The Only Shark In The Sea (The Date Shark Series Book 3) (19 page)

“He’ll come for me,” she said. The lifelessness in her voice scared her. It was so very familiar. The days and weeks after first running away flooded back in, carrying with them the crushing sense of defeat and worthlessness her parents had instilled in her.

She looked back down at the paper only to find it gone. Her gaze travelled up to Vance where he sat reading the letter. Even though she supposed she should have been upset he’d taken it without her permission, she couldn’t stir up enough emotion to care. How long did she have before her father claimed her?

Vance dropped the letter and fished around for something before jumping up from the table and disappearing into the living room. A small hint of curiosity worked its way past her numbness and she found herself leaning in her chair just enough to see Vance checking the cushions of the couch for something. Only when he finally pulled his phone out from between two cushions did Natalie snap out of her daze.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

Ignoring her protests, he dialed a number and held the phone to his ear. Vance’s eyes leveled at her as she rushed toward him, but he knew she wouldn’t stop him. Stopping him would require getting close enough to grab the phone, which might mean touching him. Despite her strange reaction to that accidental contact the night before, he knew she was at his mercy and so did she.

Anger pulled her hands into fists as she was forced to listen to the conversation from a safe distance. The night Stephanie died, Vance had mentioned having friends in the police department. The claim proved true as he spilled the details of her father’s threats to whoever was on the other end of the call. Sick at the thought of having to explain the letter, and livid at Vance for putting her in that situation, she lost it as soon as he ended the call.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she shrieked. She didn’t think she had ever yelled at someone like that before, but the novelty didn’t hold her back. “I told you I didn’t want to go to the police! There’s nothing they can do. Nothing! They’ll never take this seriously just on my say so, and they might make things worse if my father finds out. How could you? Why would you do that to me? I trusted you!”

If Natalie was expecting any sort of apology, she was sure to be disappointed. Anger flashed in Vance’s eyes to match hers and he took two steps toward her. “One phone call, maybe that wouldn’t have been enough, but that letter,” he said, jamming a finger back at where it lay on the table, “is full of real threats! You can’t just sit here and wait for him to come after you! I won’t let you.”

“Let me?” She threw up her hands in utter aggravation. “How do you intend to stop me? Not that I plan on letting him do anything more to me than he’s already done, but what exactly is your plan? What are the police going to do to protect me, Vance? What?”

“I don’t know!” he shouted. “But knowing there’s a threat so they
can
protect you is better than being blindsided when something happens.”

Shaking her head, she wrapped her arms around her body and paced back and forth. The movement was doing nothing to calm her quickly mounting hysteria but she didn’t know what else to do. “They’ll want to know. They’ll want to know why,” she muttered as she paced. “The questions…they’ll expect answers…want to know the truth, and I can’t…I can’t.”

“You have to,” Vance demanded. He threw up his hands and stared at her when she started shaking her head.

Shocked by his behavior after so much patience and understanding, her pacing stuttered and she stopped, staring at him in disbelief. “I have to?” Had he really just said that? Tears flooded her eyes, but her fury and disappointment refused to let them fall. “You promised me, Vance. You promised.”

Vance’s shoulders dropped, but not with guilt. “Please,” he pleaded. “I can’t let anything happen to you.”

“Why not?” It was a demand. Hands on her hips, she was so infuriated she marched two steps forward. Vance’s eyes widened as they stood a mere two feet apart, but Natalie still wanted an answer. “Why do you care so much about what happens to me?”

“I…because…it’s,” he stumbled. The tension drained out of his body and his head dropped. “Because I’m selfish, for one, and I need you, but…even if that weren’t true, I care about you too much to stand by and watch someone hurt you. I can’t really explain why. I thought maybe it was just because you were my patient and I wanted so badly to help you, but when you told me Guy had referred you out, it only got worse. You can’t vanish from my life. I can’t lose you like I did Steph. Please, Natalie, I can’t face that again.”

Layer by layer, Natalie’s anger and disbelief lessened. She wanted to tell him that she wouldn’t disappear. Not wanting to lie to him held her back because that was her biggest fear in that moment. Even still, she looked up, ready to reassure him, and suddenly realized how close they were standing. Shock rooted her in place. How had they ended up within arm’s length of each other? It was the first thought that ran through her mind, but it was quickly pushed aside by another.

Why can’t I look away from him?
It seemed like a ridiculous thing to happen right then, let alone the most prevalent thought in her head. Looking away was impossible. The hazy green of his eyes caught her focus with the pain they were holding. They had changed so much from the warmth and compassion she was used to seeing in them. Fear, hurt, and desperation dominated now. He broke down her defenses, but she still didn’t know if she could do what he was asking.

Several short buzzes from the phone still in Vance’s hand finally drew his eyes downward. A few seconds later his eyes met hers again. “It’s my friend, Detective Morrow. He needs to be let in.” Vance paused, his hand twitching nervously at his side. “You’ll need to give me your code to pass on to him, or your key. I’ll need the key because I know you’ll lock the door as soon as I leave and I don’t want to make you open the door to Morrow by yourself.”

Handing over a key meant she couldn’t take the coward’s way out and simply lock the door after he left so he couldn’t get back in and make her talk to the detective. The trembling started in her fingers and quickly worked its way through her entire body.
Be strong
, she chanted to herself. Her keys were on the breakfast bar to her left, within reach. He could have already taken them and run down to meet his friend, but he asked her instead.

Her arms felt robotic as she stretched out and retrieved the keys. They both seemed to hold their breath as her hand slowly inched toward him. Keys held tightly in one fist, she held them in a stranglehold without letting go. The stalemate seemed as if it would go on forever, but before she could react, Vance leaned in close and asked, “Is trusting me still worth the risk?”

Part of her wanted to scream “No,” but no matter how hard she tried to tell herself she was better off running and hiding, her trust in him was not easy to douse. Sighing, and still terrified, she relaxed her grip on the keys and gave him the code. The thank you he whispered before darting out of the apartment echoed off her bones and slipped up next to her heart like she’d always imagined a real hug would feel like.

Chapter 22

The Expression

Vance’s head was spinning for half a dozen reasons by the time he made it to the lobby. He had spent the night in Natalie’s apartment. That was bizarre enough to occupy his mind, but then he considered how close she had come to him, her mellowing fear around him, and even the trust she still had in him despite everything he had done to push her away in the last day. Especially what he had just done.

Part of him felt horrible for forcing her to reveal her secrets when he had explicitly promised he would never do something so hurtful. Another part of him simply didn’t care. The risk was too huge. He feared hearing the reason behind her father’s threats, but his fear didn’t stem from Natalie not being believed. An eighteen-year-old girl with nothing didn’t run from her parents and spend seven years never touching another human being if she didn’t have a good reason for it.

This was going to tear her open, and Vance was forcing it upon her, but he couldn’t back down. Losing Natalie so quickly on the heels of Stephanie’s death would do worse than wound him. It would break him utterly. His need to be around her was baffling in many ways. Being near her, having her trust and support…even if it didn’t make sense, it felt right.

Vance reached the door and flipped the deadbolt. His movements were jerky as he pulled the door open and gestured Peter Morrow into the lobby. After locking the door again, he faced his friend. The expression on Peter’s face made him flinch.

“Are you okay?” Peter asked. “You don’t look so good.”

“Yeah, thanks for pointing that out,” Vance grumbled. “I haven’t been that great, but it’s getting better.” He tried to press his hair down to rid himself of the bedhead style he was sure to be sporting. Peter’s stare dropped to Vance’s feet and it was only then that he realized he was barefoot.

Peter frowned. “Did you just wake up?” His frown deepened. “Did you sleep here?”

Peter was a good friend, but he was clearly displeased at the idea that Vance had stayed the night at another woman’s apartment not even a month after Stephanie’s death. The insinuation tensed Vance’s entire body. That wasn’t the reason he’d stayed at Natalie’s. He knew that. The fact that Peter would assume differently not only angered him, but caused a strange sense of guilt to surge through him.

“I hadn’t been feeling very well. Natalie asked me over for dinner because she knew I hadn’t been eating since Steph died and I…I guess I just fell asleep at some point. I haven’t really been sleeping much either.” It wasn’t exactly the truth, but Vance wasn’t about to tell him the real reason he’d ended up at Natalie’s in the first place or just how bad the past weeks had been.

Peter seemed to consider the explanation before letting the tension slip from his shoulders. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to judge or assume. It just, you know, took me by surprise I guess.”

“Yeah,” Vance mumbled. A darker part of his thoughts surfaced, saying that if people had known the reason behind their fight before Steph died, maybe they wouldn’t judge him so harshly. He pushed thoughts like that away quickly and focused on the reason Peter was standing in front of him drawing assumptions in the first place.

“So, this woman, Natalie,” Peter began, “you said she’d been receiving threats of some kind, from her father?”

His skeptical expression grated on Vance, but he forced himself to brush it aside. “I don’t know all the details, but I wouldn’t have called you if this wasn’t serious. I think she’s in more danger than she’s willing to admit.”

Peter nodded slowly. “And how did you meet Natalie?”

Clenching his jaw, Vance knew exactly how his answer was going to sound, but lying wasn’t going to help him. “She used to be a patient of mine.” As expected, Peter’s expression grew both confused and concerned, forcing Vance to explain. “She was one of Guy’s date shark clients first, and he suspected she was hiding some kind of trauma and referred her to me.”

“But she’s not a patient anymore?” Peter asked.

Vance shook his head. “We had an…unusual setup. Natalie has severe phobias about touching people or being in close quarters with them. Meeting with me in private at my office was out of the question, so myself, Natalie, and Stephanie would meet twice a week at a local café for her sessions. She and Steph became friends and after she died, she started going to group therapy instead.”

Again, Vance was cutting out certain details, but it was too much work to explain everything, and he really didn’t think it was any of Peter’s business that Stephanie wasn’t the only one who had come to care about Natalie on a more personal level. Vance couldn’t really classify his feelings for Natalie, but they had gone beyond professional concern almost from the beginning. It was more like family, or…something even deeper.

The way Peter still seemed to be considering the situation said he knew there was more to the story, but he didn’t keep pushing. “Well, is she going to be okay with me coming up to talk to her?”

“She’s going to try,” Vance said. It was the most he could promise at that point.

The two men trekked up the stairs without speaking. That was fine with Vance, as his swarming thoughts had only become more complicated. Peter also seemed occupied with his thoughts, though his outward disapproval was no longer so easy to see. Vance led the way to Natalie’s apartment and slid the key into the lock with a silent prayer that she hadn’t found a way to keep him out. The key turned and he held his breath as he pushed the door inward, half afraid it wouldn’t budge.

It was difficult not to sigh as the door swung slowly into the apartment. Hiding his relief, he gestured for Peter to follow him in. They both stopped in the entryway and Vance called out to Natalie, hoping she wasn’t hiding in a closet somewhere. “Natalie, Detective Morrow is here to talk to you. Are you okay with us coming into the living room?”

The entire apartment was silent. Vance’s hopes fell. An apology to his friend for dragging him over here was on his lips when a quiet shuffling noise caused him to turn. Clutching Gypsy’s round body against her chest, Natalie held her like a shield as she stepped into view. Wide-eyed and paler than usual, she stared at Peter. “Thank…thank you…for coming.”

The irritating tension from his disapproval fell away from Peter as he took in Natalie’s frightened demeanor. “Of course,” he said. “Do you mind if we all sit down so we can talk comfortably?”

Peter was all professional now, allowing Vance to relax a little as well. Natalie backed into the living room, nodding in order to give them permission to follow. Once she saw that they were both moving, she turned and scurried into her armchair, leaving them to sit on the couch and loveseat. Vance bypassed the couches to grab the letter off the table before returning to the living room. He didn’t hand the letter over yet, but he took a seat on the loveseat, a buffer between Natalie and Peter.

Taking a notebook and pen from his pocket, Peter set both items on the coffee table in front of him and directed his attention at Natalie. “Now, Vance explained there has been a threatening phone call and now a letter from your father that makes you believe you may be in danger, but you don’t think either is enough for a restraining order.”

Natalie nodded and tightened her grip on Gypsy.

“I know this might be difficult, but in order for me to request resources to make sure you’re safe, I need a few more details about your father and why you think he might be a danger to you,” Peter said. “Vance mentioned you ran away as a teenager. Can you tell me more about that?”

Natalie gulped in several deep breaths. Vance tensed, fearing another panic attack, but she locked eyes with Vance and choked down her fear enough that she could speak. “I was eighteen. I waited until then so they couldn’t force me to go back.” Her eyes glassed over with tears. “I wanted to leave before then, but I was afraid he’d find me. At eighteen, I could leave without his permission. I could change my name too. I had to change my name so he couldn’t find me.”

Peter glanced over at Vance, searching for confirmation on what she had said. Those were two of the facts Vance could actually confirm. That was about it, though. He nodded all the same. Peter turned back to Natalie and continued. “So your original name, it wasn’t Natalie Price?”

“Clara Townsend,” she whispered, like speaking that name too loud would turn her back into the terrified girl she had once been. “My father’s name is Walter Townsend. Priscilla is my mother.”

“What happened to cause you to run away?” Peter asked.

Natalie frowned, and Vance guessed was it far from just being
one
thing. He had dealt with enough trauma victims to pick out the ones affected by a singular incident and those who had managed to survive a lifetime of abuse in one form or another. It was curious to him that Natalie fit the bill for both cases in many ways. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he willed strength in her direction and waited for her to speak.

“I grew up in a very small town, less than a thousand people. My father wasn’t wealthy or important, but everyone feared him. Nobody crossed him. Those who did were made to pay dearly,” Natalie said with a blank expression. It was almost like she had shut down, as if it were the only way she could talk about her experiences without actually feeling them. “He was very exacting, and he expected a lot from the people he dealt with and employed. He wasn’t religious, but he had extremely strict moral standards. Lying and cheating were unacceptable in any form. Disrespectful language was cause for firing someone, in his opinion. Being late meant docked pay. Shoddy workmanship…everyone made sure their work was the highest possible quality.”

When she lapsed into silence for a moment, Peter risked interrupting with a question. “What did your father do? You mentioned he wasn’t wealthy, but he owned his own business?”

Natalie didn’t give any indication that she had heard him. Peter and Vance were both a bit startled when she spoke again. “Carpentry.” She said the word like it was distasteful.

That was the first moment Vance realized not a single piece of furniture in sight was made of wood. The dining table and chairs were metal, as was the coffee table and bookcases. He supposed there was wood in the frame of the couches, but it wasn’t visible. Peter was glancing around as well, and seemed to make the same connection.

“So he had employees who worked in his shop?” Peter asked.

“They never stayed long,” Natalie said in the same empty voice. “They all grew to hate him and left. The town hated him too, but they were too scared of him to do anything about it. Everyone did what he said, no matter what.”

“Including you?” Peter asked.

Blinking, Natalie finally met Peter’s eyes. “I did…for almost eighteen years.”

“Almost?” he cocked his head to one side. “You said you ran away after you turned eighteen.”

“The
day
I turned eighteen,” Natalie corrected. “I spent the two weeks leading up to my birthday locked in the basement. But that wasn’t the worst. I preferred being locked up to his initial punishment.”

Vance felt his entire body go cold. The flatness of her voice should have made the words sound less ominous, but the lifeless, slack posture of her body intoned every inflection missing from her voice. Even Peter seemed to feel the chill behind her words. He shifted anxiously on the couch. No doubt his thoughts echoed Vance’s. Did they really want to know?

Bypassing a direct question, Peter backtracked. “Why were you being punished?”

“For trusting the wrong person.” Her jaw tightened, the first indication she was connected to her words since she started talking. Neither of them pushed her to continue. They sat and waited, none too eager to hear the explanation and be forced to face what they feared they would hear.

“I wasn’t allowed to date,” Natalie said. “I wasn’t even allowed to have friends or hang out with other people. If anyone tried to get close to me, my father scared them off, sometimes violently, and after a while nobody even tried.

“When I was young, he claimed it was because they were all bad influences,” she said. “As I got older, it was more about sex. He couldn’t blame religion for his beliefs that premarital sex was worthy of condemnation, but his threats against any boys being interested in me intensified. School was the closest I ever got to the opposite sex.” Every word she spoke was backed with more and more fire. “Even if I hadn’t been too terrified of my father to disobey him, the handful of boys my age wouldn’t even think of touching me, not until…”

What color had remained in her face drained to her core, leaving her positively ghostly. Vance leaned forward, sure she was going to faint at any moment. Gypsy whimpered in her arms, her pink tongue licking her chin in sympathy, though she didn’t seem to notice. Peter was on edge as well, but didn’t seem to know what to do in response.

“I don’t know why he risked my father’s wrath,” Natalie whispered, her voice shaky. “The first time he touched me, I nearly fainted in shock. I almost ran away, but he talked me into staying. It was just a few minutes after school. I couldn’t be home late, but he stopped me the next day, and the next. He told me it would be okay, that he’d protect me. There were only a few weeks to graduation. I knew I’d be free soon and I gave in.”