Dark Mysteries (7 page)

“So,
I talked to your neighbor,” he said, watching her carefully
pile all the items back in the plastic container, perfectly in order,
nothing overlapping. The books, however, she left on the desk.

Ellie's
face shot up. “Mary?”

Xander's
eyes widened for a second. Had he actually forgotten to get the
woman's name? Christ, he was getting sloppy. “The lady across
the hall,” he hedged, praying she wouldn't see his
incompetence.

“Yeah,”
Ellie said, watching him. What could Mary possibly have to say? The
two of them had never even spoken.

“Apparently,
she is home all the time...”

“She
breeds Minskins for a living,” Ellie supplied.

“What
the fuck is a Minskin?” Xander asked, sitting down in his desk
chair.

“It's
a cat,” Ellie said, smiling at him. “It's a cross between
a Sphynx and Munchkin.”

Xander
screwed up his eyebrows at her. “So, it's... short and
hairless?” he asked, not quite wanting to believe that people
would actually want something like that.

“Exactly,”
she said, looking wistful.

“You
couldn't have seriously wanted one of those,” Xander said,
watching her.

Caught,
Ellie shook her head quickly. “No. No. I don't have time for a
cat.”

But
she wanted one. It wasn't exactly a high maintenance pet. They
generally couldn't care less if you were gone all day at work so long
as they were fed. If she liked cats, she had to have known that. So
what was the real reason she didn't get one? And how did she know so
much about Mary, when Mary didn't even know her name?

“Well,
anyway,” he said, shaking off his suspicious train of thought.
“She almost called the cops last night,” he said and
watched the panic rise up on her face. So there was some kind of
issue with the cops. What the hell had she gotten herself into? “But
she decided against it and called the super instead. He came in and
checked things out, but you were already gone. And then she said that
this morning, three men showed up there.” Her usually quite
expressive face suddenly fell away, pushed behind a strange mask of
indifference. “They picked the locks and were inside for a few
minutes before leaving.”

“Weird,”
Ellie said, feeling her belly twist. He had come back. So, he knew
she hadn't fled the city. How could he possibly have known that?

“Yeah.
And he left all your stuff,” Xander said, motioning to her
wallet and wad of cash. Which had to be at least a hundred and fifty
in small bills. “Unless there's something missing here that I
didn't find.”

Aside
from her packed suitcase buried underneath her bed, that is. Ellie
took a breath, trying to find the words. “No, I don't think
so.” Aside from her necklace. Which had been on her bedside
table. Where she always kept it. A single diamond on a silver chain.
Something she kept as a reminder of why she needed to be aware, why
she needed to constantly start new lives in new cities. Because it
wasn't really a necklace. It was more like a collar.

“Alright,”
Xander said, not quite believing her, but not having the time to beat
around the bush with her. He had a paying client he needed to get to.

Why
would she be lying? Or, if she wasn't quite lying, why would she be
omitting things? Like
what
the deal with the cops was. She couldn't possibly think he would turn
her over, could she? His job was to figure out her stalker situation
and handle it, not judge her for whatever past indiscretions she may
have gotten wrapped up in.

And
why was she so nervous and jumpy? Why had it crossed her mind to buy
a key chain weapon? Even if she had been stalked since she moved to
the city, he couldn't imagine her getting so wrapped up in it that
fast. Especially if there weren't threats and attempts to talk to her
before the night before.

Most
stalker victims try to downplay it. Shrug it off. Be a little more
careful about walking at night. Lock their doors.

But
it seemed like it permeated every aspect of Ellie's life. She didn't
have a cell phone, or a laptop. He assumed she wasn't on any kind of
social media.

And
a deep, increasingly undeniable part of himself, was sure that she
was hiding something. Something big.

“Where
is all your stuff? There was nothing at your apartment,” he
said, before he could talk himself out of it. It was stupid to feel
like he was prying. He needed to pry. Her safety depended on it.

“Oh,”
she said, detecting the distrust in his voice with a falling feeling
in her stomach. “I wasn't sure I would be staying here,”
she said. True enough. “New city and all... I wasn't sure I
would like it. So, I kept all my stuff in storage.” Lies. Lies.
She was really going to have to work to keep all her lies straight.

“Back
in Orlando?” Xander asked, trying to trip her up.

“Portland,”
Ellie corrected, her eyebrows drawing down. Had he actually
forgotten? Or was he trying to catch her in a lie? For once, though,
it wasn't a lie. She had been in Portland. She'd worked in a little
indie coffeehouse and slept in what she could only describe as some
sort of hippie commune.

“Right,”
Xander nodded. “Portland.” He paused, looking at her
black eye, which had yellow starting to weave its way around the blue
and purple, and felt guilty. Even if she was trying to cover up some
kind of law-breaking... she had been through an ordeal just the night
before. And she had been stalked for several months before that. She
was understandably distrustful. “How do your ribs feel today?”
he asked.

“Oh,
they're fine. I've had worse,” she said, her eyes widening
immediately. What did she just admit? “I... I'm really clumsy.
I've broken ribs in the past,” she covered, hoping she was
being at least a little convincing. She had learned all kinds of
stories to tell the hospital in the past. Fell down a flight of
stairs, got kicked by a horse... anything to keep them from asking
questions while he loomed just out of eyesight. “They really
only bother me when I reach above my head. You did a good wrapping
job,” she said, smiling weakly.

“I've
had practice,” he said, chuckling. “You wanna go grab a
shower? I'll help you wrap up again when you're done.”

Ellie
jumped up, grabbing clothes and her bath products. “That would
be great. I'll be out in ten,” she said, scurrying off to the
bathroom.

Xander
leaned back in his chair, making it teeter back on two legs. What was
the end game here? He didn't have much of anything to go on about her
stalker. Granted, he needed to get a good physical description from
her and get a mock-up made so he could start searching some
databases, but even that was a long shot. So if he wasn't able to
find the stalker and either scare the living shit out of him, or turn
him over to the authorities... what was there to do? Would he just
buy her a ticket back to Portland? Which was probably for the best.
Get her back around family and friends. She certainly couldn't live
on his couch indefinitely.

The
water turned on and he tried like hell to not think about her naked
in there, soaping herself up. She was too damn gorgeous for her own
good. She called him in a few minutes later, holding her sweater up
above her breasts. She had a pretty gray and white bra on and he
tried to not look at it, but couldn't help but notice the swell of
her breasts above the cups, the slightly pointed peaks of her nipples
beneath the fabric.

She
didn't smell like him anymore. She smelled like her soaps. Something
honey and vanilla. Sweet... and he found himself leaning closer as he
wrapped her stomach to breathe it in. Feeling creepy, he shook his
head and moved back.

What
was wrong with him?

Ellie
tried not to breathe. It was stupid. But it had been so long since
anyone put hands on her and it felt a little too good. Goosebumps
rose on her arms and she looked at herself in the mirror. Taking in
her less-fat, but still cut lip and her black eye and reminding
herself: this is what happens when you let men get close.

Xander
stood up slowly, reaching for her sweater when she didn't immediately
pull it down. She was staring at herself in the mirror, her eyes
looking haunted, far away. When she felt him grab her shirt, she
flung her hands outward, simultaneously trying to pull her sweater
with one and hit him with the other. Instinctual. And he knew,
without the shadow of a doubt, that there was something she wasn't
telling him. It was as if anytime someone went to touch her, they
meant her harm. And despite getting banged up the night before, that
wasn't exactly a normal response to a one-time attack. “Just
pulling your shirt down, sweetheart,” he said, trying to make
his tone quiet, reassuring.

“Oh,”
she said, looking at her hand in horror. Had she just hit him? She
needed to get a hold of herself. She was losing it. “Sorry... I
just...”

“Don't
apologize,” he said, moving away, giving her some space. He
watched her, looking down at her hand like it was an alien, and a
part of him went out to her. “Do you want to go on a stakeout?”
he asked, not even realizing what he was going to ask her until it
was out of his mouth.

Ellie
almost laughed. It was the kind of things you heard in movies. Read
in books. It wasn't the kind of thing anyone actually expects to hear
in real life. “To catch a cheating scumbag?” she asked, a
smile toying with the ends of her lips. He nodded at her. “Where?”
she asked, thinking about being anywhere near where he might be, and
feeling her skin start to crawl.

“Well
the wife lives on Central Park West,” he said, shoving his
hands into his pockets, “but he keeps his mistress in the
Financial District.”

“Classy,”
Ellie grumbled.

“I
am gonna get Gabe,” he said, looking at her, “the guy at
the bond place next door,” he explained, “to give me his
car. You can bring a book.”

Ellie
thought about more time spent alone in the apartment, the walls
closing in, each noise making her even more paranoid... and agreed
quickly. “Let me just grab my shoes,” she said, moving
past him into the office.

Gabe's
office was the absolute opposite of Xander's. Where Xander's was all
dated and unorganized, Gabe's was pristine and new. The walls were a
deep gray, all the furniture black. Ellie looked into the corners and
behind the door and didn't see a cobweb or dust bunny anywhere.

“Get
your ass out here,” Xander called after waiting a few long
minutes.

Gabe
walked out a second later, a cellphone to his ear. Ellie felt her
brows go up. He was really good looking. In a
he knew he was
really good looking
kind of way. Tall and slim in black jeans and
a slim-cut black button-up shirt. He walked quickly over toward
Xander, his face passive. But his hips pivoted and his arm cocked
backward and started to thrust forward.

All
of her self-defense classes from back in Seattle flew in front of her
eyes. Her hand shot out, grabbing his fist as her own slammed into
his throat. She heard a strangled “no”, not realizing it
came from her.

Gabe
made a choking sound, bending forward, trying to catch his breath.
His phone flew to the ground, bouncing slightly in its rubber case.

Xander
had barely seen it, she moved so fast. One moment she was just
standing there next to him, the next, she had yelled and sent a
chisel fist to Gabe's throat. He watched as Gabe folded forward on
himself for a second, strangling to catch a decent breath. His eyes
went to Ellie's then, wide and desperate.

Ellie
watched as he started to stand straight again, looking up at her. She
felt herself grab Xander's arm, pulling. Trying to pull him with her
as she moved backward toward the door.

Xander
caught the odd look from Gabe, a look that suggested he understood in
a heartbeat what had he had learned over the past day: Ellie had been
abused by a guy in her life. And she was, naturally, suspicious of
all men since.

He
reached behind him, taking hold of Ellie's arm and pulling her
quickly forward. His arm went down heavy on her shoulders, holding
her close to his side. “It's alright,” he said, looking
down at the top of her head. “He was just being a dick,”
he explained. “He isn't going to hurt either of us.”

Gabe
rubbed absently at his throat, looking at her. He smiled, a slow
forming, charming smile. “Hell,” he said, almost
laughing, “that was impressive. No one ever gets the drop on
me. Where did you learn that?”

Ellie
felt mortification rising like bile in her throat, making her chest
feel tight and her face feel hot. “I... took a self-defense
class at a Y once,” she started, looking at her feet. “I'm
so so sorry,” she said, looking up at him and feeling another
wave of shame.

Gabe
waved a hand, as if dismissing the subject. “Don't be. That was
good. Next time,” he said, watching her with his observant
hazel eyes, “throw more of your weight into it. Pivot your hip
more. You're small. If you want the guy to go down... you need to
throw everything into it.”

“I'll
keep that in mind,” she offered him a small, embarrassed smile,
suddenly too distracted by the arm around her shoulders to focus much
on the man in front of her. He had her pulled up against him, their
bodies touching from the top of her head to their feet. And a very
strong, very disconcerting part of her wanted to turn slightly and
bury her face in his chest.