“See Elijah, I knew it was too much, you can’t protect me from the past, it’s done, I’ve lived it, I just need to remember to live through it.” I knew now, I would not be sharing the details with anyone, a dark and twisted story was about to unfold.
Nick called with an address, instructing me to meet her, demanded that I come at once. She didn’t offer details and from the tone in her voice, I didn’t ask. My heart began beating as if a weight press upon it.
“You need to come, I have something to show you.” She said. I knew it was urgent, I knew it was bad. Dread hit me like facing a freight train head on, unable to move as their lights approach at high speed. I shake it off and take off towards the long stretch of highway. I pull up and shut the engine off, scanning the commotion surrounding the edge of the trees, the forest thick and dense. My first indication of a crime scene was watching the yellow tape being wrapped around a tree trunk then wrapped around another.
And far off in the distance she came into view, her long chestnut hair whips in the breeze as she takes notes, her head buried in her small notepad, absorbed in her job, I call out her name and she finds me. Step by step my palms grew damp, I came to a stop, her expression somber, I was standing toe to toe with Nicole Lancaster, FBI agent, the Nick I know, was safely buried deep below her uniform.
“Follow me.” And without even a flinch she guides me to the site.
“Hey.” The suit said, “This is a crime scene.” Pushing past him, as Nick leads the way.
“He’s with me.”
And there beneath the tall timbers and cool breeze lay a small body, or what once was a body, now lays a skeleton, buried beneath layers of dirt. The grave was shallow, animals must have dug it up exposing the remains.
“A hiker from the college found it, called it in.”
I nodded in acknowledgment, studying the smaller frame of the skeleton.
“I’m guessing this was a young woman?”
“We believe it is.” The flashes of cameras and detectives scurrying around us, all with their jobs to do. I don’t let it drag my focus away, from head to toe the clothing practically disintegrated, due to years covered by the cold cruel earth.
“Look” she says, bending to one knee, she takes her pen and points to the gray toned skeleton remains, where a necklace hung around what once would have been her neck, silver and covered with dirt. Nick’s brown golden eyes lift. “Read the name.” She points at the black bold inscription, still visible through the muck.
“Vane.” I whisper, too stunned to answer. My throat thickens I can’t breathe it feels as if my air passage is blocked, somehow the answers we’ve been looking for fall into place. The implications were explosive we’re going to destroy him now. Neither of us said a word. Nick was trying to hold back her true suspicions this early in the investigation, but her gaze told me what I already knew. This was the university, this was the man, this is the smoking gun.
And somewhere in the vicinity this was where Grace has held, the campus, The University of Nevada, this is where her story began.
“Steel.” She whispers, “I need to finish here, I can come over when I’m through we have so much to discuss.”
“I agree, just call me.” I stagger away, and once alone in my SUV the engine kicks over, warming the chill I’d fought as a cold crisp breeze blew under the darkened sky. It’s moments like this when I let doubt take me, life so unappreciated, I pray to a God, I’m not sure exist. God can’t be so cruel, the pinch of pain that squeezes at my heart, grows with each passing moment.
Where was her protector, the guardian of his flock? I’d struggled with this concept for years, with wars and blood shed, witnessing the evil of man, it’s easy to be skeptical. That poor girl paid with her life. I drove home the serrated mountains loomed in the distance. I’ve seen death, I’ve seen war, and worse, it doesn’t get any easier, it’s still a wasted life gone.
As I enter through the gate of my home, I see evidence my neighbor Mr. Carlson has stopped by, and Whisky will be waiting, and once the key turns I hear a bark answer. I cross the floor to turn off the alarm as Whisky follows suit. “Hey boy, I missed you.” Bending at the waist to rub into his thick fur.
Finding frozen left overs, I slide them into the microwave, grab a beer and pull out my phone to call Flynn. He answers right away.
“Sir.”
“We may have a lead on Grace’s case.”
“Fill me in.”
Which I do, simultaneously stirring the spaghetti and putting it back in for several more minutes. “It’s important that we speak with her.”
“Good luck, she refuses to share her memories, they’ve become too personal, according to Grace. All I can tell you is that she has her nose in that notebook from sun up to sun down, completely shutting me out.” Flynn says, the hurt in his voice is clear. “She’s hiding something, or protecting someone.” He adds.
“It’s imperative that we touch on several sensitive subjects, I’ll call Theo, we need reinforcements, Nick’s due over here soon hopefully we can arrange to meet tonight.”
He hangs up as soon as my timer goes off, I pull the hot dish out and text both Nick and Theo. Sitting at my counter with supper and my beer. I went over several tactics to break through Graces walls, the obvious is Theo, he’s was our best option. The necklace is key, and I know she was not wearing it the night we found her. Either way, it was about the name Vane, and their connection to the college.
I hear a chime, and then another one follows. Nick is on her way here, we’ll drive in together. The other is Theo, he agrees to come and will text me when he’s on his way. I hear the gate signal, and press the open button, within moments Nick’s knocking, Whiskey’s barking and wagging his tail. “I feel the same way, buddy.” As I cross over the wooden floors and open the door. “Hey beautiful, how did the rest of the investigation go?”
“It’s complicated, we won’t know much until forensics come back.”
“We have Grace, we may get lucky there, we’re all meeting tonight.”
My eyes latch on to her tired brown eyes, a hint of floral still lingers in the air. Her chestnut hair shines below the dim light, and I’m pulled in like a beacon. My arms wrap around her waist and I’m drowning in her beauty.
“We don’t have time.”
“Um huh.”
“Later, I promise.” She smiles as a playful groan escapes my lips.
“I’ll take you up on that drive, I’m beat.” The playfulness was short lived, and understandingly so.
We stand on the stoop, it’s a cool night growing colder with each day, soon there’ll be snow, and lots of it. The door swings open.
“Come in.” Flynn looks done in, I’m instantly curious if this look was all about Grace, all signs point to yes. “It’s cold out there.”
“We know.” And once in, Grace appears, her hands tucked into the back pocket of her jeans, nerves jumping off her in waves.
“Hi Grace.” Nick rushes to her side with a warm genuine hug.” “You okay?” She only shrugs. She seems to sense why we’re here.
There’s another knock, I’m closest so I answer it letting Theo in, he brushes off his overcoat. “It’s flurrying out there.” I take his coat, along with mine and Nicks and hang it on the coat rack.
“Hello Grace.” Theo says.
“Dr. Grant.” Everyone automatically takes a seat. I purposely didn’t mention the necklace to Theo, not yet. I want the information to come out organically.
“I understand your memories are coming back more clearly now. And with great detail.” Her eyes shift to Flynn, and that’s when it hits me. It’s not that she doesn’t want to tell the story of her memories, she doesn’t want to share them with Flynn. And if Flynn has his head on straight he’d realize the story in that notebook would begin to tear him apart.
“Excuse me, Flynn?” I gesture to the kitchen, where he immediately follows. “You can’t be in here.”
“What do you mean? I’m not lea
ving her.”
“She doesn’t want you to hear about her with another man, if you look at it that way it only proves she’s protecting your feelings, she cares that much about you.”
“But…”
“Don’t fight it, just go to your bedroom, take a walk, something.” He nods, but is fuming inside.
“Grace, can you share your latest memories?” Theo begins.
“It’s personal.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
She looks around realizing Flynn’s disappearance.
“Okay Grace, I was hoping you could help both Steel and Nick. There’s more at stake now, we need to know if you’re in danger.”
“Danger?” Something flickers in her eyes, she believes she could be in danger, and leaves momentarily to retrieve her notebook. “This isn’t easy, let me just read it through and if you have questions, I’ll answer afterwards.”
We all agree.
Grace pushes the dark framed glasses up her nose, tucks her legs underneath her body and opens the page to begin.
I woke to the sun, the morning light rays crept threw the drapes and a peaceful awakening came over me, although it doesn’t last very long, a warm breath felt on my cheek. “Good morning Angel.” His voice a whisper above my ear. “Happy Birthday, sweet eighteen.”
His words startle me, as my eyes flutter open his nearness causing my pulse to quicken, the beat of my heart pounds, and I have yet to reply.
“Thank you.” My eerily handsome professor, a smile curving across his lips. And a single red rose in his hand.
“Happy Birthday Grace.” He repeats, the bed dips as he sits alongside of me. “I have something for you, it’s a small thing really.” Trailing the delicate rose across my cheek. “But it will have to wait, get dressed and meet me in my study.”
I nod, but the calmness I felt only moments ago is ripped away, now my heart hammers like a gong bass drum, it’s beat exploding in my chest. The door closes and clicks shut. I sigh in relief wanting nothing more than to cocoon myself beneath the covers, but I don’t.
I moved across the room bewildered acting on instinct I find myself in the shower, hot beads of water washing away the anxiety, it feels like a denial, because it is. I dry my long tresses, taking time to perfect each strand. And look over my shoulder once again there’s a dress, a pink lace dress. Pink. I stare at the thing laid perfectly on the bed, it’s V-neck, backless hollowed out crochet dress with a matching satin belt.
It couldn’t be further from my taste, as I look at the offending frock. I put on the matching undergarments, also displayed on my bed, cringing at the thoughts in a way I can’t describe, my chest grows tight once again as I slip the dress over my head, the spandex clinging to what curves I have. The length rests high above my knee, the dip low down the front exposing my slight cleavage.
I glance at my reflection in the old full-length mirror in the corner. The sight is alien, unfamiliar, I slide on my dark rimmed glasses, then suddenly discard them. Which only proves the influence he is beginning to have over me. I see everything and nothing at the same time. I’m confused and too young, to innocent, and much too naïve to go to him, but I do.
I stand awkwardly in the door way. “Dr. Vane, sir”
He instantly turns, “Come.” He urges, his glare slides over my body and back to my eyes. A grin pulls at his lips, yet I sense there’s so much more, hidden layers just itching to be peeled away.
“Angel.” He comes to me gentle and kind, a whisper floating in the air. He reaches for my hand and twirls me under his arm as if we were dancing. “Achingly beautiful.” I land softly against him and shudder the moment we touch, one forbidden touch. Our bodies press against one another.
His thumb brushes over my bottom lip causing the air to catch in my throat, with expert care he’s introducing me to his seductive powers. I feel his heated gaze on me, then promptly disappear as he crosses the room. He sinks into his leather chair; as I approach my new surroundings, the library is rich with scents of old books and stale cigars.
He sweeps his arm toward the opposing chair “Sit please.” His hands steepled, his elbows resting on the old mahogany desk. Nerves jump with every breath a struggle as I sense his scrutiny. I feel as if I’m the center of his world, yet strangely, not safe.
My mind racing tangled in the silence, waiting for it to break. Moments later, Godfrey stands within the doorframe and knocks, one hand balancing a silver tray, holding two glasses of orange juice. “Grace, have you ever tasted a mimosa?” One is set on the table next to me, as Godfrey hands the remaining glass to Dr. Vane. Then turns leaving us behind, I hear the door click closed.
“No sir, it’s a first.”
“I’ll take your first everything, angel” We tap our glasses as that statement takes hold and twists in my gut. I gently sip the sweet nectar with bubbles, enjoying its full sweet flavor. “It’s orange juice and champagne, do you approve?”
“Yes.” I tip the fluted glass and empty every last drop, then place the empty glass back on the table. “Sir.’ His amused expression was hard to comprehend, until he stood and crossed around my way. He leans against the front of his desk, casually. Which contradicts this man in every way.
“I promised a gift.” Reaching behind himself. “Come.” His gentle wave commanding I stand and move towards him, which I do without question. “For you.” Holding out a small box wrapped in silver paper and a matching bow. A wave of embarrassment creeps up the length of me, and I can’t bear to look at him. I’m fixated on the silver wrap, and what this means. “Open it, please.” His words echo in my mind, as I begin tearing at the paper, exposing the velvet covered box. My eyes flew to his, then float back to the box where I open the lid. Inside placed perfectly was a sparkling silver chain, a solid silver piece centered the necklace and on it, the word Vane scrolled in black letters. “Allow me.” He turns me, now facing the door. ‘Lift your hair.’ He whispers above my ear, I obey instantly, and confusing scenarios run through my mind.
“It will sit beautifully on the elegant line of your neck.” Tenderly touching me like I was made of glass. “See for yourself.” Pushing me by my shoulders now facing the antique gold embellished mirror.
“Yes.” I say. The emotions stir the inner recesses of every thought that could potentially harm me. I force the words to come, force my mind to quiet. “Thank you.”
“You’re destined to be mine.” He tells me without hesitation. Our gaze lock in the mirror, his suit perfection, not a hair out of place. His front gently presses against my back, his head drops to my exposed neck, I watch as his mouth presses against my skin as his wet lips slide up to my ear, his hot breath whispers. “Your skin is flawless, untouched perfection.”
His touch, his words reduce me to a mindless child, unaware of what to do or say. A wave of fear consumes me, his touch is pulling waves back to the sea and taking me with it.
The little trinket, the necklace or choker represent something I’m not familiar with, and I am too intimidated to ask. Two steps back, his warmth was gone, his control in place.
“I brought you here for our lesson of the day.” He rounded his desk casually sinking back into his chair, once more. He leans back and laces his fingers behind his head, his suit taut against muscled flesh.
“Look around you.”
And I do, hundreds of worn spines line perfectly in a rhythm, of beauty. “Choose one angel.” As I cross the floor, the tips of my fingers graze each book as I pass, and land on:
“Christina Rossetti.”
“Ah a woman, she was known to be quite beautiful.” His eye shut slowly as he inhales the words. “Read it to me angel.”
“Remember.” I began with the title.
Remember me when I am gone away
Gone far away into the silent land
When you can no more hold me by the hand
Nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay
Remember me when no more day by day…”
“
There are many theories of this poem, the poet in general, one is that her poem conceals a love for a painter. Of course, it’s disputed, but I prefer to believe in the scandalous side of history, don’t you?”
“I prefer the darkness.” I say, a groan escapes his perfect persona, a facade of sorts temporarily unveiled.
“I do as well, but you can’t appreciate the dark unless you live in the light.”
“I live in both worlds Dr. Vane.”
“Don’t stop angel, read.”
I obey without a thought, poem after poem he inhales each word as if it was oxygen. Sampling my soul only to devour it later, I pour my heart out with the words written on the page, whether I wanted them exposed or not, they floated to him, helpless in his reaction. I close the book and rest it on my lap.
“You haven’t seen the garden.” His eyes filled with determination. We take a walk in the garden, stroll beneath the rolling clouds he never touches me as we walked side by side. It’s as if we live in another era, his chivalrous style and manor appear old fashioned, the way he walks both hands linked behind his back, the distance purposely appropriate, a far cry from the library scene.
Just as we approach the large fountain the sun’s scorching rays appear through the clouds. The sky opens and warms my face as the cool breeze whips my hair. The soothing sound of water trickling down the concrete statue was hypnotizing.
“Oh Hell.” He says with a cry, yanking my arm and whirls me around to face him. His mouth crashes on mine. His tongue begging for an invitation, but how could he know this was my first kiss, as promised he would take my first everything.
He cradles my face with untamed desire and fills my mouth with his tongue, finding mine to mate, demanding my submission and I let him master me. But the fear guides me through his need. A trace of stubble burns as he twists and turns his full lips to reach inside me. I tense, and begin to tremble with a mixture of regret, shame and pleasure all tied together. He owns my breath, then drags his mouth off mine, his eyes grow dark, intense and focused. Then instantly parted, taking several small steps back.
Hard as Steel: Book four ( Surviving Series ) Page 12