I See You (17 page)

Coming back to my senses, I stab at the stop button and fall to my knees before the DVD player, hitting eject multiple times before I aim right and it spews out the disc. It’s a plain disc with no writing on it, only the manufacturer’s mark. Pressing my fingers into it until my knuckles turn white, I snap it in half.

“Stop it!” I blurt out to the empty room. “Just stop!” I spring to my feet, turning in circles as I look at every corner, hunting for cameras. “Why won’t you leave me be? Let me move on?”

Rushing into the kitchen, disturbing Steve who is cleaning his paws, I force the offending disc into the trash and slam down the lid. Then grabbing the lid again, I pull some rubbish from the bottom of the can and bring it to the top, burying the disc in the middle.

My head is throbbing as hard as my heart. I’m sweating, the drops sliding down my forehead and leaking into my eyes.

What the fuck does he want? He took what he could from Nina, why does he want more?

“WHY?” I yell, sending Steve scuttling out, then falling to my knees. “Please. Please . . .”

But he’s not listening. I know he’s not. Even if he hears me, he’s not listening. And I know he won’t stop until he’s ruined me. And Nina Drake.

I punch my fist through the glass pane of the back door and wince from the abrasion, leaking blood on to the floor. “Damn it.”

Running my hand under the tap, I clean up the cut the best I can but the bleeding won’t stop and I know I need stitches. Perfect.

The nearest hospital is twenty miles away, but the town has a medic that should be qualified to handle a few stiches. I drive there using my one good hand, the blood now decorating my jeans. I look like someone tried to shoot my junk off. What a foolish thing to do.

The receptionist gasps at my dramatic entry; luckily the waiting area is empty. Got to love small towns.

“Any chance I can see the doc?”

She flusters, picking up the phone and pressing a red button. The door to the far left of the small space opens, and a middle-aged woman wearing casual clothes with a white doctor’s coat over them pokes her head out. She rushes over to me and hurries me into her office with a hand pushing firmly on my lower back. “What happened to you . . . ? Forgive me, I don’t know your name.”

“Devon Trent.”

“New in town?” She takes my hand in hers and unwraps the tea towel I’d used as a Band-Aid to cover the weeping gash.

“Yes. I moved in not too long ago.”

“You need to go to the hospital.” She swipes over my hand, avoiding the two inches wide incision that’s at least a half an inch deep.

“Can’t you fix it up?”

“I can, but I shouldn’t. You need to go to the hospital. Do you have health insurance?”

No. Noah always felt we were safer keeping ourselves out of any data systems. In fact, this is the first time in my life I can remember ever setting foot in a doctor’s office.

“I’ll pay cash,” I say.

Her eyes travel up to meet mine, a slight question in her eyes, but she shrugs it off. “Are you allergic to anything?”

My brows crash together when I say, “I don’t know.”

She pauses from cleaning my wound, her penetrating gaze making me feel vulnerable and uneasy all at once. “Okay, well I’ll take some samples to make sure it isn’t infected, and add you to my patient list. I will have to stitch this without local anesthetic, just in case you have a reaction.”

“Just do what you have to do, doc, and thank you.”

“N
INA, CAN YOU COME IN
here quickly before you leave?”

I ignore Gerry’s tuts, mocking me as if I’m being called into the boss’ office for a disciplinary. It’s almost six o clock. The day has been a long one, and soon the office will be occupied with the two night shift officers who resemble security guards at the mall more than policemen. Fortunately, things are quiet around here at night and Luke keeps his phone on in case of emergencies.

I poke my head into his office and he waves me in to sit down opposite him.

“Now, I know this is sensitive and I don’t want you to get the wrong idea and think I’m snooping, but it’s my job to follow up on any call made to the department, especially when I follow it up with a house call.” I shift in my seat, lowering my face. “Also, with you working for the department, I had to do a background check.” He leans forward and shuffles some paperwork.

“What did it say?” I whisper, chancing a quick look up at him and wishing I hadn’t when I see pity, anger and something else I can’t decipher in his eyes.

“It has the medical file with the list of injuries you sustained during a four hour assault.” Bile thickens in the back of my throat. “It has the police report that’s still ongoing.”

My hand reaches up to rub at the scars on my chest that are throbbing in my mind. “They didn’t catch him,” I murmur. “They don’t even have a suspect.”

He stiffens and grinds his teeth, his jaw clenching for a moment. “Tell me about the bar owner, Todd.”

I inhale and look up into his blue eyes that are focused on my hand rubbing at the scars. I pull the file from under his hand and open it before he can stop me. Photographs taken by the nurse glare at me as if mocking me, their close-up view making the bile that twists my stomach mutate into vomit.

“Nina, don’t,” he warns but it’s too late. I need to see them. Angry red welts lap over each other on my back from the belt he took to me, the white bed sheet beneath me stained crimson. Holes, bloody and raw from his teeth scatter my chest. I remember one of the nurses breaking down into a heap on the floor, sobbing, unable to cope with what she was witnessing. She was reprimanded and sent out of the room. Black, swollen eyes, unrecognizable to my own vision. Lumps and patches void of hair from him ripping clumps out are all visible under the scrutiny of the cameras flash.

My breathing becomes labored as I move through photo after photo. A sob rips from my chest when a specific picture showing between my thighs during the rape examination comes into view. So much bruising and swelling it doesn’t even look like part of a human being. He destroyed me. How could someone be this evil? Who raised him to be such a debauched version of mankind? Why did he hate me so much? It felt personal. He tortured me
. What’s more personal than that
?

I throw the photos back into the file and sling it back on his desk. I can’t look at them anymore. I’m finally getting my life back on track. I don’t need those reminders; my own nightmares are enough.

“Todd had an alibi and he wasn’t the right height or weight anyway. Look Luke, I’m tired and . . .”

“What about the neighbor, a Mr . . . ?”

I laugh. “Mr. Ilavich? He’s too old and I would have recognized his voice. The assailant was strong, tall . . . and evil,” I finish on a choked whisper.

He flicks through the file, huffing every now and again, and I flinch knowing he has seen my most intimate parts.

“But Mr. Ilavich moved a couple of weeks after the assault and hasn’t been located since.”

I shiver in response. “Really?”

He hands me the folder showing my old house, and his, boarded up with ‘For Sale’ signs pushed into the dry dirt out front.

“Was there ever anything
off
about him?”

I laugh again but the humor is absent this time. “He was a little creepy. He was kind of . . . a perv, for lack of a better explanation.” I shrug.

“Did he ever try anything with you or come across aggressive?”

I shake my head. “I caught him with a young girl that looked a lot like me once doing . . .” A blush creeps over my skin at the thought of it.

“Doing?”

I scrunch my nose. “Oral?” I pose it as a question but I don’t mean to, I’m embarrassed, and anything sexual intimidates me now.

“Okay, well, I’m going to try and track this guy down.”

I stand up, moving closer to the desk separating us. “Do you really think he had something to do with it?” Why would he want someone to hurt me like that? He always appeared to favor me. I fed his damn dog!

“It doesn’t hurt to ask questions and eliminate people. Now get yourself home, and, Nina . . .” I look right into his worried eyes. “If you remember anything or you just want to talk, you have my number. Use it anytime.” I thank him then make my way home not even stopping to pick up dinner.

My stomach growls when I push my key into the front door, and I’m greeted with no cat, and no food to eat. I really must make a better effort to pick up groceries. I know I’m out of cat food, and while I’d starve for the night, Steve will not and he’ll whine and meow all night until I’m forced to get up and feed him something. Picking my car keys back up, I sigh, feeling tired and defeated.

I make it to my car and squint when Devon’s full beams blast me in the eyes. He pulls onto his drive, the gravel crunching under the pressure of his tires. I wait to say hello so he doesn’t think I’m being rude, not saying hello.

He takes his time maneuvering his large frame from the small seat. Straight away, the aroma of pizza wafts through the air and hits me straight in the face. My stomach grumbles loudly, eliciting a chuckle from Devon.

“Hungry?” He smirks and it’s cute; it reaches his eyes.

“Long day. I forgot to grab dinner.” I shrug and open my car door.

“Hey, you can share mine. I won’t eat all this by myself anyway.”

I doubt that’s true. I could easily down half of that in my starving state right now and I’m half the size of him. It’s then that I notice a bandage wrapped around his palm. “What happened?” I slam my car door shut and wander over to him, taking the bag that has a bottle of liquor inside from the hand in question. He looks sheepish and nods over to the back door that leads out of the side of his house, directly opposite my own. One of the small square panes of glass is smashed.

“Accident. I’m clumsy and heavy-handed. Come inside and eat with me . . . please?” He offers with such a plea that it’s hard to resist. He must be lonely too. I haven’t seen his friend here since the day he moved in, and no visitors have ever been here when I’ve been home.

“As tempting as that pizza smells, I need cat food or Steve will abandon me for a better hostess.” I roll my eyes.

“I fed Steve earlier.”

“You did?” My tone is a little harsher than I intend, the hectic day and draining conversation with Luke taking its toll.

“He kind of lets himself in any open window. I didn’t mean to offend you by keeping some food in the house for him. He keeps me company from time to time.” He winces and I feel like a jackass for being a bitch over a cat that isn’t even mine in the first place. He came to me the same way, and I adopted him without permission or seeking out any previous owner. I’m being selfish with a damn cat’s affection. I really do need to get out more.

“It’s fine. I’m sorry I sounded so rude and ungrateful. He’s used to me not working so I guess I’ve been letting the side down.” I laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

“So, pizza?” he asks again.

I nod and follow him up the path and into his house.

It’s spacious; he has minimal furniture in his living room, and what little he has is all pointed at a flat screen TV in the center. His house smells of him, fresh, like newly laundered washing. There are no photos of family, but there is an array of images of scenery from around town.

“These are great.” I gesture to a cluster of images displaying the cornfields blowing in the wind, the pollen and seeds caught in the air in each frame.

He approaches me, handing me a glass of wine. “Red okay?”

I smile timidly up at him and take the glass with a thank you. “Are you a photographer?”

He’s staring at me, studying every feature on my rosy-cheeked face. “I am, yes. Your skin would be so beautiful on camera.”

My eyes widen and I choke a little on the gulp of red wine I guzzled while I wait for the okay to dive into the cheesy pizza topped with pepperoni and ham he has put on the table in front of the couch.

The silence that descends isn’t uncomfortable. I’m trying to figure him out in the same way he must be doing to me, but he’s quite the mystery. How is he single? He’s gorgeous, considerate, clearly loves animals, and rescues damsels in distress by barging in with a gun when he hears screaming. He gardens and is a handyman around the house. Sigh.