away, looking down at the steering wheel. “Why are you doing this to me?”

  “Do I seem like the sort of man who wishes to repeat himself?”

  He looked like the type who’d kill me if I didn’t do as I was told. “What happens if they agree to show me the container?”

  “You look at it. Inside and out. Then you say you were mistaken, that you thought it might have been one your company often uses to transport demolition materials, but you’ve never seen the particular container before.”

  This made no sense. I’d be raising suspicion just to look at the metal box he believed he came to shore in. The man was mad.

  “Yes. Quite,” he said.

  I was beginning to think I’d hit my head last night and kept unintentionally saying my thoughts out loud, because, and call me crazy for thinking this, he seemed to be responding to my thoughts.

  “You are smarter than you look, Jeni. Now move, and do not think of double-crossing me. Or shall I list all of the repercussions?”

  He didn’t have to recite a list of threats. I knew, deep in my bones, that he was dangerous. I’d heard Randall’s cries. And the thumping of my terrified heart reminded me how easily this huge man could overpower me. Just like Randall had. He’d pulled me by the hair and threw me in the mud. I hadn’t been able to fight back. Weak. Weak. Weak. You’re nothing but weak.

  “Not for long, Jeni Sophia Arnold.”

  I turned my head, eyes wide. I’d never told Jack my last name. He had been in the trailer, so he might’ve picked it up off an envelope or something on my desk. But Sophia? That had been my mother’s name. At best, I used my middle initial on bank accounts and such, but there was no way he could know it unless he’d done some serious digging online. At the moment, in this part of the country, there was no online. Unless you had a satellite hookup. He didn’t.

  What is happening? Whatever the answer, I realized there would be no reconciling him and this situation with reality. He believed he’d died and come back to life. He claimed he had no memory of who he was, yet he seemed to know everything. And now he wanted me to help him with…whatever this was. None of it would ever make sense. All I knew for certain was that going into the station and coming clean might be my only salvation.

  My stomach knotted with the thought of being thrown in jail. Would they do that? Would they arrest me? Florida was one of those states where a person could be charged with a crime for being a witness and not telling the cops. I was terrified of being locked up. I was terrified of people. Especially cruel ones. If I had one phobia in this world, something equal to the bogeyman, it would be prison. Timid people didn’t do well there.

  I pulled back onto the road, heading toward the police station. I knew where it was because our crew had to know the location of all emergency services. Hospital, fire, police, National Guard posts. When phones didn’t work and you were one of the first allowed into a natural disaster zone, they made sure we had our bearings.

  While my mind reeled, the dark sky opened up again, pouring rain down in big sloppy buckets. />
  “We will need to hurry and get out of the area before the roads close,” he said.

  Get out of the area? He really expected me to leave with him. I had to make my move at the police station before this went any further.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  According to the female officer at the front desk, Officer Nelson was not in, and apparently his partner was working another case an hour away.

  “If it’s not an emergency,” she said, “you may leave a note, or you can come back tomorrow.”

  I didn’t want to face Jack outside. Confrontation was not my friend. But what else could I do? Confess to doing absolutely nothing to a coworker who assaulted me?

  “Tha-thanks.” I headed for the exit and stopped with my trembling hand on the door. I could still ask to see the box, couldn’t I? Then maybe Jack would simply leave me alone after he got what he wanted.

  But why did that insane man want me to do this in the first place?

  Using all my strength, I turned back around and approached the desk again, but the officer was on the phone. Another man in uniform, a big husky guy with brown hair, walked by.

  “Excuse me,” I said. “Umm…” I loathed the sound of my submissive voice. It didn’t reflect who I truly was on the inside. Why was I so messed up?

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  This time, I opened my mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t form. I felt like I was about to hyperventilate. Fuck. I can’t do this. I can’t.

  Can. And will, said a deep voice inside my head. There is nothing to fear. You are safe. A wave of peace washed over me, like nothing could ever touch me. Suddenly, like a switch had been flipped, my mouth started moving.

  “My name is Jeni Arnold. I’m working over at the cargo port with the emergency crew.”

  “Yes?”

  “I might have information about the box that washed up over there—the one with the body.” I couldn’t believe how confident I sounded all of a sudden.

  “All right, well, let me get someone to take your statement.”

  I explained that I hadn’t gotten a good look at the box, but after hearing some of the men on the crew talking about it, I wondered if it might be the same sort of box Ripley used to transport explosives. “If yes, then maybe the box didn’t wash up with the hurricane exactly. Maybe someone from the crew dumped it offshore.” I asked if I could take a look, since I’d worked with several crews over the past six months.