Sharp Absence (Sharp Investigations Book 1)

by Kate Anders

  “I would ask if you are okay, but it seems like a silly question. Deep breaths, Kenz. In. Out.” I start following his instructions while staring up at him. “Good, that’s good, just like that.”

  “Will, someone was behind me, following me,” I plead with him to believe me but he’s already nodding.

  “I know, I saw your car. There’s another car abandoned next to it. I didn’t see you on the road, so I figured you went into the woods. I took a shortcut,” he explains. “Come on, we need to get you out of this rain, I already called 911. They should be here shortly and we can get you checked out.”

  I can tell he’s trying to keep me calm by not harping on how close I just came to being in real trouble. But at the same time, I can see him scanning the woods in thirty-second intervals, and when I follow his arm down the length of his body, I notice that he is resting his hand on something on his hip.

  Will has a gun. How did I not know that? Of course he has a gun, he used to be a cop. But he’s never called attention to it before. He’s trying to keep me calm while being prepared to defend us if he needs to. He’s right, we need to get out of these woods.

  I let Will help me up as gingerly as he can manage, and I can see him grimace when I cry out from the pain in my shoulder as we start moving through the woods. When we finally clear the new tree line, I look back and realize how close all this could have been.

  The fear is still there, but the feeling of safety that Will provides is overpowering it.

  As I make my way to the truck, I can’t help but wonder if this is the kind of fear Clara felt when she went missing.

  If it’s the kind of fear she’s still experiencing.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “IN THE PINES” BY CAUGHT A GHOST

  The red and blue lights from the police cars are starting to make me dizzy. It didn’t take long for them to show up after Will and I made it out from the woods. Once he got me settled into his truck with the heater on, I could tell he wanted to go look for whoever else was in the woods, but he stayed glued to my side.

  When the cops showed up, they showed up in force. One car quickly became four and people started fanning out into the woods to see if they could find anything. The ambulance wasn’t that far behind them.

  Which is how I end up sitting in the back of the ambulance, waiting for everyone to decide what is going to happen next. I try to keep my eyes down so the bright rotating lights from all the emergency vehicles don’t kill my eyes, but I’m not successful at all. Every new voice or loud noise has me searching the tree line for the bogeyman coming out of the trees.

  I’ve already told the cops everything I know up to this point so now I’m just waiting to see what happens next. Even though more and more of my memory is starting to come back, everything still feels fuzzy around the edges. I’m becoming more and more certain that I have some kind of head injury.

  Searching the crowd, I finally find Will, and after only a few short minutes, he starts heading over to me.

  “I take it you earned yourself a first-class trip to the hospital,” he says, trying to lighten the mood.

  “You can ride with us if you want,” the EMT tells him.

  “Take the truck,” I retort immediately, leading to a confused and, dare I say, even a little hurt look on Will’s face. “I don’t want us to be stuck at the hospital, it will be faster if we have a way to leave,” I explain.

  “Oh, yeah, of course, I’ll follow you guys,” he says before turning to walk away.

  “Will,” I call after him.

  “Yeah?” he says after turning around to face me. I kind of love that about him, he always makes sure I know I have his full attention when he talks to me.

  “Did they find anything? The car? Anything at all?” I ask, silently begging the universe for answers. The look on Will’s face tells me everything I need to know. They don’t have shit.

  “I’m sorry. By the time they got here, the car was gone. I gave them the license plate number I saw when I was driving by, but the car was reported stolen a couple of days ago so it’s not really much to go on.” He looks regretful.

  “Oh. Okay.” The urge to comfort him is strong, and I can’t help it. “You saved me, Will. If you had hesitated even a little bit instead of coming after me, who knows where we would be now.”

  “I just don’t like that he’s still out there and he clearly knows who you are. You’re a loose end for this guy, and I don’t want him to get anywhere near close enough to try again.”

  “You and me both.” I try to give him a reassuring smile, but I’m sure it ends up looking more like a grimace. “I’ll see you at the hospital.”

  About a bazillion tests later and more imaging of myself than any one person could ever need, the verdict is in. I’m broken. That might be a little dramatic. One cracked rib, surrounded by what they called severely bruised ribs from the seat belt, basically code for it’s going to hurt to breathe for a while. My right shoulder was dislocated, no surprise there. Thank God for painkillers because the sound my shoulder made when they put it back in place was nothing short of disgusting. To no one’s surprise at all, I have a concussion. As for the rest of me, well, it’s not pretty. There are tiny cuts all over my face and hands from the glass in the car. Not to mention all the bruises that are starting to fill in nicely, turning me into a molted mess of blue and purples.

  The hospital bed is uncomfortable, people keep coming to check on me, and the lights are entirely too bright for my eyes. I want to go home more than I have ever wanted anything in my life. But I’m stuck here until they give me the okay. Apparently even though I didn’t throw up, the fact that I had some memory loss and had a hard time maintaining consciousness basically means they want to watch me for a while. I get it. I really do. I just don’t want to stay anymore.

  Will hasn’t left my side basically the entire time. He stood outside the rooms where I was x-rayed and CAT scanned and he hasn’t been more than a few steps away from my room.

  Even now I know he’s right outside in the hall, because while I can’t see him, I can definitely hear him. I’m pretty sure he is talking to King. I know I shouldn’t be listening in on his conversation, especially since he left the room to make sure it stayed private, but I can’t help myself.

  Besides, he’s talking about me, that gives me a free pass, right?

  “I don’t want to leave her on her own. Not until we have a better idea of what is going on and who was following her.” He sounds agitated. More so than I have heard him before.

  “She said the first time she saw the car was when she was leaving her apartment complex, so whoever it was definitely knew where to find her. The real question is, what was he planning on doing? Was he just planning on following her, and then he took advantage of the accident or was his intention always to go after her?” Well, that’s not unsettling at all.

  Why was this guy following me? Was he trying to figure out what I know? Does that mean he knows I’m the one who has been pushing this forward, that I’m the reason we were able to make all those connections and now the cops are after him? Somehow that doesn’t seem like a good thing.

  “The police have her phone, but I want to get her laptop. I want to know if this guy has been keeping tabs on her from the beginning or if this is new because the cases are all being connected. I looked at all the mentions on social media and Kenzie’s name isn’t mentioned once, so unless you are a cop, there’s no way he should know that she’s been at the center of everything.”

  He’s right, of course. No one should know about me. Outside of the first couple of days when I was asking around, there haven’t been that many people to talk to about Clara on campus.

  “Have you mentioned anything to anyone about Kenzie?” There’s only a short pause. “Right, well, can you send me his information? I want to check him out just to be on the safe side.” Another pause. “Thanks, King, I just want her to be safe. She’s really banged up and in no position to defend her
self, so the sooner we put a face and a name to this guy, the better.”

  It’s funny. I feel both reassured by Will’s desire to keep me safe and also a little terrified because he’s absolutely right. I can’t defend myself. And as of right now, any random person on the street could be the bad guy. And with that, I suddenly don’t like being in this room by myself.

  It’s nearly four in the morning by the time the ER doctor comes in with discharge instructions and I couldn’t be more excited. If there is one thing I have learned about emergency rooms is that they are full of random people, and when you are being hunted by some unknown person, that’s enough to drive you crazy.

  “You shouldn’t be alone for the next day or so,” the doctor says for what is probably the third time.

  “I know,” I say yet again.

  “I’ll stick right next to her, doc. No worries,” Will pipes in.

  The doctor turns to look over Will before finally nodding, apparently having decided that Will will do for taking care of me.

  “You need to take it easy too. No strenuous activity for the next couple of days. You are going to be sore, probably increasingly sore for the first couple of days, so you want to let yourself heal. Definitely move around, you don’t want to get stiff, but stick close to home and avoid any heavy lifting, especially with that arm.” He motions to the arm I’m still semi-cradling against my body.

  “Got it, take it easy, I can do that,” I lie through my teeth.

  The doctor rolls his eyes, clearly being wise to my plans of getting right back to my normal life.

  “You are also going to want to take deep breaths. It’s going to hurt, and you aren’t going to want to do it, but if you don’t, you risk developing complications from the broken and bruised ribs.” He explains.

  Figuring I don’t have anything to lose, I give it a try. Feeling the air rush through my nose and start to fill up my lungs is fine at first, and then it feels like ribs are being ripped from my chest for a moment. I quickly release the breath while cringing from the pain.

  “Yeah, hurts. You’re looking at about six weeks for full recovery but breathing will get easier with time,” he assures me.

  “If you say so,” I mutter in disbelief.

  “Well, that’s it, you’re free to go. Take care of yourself.” With that, he’s gone without a second glance back.

  “Well, that was abrupt,” I try to joke.

  “It’s busy out there with the rain and everything,” Will explains.

  “So, you don’t mind giving me a ride back to my place, right?” I say with a grin.

  Will’s expressions shift from being calm and concerned to full of darkness.

  “You can’t honestly think you are going back to your apartment,” he says incredulously.

  “Of course I do.”

  “You were literally just chased through the woods, you can’t be left alone with your head injury, you can barely use your dominant arm, and you can’t take a deep breath without collapsing in on yourself. There is no way you are going back to that apartment by yourself.”

  “So what do you suggest then, since you seem to know everything?” I ask.

  “I’ll take you back to your apartment,” he says, and I must look like the cat who caught the canary because he quickly follows it up. “But only to get your laptop so we can hand it over to King and pack you a bag.”

  “Seriously?” He just stares at me. He doesn’t even look like he’s breathing. He’s just staring at me with the no-nonsense look on his face. “Where exactly am I supposed to go then?”

  “You’ve slept in my guest room before, no reason why you can’t do it again,” he explains.

  “Will—”

  “No. Whatever argument you have, it doesn’t matter. I’m not leaving you out there by yourself to get picked off by this guy. He was at your apartment complex, Kenzie. He knows where you live. What’s to stop him from trying again? At least my house has security, King even vetted it, so I know you will be safe there. Until this guy is caught, I’m not going anywhere. And you aren’t going to be alone. It’s not worth the risk.”

  “Will, I know you’re worried and everything, and trust me I am too, but don’t you think that with everything it’s going to be awkward or weird?” I plead.

  “No. It can be awkward and weird later. When the threat has passed. And you’re still alive to argue with me or ignore me or whatever you want.”

  Water starts to build up along my tear line at having someone in my life who wants to protect me like this. Well, it’s something I didn’t realize how much I wanted.

  But one thing is for sure, I’m going to hold on to it for however long it lasts.

  “You win,” I tell him. “Let’s go home.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “BACK TO YOU” BY THE MAYRIES

  I feel the sunlight on my face long before I open my eyes. It is honestly more than a little disorienting since I have blackout curtains in my bedroom. What can I say? I’m a girl who loves her sleep.

  Opening my eyes is nothing more than a mistake as the sunlight seems to sear the interior of my brain. After a lot of blinking and trying to shield my face from the abrasiveness of the light, I look around the room trying to figure out what is going on.

  It takes a few moments to remember the events of last night. Going to see Will to get new information from King, almost dying, not being able to stay at my own apartment for the foreseeable future. Fuck, my life is a hot mess.

  I don’t know why it never once occurred to me to ask last night, or I guess early this morning, what it was that King was coming over to explain to Will. I try to think back to remember if there was any clue about what she might have found. I remember something about more files being so encrypted that she wasn’t going to be able to open them on her own and she wanted to reach out for help. Maybe she was able to get them opened, and she was going to tell us what was on them. Will would for sure know what was going on.

  So, I set out to find Will. Only, of course, that doesn’t work out as planned.

  I roll out of bed the exact same way I always do. Like muscle memory. Only this time, I almost collapse to the floor while doing it. My entire body feels like it has been run over by a steamroller. I can’t help but wonder if there is any part of my body that isn’t bruised.

  I barely manage to catch myself using my left arm to grab hold of the bed, which, of course, means my torso makes contact with the bed as I am falling. Bruised ribs are no joke. I don’t know how I even forgot that they were messed up, because the searing pain that follows is intense. Every breath feels kind of like little needles inside my chest.

  By the time I manage to get upright with my feet steady underneath me, I have already abandoned my plan to get dressed before going downstairs to find Will. It sounds too painful. Will can just deal with my puppy pajama pants and ripped-up T-shirt. I am beyond trying to impress anyone at this point. Plus, he has seen worse, I looked at myself in the mirror at my apartment this morning and saw just how rough I looked before I showered and packed a bag. Not a pretty sight at all.

  I am actually pretty good walking down the hallway. One foot in front of the other, no teetering, mostly just soreness. But the stairs… the stairs are a whole different beast. Every step down jostles my torso and my ribs. Not to mention the shock impact on my poor knees as one leg has to support my whole body weight as I maneuver down the stairs.

  I find Will sitting on the couch in the living room, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, looking at a laptop sitting on a coffee table. If he had a hard time sleeping last night, he certainly doesn’t look it.

  Clothed in what I am starting to think of as his uniform, dark-blue jeans, black compression shirt. The only difference is this time he isn’t wearing the boots. He isn’t wearing shoes at all, just a simple pair of black socks. Probably more for warmth than anything else.

  So basically, Will looks put together, and I look like a train wreck. A train wreck breaki
ng out in a cold sweat after the going downstairs excursion.

  “Hey,” I say slowly as I continue to maneuver myself into the living room.

  “You’re up,” he replies without looking up.

  Looking around the room, I briefly consider sitting next to Will on the couch before quickly deciding against it. The couch looks so comfy, the kind of couch you can sink into and take a nice nap and not wake up sore. Basically, if I sit in it, there is no way I am going to be able to get up anytime soon.

  Instead, I go for the accent chair that looks like it has way more structure than the couch could ever hope for. I should be able to get out of it later without needing any help.

  “Yep,” I finally reply. “What are you up to?”

  “Just going over everything again, trying to make sure I didn’t miss anything.”

  “Have you heard anything from the police yet?” I ask nervously.

  Will finally looks up and the wince that crosses his face is gone so quickly that I probably would have missed it if I had been blinking. I’m guessing the bruising is worse than it was last night. There’s a reason I didn’t look in the mirror when I made my pit stop in the bathroom.

  “Actually, yes,” he tells me as he leans back into the couch. “They found the car that had been following you last night, only a couple miles away too.”

  “Really?” I say, unable to keep the excitement out of my voice.

  “It’s not a big break, he set the damn thing on fire. If there was any evidence in that car, it’s long gone, and even if there is something left behind, it’s going to take forever for them to recover it.” He sounds pissed.

  “Oh. Alright then, anything else?”

  “They did some interviews. The construction crew remember the car, your description of the uneven headlights was very helpful. Everyone remembered the car. Unfortunately, it was nighttime, so no one got a good look at the driver. The only thing everyone agreed on was that it was a man. So not exactly helpful, but confirmation of your story. I think they are going to try and pull any surveillance footage of the route you took; they were able to recover your route from your phone.”