Epilogue
Michael Johansen thought he had seen it all in the nine years he’d been working, first as a cop and then as a private investigator specializing in missing persons. When Patrick and Katherine Rowan had enlisted his services and sent him up north to find their missing daughter, the local cops had been reasonably forthcoming with their files, though they hadn’t managed to turn up much. When he’d interviewed her coworkers, one conversation in particular had stood out for him about James’ apparently obsessive interest in Kelsey. Michael had learned to trust his gut, and his gut told him to follow that lead, in spite of the fact that James was supposedly off somewhere getting treatment for cancer.
His suspicions had been further stoked by Bennett’s agitated and even hostile behavior during the interview. The timing had been too neat between Kelsey’s disappearance and James’ abrupt departure from the bank. And he remained the last person seen with Kelsey the night of her disappearance. Even so, Michael had known the odds were good that, with so many months behind them, Kelsey was probably long dead and buried. Still he’d hoped at least to discover what had happened and give her parents some closure.
The shock of finding Kelsey as quickly as he had, half-starved and terrified, had blinded him at first to her courage and inner strength. During the first couple of days when she’d been interviewed endlessly by the cops from her hospital bed, he had tried to keep his distance, at least emotionally, though in truth, he’d barely left her side. She had stabilized quickly and been released within a few days to return with her parents to their Florida home.
Even on that first day in the hospital before her parents had swooped in, he could see she’d begun to rally, refusing to be cast as the victim. Michael had admired that in her, aware the wounds she’d suffered went deeper than just the welts and marks that monster had left on her body. Michael had further admired her compassion in the face of what the police ruled as James’ suicide. Even after what the man had put her through, she was sad for the way he’d ended his life.
Try as he might to resist it, Michael’s attraction to Kelsey had been immediate and fierce, though he’d kept that firmly to himself. He knew she faced a long uphill battle to full recovery, and he certainly didn’t intend to make things more complicated for her by coming on to her.
Yet once back in Florida, he couldn’t seem to get the lovely young woman out of his head. He nearly called her a dozen times, but held himself back. He did check in with her parents after the first week, and had been gratified to learn she was doing well, all things considered. He’d told himself to let it go. He’d done his job and that was that. He was a professional. He would forget about her in time. He would throw himself into his work, as he always did, and forget the way she had felt in his arms, or the trusting look in her lovely green eyes.
He almost managed it.
Until the day she called him, and the sound of her sultry voice sent a jolt of pure joy right down to his toes.
~*~
Kelsey watched the waves rolling toward her and then falling back, their white caplets bubbling over the sand as the waves retreated. The sun was warm, the breeze softly scented with salt and suntan oil. She leaned back on her elbows and stared up at the wide blue sky. Closing her eyes, she became that soaring white bird she had metamorphosed into during the worst of her captivity, when to remain in her human form was just too painful.
She still had nightmares, waking in a cold sweat, shivering and sobbing, but they came less often now, and she was better able to shake off the shackles of the lingering dreams more quickly. The bruises and welts had all long since healed, save for the scar left from the bullet graze.
She thought sometimes of how James had called the marks left from the beatings “badges of courage”, and how angrily she’d recoiled from that description at the time. Now, though, as she fingered the jagged scar left by the bullet, she wasn’t so quick to dismiss the characterization. She had been alone and defenseless against someone much bigger and stronger than herself, but she had managed to get that gun, and would have shot him, too, if she’d had the chance. She’d slashed him with a kitchen knife, and she’d fully intended to kill him when she got the gun the second time, even though she’d been shaking like a leaf. She’d nearly been beaten down, but in the end she’d come alive again, ready to fight, never giving up.
“You can only be truly brave when you’re afraid,” she’d remembered reading somewhere, and it was true. She’d been terrified, but she’d been courageous, too. Still, even the bravest soul can only hold out so long when deprived of food, kept in chains and treated with a terrifying blend of brutality and kindness that had nearly driven her mad.
She had been on the edge of losing her mind, slipping each day a little deeper into the role James had so relentlessly forced her into—what he had called an obedient and submissive “wife”. Under the guise of a stern but loving “husband”, he had given free rein to his darkest fantasies, using the power of his position to twist the concept of love into something sharp and cutting, something that ripped into her soul and made her heart, as well as her body, bleed.
No wonder she had taken wing when she could, soaring away from whatever atrocity he was committing at the moment. It was during those times when she was sailing over a silent, deep blue sea on strong white wings that her mind somehow healed itself, at least a little, at least enough to keep the essence of who she was still alive somewhere beneath the brutalized, frightened girl she had become.
And yet, for all the evil James had done, she found she no longer hated him. They say that power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely, but in the end, James gave up that power. When he realized Michael was on the trail, he could have taken Kelsey and run, as he’d so carefully planned beforehand. But something, some lingering spark of humanity still burning inside him had flared long enough for him to commit one final, selfless act. He could have run, hiding forever in the shadows, always leaving Kelsey to wonder if someday, somehow, he would return to abduct her once again, this time taking her far away where no one could ever find her. Though his death had been tragic, knowing the nightmare was well and truly over let her sleep at night.
If Michael hadn’t arrived when he had, showing James that photo from a family beach vacation and hinting that he knew more than he actually had, would Kelsey even now be held prisoner in a small house in some Mexican village, her mind finally destroyed by the constant barrage of torture, deprivation and brainwashing? The thought that James might have impregnated her during the week he’d withheld the birth control still made her shudder. Yet it had been the threat of bringing innocent babes into the nightmare world he’d created that had shaken her out of her torpor and given her the courage to fight. Even now, it was terrifying to realize just how close she’d come to losing everything, most especially herself.
Though the day was warm, she felt suddenly cold, as if icy fingers were scraping along her spine. She shuddered and pulled her knees up to her body, wrapping her arms around them.
A strong but gentle hand stroked her arm. “Hey, you okay?”
She turned to Michael, surprised when he wiped away a tear from her cheek with his thumb. She hadn’t even realized she was crying.
During the first few months back in Florida with her parents, she would find herself sobbing uncontrollably at the drop of a hat, which had worried her parents to death, even when her therapist had assured them it was okay—it was just her mind and body’s way of coping with pent-up stress as she worked through the trauma. Over time the stormy sob sessions had ebbed, yet there were still mornings she would wake up with a face wet with tears, or find herself quietly crying while reading a book or, as now, staring out at the ocean.
“Yeah.” Kelsey smiled through the tears. Michael smiled back, his brilliant blue eyes crinkling at the corners. She liked it that he never minded when she cried. Even when it was bad, he would just hold her and stroke her hair. He never told her to stop, or that everything was fine n
ow. He just let her be, and she loved him for it.
“I was just—remembering,” she admitted.
“It’s not something you’re ever likely to forget.” Michael turned his head to stare out at the water, though he kept his hand comfortingly on her arm. “But each day’s a little easier.”
“Yes,” she agreed, leaning her body into his. He put his arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into him. Since the day she’d called him, Michael had been there as a friend, a constant support, a buffer between her and the press, the cops, even her parents, who meant well but had no idea how to cope with what had happened. He’d never rushed her, or made her feel obligated in any way for his steadfast, kind support.
Her therapist had warned her she might not be comfortable with a man for a long time, and might have some difficulty with intimacy as she worked through what had happened. She’d encouraged Kelsey to take her time before getting involved with anyone romantically. Kelsey had intended to take her advice. Michael, she had told herself over and over, was only a friend.
But as the days edged into weeks and slipped into months, Michael remained at her side, just a phone call away, always ready to take her to dinner, help her in her job search once she’d decided to remain in town to be near her parents, or just hang out and talk all night if that’s what she needed at the time. And never once during all that time had he so much as tried to kiss her.
Until one night when it had just—happened. They were at her place—she’d finally convinced her parents she really needed a place of her own, especially now that she was becoming more firmly established at Peter Montage’s art gallery. The job paid next to nothing, but thanks to the sizable stash of gold and cash James had left her, money really wasn’t a consideration. At first it had been more about getting out and being around other people, but Kelsey had discovered she had an eye for good art. The gallery specialized in jewelry as art, and Kelsey loved combing the markets and craft fairs for undiscovered talent to bring to the gallery.
That particular Friday night, Michael and she were sharing a pizza and a bottle of wine at her place while watching some sappy movie. She had a nice buzz from the wine, and Michael looked incredibly handsome, his white linen shirt open at the throat to reveal the tufts of dark blond hair on his broad, muscular chest, his eyes sparking in the half-light of the television, his ash blond hair falling over his forehead.
She hadn’t planned it, or even thought much about it at the time. She had just leaned over and kissed him, lightly, on the lips. After a moment, he had kissed her back. And then his arms had come around her, catching her in a warm but gentle embrace. It hadn’t been awkward or weird, as she’d been afraid it might after all this time and all the sexual trauma she was still working through in therapy. It had just felt—right. Their mouths fit together, their bodies molding comfortably against each other as they stretched out along the sofa.
That first night they’d only kissed. She hadn’t felt rushed by Michael, but nor had he treated her like some kind of fragile china doll that might break if he touched her, and she had been grateful for that.
When they finally did make love, some two weeks after that first sweet kiss, the connection was powerful and fierce, from both sides. Their bodies had melted together, and then melded together, as if they’d been waiting all their lives for precisely this moment in time. She had wanted him as much as he had wanted her, and for the first time in her nearly twenty-four years, she had understood what all the fuss was about.
“I was gonna save this till tonight when we go out for your birthday dinner, but…” Michael flashed a sudden, impish smile in her direction.
“What?” Kelsey twisted toward him with a grin. “Is it a present? I love presents.”
“Well, it’s just a little something I saw at a gallery in town…”
“You didn’t.” Michael had been snooping around the gallery for the past week, and she’d begun to suspect he had some ulterior motive beyond his claim he was just seeking the pleasure of her company.
“I did.” Michael pulled an oblong jewelry box with a bedraggled satin bow tied inexpertly around it from beneath his towel. He held it out to her with a flourish. “Happy birthday, dear heart. I hope you like it.”
Kelsey took the box in eager fingers and tugged at the bow. As she lifted the lid, her mouth fell open in surprise. “Michael,” she breathed. “How did you…?” She looked up at him. “This isn’t for sale. It’s part of her private collection.”
“I can be very persuasive,” Michael replied with a straight face, though his blue eyes were dancing.
It was a piece by Lourdes Pablo, a local designer Kelsey had discovered at a craft show, whose exhibit at the gallery had taken the local art community by storm. Kelsey had greatly admired this particular bracelet, woven from strands of rose gold, copper and white gold, but had never dreamed it might be hers.
“Seriously, how did you get her to part with it?”
“It was simple. I told her it was your birthday.”
“Wow, really?” Kelsey shook her head in wonderment.
“Really.” Michael smiled that warm, kind smile of his that always made Kelsey feel cherished. “You may not realize it, Kelsey, but you’ve done a lot of very good things for a lot of people since you moved down here. If you hadn’t discovered Lourdes and talked Peter into giving her a show, she might still be selling her beautiful work at crappy county fairs and flea markets. She was happy to part with it when she heard it was for you.”
He reached for the box and Kelsey let him take it. He lifted out the delicately woven work of art, which glinted in the setting sun, and Kelsey held out her wrist. Michael slipped the clasp into place and Kelsey held out her arm to admire the beautiful bracelet.
“Thank you, Michael. This is the best present I ever got.”
“I’m glad you like it, Kelsey. It reminds me of you—delicate, but strong.”
Kelsey smiled, warmth moving through her. Michael leaned close and whispered suddenly, “Marry me, Kelsey. It doesn’t have to be now, but someday, please, marry me. Say that you will?”
Kelsey turned her head so their noses were touching. Michael didn’t pull away, and neither did she.
“I will,” she replied, never surer of anything in her life.
“Thank you, Kelsey.” Michael grinned broadly. “That’s the best present I ever got.”
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Coming Soon! Dark Obsessions Volume III!
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Dark Obsessions Vol II Page 61
