Connected: Book 1 Connected Series

by Kat Stiles

  Is it possible the cops will believe him? Could he get away with it?

  “That is such bullshit,” Tommy shouted. “He attacked all of us.”

  The policeman glanced up from his notes when he heard the obscenity and looked Tommy over. He didn’t say a word, but just continued writing.

  Roz let out a frustrated scream. “Even if you don’t believe us, look at her eye.” She pointed to my mother and her shiner, which was quickly turning a darker shade of purple.

  The doctor laughed. “She did that to herself. She has a history of self-destructive behavior. You can check it out if you’d like.”

  “Yes,” the policeman said in a bored tone. “I will be checking out everything said here.”

  “What the hell do you mean by that?” my mother said to the doctor. Her posture became rigid, and her arms folded tightly against her chest.

  “I know what happened, Anne.” The doctor smiled. “I know everything.”

  “No, he’s lying.” I balled my hands into fists at my sides. “You can’t let him get away with this.”

  “Miss, I’m trying to ascertain what really happened,” the policeman said.

  “Oh, and be sure to check out all the awards I’ve received too,” the doctor said. His superior tone was insufferable. “Why, I made a major breakthrough with Emily today.”

  “Breakthrough?” I snickered. “Is that what you call it?”

  The policeman rolled his eyes. The dispatch chimed in, asking for an update. “Just a domestic dispute,” the policeman replied into his radio mic.

  “What are we going to do?” Roz whispered. “He doesn’t believe us.”

  “Officer, I don’t think you understand,” my mother said.

  The doctor laughed. “I think he understands perfectly.”

  “But the murders…” I whispered to Roz and Tommy. There must be something to tie him to them. The thought of the doctor walking away after everything he did made me sick.

  Then I remembered the journal. “Uh, officer? I don’t think we’re the only ones he’s attacked.”

  “What makes you say that?” the policeman asked.

  “I remember reading about all of the people he’s treated. I’m sure he’s hurt some of them, too.”

  The doctor’s jaw dropped. It appeared he wanted to say something, but then closed his mouth shut.

  “He took a lot of notes, in a journal.”

  The doctor’s face turned a ghostly white.

  “He always kept it on him at our sessions, in his jacket,” I said.

  The policeman patted the doctor’s jacket down and retrieved it. It only took a few pages for his expression to change from boredom to shock. He motioned to what appeared to be the more senior officer and pointed out a passage. The doctor was cuffed in a matter of seconds. My mother followed them to the door and closed it after them. On her way back, she staggered and almost fell.

  I helped steady her. “Maybe you should lie down for a while.”

  “Maybe you’re right.” She managed a tired smile, as she massaged her forehead. “I’ll be in my bedroom.”

  Once she was gone, I said, “What I don’t get is why I couldn’t heal her.”

  “You tried?” Tommy asked.

  “Yeah. She was cold. I couldn’t even feel the heat from my own hands. It was weird.”

  “That is strange,” Roz said. “Well, I’m heading home.”

  “Don’t leave, Roz,” Tommy said. “There’s got to be a B-horror movie on some channel we could all watch.”

  “As tempting as that sounds,” she said with a hint of sarcasm, “I’ve got a paper due. See you all tomorrow.”

  We said our goodbyes, and then Tommy and I settled back down on the couch together.

  “So you’re really in love with me?” He fingered a lock of my hair.

  “Ridiculously in love with you.”

  “Is that right?” He moved closer, until his face was only an inch from mine. “How perfect is that?” He flashed one of his wonderful grins, right before he cupped his hands to my face and kissed me.

  It was, in fact, absolutely perfect. I couldn’t have been more relaxed, more at peace than I was at that moment, with him. He held me in a warm embrace afterwards. Exhausted from the encounter, I drifted off to sleep in his arms, until the phone ringing jolted me awake.

  I hurried to answer it before it woke my mother.

  “Hello?”

  There was breathing on the other end, but no voice.

  “Hello?” I repeated. “Is anybody there?”

  A faint voice replied, “Baby girl, is that you?”

  It was a voice I heard only in my nightmares. My throat choked, I couldn’t speak. Finally, I swallowed hard and whispered, “No. No, it can’t be. You’re dead.”

  It was what I was told all those years ago, and I wanted it to be true. I thought if I said it out loud, it somehow would be. I guess I always knew in my heart he wasn’t really dead.

  In an instant, it all came together. The doctor’s outburst, what he struggled to get me to say at my sessions, what Roz foresaw. Why my nightmares never went away. It wasn’t over.

  He is alive.

  The raspy breathing continued, making my skin crawl. I had a feeling I knew what he was going to say next.

  “I’m coming home.”

  Then the line went dead.

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  One other thing…

  Connected 2 is slated for release in 2017! In the meantime, here’s an excerpt. Enjoy :)

  Excerpt from Connected 2

  “You’re with me now,” my father said. “My rules, baby girl. Like it or not.”

  He touched his injured shoulder and winced. From the lights lining the highway, I saw the blood glistening on his hand when he withdrew it.

  Serves you right, I thought. “I hate you.”

  I sensed a powerful regret from him, a sadness so profound it almost got to me, almost made me feel bad for him. But then I thought about home, and how he managed to hurt everyone I love. How he took me away before I could even assess the severity of their injuries, let alone heal them. I closed my eyes and waited for an opportunity to escape.

  It seemed like another hour or two passed before he spoke again. “Are you hungry?”

  “Yes,” I lied. I couldn’t imagine eating, but I thought if we stopped somewhere, I might be able to make a run for it. I placed my hands on my lap, concentrating on healing myself, making myself as strong as I could.

  He pulled off at a truck stop. The minute he parked, I clicked the seat belt release, unlocked the door, and was about to exit when he grabbed my arm.

  “Hold on, baby girl. My rules, remember?”

  “I have to use the bathroom…”

  He sighed. “If you try to escape, I’m just going to knock you out. Do you understand?”

  “I only have to pee,” I said drowsily.

  “Fine.” He released me, but by that time I was too tired to attempt an escape. He helped me out of the car and then held my hand tightly as we walked. The outside of the building was filthy enough, but when we entered inside, it was beyond disgusting with its grimy floor and overall greasy smell. A few of the more suspect characters in the place looked at me as if I were dessert. It would have totally freaked me out had I not been so exhausted.

  I headed towards the women’s restroom but my father jerked me back. Instead, he steered me in the direction of the men’s room.

  “What are you doing?” I tried to stifle a
yawn, but was unsuccessful.

  “I wish I could trust you but I can’t.” His forehead wrinkled as if he were debating it. “No. You’re just going to have to use a stall in here.”

  The stench we encountered was epic. Feces, coupled with the pungent odor of urinal cakes nearly made me vomit. I choked it back, alarmed by the large man finishing up at one of the urinals. His eyes looked me up and down. Then a perverse grin formed on his lips.

  “Too cheap to spring for a room?” He laughed heartily at his own stupid joke.

  My father ignored him and walked me to a stall. “I’ll be right out here baby, if you need anything,” he whispered to me.

  I knew it would be futile to appeal to the man for any kind of help. I’d be better off with my father than that creepy dude, I thought, as I latched the door shut.

  “Hey, can I get a go at her when you’re done?” I heard the man say.

  That question pushed me over the top. It, along with the horrendous overall smell, finally defeated my internal struggle to keep my lunch down. I puked Exorcist-style, getting only a small portion inside the toilet.

  “You okay in there?” my father asked.

  “I asked you a question,” the man said.

  I peeked through the opening between the stall and the door. In the mirror’s reflection I watched the man approach my father.

  “The answer is no.”

  “Why not? I’ve got cash, I can pay. How much is she, anyway?”

  “She’s not for sale.” I could tell by my father’s tone that he was growing impatient.

  “Don’t want to share her, huh? I could see why,” the man said with a lame chuckle. “She looks so… young.”

  My father didn’t respond. But in the mirror, I saw him glaring at the man.

  “What if I don’t take no for an answer?” the man said, moving dangerously close to my father. “What if I just take what I want?”

  My heart began to pound at the prospect of that man getting anywhere near me.

  “Look, I don’t want any trouble,” my father said. “You can leave now and no one will get hurt.”

  The man let out a forced, insincere laugh. Then all of a sudden, he grabbed my father by the throat. He slammed my father back against the stalls before hurling him off to the side. I heard the soft thud of my father’s body hit the adjacent wall.

  I sucked in a breath. The only thing standing between this maniac and me was a flimsy stall door with a lock that had seen better days. He peered through the slit. An array of bad teeth formed a crooked smile, and the eager sound he grunted sent a chill down my spine. I backed closer to the toilet, fearing the worst. The door to the stall flew open, and the man began to slowly move toward me. His smile turned into a full toothy grin as he unbuckled his belt.

  What if my father is passed out? I felt the vomit threaten to come up my throat once more.

  “You and me are gonna have ourselves a real good time.”

  He moved close enough for me to smell him, which was still a good two feet away. I nearly choked on the rancid body odor that assaulted my nose. I inched back, my feet sliding on the puke puddled all over the floor. The man kept advancing, his eyes taking me in. The desire, the anticipation I sensed from him terrified me. When I couldn’t retreat any farther, I contorted my body to fit the tiny space between the toilet and the side wall. Still weak, I knew I had no chance of fighting him off. I crossed my arms around my stomach and slid down.

  “Don’t be shy, angel.” He reached down and grabbed me by my hair, pulling me up. “Such a sweet little thing…” His intentions were all too clear when his eyes focused on my jeans.

  I gulped, still afraid to breathe. “Please…don’t.”

  He grabbed both of my wrists together in one of his massive hands and pinned me to the wall.

  “You’ll love it, I promise,” he said, his free hand moving to my waist. He managed to pry open the top button of my jeans.

  I squeezed my eyes shut. This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening…

  I couldn’t stop the tears. There was no chance of escape. I felt so powerless, so completely scared.

  “Daddy…” I sobbed.

  My body shuddered at the feel of his hand on my skin. He grabbed both my underwear and jeans in his hand and I could feel him struggle to yank them down singlehandedly.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  I dared open my eyes. My father stood just outside the stall, the look in his eyes pure venom. The man released me and I gasped for air, breathing once again.

  He stepped out to face my father. “What are you going to do about it?”

  My father didn’t answer. He simply grabbed the man’s arm.

  “What… are… you…” the man trailed off, his voice sounding weaker and weaker. My father slid behind the man in a swift, fluid motion. He placed one hand on the man’s mouth and the other on his upper abdomen. I watched in horror as the color drained from the man’s face. Then his body slumped forward.

  My father’s eyes rolled back in his head. Is he enjoying this?

  I shook my head to clear it. This is it, my chance to escape.

  Before I had a chance to calculate the total improbability of success or let my fears render me immobile, I bolted out of the bathroom.

  Acknowledgments

  Hard to know where to start…so many people helped me over the years with this book! Thanks to all my beta readers: Carol Farmer especially, as she read a couple of the earlier versions, as well as her two girls Alyssa and Courtney. Nydia Romero, Joyce Kenney, Henry Craff, my father Arthur Godfrey, and I know there were others. Thank you for all the feedback and gentle criticism. My first editor, Laura Singleton, was pivotal in shaping the story and characters, thank you. Leslie Lutz, you are an awesome editor, thank you for your guidance and expertise. Marci Baun and the team at Wild Child Publishing, thank you for everything, wouldn’t be here without you. Carolyn Maloney, my spiritual mentor, thank you for teaching me the secret to happiness, and for providing me the inspiration behind the book. Thanks to Michael Jennings, my new friend who reminded me who I am. Thanks to all my friends at CFAN and Rackspace, Guy Bowen and Joe Totin especially had to endure many editing rants. Special thanks go to all the people who encouraged me over the years: my sisters Jacqueline White and Debbi Turi, my mother-in-law Nancy Ellis, countless friends and family, and most of all, Michael Stiles, the love of my life, who had to put up with the roller coaster of emotions that is me, on this incredible journey to publication. Rosalind and Mikey, when you’re old enough to read this, thank you for letting me have the time to work on my books. If I forgot anyone, it wasn’t intentional, please know that your contribution to the success of this book is appreciated.