I See You (14 page)

“Ma’am, if you could calm down . . .”

“Calm down?” I bellow. “He’s back! He’s going to kill me. He’s . . . he’s got Steve . . . Steve is missing . . . he’s going to hurt Steve . . .”

“Ma’am, who has Steve?”

“He does! He’s going to kill him. He’s coming for me. Oh God, please help me. Please . . .”

“Okay, if you could calm down and tell me your name and where you are . . .”

I blurt out my name and address in between screeches of ‘STEVE’, my pounding heart disabling my words and making me have to repeat my address three times until the officer understands me.

“I’m afraid the sheriff’s office is snowed under tonight, but I’ll get someone round to you as fast as I can.”

“He’ll have killed him by then! You have to hurry. He’s coming! He’s coming for me.”

“Ma’am, please. We’ll be as quick as we can.” Then the long lingering tone notifies me that once again, I’m alone. God damn small freaking villages with only one useless freaking cop. Why the hell did I move here? Then my mind tells me that wherever I am, he’ll find me. And he’ll kill me like he promised he would.

I scream when the lights go out, plunging me into darkness. The wind and rain hinders my hearing as I shuffle across the floor and into the cupboard under the stairs, frantically listening for footsteps. My heart is pounding so hard that all I can hear aside from the storm is my damn pulse.

“Calm down and concentrate, Nina!” I scold myself, desperately trying to cool the burn inside me, but the more I try and think, the more my mind shifts to the possibility that he’s here, in my house once again.

My stomach aches for Steve. As much as he’s a pathetic cat, he’s still my family and I pray that
he
hasn’t hurt him. Steve is the only living thing that really loves me and I need him, as insane as it sounds. He’s my comfort blanket, my listening ear when I’m stressed. His huge grey eyes look at me as though he’s listening whenever I’m in a mood, either sobbing, or ranting about life.

I don’t know how long I’m hidden under the stairs before my whole body tenses and my ears finally catch a noise. My throat hurts so much that I daren’t swallow the moisture suddenly coating my mouth. I beg my heart to stop beating, its frantic rhythm loud in the solitude of my hiding place.

The faint squeal is the front door opening, and I hate myself when I start to weep. I can’t do this again. I won’t survive it again.

Footsteps thump across the floor and I huddle further back into the closet, praying to God for the first time in my life as I try desperately to hold my breath.

“Hello!” a man shouts. I frown. Would he actually call out? To him this would be a game, of hide and seek, life and death, and I’m sure he wouldn’t allow me any inkling of where he is. “Hello, Ma’am? It’s Sheriff Logan. You called in an emergency.”

I blow out a breath, my heart threating to tear through my breastbone in relief. Creaking open the door slightly, a flash of light illuminates the wall above my head from the sheriff’s flashlight. He peers down at me when I poke my head out and smiles. “Nina Drake?”

I nod, whimpering as I scramble out. “Oh, thank God.”

“I’m so sorry it took me a while. The girl who mans the phones went into labor tonight, left me and my sergeant on our own, and of course it has to be the busiest night of the year,” he rambles, with a huge welcoming smile. Sensing my panic, he studies me and straightens his shoulders. “You dialed 911 about someone entering your premises and your friend being kidnapped and hurt.”

I frown. “My friend is okay.”

Pulling out a small flipbook, he points his light at it and squints at the page then looks back at me. “Steve?”

“Oh.” I shake my head. “Steve isn’t my friend, he’s my cat.”

I want to recoil when he stiffens and stares at me in bewilderment. “You called 911 because your cat is missing?” His shock is as clear, as his disgust with me, but I shake my head.

“You don’t understand.”

“Then would you care to explain?” His lip curls slightly as his eyes trace down my body with his torchlight. I tell myself that he’s checking for injuries, not actually checking me out. When I’m unable to get the horror of my past out, he blinks at me, the contempt he shows offering me no solace.

“Ma’am? Would you care to tell me why you called an emergency service for a missing cat when I have extremely important calls to answer?” He steps towards me. “Calls that are real emergencies.”

I stare at him, my mouth open like a goddam fish but still my nerves allow nothing out.

“MA’AM?”

I jump back, his anger forcing more tears to slide down my face. “He . . . assaulted me . . . he’s coming . . .” It’s all I can manage, my voice quiet with both shame and terror.

He frowns at me, his head tilting to the side as his expression softens. It’s obvious he’s seen my fear. Reaching out, his fingers curl softly around my arm. “Please, come and sit down.” Directing me slowly across the path of his light, he leads me to the sofa. “The lights are out within a forty kilometer vicinity,” he explains as he perches on the sofa beside me and lays his light on the table so the beam is directed towards us. “Damn storm.”

I stare at the fire, my heart rate a little slower, but my senses are hyper-alert, my eyes still skimming over every inch of the room.

“Would you like to tell me what’s going on?” Sheriff Logan presses softly.

I can’t seem to control my own body, and I sit there, mute and numb. Swallowing back the bile I try and explain, with as little detail as possible.

“My cat . . . my old cat. He was . . . killed.”

The sheriff nods but his face doesn’t express what he’s thinking, which is probably that he thinks Ginger was run over, or poisoned by a farmer with a grudge.

Keeping my gaze on the flames of the fire, I squeeze my eyes closed. “His killer attacked me. He . . . he raped me and . . . hurt me. And he promised that he would be back.”

The sheriff nods and squeezes my arm soothingly. “Okay, Nina.”

Finally I lift my eyes and look at him. He’s smiling at me reassuringly, his eyes as soft as his expression. “I’m going to take a look around for you, check everything out, and then we can decide what to do about your cat . . . Steve.”

I nod and manage a grateful smile, swiping at the tears burning my cheeks. “Thank you.”

Nodding again, he takes off into the hallway, his flashlight bouncing off every surface as he leaves me with only the light of the fire. I close my eyes. I tell myself it’s not a perfect opportunity for my stalker to grab me, or hit the sheriff over the head then tie him up and make him witness another rape. I scold myself when my mind taunts me with cruel images of Steve swinging on the porch, his neck sliced open and his blood redecorating the clean wooden decking.

I jolt when the sheriff enters. “Everything is clear, Ma’am. There’s no one here.”

I blow out a breath of pure relief and my eyes pop wide when I hear a soft meow. Both the Sheriff and I look down when Steve crawls out from under the sofa, stretching his long body as he purrs his hello.

Heat flames my face and I cringe. “Oh good God. Now I really do look like a paranoid nutjob.”

The sheriff chuckles and shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. Believe me, we get worse.”

Steve jumps onto my lap and Sheriff Logan reaches down and strokes his head. “Well, everything appears to be in order.” His cell phone rings from his pocket and he grimaces as he pulls it out. “Sorry. Disadvantage of having your only switchboard operator off having a baby. You’d think she’d be more considerate.” He winks as he answers his phone.

It’s obviously another emergency, a real one this time, as he nods and thrusts a card at me. Covering the mouthpiece of the phone, he smiles as he heads for the door. “Any more problems, that number directs you straight to my cell. No matter how paranoid you think you’re being, or if you lose Steve to a warm spot under any furniture, you call me. And Nina . . .”

I look into his compassionate blue eyes. “Yes?”

“I won’t let anyone come into my town and hurt a resident, you hear me?”

I smile widely and nod. “Thank you.”

“Just my job, honey. Protect and serve and all that jazz.” He rubs my shoulder. Huh, I didn’t shudder. Perhaps I will be safe here.

Then he’s gone, leaving me glaring at a blasé, in extreme trouble, Steve. As if sensing my anger, he turns his back on me, whips up his tail, and saunters off. Then the lights flick back on and I flop back down on the sofa and realize my life needs to take a drastic turn before I end up killed by my own paranoia.

I
T’S A WARM MONDAY THE
day after the storm, the hottest of the year so far, and I’ve decided to tackle the garden. It’s shamefully overgrown, and every time I sneak a look to Devon’s, the more mine seems to resemble a jungle.

Steve, ‘The Sun God’, is baking under the intense rays, his large round tummy facing the sky as he proudly shows off his assets to the birds that mock him from one of the trees.

“You’re such a rude boy!” I chastise.

He turns his face to me, the sound of my voice grabbing his attention. His tongue peeks out and he decides it’s the perfect time to wash his bits and pieces.

Holding up my hands, I roll my eyes. “I rest my case. Why don’t you trim off that tum and go chase some mice like normal cats do?”

He stills, one of his eyes larger than the other as he regards me with disgust.

“No,” I continue as I pull at a few weeds embedded deeply into the tough soil that is soaked through from the storm last night. “Why should you when you have a mommy that brings you all you like to eat in the convenience of pouches, gravy included, no cooking to do and no dishes?” I chuckle, grimacing at a worm that pops its head through the earth to see what the noise is all about. “I should call you Sir Steve. It suits you.”

He gets up and saunters down the garden, his tiny little puckered hole directed at me. I’m sure it’s his personal way of flipping me off.

“Well, that told you.” Devon laughs from his garden.

I look over, not realizing I’d had an audience, but smile. “I’m sure in a previous life that darn cat was waited on hand and foot.”

He laughs as he rests his backside on the low wall between our houses. “I see you’re getting to grips with nature.” I look down and study the six inch plot I’ve managed to clear and smile proudly. “Although the
weed
you just pulled up was actually white clover.”

My mouth pops open and I look to the
weed
laid on its side with the other
weeds
. “Oops. I told you I’m rubbish at this.”

He gives me a warm smile. “Why don’t you let me have a go at it this week?”

“Oh, I can’t ask you to do that!”

“You haven’t asked me, I’ve offered. Besides, it’s something I love to do so it’s not exactly a great chore.”

“Okay.” I smile, picking myself up from the grass and wiping the dirt off my jeans. “Thank you. I’m just about to grab a cold beer. Would you like one?” My heart beats frantically when I hope he doesn’t misinterpret my offer as something more but he nods before I can worry further.

“That sounds good. This heat is unreal.”

“Isn’t it?” I say over my shoulder when he climbs over the wall and follows me into the kitchen.

“So how long have you lived round here?” he asks, smiling in thanks as he takes the bottle from me.

“About a year.”

“And there’s no one else . . .” he looks around my kitchen, “ . . . in your life?”

My mouth dries a little. I’m scared to say it’s only me, just in case he takes it as an offer for more than a friendship but then I scold myself. Why do I always think the worst of people? “No, there’s just me . . . and Steve.”

He nods then takes a gulp of his beer and I can’t help but watch the movement of his Adam’s apple as the liquid pours down his throat.

“And there’s no one in your life?” I ask as casually as possible. He shakes his head, his eyes regarding me questioningly. I smile. “I wasn’t sure if the guy who helped you move in was your boyfriend.”

He chokes on his drink. “Chris? No, he’s just a friend.”

Quiet descends as we both take sips from our bottles, our eyes on one another. I can’t tell if he’s checking me out or if he’s just being friendly. He seems very ‘real’, his eyes forthcoming all of his thoughts but then he smiles.

“Have you had any particular thoughts about the garden?”

Shaking my head, I let my gaze roam out of the window and into the wilderness that seems to go on for miles. “If I’m honest, I find the size of it a bit daunting. I don’t know where to start.”

“Well, if we clear the top part first, I can fix you up a line for your laundry. And then when the bottom is sorted I can move it down there out of the way. That way you don’t have your undies flapping in your face while you’re trying to catch the rays.”

I laugh at the image in my head. “That sounds good. Thank you.”

He drains his bottle and nods. “Right I’ll make a start.”

I stare at him in amusement. “Wow, you’re eager.”

He chuckles then pats his stomach. “I have to keep this in shape somehow, and with no job prospects for a while, working in the garden keeps me sane.”