Pierced: Pierced Trilogy Boxed Set (36 page)

SAMANTHA, I SO ENJOYED OUR PHONE CONVERSATION THE OTHER NIGHT.

I HOPE YOU’RE HAVING AS MUCH FUN AS I AM. I WANT THIS TO BE A MAGICAL EXPERIENCE FOR BOTH OF US.

SOON.

WE WILL BE TOGETHER SOON.

IN THE MEANTIME, HERE ARE SOME GIFTS TO MAKE YOU THINK OF ME.

Sick son of a bitch. Now the contents of the box make a perverted, sadistic kind of sense. He’s toying with her, like a cat with a mouse.

“What does it say?” Sam asks tearfully.

I hesitate to answer her question. I know it’s only going to upset her even more than she already is.

“Josh? What does it say?” she demands a second time.
She has a right to know, Pierce. You can’t shield her from this.

I sigh as I look over at her, shaking my head slightly. “It says that he hopes you’re having as much fun as he is,” I tell her, trying to downplay it as much as I can. “This is a game to him, baby. And right now, he’s winning.”

“Oh, my God,” Sam whimpers.

I get on my phone then and dial Conner. As I do, I can hear the alarm clock just now going off in Samantha’s bedroom, and she stands slowly and walks off to silence it. I give Dave a quick rundown of what’s happened and tell him that I’ll be bringing in the box of horrors with me when I get to the station. Then I carefully place all of the box’s contents back inside and close the lid. Walking into the kitchen, I pour myself a steaming cup of coffee. Then I root through Samantha’s cabinets until I come across a box of large plastic freezer bags. This will have to do. Taking a sip of my coffee as I walk back into the living room, with my still-gloved hand, I carefully place the small box of horrors into the bag and seal it. Then I remove the glove, go back to the kitchen and toss it into the trash. My task completed, I sit on the couch sipping my coffee for a few minutes and stare at the box before I finally get to my feet and venture back into the bedroom to find Sam.

When I do, she is just coming out of the shower and she looks tired and worried. I walk around the bed and sit my gun back down on the nightstand as she walks into her closet to dress. The air between us is suddenly thick and I know that we need to clear it. But, I also know that I have a job to do. I can’t let this relationship screw with my investigation of this case. Marcos and Skinner would have my ass if they knew about Sam and me, and I would never be able to live with myself if I allowed my feelings for her to cloud my judgment during this investigation.
How the fuck have you let things get so out of control, Pierce?

I run a hand through my hair as I try to decide what to do first. Sam and I need to talk. And I need to know exactly what she saw this morning. I also need to get dressed. For the sake of time, I quickly decide on the shower. I enter the bathroom and dash in and out of the shower in five minutes flat. I am equally speedy as I finish dressing in jeans and a light blue dress shirt. Pulling on my shoulder holster and gun, I venture out to the kitchen and find Samantha sipping a cup of coffee and staring at an untouched plate of scrambled eggs and toast. She glances at me when I sit quietly beside her but says nothing, and I silently dig into my breakfast.

“You really should eat something, Sam,” I say quietly, glancing at my watch. “We need to leave soon.”

“I just don’t have much of an appetite this morning,” she says softly.

I roll my eyes at myself and set my fork down, taking a deep breath as I steel myself for this conversation. “Look, Sam,” I say softly, turning slightly on my stool to face her. “I didn’t mean to upset you earlier. I’m just trying to do my job and piece together what happened this morning. I want to find this asshole and shut him down before he has a chance to hurt you again. But in order for me to do that, I need to know exactly what you saw, baby. Every detail, even down to what the son of a bitch was wearing. Don’t you understand that?”

“Yes, of course I do,” she says softly.

“I’m not … accusing you or trying to put you on the spot and I’m sorry if you felt that way…”

“I know that,” she sighs, looking up at me. “I know. But I just feel so … stupid. I mean, how hard is it to remember something useful? Something that might actually help you find him? I know that you have no leads because of me. Because I can’t remember anything! But every time something happens I just feel … paralyzed with fear and my mind goes blank.”

She’s crying openly now and, as I stand, I reach over and gently pull her to her feet and into my arms. “Hush, baby. It’s all right,” I tell her softly, sounding more confident than I feel. “We’ll find him. I know we’ll find him.”

Fifteen minutes later I’ve taken an official statement from Sam about the events of the morning, and then I usher her out the door and into my truck, carefully stowing the bagged box of horrors on the floorboard between us. We’re silent on the drive to the museum and I reach over and take Sam’s hand, giving it a light squeeze. She’s been quiet since I took her statement, and I think she’s feeling more than a little confused about how to deal with me right now. Am I the man she’s been sharing her time and her bed with, or am I just the cop who’s investigating her case? It’s a question I’ve been struggling with myself ever since her screams woke me up this morning.

When I pull into the museum parking lot and spot Mr. Martin approaching, I run a finger lightly down Samantha’s cheek and she turns to look at me. “Guess we had another lousy morning didn’t we, Sunshine?” I ask quietly looking into her bright green eyes so full of stress and fear, and Sam smiles slightly at me. I caress her face as I say, “I know I keep saying this, but I mean it. Call me if you need me, Samantha. Okay?”

She nods her head at me. “I will.”

I lean in and kiss her tenderly, letting my lips linger on hers for a few fleeting seconds. When we pull away, I see Martin standing outside her door, looking discretely at the ground. As Sam opens the door and climbs out of the truck, he and I make eye contact.

“Martin?” His eyebrows shoot up in acknowledgment as he looks at me. “We’ve had a … an incident this morning,” I tell him, glancing back at Samantha. My gaze returns to him as I continue. “Make sure you stick close today.”

I see the understanding register in his eyes immediately, and he nods at me. “Yes, sir.” He doesn’t know what the ‘incident’ was, and I know that, to him, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is keeping his client safe, and that knowledge gives me a small morsel of reassurance as I watch him escort Samantha inside, and I take a deep, uneasy breath as they disappear behind the museum doors.

When I get to the station, the first thing I do is meet with Dave and Lieutenant Marcos in the forensics lab and we have a little show and tell over the box and its contents before handing it off to the techs who’ll go over it with a fine-toothed comb. I tell the Lieutenant that I got a call from Miss Colby very early this morning after she heard a noise at her door and discovered this creep had left the package on the doorstep. Once he reads the little note from the box he very willingly grants me permission to escort Miss Colby to and from work each day, and I know that he’s just feeling the heat from the Mayor and the Chief and from Captain Skinner to pull out all the stops to keep Lucas Colby’s little sister safe while we hunt for her assailant.

Back at my desk, as I’m writing up my report on the morning’s escapades and filing Samantha’s official statement on the incident, I can’t keep my mind from racing, trying to come at this thing from all sides to figure it out. It just doesn’t make any sense. Attack first, then terrorize. Like he’s playing some kind of game. Hell, his note all but confirmed that. This is definitely a game for him, one that he’s enjoying immensely. He knows the affect his actions are having on Sam, and he’s loving it. This is how he gets off. Her fear excites him. Arouses him. That’s why he included those disgusting photos of himself in the box, to show her the effect this little game has on him.

“There’s that look,” Conner says as he takes a seat at his desk across from me.

“What look?”

“That scary, intense scowl you get whenever your mind is trying to fit all the little puzzle pieces together. What you working out, Guy?”

I shake my head at him, feeling the disgusted sneer cross my lips. “Just thinking about the contents of that box and the meaning of the note,” I tell him quietly, still mulling things over in my head.

“You have a working theory about our mystery dick,” he says pointedly, smiling slightly at his play on words, and it’s more of a statement than a question. Dave Conner knows me well.

I shrug slightly. “You know, I couldn’t figure it out at first. Attack, then stalk. It makes no sense.”

He nods his head at me. “But now, you think it does?”

“It’s the game,” I shrug again. “Doesn’t have to make sense to me; I didn’t make up the rules. He did. But yeah … now I think I understand how it’s played.” Dave raises his eyebrows at me in a ‘do tell’ kind of way, so I continue. “The initial attack … that’s just foreplay. His version of ‘what’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this,’ or some other cheesy come-on line. It’s his opening, his first date. First kiss. But it’s the stalking that gets him off, the thrill of the chase. The hunt is the real game.
This
is the courtship to him!”

“He’s the stuffed cat with the big red heart and the raging hard on, and she’s the mouse,” Dave says with another nod of his head.

“Yeah. The dead mouse.” My voice is small and flat as I feel a heavy sense of dread in the pit of my stomach.

“You think he meant that literally?” Dave asks.

“Everything else was put into that box for a reason so, yeah. I guess I do. And he’s getting bolder, coming right up to her door like that. He knows where to get to her, Dave.”

“Yeah, but he also knows that you’re there, remember? You really think he’d be bold enough to come at you head on?”

“If he really is watching her like he implied in that phone call the other night, then he knew perfectly well that I was in that apartment this morning when he dropped that box off,” I respond, glancing around to make sure no one else is listening. “I think this guy’s bold enough to try just about anything. And it’s escalating.”

“If that’s true,” Conner says quietly, “then you might want to get your girl to step up the private security for herself. Or find a way to never leave her side.”

I nod silently at his words. “I’m not sure how much more of this Samantha can take, Dave. The last two days she barely eats. She hasn’t slept worth shit. I’m worried about her frame of mind.”

“We both know the stats on stalking victims, man,” he says sympathetically. “The extreme stress and sleep deprivation … it’s part of the territory.”

“I know. I just hate to see her going through it,” I mumble.

“There’s that look again,” Dave says after a moment of silence, and I smirk at him, shaking my head.

“I’m just wondering if maybe we should look again at the people around Sam,” I tell him.

“We already looked at her family and coworkers thoroughly, Guy…”

“And they all checked out, I know,” I sigh. “I know that I’m grasping at straws, Dave. I’m just really frustrated, that’s all.”

“Well maybe we’ll get lucky and forensics will give us something we can use.”

“Yeah, maybe. But something tells me our guy is too smart for that,” I say thoughtfully. “He wants to enjoy his game. He’s not going to end it early by doing something stupid like leaving a trail. And I’m thinking that this is not the first time he’s played this particular game either. He seems to have perfected it so, Samantha can’t be his first.”

“You think he’s done this before?”

“I do. Maybe just not here in Seattle.”

“Well, let’s put it into the system and see if we get any hits.”

We spend some time then putting the details of Sam’s assault and stalking into the national database. Our hope is that some other law enforcement agency across the country will have a similar crime on the books, and maybe even the name of a suspect to look into. It might sound like a long shot but, sometimes it pans out. Only problem is it usually takes about 48 -72 hours.

The rest of my day passes by in a fog. I am so preoccupied with thoughts of Samantha and wondering how she’s doing that I can barely concentrate on anything else. At lunchtime I think about calling, just to check up on her. But the vibe between us when I dropped her off this morning was so weird and strained. I wasn’t sure if she was just upset at the situation or if she was truly pissed at me for acting like a cop this morning instead of like a … a what? Boyfriend? I roll my eyes at that thought and push the label away. I don’t have time to wonder about what Sam and I are to each other. In any case, I’m almost afraid to find out whether she still wants me around or not. But as I head outside to get some air, I bite the bullet and pull out my phone and dial.

It rings four times before finally going to voice mail, and I am taken aback by the perceived rejection. I don’t leave a message. But I stare blankly at my phone for several minutes, trying to decide if I should text her or not.
Maybe she’s just busy with work, Pierce.
Yeah. Or maybe she ignored my call on purpose. I stuff my phone back into my pocket and head back inside the building.

*****

At four o’clock sharp, I pull my truck into the museum parking lot feeling the strange but now familiar sensation of butterflies in my stomach. Why does this woman make me so nervous sometimes? I swallow anxiously when I see Martin leading her through the museum doors and out to my truck. She says nothing to me as she climbs in and glances at me only briefly.

“Thank you, Martin,” she smiles slightly. And I notice that she looks tired.

“You’re welcome, Miss Colby,” he responds. “I’ll see you in the morning. Detective,” he nods in my direction and I return the gesture. He closes the door as Sam secures her seat belt and we get underway. I take a deep breath and test the waters.

“How was your day?”

“It was okay,” Sam says softly. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

I swallow nervously once more. “I tried calling you at lunchtime … to see how you were doing.” My voice is small and slightly hesitant, and Samantha glances over at me.