Manny was not happy.
Not happy at all.
“What the hell do you mean, he threatened you?” he asked a sullen and depressed Marisol.
“Exactly what I said,” she answered meekly. “He told me he’ll do everything he can to keep me in here.”
She smiled inwardly as her well-rehearsed victimization worked its magic on Manny. He enjoyed telling her what to do; he loved the power it gave him. He didn’t appreciate anyone else telling her what to do. Only he had that right.
His controlled aggravation was detected by no one but her. He kept his voice on an even keel and his facial expression remained blasé. His true feelings went undetected under the scrutiny of the watching guards. However, Marisol had learned to read him well and her manipulation was working.
She looked down at her folded hands in bogus submission, her voice a rehearsed distress.
“He said I would rot in hell, even after I told him I was sorry for what happened to his wife, and I wasn’t responsible.” She forcefully squeezed out a tear for effect and spoke pathetically to further convince him of her need for protection. “I felt horrible, Manny. I tried to convince him it was never my intention to hurt Aria; that I didn’t have the right medication. I don’t think he believed me.”
The muscles in Manny’s neck were tight with fury and his voice was thick with indignation.
“You don’t answer to him and you don’t have to explain yourself—not to anyone but me!” he ordered. “Do you understand?”
She nodded amenably, still playing the miserable victim.
“You ARE getting out of here, no matter what he says” he assured her.
She bit her lower lip for effect and forced out one more tear.
He felt sorry for her and ran his thumb gently over her cheekbone, stopping it in its tracks. No one would threaten his wife and get away with it! He didn’t know who he was dealing with!
“I don’t want you to worry, chica,” he consoled. “I promise I’ll have you out of here soon.”
She leaned her cheek into his hand, closing her eyes, and bit her lip harder to keep from smiling. Everything was going according to plan!
Manny stayed with her for a few more minutes, confident he had calmed her fears. She had become so vulnerable since her arrest. He didn’t like her feeling so sensitive and exposed. It would all be corrected in time.
Their visit over, Manny warned her to be on guard with her responses. He needed her to be as pleasant and as even keeled as possible in order to finalize the plan for her release. She nodded in agreement.
Once outside he went to his car. He made an urgent phone call as his composure and patience dwindled. Once completed, he smirked with satisfaction.
Carter Sinclair wanted to play?
Let the games begin!
It had been awhile since Aimee had come into town with him, but she seemed to have a newfound confidence after their dinner a week ago. He honestly thought it would take more convincing to get her to do things she used to enjoy, like shopping or rummaging through a salvage yard, but she was a fighter. He admired her resilience and tenacity. She knew fighting the fear was fighting herself and she was determined to get her life back.
He went with her into a few stores, but she told him she wanted to browse—by herself. He must have looked surprised, nodding his head and raising his brows, because she laughed and told him he was “invading her space”. So he left her, reminding her he had his cell and she’d better call if she needed him. She rolled her eyes, turning her back to him and concentrating instead on potential purchases. He got a coke and walked to the edge of the main street and across from the cemetery.
It took a few minutes, but before he knew it he was staring at Lacey’s grave. He hadn’t visited lately. Maybe because he was happy, but as he stared down at her name, he felt a need to talk to her.
“Hi Lace. Long time no see, huh?” he said to the stone.
“I guess you’re wondering why I haven’t been around.” He rubbed his hand over the letters, then assumed his customary position leaning his back against the cold rock, his forearms resting on bended knees.
“The truth is I decided to live again. It took me awhile, and I didn’t think I would, but I think it just took the right person to help me do it.” The wind blew some leaves in his direction and he took one in his hand, tearing at the points.
“You know her, or at least you met her. It’s Dec’s friend Aimee. I know, I know… you can’t picture me with a supermodel. The truth is, I can’t either, but for some reason she liked me… loves me. If it sounds strange to you, you can’t imagine how strange it was to me. You see, I stopped when you died. Everything. I stopped trying to be and do right all the time—and I have to apologize to you. I don’t think you ever had the real me. Don’t get me wrong—I loved you—but you loved a different man than the man I am with her. I didn’t realize it at the time, but you loved who I tried to be for you. A perfect man—an upstanding, decent, loving guy. Aimee doesn’t love that man because he died when you did. She loves a different me. She loves a pain in the ass who doesn’t have to be anyone but himself for her—and I gotta tell you, it feels pretty good.” He brushed the crumbled pieces of dead foliage from his hands and wiped them on his pants.
“Anyway, she is trying to come back from something bad and she needs me. You’d like her Lacey. She thinks she’s weak but she’s really damn strong. She just can’t see it yet, but she will because I’m gonna help her see it. She’s getting stronger every day because she’s learning to love the broken pieces of her and I’m gonna do my damnedest to make sure she does. The best thing about her she hasn’t even realized yet; she’s not broken, she’s better, and she’s helped me to see the same thing about myself.”
He had just crossed the street to head back to the salvage store when Aimee called.
“Hey,” he said putting the phone up to his ear.
“Hi,” came the soft reply.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“I just left the store and am headed to the deli across the street. Want to meet me there for lunch?” she replied.
He looked around and saw her crossing the street in the direction of the sandwich shop.
“I see you. You go over and get a table. I’ll meet you there in a minute.”
“Okay. Meet you there.”
He stuck the phone in his pocket, catching up with her inside. She had ordered for them both and got a little table in the corner by the window. He carried their drinks, feeling lighter since he’d gone to the cemetery. It didn’t take long before they had their food and finished it, the fresh air giving them both an appetite. Carter excused himself to use the restroom. She enjoyed the view outside the window, noting the changes the season was bringing. As her eye traveled down the tree lined street she saw a man leaning against a car, his arms and ankles crossed as he appeared to be waiting for something or someone. She felt the hair at her neck rise when she realized he was staring at her.
It only took a moment to recognize him and the anxiety roared through her like a freight train.
It was him!
Terror reigned first, but anger quickly followed. The son of a bitch who almost destroyed her was right across the street goading her—and it pissed her off!
She left everything sitting at the table and flung open the deli’s door. The tiny bells on the back of it clanged angrily with the rough treatment. There were people on the street, but her sights were set on him. The mixture of fright and fury propelled her steps until she faced him. He smirked at her, but never moved.
“What do you want, you bastard?!” she said, confronting him. “Wasn’t it enough you almost killed me!!” she screamed. Her brain exploded as synapses activated, misfiring as the line blurred between caution and chaos. People were now staring at her on the street as she shrieked at the man who refused to react.
“I’ll kill you for what you did to me!” she screamed.
He remained as still as a s
tatue. Only his mouth moved as a sneer grew into a menacing grin. He regarded her coolly, as her self-control continued to evaporate.
Just then she felt a hand on her shoulder and she was pulled backward to see an angered glare.
“Aimee!” Carter said as he held her by her shoulders.
She was livid at his interference. She angrily retaliated, reaching up and pushing out at his forearms, knocking his hands off her shoulders.
“Get off!” she screeched. “He’s the guy!”
As she pointed at him, Carter’s head spun toward the man she accused. The man wore a satisfied grin which threatened both his police training and common sense. The first thing he had to do was get her out of here before she did something foolish.
“Go back inside!” he ordered. “NOW!” he shouted when she didn’t move.
Although delirious with fury, she obeyed, tramping back inside at his insistence. Curious onlookers followed her, then stared at Carter as he confronted the man. He gritted his teeth as he spat each word.
“It was you?” he accused. “You’re the one who hurt her? She wouldn’t lie!”
Blade narrowed his eyes, daring Carter to do something with all these witnesses.
“Prove it,” he dared.
Carter was cemented to the spot by conditioned training. If not for that, he would have lunged at Blade’s throat and ripped it out with his bare hands.
“Swallow Falls. Two hours,” he challenged, his teeth clenched so tight it was a wonder they didn’t break.
Blade nodded his acceptance, a blood thirsty twitch in his eye.
Then he turned away, ignoring the man. He had to get Aimee and take her home.
Two hours.
He would have answers… and he would finish this.
“What the hell was that?” Aimee’s shrill anger filled the truck.
“That was me protecting your ass!” he thundered.
“I didn’t need protecting! I was in the middle of the street! What could he do to me?!” she shrieked.
“The better question is what were you going to do to him? You weren’t using any common sense!” he yelled back.
Both of them were breathing hard; Carter concentrating on the road, Aimee staring out the window. Neither of them spoke while they struggled for composure.
Finally, Aimee turned to him.
“I don’t understand you. First you tell me not to be afraid; then you get pissed off at me when I stand up for myself.”
“You were acting like a lunatic! What the hell was I supposed to do?” he rabidly answered.
She said nothing, fuming in her silence.
“You could have gotten hurt,” he muttered. “That damn temper of yours is gonna get you killed.”
“Not in the middle of the street,” she sarcastically answered.
“Bullshit!” he exclaimed, his anger bristled by her short sightedness. “People get killed in the middle of the street every day. What makes you think you’re immune?”
She was shocked and wanted to justify her actions, but reality sunk in and she realized he had a point.
Choosing instead to give each other the silent treatment, the remainder of the ride home was thick with tension. It seemed both needed time to mentally prepare.
She to justify her behavior.
He to exact revenge.
They’d been home for an hour and still they weren’t speaking. Carter went into his office and she went into the bedroom with the dogs.
His mind was heavy with thoughts of vindication. Somehow, he had to get Blade to admit his part in Aimee’s attack. If he could record his admission using his cell he might be able to convince someone to use it to arrest him—if he could keep himself thinking straight.
Looking into the eyes of the man who nearly stole her life made him murderous. Unfortunately, he couldn’t distance himself from this crime like he could when he was on the force. He was overthinking, he knew, but mental images of Aimee’s battered and broken body continued to assault him. Knowing that this man inflicted the damage that nearly killed her competed with his rationale. He was supposed to remain impartial when questioning a perpetrator, but in this case he struggled.
This one was personal.
He grabbed his jacket off the chair, angrily opening his office door while heading for the front one.
“I’ll be back later!” he huffed, and slammed the door behind him. He drove as far as a hiking trail. It was well traveled, but only known to the locals. He was confident Blade would follow the one the tourists frequented, thus enabling him to have the element of surprise.
The Falls weren’t frozen solid, but the chill in the air could be felt, as well as seen. As he exhaled, his breath became an icy, white smoke. Carter stood in the darkness next to a large evergreen. The sun had begun to settle lower in a cloudless sky, an invitation for the cold to descend further. He had been here many times in the dark. On the inside pocket of his jacket was a flashlight. It was foolish to be unprepared in the mountain cold. As he leaned against a dead tree he heard the crunch of boots on the top frost of the snow. He watched Aimee’s attacker as he approached their meeting place. When he walked on the decking leading to the Falls, Carter stepped from the shadow.
“So glad you accepted the invitation,” he said sarcastically.
Although Blade tried to hide it, he was momentarily startled. It seemed Carter had the hometown advantage tonight.
As the man turned, the corner of his mouth lifted in a sneer.
“Wouldn’t have missed it,” Blade antagonized. “So what are we doing here? Come to talk about your little busybody girlfriend?”
Damn it! The term hit him like a hot poker burning through flesh. It was the same term Marisol used and it confirmed they were somehow connected. Blade was trying to divert his attention. He hoped the shock would throw him off, but Carter wanted answers. If he played his cards right, Blade would give him just that.
“She’s good. Thanks for your concern,” he spat.
Blade leered. “You’re right, Sinclair. She’s damn good.”
Carter ignored the taunt, concentrating instead on the facts.
“Let’s get to the point. Why her? Why here?” he asked.
Blade nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders. “Why not?” he taunted. “I’m sure she hasn’t recovered. I’m a tough act to follow.”
Carter flexed his hand into a fist. If he lost it, he would kill the bastard.
“What’s your connection to Marisol?” he asked.
He had to applaud Sinclair’s diligence. There wasn’t much to link him to Mari, but somehow he knew.
“If you have a problem with Marisol, Sinclair, I’m not the person you should be talking to. Talk to her,” he advised.
“I did,” Carter said.
Once again surprise crossed the man’s scarred face. He pushed himself up from the rail he leaned on.
“Good for you. Seems like you got what you wanted.” He clapped in mock appreciation, further antagonizing Carter.
“Look, you son of a bitch, you may think you’re gonna walk away from here, but it’s not gonna happen. Not without answers,” he warned, then he saw the gleam of the knife in Blade’s hand.
He held the knife out so Carter could see it. “You’re not getting shit…”
Blade didn’t have time to act before Carter’s fist connected with his jaw. He stumbled from the impact. Catching himself, he turned toward Carter as a drop of blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth. The taste of blood excited him, and he smiled malevolently, the red oozing between his teeth. He lunged at Carter, catching just the corner of his coat with the knife.
With stealth- like precision, Carter grabbed the man’s hand. He twisted the hand which held the knife, leaving Blade’s wrist in a grotesquely reversed position. His knife was now pointed against him.
Unable to use his hand for balance on the icy surface, Blade’s foot went out from under him, momentarily throwing him off balance.
“You’r
e a dead man, Sinclair!”
“Funny, asshole,” Carter raged. “I was going to say the same to you.”
He pulled the flashlight out of his pocket and used it as a weapon, slamming it down on Blade’s wrist and dislodging the knife. It fell into the water below. Without hesitation he bashed the head of the flashlight into Blade’s throat, using it like a Billy Club. It nearly knocked the man down. Carter used the momentum to force Blade back, bending him over the rail as he choked him above the icy water.
“You won’t kill me,” he squealed through strained vocal chords. “You’re a cop!”
It sounded like a dare and Carter never backed down. As he looked at the source of Aimee’s nightmares his hands pressed in, threatening to crush the fragile cartilage under the pressure. Blade’s eyes began to bulge as his face took on an ashy hue. He tried to dislodge Carter’s hands as he kicked from fright. He struggled for air and tried to speak. All that came out was a garbled hoarseness.
“WAS a cop!” he roared.
All the pent up frustration, anger, and thirst for vengeance screamed to be released. With a strength which defied logic Blade managed to dislodge one of Carter’s hands. Undaunted he slammed his fist into Blade’s face.
Fragile bones in the man’s face collapsed beneath the force. The impact sent Carter forward. His foot slid as blood spurted from Blade’s nose and mouth. Losing his balance, Blade attempted to grab onto Carter’s jacket, but quick footing on Carter’s part sent him over the rail and falling into the rocks and freezing water.
He screamed.
Then there was silence.
Breathing heavy, Carter gripped the rail and regained his balance. His chest burned as the icy air entered his lungs. He looked into the water below with the flashlight but saw nothing. He was certain the fall or the freezing water would kill him, but he didn’t care. If, by some miracle the man survived, he vowed he would kill him for his actions.
A short while later Blade shivered violently. He was on the bank of the river and had no idea how he survived wet and in the cold. His fingers were frostbitten and he knew hypothermia wouldn’t be far behind. He struggled to stand, overcome by the cold and weighed down by his wet clothes. As he trudged over to a tree he shuddered uncontrollably. In weakness he slid to the ground. His teeth were chattering so hard he was sure he’d break them. He saw a small beam of light coming toward him and thought Sinclair must have followed him all the way down the river. He pulled a knife from the back of his boot.
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