The Only Shark In The Sea (The Date Shark Series Book 3)

by Gladden, DelSheree

  This was going to tear her open, and Vance was forcing it upon her, but he couldn’t back down. Losing Natalie so quickly on the heels of Stephanie’s death would do worse than wound him. It would break him utterly. His need to be around her was baffling in many ways. Being near her, having her trust and support…even if it didn’t make sense, it felt right.

  Vance reached the door and flipped the deadbolt. His movements were jerky as he pulled the door open and gestured Peter Morrow into the lobby. After locking the door again, he faced his friend. The expression on Peter’s face made him flinch.

  “Are you okay?” Peter asked. “You don’t look so good.”

  “Yeah, thanks for pointing that out,” Vance grumbled. “I haven’t been that great, but it’s getting better.” He tried to press his hair down to rid himself of the bedhead style he was sure to be sporting. Peter’s stare dropped to Vance’s feet and it was only then that he realized he was barefoot.

  Peter frowned. “Did you just wake up?” His frown deepened. “Did you sleep here?”

  Peter was a good friend, but he was clearly displeased at the idea that Vance had stayed the night at another woman’s apartment not even a month after Stephanie’s death. The insinuation tensed Vance’s entire body. That wasn’t the reason he’d stayed at Natalie’s. He knew that. The fact that Peter would assume differently not only angered him, but caused a strange sense of guilt to surge through him.

  “I hadn’t been feeling very well. Natalie asked me over for dinner because she knew I hadn’t been eating since Steph died and I…I guess I just fell asleep at some point. I haven’t really been sleeping much either.” It wasn’t exactly the truth, but Vance wasn’t about to tell him the real reason he’d ended up at Natalie’s in the first place or just how bad the past weeks had been.

  Peter seemed to consider the explanation before letting the tension slip from his shoulders. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to judge or assume. It just, you know, took me by surprise I guess.”

  “Yeah,” Vance mumbled. A darker part of his thoughts surfaced, saying that if people had known the reason behind their fight before Steph died, maybe they wouldn’t judge him so harshly. He pushed thoughts like that away quickly and focused on the reason Peter was standing in front of him drawing assumptions in the first place.

  “So, this woman, Natalie,” Peter began, “you said she’d been receiving threats of some kind, from her father?”

  His skeptical expression grated on Vance, but he forced himself to brush it aside. “I don’t know all the details, but I wouldn’t have called you if this wasn’t serious. I think she’s in more danger than she’s willing to admit.”

  Peter nodded slowly. “And how did you meet Natalie?”

  Clenching his jaw, Vance knew exactly how his answer was going to sound, but lying wasn’t going to help him. “She used to be a patient of mine.” As expected, Peter’s expression grew both confused and concerned, forcing Vance to explain. “She was one of Guy’s date shark clients first, and he suspected she was hiding some kind of trauma and referred her to me.”

  “But she’s not a patient anymore?” Peter asked.

  Vance shook his head. “We had an…unusual setup. Natalie has severe phobias about touching people or being in close quarters with them. Meeting with me in private at my office was out of the question, so myself, Natalie, and Stephanie would meet twice a week at a local café for her sessions. She and Steph became friends and after she died, she started going to group therapy instead.”

  Again, Vance was cutting out certain details, but it was too much work to explain everything, and he really didn’t think it was any of Peter’s business that Stephanie wasn’t the only one who had come to care about Natalie on a more personal level. Vance couldn’t really classify his feelings for Natalie, but they had gone beyond professional concern almost from the beginning. It was more like family, or…something even deeper.

  The way Peter still seemed to be considering the situation said he knew there was more to the story, but he didn’t keep pushing. “Well, is she going to be okay with me coming up to talk to her?”

  “She’s going to try,” Vance said. It was the most he could promise at that point.

  The two men trekked up the stairs without speaking. That was fine with Vance, as his swarming thoughts had only become more complicated. Peter also seemed occupied with his thoughts, though his outward disapproval was no longer so easy to see. Vance led the way to Natalie’s apartment and slid the key into the lock with a silent prayer that she hadn’t found a way to keep him out. The key turned and he held his breath as he pushed the door inward, half afraid it wouldn’t budge.

  It was difficult not to sigh as the door swung slowly into the apartment. Hiding his relief, he gestured for Peter to follow him in. They both stopped in the entryway and Vance called out to Natalie, hoping she wasn’t hiding in a closet somewhere. “Natalie, Detective Morrow is here to talk to you. Are you okay with us coming into the living room?”

  The entire apartment was silent. Vance’s hopes fell. An apology to his friend for dragging him over here was on his lips when a quiet shuffling noise caused him to turn. Clutching Gypsy’s round body against her chest, Natalie held her like a shield as she stepped into view. Wide-eyed and paler than usual, she stared at Peter. “Thank…thank you…for coming.”

  The irritating tension from his disapproval fell away from Peter as he took in Natalie’s frightened demeanor. “Of course,” he said. “Do you mind if we all sit down so we can talk comfortably?”

  Peter was all professional now, allowing Vance to relax a little as well. Natalie backed into the living room, nodding in order to give them permission to follow. Once she saw that they were both moving, she turned and scurried into her armchair, leaving them to sit on the couch and loveseat. Vance bypassed the couches to grab the letter off the table before returning to the living room. He didn’t hand the letter over yet, but he took a seat on the loveseat, a buffer between Natalie and Peter.

  Taking a notebook and pen from his pocket, Peter set both items on the coffee table in front of him and directed his attention at Natalie. “Now, Vance explained there has been a threatening phone call and now a letter from your father that makes you believe you may be in danger, but you don’t think either is enough for a restraining order.”

  Natalie nodded and tightened her grip on Gypsy.

  “I know this might be difficult, but in order for me to request resources to make sure you’re safe, I need a few more details about your father and why you think he might be a danger to you,” Peter said. “Vance mentioned you ran away as a teenager. Can you tell me more about that?”

  Natalie gulped in several deep breaths. Vance tensed, fearing another panic attack, but she locked eyes with Vance and choked down her fear enough that she could speak. “I was eighteen. I waited until then so they couldn’t force me to go back.” Her eyes glassed over with tears. “I wanted to leave before then, but I was afraid he’d find me. At eighteen, I could leave without his permission. I could change my name too. I had to change my name so he couldn’t find me.”

  Peter glanced over at Vance, searching for confirmation on what she had said. Those were two of the facts Vance could actually confirm. That was about it, though. He nodded all the same. Peter turned back to Natalie and continued. “So your original name, it wasn’t Natalie Price?”

  “Clara Townsend,” she whispered, like speaking that name too loud would turn her back into the terrified girl she had once been. “My father’s name is Walter Townsend. Priscilla is my mother.”

  “What happened to cause you to run away?” Peter asked.

  Natalie frowned, and Vance guessed was it far from just being one thing. He had dealt with enough trauma victims to pick out the ones affected by a singular incident and those who had managed to survive a lifetime of abuse in one form or another. It was curious to him that Natalie fit the bill for both cases in many ways. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he willed strengt
h in her direction and waited for her to speak.

  “I grew up in a very small town, less than a thousand people. My father wasn’t wealthy or important, but everyone feared him. Nobody crossed him. Those who did were made to pay dearly,” Natalie said with a blank expression. It was almost like she had shut down, as if it were the only way she could talk about her experiences without actually feeling them. “He was very exacting, and he expected a lot from the people he dealt with and employed. He wasn’t religious, but he had extremely strict moral standards. Lying and cheating were unacceptable in any form. Disrespectful language was cause for firing someone, in his opinion. Being late meant docked pay. Shoddy workmanship…everyone made sure their work was the highest possible quality.”

  When she lapsed into silence for a moment, Peter risked interrupting with a question. “What did your father do? You mentioned he wasn’t wealthy, but he owned his own business?”

  Natalie didn’t give any indication that she had heard him. Peter and Vance were both a bit startled when she spoke again. “Carpentry.” She said the word like it was distasteful.

  That was the first moment Vance realized not a single piece of furniture in sight was made of wood. The dining table and chairs were metal, as was the coffee table and bookcases. He supposed there was wood in the frame of the couches, but it wasn’t visible. Peter was glancing around as well, and seemed to make the same connection.

  “So he had employees who worked in his shop?” Peter asked.

  “They never stayed long,” Natalie said in the same empty voice. “They all grew to hate him and left. The town hated him too, but they were too scared of him to do anything about it. Everyone did what he said, no matter what.”

  “Including you?” Peter asked.

  Blinking, Natalie finally met Peter’s eyes. “I did…for almost eighteen years.”

  “Almost?” he cocked his head to one side. “You said you ran away after you turned eighteen.”

  “The day I turned eighteen,” Natalie corrected. “I spent the two weeks leading up to my birthday locked in the basement. But that wasn’t the worst. I preferred being locked up to his initial punishment.”

  Vance felt his entire body go cold. The flatness of her voice should have made the words sound less ominous, but the lifeless, slack posture of her body intoned every inflection missing from her voice. Even Peter seemed to feel the chill behind her words. He shifted anxiously on the couch. No doubt his thoughts echoed Vance’s. Did they really want to know?

  Bypassing a direct question, Peter backtracked. “Why were you being punished?”

  “For trusting the wrong person.” Her jaw tightened, the first indication she was connected to her words since she started talking. Neither of them pushed her to continue. They sat and waited, none too eager to hear the explanation and be forced to face what they feared they would hear.

  “I wasn’t allowed to date,” Natalie said. “I wasn’t even allowed to have friends or hang out with other people. If anyone tried to get close to me, my father scared them off, sometimes violently, and after a while nobody even tried.

  “When I was young, he claimed it was because they were all bad influences,” she said. “As I got older, it was more about sex. He couldn’t blame religion for his beliefs that premarital sex was worthy of condemnation, but his threats against any boys being interested in me intensified. School was the closest I ever got to the opposite sex.” Every word she spoke was backed with more and more fire. “Even if I hadn’t been too terrified of my father to disobey him, the handful of boys my age wouldn’t even think of touching me, not until…”

  What color had remained in her face drained to her core, leaving her positively ghostly. Vance leaned forward, sure she was going to faint at any moment. Gypsy whimpered in her arms, her pink tongue licking her chin in sympathy, though she didn’t seem to notice. Peter was on edge as well, but didn’t seem to know what to do in response.

  “I don’t know why he risked my father’s wrath,” Natalie whispered, her voice shaky. “The first time he touched me, I nearly fainted in shock. I almost ran away, but he talked me into staying. It was just a few minutes after school. I couldn’t be home late, but he stopped me the next day, and the next. He told me it would be okay, that he’d protect me. There were only a few weeks to graduation. I knew I’d be free soon and I gave in.”

  The first sign of emotion showed as tears began rolling down her cheeks. “It was so innocent at first. Him taking my hand, touching my cheek, a chaste kiss. It was the first time I had ever felt tenderness like that. It was the first time someone other than my parents had touched me purposely—and I hadn’t been touched by them in so long I craved what he was offering. We only had a few minutes after school each day, but he wanted more. He kept pushing me to meet him, sneak out at night, or lie about where I was going. He didn’t understand why I wouldn’t even try. Eventually he got tired of waiting.”

  Vance and Peter both tensed as the most likely conclusion to her story of young love flashed through their minds. Vance had originally suspected long-term physical abuse. When she’d denied it, rape had been his next guess. He had hoped so badly that he wasn’t right, but now he feared those dark guesses were about to be confirmed.

  “I don’t know how he knew both my parents were going to be gone that day. My father was delivering an order in another town two days before graduation. My mother had been at a meeting for something to do with the graduation ceremony. I was cleaning my father’s shop and it had to be done by the time he returned. When Thomas walked into the shop, part of me was thrilled to see him, but I was scared of not finishing the cleaning and being punished. He knew how harsh my father was, so he helped me clean so it would get done faster and we could spend time together. He said everything would be fine.”

  Peter glanced over at Vance, looking for some kind of explanation, but he had none to give. This was all new to Vance. It seemed odd that this Thomas guy would help her clean the shop before raping her, but he had no choice but to listen and wait for an explanation. In the same boat, Peter turned back to Natalie.

  “I was extremely sheltered,” Natalie said quietly, “but I knew about sex. I knew what he wanted, and even though I was scared, I wanted it too. I wanted to feel like someone actually cared about me. I followed willingly when he led me back to my bedroom and started kissing me. Maybe part of me thought it was the only chance I’d ever have to be with someone like that.” She shook her head and more tears fell. “Neither one of us heard the front door, but I knew my life was over when my bedroom door flew open and I heard the rage in my father’s voice.”

  Peter moved forward on the couch. “So, Thomas, he didn’t rape you?”

  Looking perplexed and a little startled, Natalie came out of her fog enough to answer his question. “No,” she said with a shake of her head. “It was consensual.” Her expression darkened immediately, though, and her body drew in on itself. “Not that the truth stopped my father from threatening to tell everyone it wasn’t. It didn’t stop Thomas from blaming me in the hopes of escaping my father’s wrath, either.”

  Vance and Peter both blanched at the news of Thomas taking the coward’s way out and hurting her so badly, but Peter avoided mentioning it and moved on with his questioning. “Was your father trying to protect your reputation?” Peter asked. His voice was laced with confusion, something Vance shared. Protecting Natalie’s—or Clara’s, as she was then—reputation didn’t sound like something her father would be concerned with.

  Scoffing, Natalie’s fingers twisted into fists. “Protecting me didn’t even factor into his mind.” Her chin quivered, but the anger in her eyes held back another round of tears. “When he found Thomas in my bed…Thomas wasn’t released from the hospital until three days after graduation. His father thought he could stand up to mine, press charges, finally get rid of him, but the second Thomas’s father brought up the police, mine threatened to tell everyone Thomas had raped me.”

  Something broke in N
atalie and heavy, regretful sobs shook her entire body. “I never would have lied for him. I wouldn’t hurt Thomas like that, even though he didn’t protect me like he said he would. Nobody believed I would stand up to him, though. Thomas’s father backed down immediately, but that only meant my father’s attention was back on me.” Holding onto Gypsy with one hand, Natalie swiped at her tears with the other. “He stormed back into the house like a demon gone mad. My mother had already locked me in the basement like he’d told her to…waiting for him to return and punish me. That was the first time I saw her look truly afraid of him. She cowered behind him when they came down into the basement and didn’t try to stop him from grabbing me and dragging me up the stairs and outside.”

  “Did he hurt you?” Peter asked as he scribbled notes on his pad of paper.

  Natalie’s face twisted. “Not in ways that left bruises.”

  “What did he do to punish you?” Vance asked without looking at her. He was afraid to see the depth of the pain inflicted by her father, but the longer she remained silent, the guiltier he felt for hiding. When he finally looked up, her eyes were there, connecting with his as though she were waiting for some shared strength that would enable her to divulge her worst experience.

  Swallowing hard, her eyes stayed locked with his as she spoke to only him. “He didn’t care about my reputation. He wanted everyone to know what I’d done.” The trembling that had started in her chin extended out to her arms and hands. “Our front porch faced the main road through town. It was the perfect place.”

  Sitting across the room from her when she was in so much pain was torture, but Vance didn’t dare interrupt or risk causing her more pain in an attempt to comfort her like he might anyone else.