I'll Be Damned (Anna Wolfe Series) (17 page)

Valen hops around the counter in the blink of an eye, reaching for my hand. Without hesitation, I let him take it. It hurts too badly not to. He caresses my blistering skin before sticking it carefully under cold, running water. His aroma of spice and sandalwood invades my nose, etching its tantalizing smell into my psyche. I study his rugged features, observing his strong jaw. He removes my hand from the water, wrapping it gently in a towel.

“You should be more careful,” he says, winking. 

“I never burnt myself before now,” I reply, trying to laugh off the embarrassment. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me," he says, letting go of my hand.

He retreats to the other side of the counter, allowing me a few moments to mull him around in my brain, while soaking in every attribute. “Can I get you something else? Perhaps something less dangerous," I offer, chuckling. "How about a soda or water?”

“No thank you, I’m fine,” he says with a grin. “What time do you close?”

I look at the clock. “Actually, right now.” I walk to the front door, turning the deadbolt until I hear the lock click. “Oh,” I turn around swiftly. “I’m not locking you inside… I just want to make sure no one else comes in.” Stupid me; of course, he knows I’m not taking him captive, even though I’d love to. 

“I’m not worried,” he replies, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

My heart flutters at his flirtatious expression. What is it about him that makes me so crazy? He glides to the sofa, sitting on the very edge of it. He rests his forearms on top of his thighs, and folds his hands. 

“Would you like to sit?” he purrs, patting the empty spot next to him. Of course, I would. Instead, I play it safe and sit in the couch across from him. Easing my nerves is impossible. Everything about him sends my senses into overdrive. He smiles with uncertainty as he lowers his head. 

“Anna,” he begins as I inhale. “I came to visit you tonight because I want to… I need to ask you something.”

Ask me something? Now that I think about it, I wish I never locked the door. Not a smart move on my part. “Okay,” I murmur, leaning into the feathery pillow behind me. I should be frightened right now, but I’m not. A tug of war with logic and something unexplainable is waging inside me. This foreign sensation is enlivening and mysterious, attracting me all the more to it.

“What I ask might sound incongruous,” he pauses, waiting for permission to continue. I signal for him to go on with a nod of my head. “Have you ever felt different?”

Different is a vague word. Different as a description isn’t too concrete either. I shrug, unable to decide how or what he’s referring to. “Different how?”

He considers that, while probably trying to better articulate his thoughts. “Anna, do you notice how your muscles react under certain situations and stimuli?”

My eyes widen. What does he know about me? Was he the one chasing me the other night? I pause for a moment, deciding if it’s in my best interest to come clean or call the cops. I haven't told anyone about the severity of my cramps, so he must have some type of theory. It’s worth a shot. Sometimes, the need for an answer outweighs its means for getting there. “I can't describe it,” I falter. “They occur whenever I’m anxious or scared. Is that what you mean?”

He nods, digesting this information. "Yes. Is there anything else?"

I shake my head. "Not really, but the spasms are getting more painful and lasting longer. At first, I thought I was having an aneurism or something.” A disappointed look creeps on his face, worrying me. "Why do you ask?"

He doesn’t respond right away. “We can discuss this another time," he answers, standing up.

"Wait." I jump from my seat, grasping his solid forearm on instinct. "You can't come in here and ask me bizarre questions without explaining yourself," I finish in an irritated tone, still clutching his arm.

“It’s not easy to explain and even harder to comprehend," he retorts with a look of pity. "Anna, there are so many things you don’t understand..." he stops as a strong knock interrupts him. Together, we turn towards the door. I gasp inside when I see Shane standing there with a bouquet of flowers. Talk about awkward.

“Shoot!” I say out loud. Worst timing ever. I glance back at Valen, who’s staring hard at Shane. Valen's eyes glaze over with fury and his once gracious demeanor takes on a sinister hue. Specks of yellow flicker across his eyes like hot embers as his jaw tightens and his cheekbones pop. I’m not sure what to do, so I release his arm to let Shane in, who extends his hand, thrusting the flowers at me.

"For you," he says, wearing his mischievous smile. The Cheshire Cat from
Alice in Wonderland
paws through my thoughts.
Yes, Shane you most certainly are sneaky and untrustworthy.

It takes my brain a minute to catch up. “Shane, thank you... you shouldn’t have."

“It's my pleasure," he replies flakily. "I wanted to show you how much I appreciated our date," he adds, staring at Valen with a victorious look. Valen responds with a sneer. The tension in the air is so thick, it’s hard to breathe.

“Anna, I’m leaving now,” Valen growls, lightly touching my arm. 

Chills sprout under my skin at the touch of his fingertips and small electrical currents drift through my body. He walks towards the door, displacing the tension with each footstep. Valen fiercely glares at Shane, passing him on his way through the door. If looks could kill, Shane would be drowning in a pool of blood. Valen disappears into the darkness quickly, making me wonder if I’ll ever see him again. Sighing quietly, I turn to Shane, who’s still wearing his phony smile. I feel apprehensive towards him. I don’t appreciate his afterhours surprise visit or calculated motives. Narrowing my eyes, I watch his smile turn into a frown. I'm enveloped in evil, suddenly hearing what Martello shared with me earlier. In this moment, I know he’s right. Shane continues looking at me with discontent evident all over his face. I don’t want to anger him lest I ignite any dormant psychotic tendencies. 

“So, thanks again,” I mutter, raising the flowers with a tense grip. 

“Why don’t you put them in a vase with water so they don’t die?” he inquires, both of us knowing it’s a demand and not a suggestion.

“Good idea." I search for a vase, feeling thankful to be away from him. I look behind the counter, trying desperately not to act jumpy. I fill a clear vase with water swiftly, and pluck the flowers, one by one, arranging them perfectly in the vase, when he slinks towards me.

“They look amazing,” Shane fawns, leaning over the counter.

“Yes, they do," I respond, attempting to keep my shaky voice from wavering.

“So, would you like to grab a drink?” The phony grin slides across his face on cue.

All I can think about is smacking it clear off. “When?”

“How about tonight?” he winks. Ugh, chill out, used car salesman.

I pause before answering. I don’t want to sound too anxious to ditch him. “I can't. Last night I didn't sleep well so I'm planning on catching up tonight,” I explain, flashing him the sweetest grin I can manage.

He leans in closer, as if that’s enticing. "Come on… one drink? You might have fun or catch a second wind.”

A passionate look disguises his otherwise dead eyes. This might work for other women, but not me. He’s starting to piss me off with his unctuous charm. I know flat out rejection will cause him to lose his cool, so I avoid it by lying. “I can’t tonight, but how about a rain check?” I suggest.

“I guess that will have to do.” Anger sears his words.

That’s a pretty strong reaction. Something isn’t right, and he recognizes I’m aware of it. “Well, Shane, I need to close up now; so let me show you out.”

I slip around the counter, disregarding the growing impulse to flee. I turn the knob, swinging the door open in a firm stance. He glares back with contempt. I hold my ground, inching it open wider. Reluctantly, Shane exits, breezing past me without so much as a goodnight. I slam the door shut, fumbling in my attempt to lock it swiftly. I slap the light switch, welcoming the cloak of darkness. I dawdle a few more minutes in case the psycho is waiting for me outside. Seizing my purse, I weave the keys between my fingers for an impromptu brass knuckle. At least, I’ll be prepared. I draw the curtain, peeking out into the back lot. I’m probably overreacting, but a menacing presence appears in the evening sky. The coast is clear, so I slink out the back door, looking over my shoulder until I’m nestled in my car. I check the back seat, and sigh with relief at finding it empty. I twist the key, listening to the engine roar to life. My foot finds the gas pedal too quickly, and my tires respond with a screech. The further away I get from Savannah, the better I begin to feel. I reach for my phone, dialing Janie’s number. No answer again. My foot crushes the accelerator as my dread continues to warn me something is wrong. I call Martello and Kristy, who both tell me they haven’t spoken to Janie at all today.

My heart flutters with uneasiness as thoughts blast through my head like a jet engine. Exit signs and roads pass by me in a blur. I pull into my driveway, parking behind Janie’s car. I dash towards the front door, and turn the knob without resistance, noting it’s unlocked. I burst inside, unconcerned about any ambush or possible danger. The horrid smell of burnt hair hits me squarely, making me cringe.
My nightmares
. Rutey rushes towards me, panting. I bolt through Janie’s bedroom door, but find only emptiness. I barrel through the house, frantically yelling Janie’s name as Rutey flies behind me, hot on my tail. I check in all of the bedrooms and closets, searching for any clues. I end up in the kitchen, carefully surveying the surroundings. Everything seems to be in place. A lonely, yellow piece of paper in the center of the table catches my eye. I scoop it up ferociously, reading it faster than my brain can comprehend.

Anna,

Don't worry, I’m fine. I decided to go back to Nick and work things out. Please watch Rutey for me. Don’t worry, I’ll call you soon.

Love,

Janie

Confusion surrounds me, overpowering my judgment. Janie would never run off without calling me, and she most definitely wouldn’t leave Rutey behind. Even the tone in the letter is wrong. She never signs the word “love.” I rummage through her room again, scrutinizing every detail. I walk towards her dresser, and inspect it for foul play. Her jewelry and cosmetics are neatly organized on top, nothing to indicate a struggle. I bend over, gently tugging open the top drawer. Shirts are tucked neatly in it, suggesting she didn’t leave on her own accord. It’s possible I missed something earlier.

I retrace all means of egress, analyzing the different paths an assailant might take. I walk from the front door, towards Janie’s bedroom. Abundant black scuffmarks on the oak hardwood are impossible to overlook
. Someone was here.
I bend down, gently rubbing my fingers over them. A cold, grimy texture plays on my skin. Hmm, not rubber, so what is it? Who would have taken her? Despair quickly overcomes me. I retrieve my cell phone and text Kristy and Martello with the latest update. Talking to them is too demanding since I’m finding it difficult to form coherent sentences in writing. Torn, I pace the kitchen floor, positive I’ll carve a trail, fueled by worry. I want to call the police, but they can’t help me until forty-eight hours has passed. Besides, she left me a note, so technically, she wouldn’t be considered a missing person. The note specified she was going to see Nick. I dial his number, listening to the ringing in my ear. Please pick up.

"Hey, it’s Nick; leave a message," his recording shouts in my ear.

Damn it! I slam on the
End
button, tossing the phone on the counter. I should call my mother, but what would I say? Maybe if I delicately mention their names, she’ll tell me the rest. I dial the number before I lose my nerve. On the second ring, my mother answers.

“Hey Mom,” I say with a steady tone.

“Anna, is that you?” she responds sleepily.

“Yes, it’s me. Is Jack there?” I ask.

“He's next to me, sleeping. Is everything all right dear? It’s almost twelve in the morning, you know.”