Nevermore

by Wrenn Montgomery

“Yeah, gorgeous. Everything is fine.” I’ll tell her in the morning. She needs her sleep, and this will just get her anxious all over again. “I’ve got to head out to a lead. Are you sure you’re all right here?”

  Please, God, don’t let this be a case of mistaken identity or a false lead.

  If I’m leaving her naked in bed it better be for a damn good reason, especially after just giving her news like that. Plus, we could really use a break in the case.

  “Mm hmm,” she mumbles.

  I’m pretty sure she’s already asleep, but I lean down and plant a kiss on her forehead anyway before taking off and locking up.

  I call an officer to come sit outside of her building until I can come back.

  Just in case.

  My alarm clock goes off on my iPhone and I shut it off, rolling back over to an empty bed. It feels strange now that I’ve gotten used to waking up with Emmett. I check my phone and see I have a text from him to call him when I wake up.

  I don’t.

  I need some distance.

  I tried again last night to explain that I don’t want a relationship with him, because I know that I don’t. But I also don’t want to lose whatever we have going on, and I need to sort out what that means.

  And the bomb he dropped about Landry…

  I’m not sure how I feel about that. I feel guilty for putting him in jail, but I know that’s not valid or accurate. I feel guilty for being relieved that he’s really gone and not behind this. But I’m sad for his parents. Having their only child go to prison must have been hard, but burying him must have been beyond devastating.

  I take a second to try to collect myself. I have another few hours before the shop opens, and one of my actually-dependable employees is opening for me, so I take the extra time to try to sort out my feelings.

  When I’m avoiding my feelings I usually read, and as tempting as that is I know I need to address this, so I run a bath instead. My bathroom is my safe haven, as strange as that sounds. It’s all white and gray, no color to be seen, and something about that always calms me down. Neutrals are safe.

  I peruse my selection of bubble baths, beads, and oils and decide I need something relaxing, so I grab the lavender scented bath oil and dump a good amount in. Making sure my fluffy white towel is in reach, I step in, letting my feet and legs adjust before sliding down into the warm water. I know the running joke is that women love water that just about scorches their skin off, but that’s never been me. Give me a little warmer than lukewarm and we’re good to go.

  As I sink down into the water I lean my head back on the bath pillow and close my eyes. I left my cell phone out in the loft so I could focus, after texting Elli that I would be out of reach for a few and if she needed me for an emergency to have Misty run down here and let me know. I know she won’t, though. She knows how I get when I’m overwhelmed and how much I value alone time.

  Okay, Raven, let’s start with the basics.

  I think, reverting back to my counselor ways and treating myself as a patient. Just facts and no feelings.

  His name is Emmett Fisher, he’s a former Marine and a detective.

  You’ve known him since Friday, and today is Tuesday, so that’s five whole days.

  You haven’t spent a night away from him since that first night.

  What do I know about him?

  He was shot in combat, medically retired, and is now in law enforcement. He has two brothers and had a difficult childhood. He just recently—as in, five days ago—ended his relationship with his current girlfriend after catching his partner screwing her. So potentially, I’m a rebound, though he says that’s not the case. But don’t they all?

  What does he know about me?

  He knows about Elli, Landry, and my mom. He knows about my dad leaving. He doesn’t know the ins and outs of that situation or about the checks that come every month. He knows I have a counseling degree, but he hasn’t asked why I’m not counseling anymore. He seems to appreciate the bookstore, and he’s a bookworm, too. Check plus in that column.

  Logically, knowing someone for only five days and having feelings for them seems completely ridiculous. Even though they say you can fall in love the first time you see someone, I’ve never been one to believe in that. Love takes work. It doesn’t just happen overnight like it does in the movies. Love takes two people working toward the same goal together, over and over, until it works.

  Would I want to work side by side with Emmett toward that goal?

  I can see it. I can see loving him.

  As foolish as it sounds, I can see me wanting to put that work in and have a life with him. The problem would come if/when he doesn’t want to put the same amount of work in.

  The worst problem comes when you’ve been putting in your side of the work to find out that they’ve quit their “job” and never turned in a notice to you—ahem, Landry.

  I know that Emmett is nothing like Landry. On paper they’re night and day. Their personalities couldn’t be more opposite.

  What am I really, truly scared of?

  The commitment? Losing him?

  If I shut him out I’m going to inevitably lose him anyway. That’s a foolish reason to walk away from the first person that’s made me feel something in five years.

  Is five years long enough of a cool-down period to feel like I can trust someone again?

  I don’t know.

  I promised myself I’d never trust anyone again. I know that’s dramatic, but it’s true.

  Could I go back on that promise to myself?

  Could I trust Emmett?

  I don’t know.

  But the only way to find out is to find out.

  By the time I’m pruned up and the water is cool, I’ve decided the best course of action is slow and steady. I’m going to give Emmett a chance, but I’m going to stay cautious, as always. I’ll keep a close check on my feelings and rein them in when needed.

  I can do this.

  I can let someone in.

  I climb out of the bath and get dressed for the day, then I do my hair and makeup for the first time since Friday night. I can’t help but notice how refreshed my reflection looks. There’s a glint in my eyes and my face isn’t quite as “resting bitch face” as normal.

  Sleeping beside Emmett every night has its perks, I guess.

  I hated that I didn’t get to go back to bed with Raven last night. The lead took longer than we thought, and even though it was the middle of the night, we had to investigate it as soon as we could.

  The witness had apparently seen our suspect going back to his room on Friday night and noticed blood on his shoes and pants. She thought it was strange, so she had told someone at the front desk, who didn’t report it, and she didn’t know what else to do. When she saw the sketch that Elli had worked on with the sketch artist last night on the eleven o’clock news, she recognized him right away and called it in.

  We headed straight to the hotel after receiving the tip, but the front desk clerk said the suspect hadn’t been there all day, though he was still checked into the hotel. They told us they would let us know as soon as they saw him return to his room.

  We could then pick him up for questioning, but we’d have to either locate those bloody clothes or get some sort of confession out of him to keep him at the station.

  Detective Tropp puts her desk phone back into its cradle and turns to me. “Hotel desk confirmed he’s there now. Let’s go.”

  Holstering my gun as we hit the stairs, I say a prayer that this goes smoothly and we catch this bastard.

  I need Raven to feel safe—from this threat, and with me.

  “Jonestown Police. Open up!”

  The officer to my right nods at me to put the key card in the door. I do so and two officers from behind me rush forward as they burst into the hotel room.

  “Clear,” I hear, and my heart falls as Tropp and I proceed into the room.

  Our suspect is nowhere to be found, but there’s a plate of half-eaten food
on the bed and the TV is on, making me think he must’ve gotten wind that we were on the way and bailed. In the corner of the room there are some balled up clothes, so we take them for processing and start going through the drawers and the two duffle bags on the desk.

  “There’s not much in here, Em.” Tropp’s disappointment laces her voice and I feel it, too.

  I’m hopeful that we can at least get some DNA from the utensils he was using. We also take his toothbrush and comb. If we can match this to the blood found at Elli’s apartment, we’ll have proof this is our guy.

  “Wait, over here,” I hear another officer call out, and he pulls something out from under the mattress.

  It’s a file folder with Raven’s name on the outside, and my heart drops.

  Inside, there are photos of her, a paper with her description, places she visits frequently and where she orders takeout food from, the address of her bookstore, her mother’s name, information about Elli and the owners of the coffee shop around the corner…the list goes on and on.

  “What the hell?” Tropp asks as she and I exchange looks. “So this was a hit on Raven, then?”

  I nod. I can feel my jaw clenching at the thought of some creep having all this personal information on Raven.

  “Do you need a minute, detective?” she asks low, so none of the other officers can hear.

  I appreciate the thoughtfulness, grateful that we’ve already had the talk about how close I’ve gotten to this case. “No, I’m fine, thanks. Let’s log all of this and get back to the department. Have an officer stay here and wait to see if the asshole comes back. I doubt he will now that he’s been compromised, but he may need this information.”

  The sick feeling in my stomach won’t fade and I know I have to get a handle on this before I’m pulled from the case.

  How the hell do they know so much about her?

  Someone has been tailing her for a while, or someone in her life is only close to her to feed information to whoever is behind this. I’m leaning toward the latter, and I need to find out who before they get to her.

  I bound down the stairs and slip through the hidden doorway, relieved to find no customers lurking close enough to have seen me.

  Reggie, my most faithful employee, is behind the desk working his magic. I hear him telling the group of giggling girls in front of him all the best romances that we currently have in stock. They’re hanging on his every word, and I can see why. He’s tall, athletic, and handsome, but he has that total hot nerd thing going on. He’s wearing a vintage Beatles tee—a real one, not a remake from Hot Topic—and skinny jeans that fit him just right. His caramel colored skin is complemented by a pair of striking chocolate colored eyes and his dark-rimmed glasses fit him perfectly. He’s a looker for sure.

  Unfortunately for those girls, he’s also as gay as they come and has been in a committed relationship with his partner for three years.

  I shoot him a wink over their heads as I go to check the stock, straightening books as I go.

  When the last of the giggling gaggle exit the stop, he lets out a sigh of relief and I can’t help but burst out laughing.

  “What? I just sold seven new releases, thank you very much!” he says.

  This only makes me laugh harder and I high-five him as he makes his way over the shelf I’m working on. “Thank God you’re back. You can’t take any more vacations. I can barely run this place without you.” I nudge his shoulder with mock sternness and he rolls his eyes.

  “I was gone one weekend. You did fine.”

  “You have no idea. This weekend was hell.” I quickly give him a breakdown of the events that have occurred since he left and by the end of my story his mouth is hanging open.

  “Shut the front door! Raven! You should’ve called. I would’ve come back earlier!”

  “No! No way. You needed that break away with Todd. I handled it. Oh, and I also fired Lacey.”

  “About freaking time. She always creeped me out.”

  I tilt my head, surprised by this. “How so?”

  “IDK. I always got the vibe she was a little obsessed with you.”

  “Quit speaking in abbreviations,” I tell him. “I think she was just lonely or flighty or something.”

  “IDK. Either way, I’m glad she’s gone.”

  I roll my eyes at his obvious disregard for grammar and let it go. “I keep thinking she’s going to show up to get her check, but she hasn’t yet. It’s in the top drawer of the front desk, if she comes in when I’m not here.”

  “Yes ma’am. Okay, now…Emmett. Tell me more about him again? What’s he look like?”

  I shake my head and launch into a detailed description of my hunky detective that has Reggie drooling and me dying of laughter by the end of it. We’re so wrapped up in our conversation that I don’t hear the bell over the door until Reggie nudges me and motions for me to look.

  We’re still in the back of the room, hidden by the shelves, and there’s only one lone customer up front.

  I peak between the shelves instead of calling out like I normally do, and thank God for that, because the creep from the bar—and Elli’s suspected rapist—is standing in the doorway of my shop.

  The car ride back to the department was tense. I was so thankful that Monica was driving so I could take a minute to collect myself.

  We’d assumed that Raven was the hit since she had gotten the letter and the phone call, but seeing it on paper like that made it all come to a head for me. They even know her mother’s name, even though Raven cut ties with her years ago.

  Who would know those facts about her?

  Someone’s been feeding them information, but who?

  I need to address this with Raven, but I know it’s going to freak her out. It would make anyone uneasy knowing that someone you don’t know has that much information on you. It’s even worse when your best friend has been attacked and you know you were the intended target.

  “You all right?” Monica’s look of concern washes over me and I pull it together.

  “Yeah, we’ve just got to find him. How did he get out of the hotel that fast? We even had officers at the back and side entrances, just in case, and no one spotted him. None of the security cameras show him leaving.”

  “I was thinking about that. Do you think he had another room? An adjoining one? Maybe one down the hall? Or he could have an accomplice and he slipped into their room…”

  “That’s possible. The clerk said there was only one room registered to Brent Smallwood but it could be under another name. Why don’t they have cameras in the damn hallways?” I groan and rub my hands on my face.

  “We’re going to catch him, Fisher. But you have to pull yourself together before word of how distraught you are gets back to captain and he takes you off the case.”

  I know she’s right, so I nod and count to ten in my head.

  We’re pulling up the station now and I need to put on a good show. It’s okay to act concerned, it’s not okay to act like I’m losing my mind—or rush home to Raven to never leave her side again.

  She still hasn’t responded to my text from this morning, which is odd. I try to call her cell when I get back to my desk, but she doesn’t answer.

  Probably busy at the shop. It is the middle of the afternoon.

  I can’t wait to get off work and go to her, but I have five hours left. I sit down to do my reports on today, trying to clear my mind and focus on the facts.

  My cell phone starts ringing and I smile when I see the number that comes across. “Hey, babe. Having a good day?”

  “Uh, hi. This is Reggie. I, uh, I work for Raven. I don’t know why I called you and not 911. I’m an idiot. I saw your number and—”

  I sit up and ask, “Wait, what do you mean? Is everything okay? Where is Raven?”

  I hear a sob on the other end of the line and I’m already running down the stairs, Tropp following behind me, when Reggie says, “He took her.”

  “You’re a fucking idiot,” I grumble
to myself as I try to sit up and take in my surroundings.

  I have no idea where I am.

  Deep breaths, Raven. Panicking isn’t going to help you right now. Use your head and be smart.

  I look around the room. I’m lying on a comfortable bed, fully clothed in what I was wearing this morning.

  It’s dark outside. I can see through the window across the room, but there’s a lamp on the bedside table that’s been turned on. The walls are shades of gray, with touches of blue here and there. The furniture is white wicker and there’s a painting of a gray sky with thunder clouds over the ocean above the bed.

  It’s the perfect beach house room. Definitely not your typical kidnapping scenario.

  Who kidnaps someone and puts them in a guest room?

  I test out my limbs and find I’m not shackled. I’m willing to bet the door is also unlocked.

  What the hell?

  I sit up and my head is woozy, but I seem to be otherwise unharmed. On the nightstand beside the lamp there’s a glass of water, what appears to be an Aspirin, and a note that reads:

  Raven,

  It’s not what you think. Come downstairs when you’re ready and I’ll explain.

  RC

  I shake my head and stare at the note.

  Who the fuck is RC?

  Robert Cole.

  The thought hits me like a ton of bricks and I have to talk myself out of an actual panic attack for the first time in years.

  Breathe, Raven, breathe. Your father would not have your best friend raped and beaten. There’s no way this is the same RC.

  Who else could it be, though? That’s exactly how the letter was signed. It’s him.

  When I’m calmed down enough, I stand up and test my weight, steadying myself. I think of drinking the water and taking the Aspirin but I’m hesitant. I’m not trying to get drugged again.

  I head over to the door and turn the knob, which of course isn’t locked. It creaks open and I curse. I was hoping to have the element of surprise when I met my kidnapper.