The XOXO New Adult Collection: 16 Full Length New Adult Stories (239 page)

“What is it?” I asked her in a low voice. “What the hell are you doing? Who’s this?”

“He might be one of them!” she screamed.

“Gloria,” I hissed, using her incognito name. “Stop that. Tell me what’s going on.”

But she backed away, still pointing. This was just weird. Her hunted face looked as if she saw a ghost. I asked again for an explanation but received none. There was a small crowd gathering around us, so I grabbed her elbow and, not too gently, pulled her outside with me. She stumbled but regained her balance and followed me without a complaint. I pushed the cart with one hand, but it was too awkward, so I let go off Lisbeth and clasped both hands on the cart’s handle.

She walked next to me to the truck. I told her to go sit inside while I took care of the purchases. Hurriedly, I loaded everything inside, packing all the perishables into the two large coolers fastened to the truck’s bed. I hopped in and peeled out of the parking lot without wasting any time.

“What the fuck was that about?” I almost yelled. “What were you thinking? I told you not to talk to people or even look at anyone.”

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.” She was shaking. She seemed scared out of her wits.

I clamped my mouth shut, not wanting to cause her another panic attack. My jaws ached from clenching tightly. I swore under my breath and saw with the corner of my eye that Lisbeth was looking at me. I turned my head to see her face. It was wet from tears. Her chin was shaking, and her breath was coming out ragged and very fast.

“Shit,” I swore again and pulled to the side of the road. Fortunately, the traffic was sparse, so changing the lanes wasn’t an issue. I stopped the truck, leaving the engine running, and put the gear in park. Turning my body toward her, I willed myself to calm down.

She pressed her hand to her mouth, her eyes huge and bright-green from crying. I noticed her nails were bit all the way to the quick, which was a common symptom for anxiety disorder.

I exhaled with force and ran my hand through my hair. “Okay,” I began and then looked away, forcing my raging nerves in check. “What the hell happened in there?”

“I... I...” She was sobbing, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

“Lisbeth, get yourself together. Breathe. Slowly.” I kept my voice steady and calm. We didn’t need another panic attack from her.

I pulled her hand away from her mouth and motioned to her to lean against the seat. I didn’t have to find her pulse to know it was racing. Slowly, she started to relax, keeping those amazing eyes on me all the while.

“That’s it. Keep breathing.” I realized I was squeezing her hand. She was squeezing mine right back, clutching at it with all her mind.

We stayed like this for a few minutes. Lisbeth closed her eyes. Her short, ragged breaths soon turned into long and smooth intakes of air, until she calmed down and loosened her grip on my fingers. I slid my hand away from hers.

She opened her eyes, and there was so much sadness in them, so much torment. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m a burden.”

I looked at her, feeling one corner of my mouth lifting in a smile. “Not a burden. A challenge maybe.”

“Will you tell me now what exactly happened in there?” I asked as gently as I could.

Her hand went back to her mouth, and her eyebrows wrinkled like little caterpillars. I wanted to comfort her, but I had to be careful, not knowing what just happened. I asked again, “Please. Lisbeth, you know I’m here to help. Tell me who that person was. Do you know him?”

She made a small, frightened noise. Her shoulders shook from sobs, but she was slowly calming down. I waited. A few minutes later, she put her hands in her lap and looked at me. Her eyes were red from crying, but she seemed more composed.

“Did you see his shirt?” she started.

“Yes,” I said slowly, unsure where this was going.

“Do you know where it was from?”

“No.”

She looked straight in my eyes and said, “It was the Rothland University—and Ivy League school in Tampa. That’s where those... those...” she was sobbing again.

“Shhh.” I touched her arm. “Breathe.”

“Oh.” Lisbeth shook her head slowly. “They were from Rothland. The guys who attacked Helen and took her life.”

“Lisbeth.” I sat up straight. “Was he one of them? Tell me right away.” If that was one of those assholes, we were going back.
I
was going back after him. Guys like that belonged only in two places: in prison or six feet underground.

“No, I don’t think so. He looked like a freshman. Those were for sure seniors, much older, bigger, you know—they had large-muscled bodies, like... like football players. That guy there was skinny.”

He was. He looked like a kid to be honest. But that didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if he was small or huge. If he was one of them, I wouldn’t think twice before breaking his jaw and then each of his limbs, before calling the cops.

“Are you sure?” I asked, looking sharply at her.

“Positive. I remember each of them, even though I didn’t see all their faces. But their large, muscular bodies... I will never forget...” Her voice shook on the last four words.

There was so much pain in her eyes. I wanted to help, but I wasn’t sure how to without crossing any lines. So I only patted her hand and said, “That shirt was just a nasty coincidence. We are far from Florida here.” Maybe that wasn’t the most brilliant line, but it would have to do for now.

Her features relaxed a notch, and she leaned her head back on the headrest, closing her eyes.

“Let’s go now.” I gently squeezed her hand.

She nodded and said very quietly, “The Rothland U didn’t do anything. They claimed these weren’t their students but only some guys who wore the shirts.”

“What did FBI and the police do?”

“They had no solid proof. I worked with the sketch artist, but I only saw the face of the actual murderer when he looked up at me. It was dark in that alley. The only light was at the end of it and it shone on his face when he glanced up. So I honestly wouldn’t be able to identify anyone except for that one guy. Him I will never forget.”

“I’m sorry,” I told her. “The investigation is still going on. Let’s just hope they will get him and the rest of those sons of bitches.”

I put the truck in gear and looked in the side mirror for the upcoming traffic before moving the vehicle off the shoulder.

––––––––

W
e drove for the rest of the way in silence. Lisbeth huddled in her seat, with her back to me, turned toward the passenger window. Maybe she was sleeping, or maybe just watching the scenery alongside the road.

I took the exit to Highway 101 South. We were getting close to our destination. I visited the cabin often, whenever I wanted some time for myself, away from the busy city, my demanding job, my loud, ever-present family, and everything else. I never brought any woman there though. This was my man cave—a sort of sanctuary I needed to escape to. And now I wanted this to be an escape for Lisbeth too.

It’s been a while, but she didn’t change her position. I hoped she was asleep, and if so, that would be the blessing for her. She was an emotional mess, which was understandable after all she’s recently gone through. I sympathized, since I had my own demons from the past that still very much haunted me.

There was a certain parallel in what she and I have lived through: Lisbeth witnessed her girlfriend’s brutal rape and murder; I would never forget Najia. Have our paths crossed for a reason? Were we to help and heal one another? To bring each other solace? I shook my head, scolding myself for trying to see what wasn’t there.

I turned to NE Devil’s Lake Road, instantly feeling the familiar tranquility envelop me. This place held many happy memories from my childhood. And fishing was always great here.

Devil’s Lake was close to the Pacific Ocean, so it wasn’t a truly secluded place. My cabin stood in the less-explored area. The locals kept to themselves for the most part. My family owned four cabins in different places around the Lake, but mine was the most private of them all, because it occupied three lots.

The afternoon sun sparkled on the almost smooth surface of the Lake. There were a few boats, sleepily rocking in the water. Two kayaks sat in the middle, the people in them basking in the sun. Mid-August was a great time to come here, because most of the town festivities were organized in July, and now the area started to quiet down.

A thicket of tall pine trees welcomed me as I drove the truck toward my cabin. The driveway was covered with pine needles. Small rocks crunched under my truck’s tires. My log cabin stood quiet, with the Lake in its background.

I stopped the truck in front of the garage, which was my latest building project. The old carport I had here before was an eye sore and had to get replaced with a proper garage.

I glanced at Lisbeth, but she didn’t move or say anything. She was probably deeply asleep. I almost shook her shoulder to wake her up, but I decided to let her sleep a few minutes longer until I unloaded everything. I pressed the button on the garage door remote that I had clipped onto my truck visor. The door rolled up, screeching a little as if in a protest to be put to work. I drove the truck in.

I got out and quietly closed the driver’s door. Lisbeth still didn’t wake up.

The cabin was a good size for three or four people, although I often had more members of my family here at once. There were three small bedrooms and one bathroom upstairs, plus another bathroom on the main floor, where the kitchen and the rec room were located. Everything I needed for a few days of a peaceful escape was here, including extra bed sheets, towels, and all kitchen necessities.

I closed the garage doors and unfastened and carried each of two coolers into the garage. A small chest freezer stood next to the washer and dryer. On the other side, were a rack of weights and the workout bench.

The freezer was plugged in, although not much was left in it—some bread, hamburger buns, and several containers of mixed frozen berries that made killer shakes. I transferred all frozen foods and ice bags from the coolers into the freezer, and then unlocked the door leading from the garage to the inside of the cabin.

When our backpacks and large jugs of water were in, I walked around to the passenger side. Lisbeth was sleeping with her face near the window. I stopped to look at her. Her eyes were tightly closed, long lashes casting shadows on her cheeks. Her lips were slightly parted, and I could see her chest rising and falling slowly. A few long strands of wavy hair escaped from her ponytail and clung to her face, trembling in the breeze of her breath.

There was something very peaceful in this scene, and I didn’t want to disrupt it. I considered carrying Lisbeth inside, but I quickly dismissed that idea as weird. She would have thought I was some crazy maniac.

Before I made a move to open her side door, her eyelids fluttered and lifted. She blinked a few times and focused her eyes on me. We stared at each other for a long moment, until I wrapped my fingers around the door handle and slowly pulled on it.

“We’re here,” I said quietly, as if not to disturb the air of sleep that embraced her.

Lisbeth sat up and looked around, blinking. She yawned and asked, “I can get out of the truck, right?”

I nodded and then did something my mom would be ridiculously proud of—I actually offered Lisbeth my hand to grab onto. She did and thanked me, but she let go as soon as her boots touched the ground, as if my skin burned her. Maybe it did.

She walked out of the garage and spun around, her eyes round. “Wow, it’s beautiful.” Her voice was full of genuine awe. She looked at me. “So calm and quiet.”

As soon as she said that, a roar of a jet ski came from the direction of the lake, and we both laughed. She seemed to be in much better spirits now, which I was glad for.

“Early mornings are the best around this area, when everyone is still asleep. The afternoons—not so much,” I commented.

“Makes sense. Do you drink coffee in the morning?”

“Sure do. You?” I said.

“Yes. Black?”

“Black. You?”

“With milk.” She nodded.

“Okay. I’ve got your backpack. Let’s go inside, I will show you around.” I motioned for her to follow me.

––––––––

T
his was so much better than hiding in the underground panic room in that old warehouse. But was it safe? No, I wasn’t safe anywhere as long as
they
were after me.

I stood outside on a small deck, looking at the shimmering water of Devil’s Lake. A few kayaks and small boats bobbed here and there. The jet ski we heard before was gone, and so it was quiet and peaceful. I took a lungful of breath and held it in, enjoying the calm that enveloped me. I could stay like this forever.

But I had to call Jessica Leothon. I took the cell phone out of my pocket and pressed the power button on. I switched the phone off a few hours before, right after I called her this morning, not wanting to talk with her or anyone else for as long as possible. Not that anyone else would know this number. Only Jessica and the FBI knew it. The number was restricted, the phone issued by the Bureau. Maybe I should’ve returned it when I said I’m withdrawing from the witness protection program. But I didn’t have another one, and I needed to be able to call Jessica. Or whomever...

I remembered the cards Special Agents Drasco and Cornell gave me. I dug in my pants pocket—Chris’s pants actually—and pulled the cards out.

I examined Special Agent Drasco’s card. The round, stamp-like Bureau’s logo was displayed in the upper left corner, and the U.S. DEPARTMENT OF JUSTICE was printed in large, capital letters on top, with the FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION in a smaller font under it. In the middle of the card was positioned his name, JEFFREY DRASCO, and underneath were two lines, in a much smaller print: SPECIAL AGENT, and PORTLAND DIVISION. Then there was his office address in the left lower corner: 1288 OLD MAIN PKWY SE, STE 303, PORTLAND, OR, and in the right lower corner another three lines were displayed: TELEPHONE (458) 555-5444, FAX (458) 555-5443, and his email: [email protected]. Above the phone number, someone wrote X2022, his extension number.