Distortion Control (A Makayla Rose Mystery Book 3)

by Audrey Claire

  Overhead, the day seemed to grow darker and much more menacing. I kept checking behind and around me. Wanting to feel like I knew what the heck I was doing, I squinted at the dirt. No evidence of anyone having gone before me was visible, which made me feel silly for looking.

  Out of nowhere, I began to feel like I was being watched. My throat dried, and I swallowed to try to wet it. Another glance around. I cleared my throat. “Ash?” I cried. “Are you out here?”

  No answer.

  “Bad man with ill-intentions?” I called to ease my nervousness. I gave a little chuckle, and a branch cracked nearby. I squeaked and spun around. Through a thin trail, I caught sight of the road and civilization. Somehow, it made me feel safer.

  Poor decision, Makayla, I chided myself. Get out of here and just wait for him to call you.

  As I took a step back toward the road, dizziness assailed me, and I dropped my forehead into my hand. I shut my eyes and reached blindly to find a tree trunk to lean on. A flash of something flitted through my mind. Was I remembering? Had I been here, at this spot before?

  Straining to recall—against the doctor’s orders of letting it happen naturally—I willed the image to come to the forefront of my mind. A niggling something wavered at the edge of my memory as if it teased me. Try as I may, I failed to recall, and my head began to hurt, so I let it go.

  When I started forward again, a rustle in the underbrush made me freeze. I listened for the birds. They were chirping, but perhaps not as close as they had been before. I wasn’t sure if this was a bad sign. Time to skedaddle.

  Something heavy fell on my shoulder, and I screamed. Whatever it was, I was too terrified to turn my head to investigate. I tried to run, but it dragged me backward. I lost my footing and fell to the ground. Refusing to be a victim a second time, I kicked out behind me.

  Turn around, Makayla. Get a good look at him and then get up and run!

  I licked my lips, sucked in a breath, and swiveled my head. Wouldn’t you know branches tangled in my hair, ripping several strands painfully from my scalp and making it hard to maneuver? I jerked downward to try to get free, and it seemed at the same time my assailant aimed a blow at my head. His attack brought black material into my line a sight, but the strike also made my vision double. My head was still spinning from the flash of memory.

  I fell flat in the dirt but scrambled to gain my footing. Blood pulsed in my ears, so I could no longer hear a thing. Another heavy hand on my shoulder, and I rolled over, prepared to fight for my life. Ash knelt at my side. I pushed at him, but he caught both my hands in his.

  “Makayla, stop!”

  I was sick with fear. “You hit me.”

  “I didn’t. I wouldn’t.”

  Since I didn’t have the strength to push him away, I submitted to his pulling me to my feet and brushing dead leaves from my hair. I tried to look into his face to see the guilt that must be there, but he kept his chin lowered and his gaze hooded.

  “Someone hit me,” I insisted.

  “I heard you scream. When I got here,” he insisted, “you were on the ground. Are you sure you weren’t hallucinating?”

  Was it a hallucination, or a memory of what happened to me? Everything felt so real. In fact, my head still hurt where the person hit me. I ran fingers over the crown of my head, and my blood ran cold. This wasn’t my imagination. A small lump had risen in the spot that hurt the most.

  I opened my mouth to tell Ash about my proof but recalled scarcely any time had passed between my attacker knocking me to the ground and him kneeling over me. Sure, I was confused, but was I that confused?

  “Are you okay?” He raised fingers to my cheek, but I ducked away before I thought about it. Doing so brought his hand into view.

  “You’re bleeding, Ash!”

  He covered his hand. “It’s nothing.”

  “It’s not nothing. We need to get it checked out to make sure you don’t need stitches.”

  He harrumphed, but I pushed him until he agreed, partly because the gash on his hand looked serious and partly because I wanted the doctor to take a look at my bump as well.

  While we rode to the hospital in my car, I wondered who I might talk to regarding my suspicions. I could hardly tell Spencer his brother might have attacked me. Paul would be glad of the excuse to dump Spencer’s case. Well, maybe, depending on how bad he needed the money. For now, I decided to keep it to myself and keep my eyes and ears open.

  At the emergency room, I joined Ash when the triage nurse directed him to the back to see the doctor. He did indeed need a stitch or two.

  “Makayla,” the nurse said, when she looked at Ash. “Can you excuse us, please?”

  I blinked at her. “It’s just a stitch. I can’t be back here?”

  She didn’t bother explaining. “If you’ll either go out front or over there in the waiting area, that will be great.” She pointed the direction she wanted me to go, and I lingered, expecting Ash to say it was okay for me to stay. He said nothing. In fact, he had avoided eye contact since I met him in the woods.

  Frowning, I headed toward the front. I would talk to my own doctor about my bump later. At the double electric doors, I glanced back at Ash and the nurse. The woman seemed to be speaking to him in a serious tone, and Ash’s face was like cold steel. The charming smile was absent, and while I couldn’t see his gaze very well from my distance, I suspected there was little warmth to be found there.

  A shiver ran down my spine. I left the hospital and headed to my car. By the time I made it home, my cell phone was dinging. Ash was calling. When I didn’t answer, he texted.

  “I’m sorry. Call me.”

  I hesitated, but the truth was, I didn’t want to face the investigation alone. My bravado was just that—an act—and I wanted to clear Spencer’s name. He deserved all the help he could get. Besides, the fact was there was someone out there who meant me harm.

  I called Ash’s phone. “You’re ready to stop ignoring me and take my calls?”

  “I had to follow some leads, and I’m used to working alone.”

  I said nothing.

  He groaned. “You’re angry.”

  “This is just your brother we’re dealing with. Nothing major.”

  “Makayla, you’re tough on a man. Okay, I won’t cut you out. Besides, I shouldn’t have left you alone. Promise me you won’t go into the woods anymore.”

  “Why?” I demanded. “What’s out there?”

  “Did you forget you were on the ground when I found you?” His argument was reasonable. I had nothing to combat it. “Before you remind me someone attacked you, that’s one reason not to go in there. Another is if you were hallucinating, then it’s still not safe, is it?”

  “I suppose you’re right.” He didn’t have to try to convince me. I was not the foolish heroine type. I wouldn’t put myself in harm’s way just to spice up this memoir. “No more woods for me. What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “You were there.”

  “You’re sharp, beautiful lady.” Apparently the charm had resurfaced. “As I told you, I was following a lead. It’s possible your attacker pulled you into a remote area like that. Remember, Spencer’s property has a lot of trees around it. The road in might not be the only way there, and I don’t trust the police to have done a thorough search.”

  “Oh.” His theory made sense. “You’re useful after all.”

  He chuckled. “That hurts. How about this? Go with me to the inn.”

  “Excuse me?” I was probably getting my back up for no reason and he wasn’t making suggestions for a rendezvous. Besides, meeting at Pattie’s inn wasn’t the place for secret assignations. I’m not sure where that place was in Briney Creek. Everyone knew everyone else’s business.

  “As interesting as what you’re thinking would be,” he said with amusement in his tone, “that’s not what I’m suggesting.”

  Now I was insulted as if I didn’t merit such a proposal. Oh the fickle female mind.
“Please explain.”

  He was still laughing at me, and I ground my teeth. “I meant it might be a good idea if you and I were to search Penelope’s things at the inn.”

  I gasped. “That’s a great idea, but don’t you think the police have done that or that maybe Pattie’s packed them up by now?”

  “I happen to know she hasn’t, by my request.”

  “So what were you waiting for?”

  “Will you go, Makayla?”

  He frustratingly reminded me of Spencer—answer whatever was convenient. Ignore the rest. “Yes, by all means. Give me a minute to check my schedule, and we can get to it.”

  Chapter Seven

  When we arrived at Pattie’s inn I admitted, if only to myself, I didn’t look forward to rummaging through Penelope Norwood’s things. Now that I knew she was ready to do whatever it took to get Spencer back, who knew what I would find. I had visions of love letters left over from the days when they dated or little gifts Spencer might have given her, which held a special place among her items. I knew I was being ridiculous, but dismissing such thoughts seemed impossible.

  Ash, on the other hand, appeared not to have the slightest hesitation about the intrusion. When we strode into the inn and Pattie greeted us in her nervous, quiet way, he paused and scanned the interior of the inn, his gaze skittering over her as if she were a piece of the furniture.

  Pattie’s inn looked more like a bed and breakfast or a personal home than an actual inn. She had decorated it with vintage furniture with a French style, and on the walls painted in soft pastel colors hung landscapes of peaceful scenes. Rather they would have seemed peaceful if the forestry depicted didn’t remind me of my previous ordeal.

  “Hello, Ash,” Pattie said in a throaty tone. “It’s good to see you again. Oh, and Makayla, you’re looking well.”

  I wondered how she considered I was looking well when her gaze didn’t stray from Ash. Pattie’s straight blond hair hung in a sheet over one eye, and she peered up at Ash from behind the curtain. On her own, she was quite pretty. In the presence of her two best friends, Susan Aston and Louisa Strombeck, the poor thing faded almost from view. The way she worked to capture Ash’s attention, I thought she had it in her to stand out in her own way.

  At last, Ash turned his silver eyes onto Pattie, and she bloomed. He smiled, and pink erupted in her cheeks. “Which one?” he asked, gesturing toward the stairs.

  I was surprised he didn’t turn on the charm and then noticed something in the tightness of his jaw. He was more agitated than I had thought. Pattie, disappointed, led us up the steps to the second floor, and we were soon inside Penelope’s room. A strong whiff of expensive perfume choked me, and I coughed.

  “Let me know if you need anything,” Pattie said, and she closed the door slowly as if she waited for Ash to recall her existence. He scanned the room, eyes narrowed, and I wondered if he even remembered I was there.

  With Penelope’s scent so strong in the air, it seemed as if she had just left room. Feeling that way creeped me out a little, and I shivered before selecting the bureau to search first. “Spencer told me she never did anything for herself,” I said. “Maybe there’s correspondence here about someone else.”

  I waited for Ash to respond, but he said nothing. He dropped to his knees and checked beneath the bed then stood. Next, he moved over to the wardrobe. I shrugged and turned to my task. More scent rose when I opened the first drawer to find undergarments. Goodness, did the woman bathe in the stuff? Maybe the perfume did smell good but not poured on.

  With a tentative finger or two, I shifted her undies around to see if anything lay beneath. Now that I was here, I wished I had brought along a pair of gloves. If I were a professional, I would have. Glancing over at Ash, I found that he sorted through the dresses hanging in the wardrobe. So like his brother, the hand touching the garments was covered in latex.

  “Should I wear one of those?” I asked.

  He started and looked around at me. The man had forgotten me.

  I pointed. “The glove?”

  He frowned and glanced down at his hand. “No, force of habit. The police have probably searched and found what they needed here.”

  A tad disappointed, I went back to my task, but several moments later when I had gone through the entire dresser, I found nothing of interest. No papers at all, no love letters—not that I wanted to find those—were anywhere in the bureau. I began to think Penelope had kept her personal papers, if she had brought any with her to Briney Creek, somewhere else.

  I turned to inform Ash of my lack of progress and found him this time bent over a small case at the base of the wardrobe. A sheet of paper was in his hand. I opened my mouth to ask him about it, but before I could say anything, the sheet disappeared inside his pocket. I gaped. Maybe he was putting it there to tell me about it later. I hoped that was it.

  Snapping the last drawer closed with more noise than necessary, I made a sound of annoyance. “Well, that was a waste of time. Did you find anything?”

  “Nothing,” he responded immediately.

  “Nothing?”

  He stood up and strode over to me. “If the local authorities didn’t find anything of importance, why should we?”

  “But it was your idea to come here.”

  He winked. “On the off chance they were sloppy. Be happy, Makayla. It looks like the boys here aren’t half bad.”

  I tried to smile and agreed with the compliment to Pete and the others but failed. Ash had no intention of telling me about the paper he had taken. Was it incriminating, and if it was, to whom, himself or Spencer?

  “There’s not much else here,” I said. “It looks like she didn’t bring a lot with her.”

  He nodded. “She might have hoped to convince Spencer to come back to Virginia with her. The house there hasn’t been sold or closed. At least it wasn’t when I drove down here.”

  “We’ll have to brainstorm our next move,” I suggested, and even before I finished speaking, Ash was moving away.

  “I’ll have to catch up with you another time, Makayla.”

  “Another time? You realize every second we waste is one more Spencer’s locked away and the real killer is on the loose?”

  He strode over and touched my cheek, too intimate by far. “We’ll get him. Be patient.”

  With that, Ash left me outside of Pattie’s inn and continued down the walk with his hands in his pockets and his head down. I had half a mind to go after him and demand he show me what he had taken from her things, but fear kept me from it. I let him go and climbed into my car.

  Since I had nothing better to do at the moment and I had been putting it off for far too long, I decided to stop by David’s jewelry shop. When I arrived, I pulled the door open and walked inside. A bell jingled, and I was serenaded by soothing, classical music, which was David’s way of inducing the kind of atmosphere he believed would influence his visitors to buy.

  David had also added artistic works of various forms to catch the eye and to entice the senses. When my gaze met his, I thought I saw I hint of excitement and a bit of hesitation in his expression. He was in the middle of helping another customer, so I wandered about the store, leaning over glass display cases of David’s creations.

  My friend, in my opinion, was brilliant when it came to creating all kinds of jewelry, and if one were to judge by his style of dress and the expensive cars he drove, one would assume we did well.

  “Okay, honey,” David said. “You be sure to come back and see me again. Next month, I’ll have some new pieces you will absolutely love.” David snapped his fingers twice in the air to emphasize his point. His customer, a blue-haired elderly woman giggled with glee, waved a hand merrily at David, and left the store. David swung to face me, his eyes widening.

  “I thought you said you liked to tone down the…” I demonstrated my meaning by snapping in the air as he had done.

  David smirked. “Honey, you have to do it with a whole lot more attitude. But you’re
right, yes. I do tone it down for most of my clients, but Miss Thing who just left, she has some weird fascination with gay men. Go figure.”

  “So you’ll do whatever your customers want?”

  “Of course. That’s what they pay me for.”

  I shook my head. “And here I had the silly thought that you sold jewelry.”

  This was the David I knew. He entertained me constantly with his vibrancy and his boldness. For a while, he had trouble when it came to the area of love. Wasn’t that the way with us all? We all ran into challenges when it dealt with the heart.

  David stood staring at me, and I blinked at him. After a moment, he rushed to me and pulled me into his arms. While David was a gentle soul, I was reminded that he was indeed a man by the strength of his embrace. I winced, hearing my bones crack, but I hugged him with as much fervor and affection. After some time, he drew away and held me at arm’s length.

  “I missed you,” I said.

  “I was stupid,” he moaned. “I let a man get between me and my friend.”

  A chuckle escaped me. “Don’t blame yourself. It wasn’t your fault, but I hope we can get back to being friends again.”

  He nodded, and tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. I reached out to wipe them away with the pads of my thumbs. “Don’t start crying, David. You’ll have me sobbing.”

  He rolled his eyes and put a fist on his hip. “Makayla, please. No one is as strong as you. I mean you even defied the police.”

  “Not on purpose. I am not that brave, but you’re right. I will do anything to protect the people I love.”

  David got a flirty look in his eyes. “Does that include the Sheriff?”

  He would turn the subject in that direction. I didn’t want to discuss Spencer, and at the same time, I did. David called me strong, but he knew he could be honest with me, and I would force myself to be honest with him.

  When I didn’t speak right away, he took my hand and pulled me through the shop. He left me at the back entrance and jogged over to the front door to flip the sign. We had done this before when I first met him. He liked to take a break midday and close the shop so he could drink in the back.