Sharp Absence (Sharp Investigations Book 1)

by Kate Anders

  SHARP ABSENCE

  KATE ANDERS

  BOOBERRY BOOKS

  Copyright © 2022 Kate Anders

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Editing by: My Brother’s Editor

  Cover by Murphy Rae

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 979-8-9855717-0-7 (eBook)

  ISBN: 979-8-9855717-2-1 (Paperback)

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2022902916

  To Moe

  Always my biggest supporter, you never had any doubts that I could do this.

  For that and so many other reasons I can’t wait to spend another 17 years with you.

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Epilogue

  Want more Kenzie Sharp

  Hang out with Kate

  About the Author

  Season of Justice

  Acknowledgments

  PROLOGUE

  “MY SHARONA” BY THE KNACK

  My body comes to consciousness abruptly at the crack of thunder. It takes a few moments for me to open my eyes because everything just feels wrong. Confusion floods my thoughts and an unexplainable feeling of panic. But the real motivator to get moving and open my eyes is the fear that is pumping through my blood. In fact, in this moment, fear is the only thing I’m a hundred-percent sure of.

  My eyes take longer than they should to open. It feels like when you sleep way too long and they are caked closed. Only the sensation is different, almost sticky.

  Even in the dark, I can tell my vision is blurry. A flash of light illuminates the area in front of me but it takes a while for me to realize it is lightning, gone as quick as it comes, leaving behind only the confirmation that my vision is a hot mess.

  Before I even feel the pain, I feel pressure. My head feels like it’s heavy, but oddly, it’s mostly a full sensation at the top of my head with a fullness that makes me think my face might be swollen. But the strangest pressure is coming from my chest. It feels like someone is sitting on my chest, but oddly, there isn’t any pain or discomfort from the pressure on my back.

  Bringing my hands up to my face to see if it is in fact swollen allows my body weight to shift, bringing a sharp jerk of whatever is across my chest, startling me.

  “What the hell?” I murmur to myself while bringing my hands down to my chest and find a strap across my chest holding me in place.

  I’m upside down. How the fuck am I upside down? Well, that explains all the pressure I’m feeling, my face probably looks like a tomato with all the blood rushing to my head. With that figured out, I go back to trying to figure out what’s wrong with my eyes, and sticky is exactly the right word. My face is wet, all over wet. But not all of it feels like water, no, some of it feels thick and sticky.

  My pinkie finger brushes up against something embedded in my face, and the pain is startling. It kind of feels like when you step on a pebble and it gets stuck on the bottom of your foot, except different, sharp. It takes a few seconds to get a purchase on whatever it is and pull it out of my face, which only unleashes more sticky liquid down, or rather up, my face. Blood. It’s blood.

  Another flash of lightning lets me see my rosary pooled at what is apparently the roof of my car, to be exact. I’m upside down in my car.

  How the fuck did this happen?

  There’s a hole where the memory should be. The only things left behind are panic and fear. Trying to rationalize that it makes sense I would be afraid if I was about to be in a car accident doesn’t really work. Something tells me it’s more than that. The more I think about it, the more I think I shouldn’t be in this car.

  My vision is finally starting to clear up or maybe my eyes are just getting the opportunity to adjust to the pitch black, so I decide it’s time to go.

  Fumbling around trying to find the release to the seat belt takes more time than I would expect, I guess being upside down really messes with the way your brain perceives your physical location. As soon as I hit the release, though, nothing happens. The mechanism doesn’t pop out and my weight is still resting on the seat belt, keeping me attached to the seat.

  “Think, think,” I whisper.

  The door. I should try the door next. As soon as my arm starts to cross over my body, I feel this sharp and sudden overwhelming pain. It feels like someone is wrenching my arm out of the socket. The pain is so intense and sudden that I start to get dizzy and feel like I’m going to pass out. Clutching my arm against my chest, I try to hold on to consciousness while realizing how much trouble I’m really in.

  A few seconds pass before I realize I have a knife in my glove box that I could use to get out of the seat belt.

  There’s no way I can reach the glove compartment with my left hand, so with the only option being my injured right arm, I take a deep breath and push through the pain. Tears start welling up in my eyes and a cold sweat breaks out along my skin as I finally feel my fingers wrap around the cold steel of the knife.

  I take another deep breath, knowing what comes next is bound to hurt just as much.

  It’s not like the movies where I could just swipe through the seat belt and suddenly be free. No, it’s a lot harder than that. I’ve been hanging upside down for who knows how long, I’m clearly injured, and my body is quickly getting weaker and weaker the longer I’m in this cold and wet car. What must have been minutes pass by as I struggle to saw my knife through the tightly woven fabric of my seat belt.

  The last swipe of the knife has me propelling down to the roof of my car with no way to catch myself. The shock of hitting the roof echoes through my body and leaves a wake of pain in its path.

  I should be feeling better about this. I’m making progress. But honestly, I only feel worse.

  My body hurts worse than when I woke up and I feel way more panicked now that I am free than I did when I was pinned down. It doesn’t seem logical.

  I let myself just lie on the roof for a few minutes before I realize that my body is starting to shake and my teeth are starting to chatter against each other. The urge to take a nap is starting to take hold and the fear I had been battling up until this point starts to take a back seat.

  Get up. You have to get up. I lift my head up to look around. I know I just heard a voice, but I can’t see anything. And the only thing I can hear right now is music coming out of my radio. I think I imagined it. Either way, it feels like good advice.

  Rolling over takes time, as I try to protect all the areas of my body that are aching. The palms of my hands keep landing on top of little pieces of glass I assume are from the windshield, I think a few have actually embedded themselves
into the skin. When my hand finally hits the cold wet grass, it’s startling.

  I no longer want to sleep and the fear is starting to take hold again. I’m still on my hands and knees as I make it out of the car and look around.

  Now that I’m out, I can tell I obviously crashed, and the lighting is better so I can get a better idea of what’s going on and where I am. Even with more light, I’m struggling to figure out which direction to go, I see headlights coming toward me and that’s when everything in my body shifts.

  A cold sweat breaks out against my skin and my heart starts pumping harder and I can feel my pulse in my ears. I probably have a head injury and my body is definitely battered and bruised, but I know I can’t head toward the road and those lights.

  There is no doubt in my mind, not even a little, that I need to move in the opposite direction.

  I start dragging my body toward the tree line, at first feeling the wetness of the grass saturate through my jeans even more before I’m able to get into an upright position. I give thanks that I didn’t wear flimsy shoes, my leather boots did a good job protecting my feet in the crash, and I get the feeling I’m going to need that protection as I start hobbling into the trees.

  I risk a quick look back when I see the lights stop moving next to my upside-down car.

  The only thing I know for sure is that whoever this person is, they are in a car similar to mine and that in no way should I call out to them for help.

  I start moving faster into the woods, trying to be as quiet as I can, hoping beyond all hope that whoever was in that car didn’t see me limping into the woods.

  But I don’t have that kind of luck. I hear the door slam shut, bringing about a second wind I didn’t know I had in me.

  The woods are densely packed, which I’m grateful for because I’m having trouble keeping myself both upright and moving forward. I keep tripping over roots or things on the ground, mostly because my legs feel like they are made of cement and it’s hard to lift them high enough to get clearance. I keep my left arm as outstretched as possible to keep finding trees to hold me upright while I keep my right arm tucked into my side, trying to protect the shoulder from being jostled any more than it has to be.

  I quickly pause to catch my breath, letting me hear someone starting to enter the woods behind me.

  Fight, flight, or freeze. I’ve heard about it a million times. My body wants to freeze, to simply stay still to avoid the pain. My brain, though, is screaming, RUN.

  Knowing there is no fight in me, I start moving forward as quickly as I can. Even knowing I am being chased, I can’t help but to chance a look back. I can’t even tell where the tree line begins, let alone make out the shape of a body.

  I finally start building up a hobbling rhythm as I stumble through the woods. I know I’m making too much noise. I know I am probably the easiest person in the world to track right now. The grunts alone are leaving a sound trail to follow as I stumble around.

  Fuck, I don’t even know which direction I should be running, just that I should be running.

  And that’s when I hear it. A voice. It’s close to me and moving closer.

  I wasn’t fast enough.

  I wonder how many before me weren’t fast enough.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “CHEERS (DRINK TO THAT)” BY RHIANNA

  “Come on, Kenz, you can’t just spend the rest of the year hiding out in our apartment,” Clara whined at me.

  “I don’t know why you are pushing this. You hate going to parties,” I replied.

  “I know, I know. I do. I totally hate these things. Like a lot. But it’s not fair, babe, you did nothing wrong, and yet you’re holed up in here acting like you were the one who has something to be ashamed of.”

  I sigh.

  “It’s not that, Clara. It’s just, what’s the point? Clearly everything I thought about basically everyone in my life except you was wrong. It’s just easier this way. I’ll just keep my head down and before you know it, we both will have graduated and we can start our lives away from all this bullshit.”

  She’s not wrong. I am acting like I’m the one who did something wrong. But honestly, what else am I supposed to do? I thought I was going to marry that jerk. I spent three-plus years being Collin’s girlfriend. I thought our friends were our friends. Clearly, I was wrong. All it takes is Collin “upgrading,” while we were still together and somehow, I end up the bad guy? I don’t think I will ever understand how I was the one who walked in on him railing her from behind, and I still ended up being the villain in the story.

  Well, that’s not true. I totally understand how it happened. Chanel. The world’s most vapid narcissist on the planet, who Collin apparently worships now, has made it her life’s mission to paint me as an unstable lunatic who just can’t let Collin be happy. Frankly, I could not care less at this point. Do I hope they both get herpes? Sure, who wouldn’t? But am I sitting around plotting how to get the guy who couldn’t keep it in his pants back? Fuck no. And seeing as how no one except Clara stood beside me, well, why bother with them either?

  “I don’t know, Clara. It seems like a lot of effort for literally no payoff.”

  “Look, we don’t have to stay long, just in and out. It’s our senior year. We have less than five months left before this is all over. Do you really want to look back in twenty years and think about how you wished you had stood tall and not let some trashy mean girl chase you out of your college experience?”

  “Jeez, when you put it like that!” I throw my hands up in exasperation.

  “YES! Success!” Clara twirls around in circles in the middle of our living room. “I knew I would win!”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I say while shaking my head.

  “Time to get ready to party!”

  The stink eye I send Clara’s way must get through to her because next thing I know, she’s bringing over a bottle of tequila and pouring us shots.

  “Look, we’ll go in, head nod at all the right people, and then we can run by Starbucks and get you your favorite hot chocolate and park ourselves in front of 10 Things I Hate About You and forget about all this.” We clink and take our shots. “I just hate seeing all this happening to you. You used to smile every day, and now you just keep your head down.”

  “Fine. I’ll go get ready. But you have to dress up. If I have to do this, so do you.” I look her up and down and notice the clasp of her locket has made it all the way to the locket, so I reach out and fix it. “There. Perfect.”

  Clara smiles at me. “Deal.”

  Ringing coming from Clara’s pocket startles me, making Clara laugh out loud. She silences the ringing while holding her stomach, giggling.

  “Man, it’s so easy to throw you off your axis,” she says through her giggles.

  I can’t help but laugh with her, ’cause she’s right. I startle quicker than anyone I know. We both head to our rooms to get ready for what is sure to be a torturous party that honestly neither one of us really wants to be at.

  The thin strip of light under the door flickers as people keep walking back and forth. I can still hear the music thrumming through the walls as everyone else not hiding in a dark closet has a great time. Seriously, how do I always get myself into these situations? The past three months it’s like I have been trying to have every awkward college experience all in a condensed time period.

  If we’re being honest, I haven’t exactly hidden in a closet since I was like five and playing hide-and-seek with my brother. Five-year-old me had a good reason for being in a closet though, twenty-two-year-old me has no good reason. Except maybe cowardice. What can I say? There was someone already in the bathroom and Clara had just stepped away to grab us a drink. There was literally nowhere else to go.

  Chanel and Collin walking through the door like they were some sort of bizarre college royalty, just triggered every instinct in me to flee. So, flee I did, right into this here closet. The worst part of this whole mess is that there really is no good way out. I s
ee three scenarios. One, someone opens the closet door and I have to explain why I’m standing in a dark closet surrounded by winter coats. Two, I try to sneak out but since it’s a crowded college party everyone notices, and once again I’m the girl in a dark closet obviously hiding from her ex. Three, I sit in this dark hole of a closet and reevaluate my life choices while I wait for this party to be over so I can sneak out.

  I should have known that with the luck I’ve been having lately, there’s no way I’m getting out of this unscathed. If it was quieter, I probably would have heard the knob turning on the door, but since I was reevaluating my life choices, I wasn’t exactly paying attention. Which probably accounts for why instead of standing awkwardly in a closet when the door opens, I basically fall out of the closet, knocking over some unsuspecting frat guy.

  And wouldn’t you know it? My luck holds true.

  “Ugh, Collin, isn’t that your ex?” The whiny voice that is Chanel rings in my ears. God, she could give The Nanny a run for her money. “I told you she was following us!” She literally stomps her feet like an addle-minded toddler.

  By the time I look up, I realize her shrieking has captured the attention of basically everyone in the room. Joyful.

  “Yeah, Chanel, I’m totally following you, ’cause you’re just so fucking awesome I can’t control myself,” I say while I roll my eyes and try to stand up with some dignity.