by Petrova, Em
“They never found her?”
“You knew?!” He ran his hand through his hair, tugging on the ends again while he paced back and forth. “We have to get you out of here. This place is no good for you.”
Indignation raised her hackles. She was sick of the men in her life telling her what was good for her. “I’m not leaving. This place is my home.” Shutting her laptop, she stood and stalked to her brother, eye to eye. “You’re telling me the same shit Dad did. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Staying here just to spite everybody is liable to get you killed, Van. I won’t lose you, too.” Vic’s voice was hard, but the sudden glassiness of his eyes gave him away.
Vanessa softened her voice, in spite of her rising anger. “I’m not in danger. Someone’s trying to scare me off, that’s all, and I won’t go crying home to Daddy because of a fucking doll.”
“It’s not the doll. It’s the fact someone is coming into your home and watching you sleep that’s freaking me out! Seriously, that doesn’t bother you?” Victor was livid, his face reddening and the vein in his temple pounding.
“They’ll stop when they realize I’m not going anywhere.” She tried to end the discussion by crossing her arms and walking off, but Victor wouldn’t stop there. He was the king of beating dead horses.
“You know Dad is the last person I want to sound like, but you need to face facts. Your boyfriend is dick-supreme, there’s a missing girl somewhere out there, and somebody is breaking into your house every night to move a fucking doll around. Are you seriously stupid enough to ignore all that? What do you have here?” It was a really good thing he didn’t know about the ghosts in town yet.
Vanessa thought of the Book Bitches—Samantha, Kristie, Tiffany, Wren, and Melanie. She may not have much, but those women were a support group she never knew she needed. Maybe one of them could stay with her a while, to get Vic off her back. They could become some sort of dynamic duo to solve the mystery of the doll, even though she still thought it was Emily.
“My friends are here.” Planting her hands on her hips, Vanessa drew from a well of stubbornness identical to her brother’s.
“What about Jennifer? What happened to her?” His voice softened, obviously trying another tactic.
“She’s busy in Victoria with her life there. Nothing happened, we just grew in different directions. We’re still friends, but I don’t talk to her much. Besides, Ian’s in Victoria, and I don’t want to go back to where I can run into him.”
“So you want to stay in this tiny town where you’ll run into Linc and his wife and baby instead?”
Okay, that hurt. A stabbing radiated through her chest right about the same time a stinging pain sliced across her palm from the slap she delivered to Victor’s face. “Stop throwing that in my face.”
She suddenly wished with all her heart that her bed was in a different room, so she could go slam a door and throw herself across it. Instead, she went outside on the porch, slamming her front door in Victor’s face.
But when she went outside, she still wasn’t alone. With a heavy sigh and a gripping of her fists, she watched Sheriff Hughes bump up her driveway in his squad cruiser.
Chapter Thirty-Six
“Sheriff,” she greeted him, trying to be polite.
“Miss Power,” he tipped his hat at her. She wasn’t in the mood to find humor anywhere, but it still amused her when he did that. Vanessa didn’t think people did that outside of cowboy romance novels and the movies. “I hear you’ve had some trouble out here?”
“I guess. It’s just a doll, though. Nothing threatening.”
“Your brother seems to think otherwise.”
She invited him up onto the porch to sit, still pissed at her brother for his meddling. She wanted to talk to the sheriff on her own terms, without Vic interrupting to call her stupid.
When she had finished her tale, his dark eyebrows were hidden under the brim of his hat.
“This has been going on how long?”
“Since Linc and I started dating.” Her words shocked her. “About a month ago.” Was that how long it lasted? How long it had taken to lose her heart? Watching the sheriff face as she listened to her own words, she understood his shock. “It sounds worse than it is, really.” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, so Victor wouldn’t overhear. “I just thought it was my ghost.”
“Definitely not a ghost, unless they’ve been doing other stuff like that. Why didn’t you call us before this? Is that something Linc put you up to?”
“No, Linc actually wanted me to call you when it first started happening. But I wanted to figure it out on my own.” She didn’t mention she didn’t really trust the sheriff, and this was exactly why. Why the sheriff was so eager to place some blame on Linc was still beyond her, and she wasn’t going to go there. As mad as she was at Linc, she’d forgiven him for most of her hurts, and wasn’t willing to drag him into this. He had enough things to worry about.
He was having a baby. It hurt like hell, but it wasn’t her problem. If he was going to deal with that without her, she’d have to let him. Even if she wished he’d talked to her about it before deciding to help Cindy. Maybe, if they’d talked together, they could have come up with something else.
“Mind if I take a look at this doll?”
“Sure, come in and I’ll show you all the places I’ve found it, too.” She swallowed, suddenly a bit nervous. “There have also been some phone calls.” She didn’t think they were anything but wasn’t sure. “They’ve mostly stopped now.”
“What sort of calls?”
“Um, mostly hang-up calls. Sometimes they say something, like, ‘Soon,’ or ‘I saw you,’ and stuff like that.” She was mortified at having to tell a cop about her and Linc and hoped he wouldn’t ask.
Of course, he did.
“What did he see you do?” He straightened, his eyes glaring with suspicion. It was a good look on him. He wore it well.
Vanessa sighed. “Whoever it was called and said that right after I’d given Linc a blowjob here on the porch.”
To his credit, the sheriff blushed and stammered. “I’ll get your statement later. I’ll need as many details about all of that as you can give me. But, um, for now, just show me where this doll has shown up.”
As she walked around the house, showing the sheriff all the places the doll had shown up as well as all the trash cans she’d thrown it in, he was silent, observing her, making her slightly uncomfortable with what she could only imagine was judgement. He probably didn’t think she could hack it out here all alone either.
“Linc did all this?” He was looking around her house, specifically at the walls upstairs.
“Yes. Since he’s stopped working with me, my brother’s been helping, but it’s a bit slower.” Surprising, actually, as since she and Linc had started their relationship, he’d been working slower, too. But Victor didn’t have the knowledge Linc had, and most of his work involved researching and planning what he would do next. And some re-doing of what he screwed up.
“It’s good work,” Sheriff Hughes allowed, seeming to begrudge it. Snapping back to business, he looked at her. “You lock your doors at night?”
She nodded. “Yes, I bought new locks the first day I was here, and that was one of the first things Linc did.”
“Mind if I put a camera in the living room? That’s where the doll shows up most, isn’t it?”
Okay, the idea of a camera on her while she was sleeping was downright oogy, but if she didn’t cooperate with law-enforcement, she would never hear the end of it from Victor. “Yes, go ahead, if you think that’s necessary.”
“It’ll be like a game camera, motion activated, one that takes still shots to send to my computer. Just dress in another room and I won’t see a thing.” His face had taken on an amused look, but she didn’t get the idea he was laughing at her. It was a more human side of the sheriff that she didn’t see much of, and it relaxed her some.
“Okay.”
After the sheriff left to go get his camera and equipment, Vanessa straightened up, and checked on Victor’s progress upstairs. He almost had the floor finished in the room that would be her bedroom. She couldn’t wait. Just a couple more days and she could move her bed stuff upstairs and out of the living room.
And then she could slam her door and lock out the doubters.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Linc was outside, grilling hotdogs on the hibachi, while Cindy was inside making what she called potato salad. It was mostly just boiled potatoes and mayonnaise, but he wasn’t complaining. This was an attempt at normalcy, half-hearted as it was. He needed to find work or it would be short-lived as well. The trailer was paid for, but the spot in the park required monthly payments, as did the utilities, and if he didn’t come up with some sort of regular income, his monthly expenses would eat up his savings in a heartbeat.
And then he and Cindy and the baby would be homeless. And that would make all of this for naught.
Cindy, for her part, seemed to be playing house more than anything. She still wore her too tight clothing and wasn’t showing a pregnancy yet. She assured him that with her frame and her figure, she probably wouldn’t show until the third trimester, but Linc couldn’t help but be suspicious. She hadn’t had any doctor’s appointments that he’d been invited to. The one that she’d said she’d gone to, she’d made for a time when Linc had a job, working on Mr. Daughtry’s lawn.
“Grab the buns, will you, Cindy?” he hollered through the open window. They hadn’t had any sex, either. He just couldn’t bring himself to do that. He had suspicions about that, too—that she was getting it elsewhere—but they weren’t married yet, and Linc hadn’t felt the undeniable need to make love to her like he did when he was around Vanessa. Around Cindy, Linc could do without.
When the sheriff’s cruiser pulled up in his driveway, Linc crossed his arms in front of him and scowled at Tate as he got out of the car and pulled his hat on.
“Sheriff,” he growled, displeased with the interruption, yet at the same time, hoping he was needed somewhere else. Anywhere would do.
“Linc,” Sheriff Hughes muttered. “I’ve just come from Miss Power’s place. She finally called about that doll. I hear you wanted her to let us know about it earlier.”
Relief coursed through him that Vanessa had finally gotten the police involved. But it was relief laced with terror. “Has something happened?”
Cindy came out then, a bag full of hot dog buns in her hand. “Hiya, Tate,” she purred, unwilling to leave a prospective lay alone. Linc idly wondered how many times she’d ridden the sheriff, then he slammed the door on that visual.
“Miss Cooper,” he tipped his hat, and Linc rolled his eyes at the gesture that had been making girls and women fall at Tate’s feet since the asshole was four years old.
“Has something happened with Vanessa?” Linc repeated, more urgency in his voice.
“You knew about the doll and the phone calls. Nothing else. I just wanted to clarify with you that her doors were locked when this was happening?”
“What phone calls?” Blood drained from Linc’s face. He knew she’d been looking at her phone a lot but had discounted it as part of her big ‘secret’ she would tell him about eventually.
“She’s been getting weird calls. If she didn’t tell you, she won’t want you to know about them.” Tate’s mouth was set in a firm line across his face. “Locks?”
“Yes, doors, windows, everything. I always checked whenever we found that damn thing someplace new. That was the big mystery I never could figure out.” Who the fuck had been calling Vanessa? And what did they say that made her tell the sheriff?
“You still have your key?” The skepticism in Tate’s eyes was vivid and made Linc’s hackles rise. Then he realized that of course he’d be a suspect now. With everything happening, and with Tate, he’d have been a suspect even before, just because of their history.
Linc swallowed. “Yes. I never got around to giving it back, and now I’m not sure we should see each other.” He should just go leave it on her porch sometime when she wasn’t home, but that would mean making it available for anyone who was watching the house.
“I’m putting a camera in her living room today. I came over to see if you’d be on call since you’re right up the road from her.” He actually looked a little sheepish, and Linc scratched the stubble on his jaw, looking at the man he hadn’t called friend in ten years. “My ranch is twenty minutes away, and if the guy comes in tonight, I’ll need somebody here. Her brother is staying, but I don’t know how much good he’ll be at restraining somebody until I get there.”
“What about Lewis? Or Rudy? Or even Maybeline?” He listed off all the sheriff’s employees in a desperate attempt to get out of it. Not that he didn’t want to be the one to save Vanessa. That was all he could think about, but for some reason, Tate asking him this seemed odd.
“Lewis has to be on duty in town. I can’t spare him, unless he’s out here for something else already. I just thought you’d might like the chance, but I can call somebody else…”
“You deputizing me?” A wry grin spread across Linc’s face.
“Fuck, no, Linc. You’re a goddamned felon. I just thought you might like to help, but if you don’t want to, then never mind.” Sheriff Hughes took a step away and began to turn, but Linc stopped him.
“I’ll help. I was just… I’m sorry.” Linc wanted to have a reason to be there, even if it was horrific. He needed to be the one to save Vanessa if she needed saving. And that made him an asshole—that he was ready for her to be put in danger so he could run to her rescue.
“Yeah, well, thanks.”
Okay, so they weren’t best buddies again, and Linc wasn’t sure he wanted that. But at least they could work together for a common good. Vanessa.
After the sheriff left, Linc and Cindy sat down to their cookout, and Linc couldn’t help but wish he was with Vanessa. He’d been having these thoughts since the beginning with Cindy because everything felt so pretend with her. Not real.
It was only real with Vanessa.
He was glad she’d finally gotten the police involved, even if that meant Tate was over at her house instead of him, but Tate took his job seriously, and as much animosity as they had between them, it looked like Tate was putting it aside for Vanessa.
At two o’clock in the morning, when Linc should have been sleeping, he was instead wrapped up in Cindy’s tentacles. She slept like a damn octopus, and he couldn’t make her stop. So when his phone rang, he extricated himself, not caring about her objections.
“Get over there now,” Tate’s urgent whisper met his ears. “There’s a guy crawling out from under her fucking bed.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Linc threw his pants on as quickly as he could.
“Where are you going?” Cindy mumbled from the bed.
He debated briefly what to tell her but decided against mentioning Vanessa. Cindy had made it clear she didn’t want to hear anything about her, so Linc had refrained. Not that talking about her helped anything.
“Out for a little bit. I’ll be back within the hour,” he said, stretching a t-shirt over his head and then planting a kiss on the top of her head. Slipping his boots on, he was out the door and in his truck.
Flying down the road to Vanessa’s drive, Linc tried not to kill himself on the way, but his hands gripped the steering wheel and his foot nudged the gas pedal down further. He was going too fast, but the idea of somebody hanging out under Vanessa’s bed while she slept, oblivious, was just too much. Ice water ran in his veins and he prayed he could get there in time.
He was about to find out who this mysterious creep was, and it would take every ounce of his self-control to not smash his face in, especially knowing whoever it was had been calling her, too. A pang of pain hit him at the fact she hadn’t told him about the phone calls. And Tate knew about them.
Yeah, the pang was jealousy he had no ri
ght to feel.
Pretty sure he punched a hole in his muffler and did some serious damage to his shocks, Linc raced up her bumpy driveway, not caring about the damage. All he cared about was catching the guy.
He smashed in her door to find a man standing over Vanessa’s bed, watching her sleep, the doll limp in his hand.
“Vanessa!” Linc cried as he launched himself at the man. He was sixty pounds heavier and a good six inches taller. Linc didn’t have any formal training but could only hope his bulk would make up for that.
And it did. The man went down easily, face first, as Linc wrapped his arms and legs around him, immobilizing him.
It was the ex.
The bedside lamp went on, and Vanessa shouted, “Ian?!” Victor stumbled down the stairs, bleary-eyed, wearing nothing but a pair of tighty-whities.
“The fuck is going on? What the hell?” He was gape-mouthed, looking between Ian and Linc.
“Can you get me something to restrain him?” Linc muttered. Ian was struggling, but it was futile. Linc had him in a firm grasp, and no power on earth would make him let go.
Vanessa opened her nightstand drawer and withdrew a pair of handcuffs, holding them out to him. Linc was gobsmacked with visions of her wearing a pair of handcuffs, naked in her bed.
Christ.
She was still holding them out to him, and he motioned with his jaw, suddenly too angry to think straight. Who was she sleeping with now? Were those Tate’s cuffs? Did she have something going on with the sheriff now? It figured Tate couldn’t wait to get into her pants as soon as he was out of the picture.
Vanessa stumbled over to them, and with Linc’s help, she cuffed Ian’s hands behind his back. Linc sat against the wall, where he could watch them both until Tate got there. Victor was still standing there like the village idiot.
Except he couldn’t look at Vanessa. She was staring at him, with something in her eyes Linc didn’t want to see.
Because it was something he could never have.