Cuffing Her: A Small Town Cop Romance

by Emily Bishop

  She may be smiling and laughing but she’s hiding something – a burden she doesn’t want to share, a memory she doesn’t want to relive, a scar bigger than the ones on her back.

  What nightmare did you go through, Sabrina?

  Haunted

  Sabrina

  I walk through the gardens, yawning. Somehow, I couldn’t go back to sleep after having another nightmare.

  That nightmare.

  The one where I’m locked in a room inside Vince’s house, a room with no doors or windows or any piece of furniture, and I can’t escape no matter how much I try to smash the walls or claw at them.

  Just when I’ve had a happy day, just when something’s gone right, just when I feel like I’m finally putting the pieces of myself back together, the nightmare comes back.

  No matter what I do, I just can’t shake it off.

  But of course, I can’t. After all, that nightmare isn’t over. The fear is real. Right now, I’m safe and at peace here with David and Randall but any moment, that could shatter. Any moment, Vince can find me and drag me back to his mansion. And who knows? Maybe this time, he really will lock me up in a room that has no doors or windows.

  Why does he want to have me and keep me so badly when he doesn’t care about me? I don’t know.

  I know that when I was staying at Carol’s house, I did some research on him, and I found two intriguing news articles: Vince’s mother reportedly beat him up when he was a kid, and there was another woman who claimed Vince locked her up and abused her. She escaped just like me, but a few months later, she was found dead. She hanged herself.

  This tells me two things: I’m not the only woman Vince has tried to toy with, and Vince is mentally unstable. No sane person would do what he did to me.

  I should report him to the police. If I had a guarantee that it would put him in jail, I would have already done it. But I don’t. I don’t have any proof of what he did. I escaped with nothing. It’s my word against his and I don’t stand a chance. Vince is filthy rich with a lot of friends in high places.

  No. If I go to the police, I might as well be handing myself back to Vince.

  I can only hide from him.

  So I’ll stay within these high walls, hoping that he will never find me. Because if he does, I’d rather die than go back to that hellhole.

  Seeing the bed of roses, I stop, bending over to smell one.

  This morning, Randall gave me a bunch of freshly picked roses. He didn’t say why. He just said that he hoped I had a great day.

  That was sweet of him. Considering the nightmare I had, I could sure use a great day, maybe one even better than yesterday.

  It’s a good thing that it’s illegal for Randall and I to be together. If it was possible—I’d waste a lot of my time fantasizing about him.

  I look up at the sky, smiling as I remember the conversations David and I shared, both before and after dinner. For once, he finally opened up to me even though I have one challenge left to accomplish. For once, I felt like we could really see each other, that I could really reach him.

  He’s starting to trust me. All that’s left is for him to like me.

  Just then, Zombie comes up to me and I kneel to pet him. “See. Your master isn’t so bad. I think I’m finally getting to understand him.”

  Zombie sits down.

  “We’re going to help him become a better, happier boy, won’t we?”

  I keep petting his soft, black fur, only stopping when I hear footsteps approaching. I stand up and moments later, I see Lucy.

  “Lucy,” I greet her.

  “Thank goodness I’ve found you, Sabrina,” she says, putting her hands on her knees as she catches her breath.

  I go to her. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” She straightens up. “There’s just someone to see you.”

  “To see me?”

  I feel confused. Who would want to see me? Besides, I thought Stargazers didn’t allow its nannies to have guests.

  “She said her name is Carol Fisher. I asked Tess if she could see you, since Mr. Brewster seems to be busy and Tess said it’s fine since she was the one who sent you here.”

  “Yes, she is.” I nod. “She’s the head of the agency I belong to.”

  “Oh.”

  Still, I wonder why she’s here. Is it routine for her to check on new nannies during their first week? Maybe. I didn’t ask. At any rate, I should go see her. I mustn’t keep her waiting.

  “Where is she?” I ask Lucy as I head back to the house, starting to sprint.

  “In the library.”

  ***

  “Sabrina!” Carol places her arms around me after I enter the library.

  “Carol,” I greet her, hugging her back. “It’s good to see you again.”

  The first time I saw Carol again, two months ago, I barely recognized her, yet I just had to spend a little time with her to know that she’s still every bit the Carol I knew back in middle school – competitive but caring, motherly if not protective, only older, taller, more beautiful and richer.

  We sit on the couch.

  “Tell me, how are things?” Carol asks.

  So, she is here to check on me.

  “Good,” I tell her. “The child is finally warming up to me, and Mr. Brewster is very kind.”

  “I see.”

  She frowns, falling silent.

  I touch her hand. “Why? What’s wrong? I’m doing well, right?”

  “Yes, you are.” She places my hand in both of hers. “You’re doing much better than I’d hoped and you seem like you’re happy here, which is why it pains me to tell you that you might have to leave.”

  “Leave?” I feel terribly confused.

  But I only arrived a few days ago.

  “Did Ra… Mr. Brewster complain about me?” I ask, that reason the first thing that comes to mind. How could they have possibly known? “Have I done something wrong?”

  “No.” Carol shakes her head. “Mr. Brewster hasn’t called me at all, and I’m sure he has no reason to. You’ve done everything you should as you should.”

  “Then why?”

  I can’t think of any other reason.

  “Because I have some bad news.”

  I stiffen, my confusion instantly turning into fear. “What bad news?”

  “You know my brother works at the Houston PD, don’t you?”

  “Yes. You told me.”

  “Well, he told me that yesterday, someone dropped by looking for Savannah Brown.”

  I tense all the more, my heart pounding.

  She lowers her voice. “That was the name you were using when you were singing, right?”

  I nod.

  “Of course, it could be another Savannah Brown but something tells me this man was looking for you.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat. “What did the man say about me?”

  “Just that you had ran away. Benny’s colleague asked the man if he wanted to file a missing persons report but he didn’t. He said he’d find Savannah Brown himself.”

  I suppress a shudder. “He’s here. One of Vince’s men is here, which means Vince knows I’m here.” The walls start to close in around me. “He could be anywhere.”

  “Nonsense,” Carol says. “He’s not superhuman.”

  Maybe, but that isn’t as comforting as she thinks it is.

  “Something happened this morning,” Carol adds. .”

  “Oh?”

  Carol takes a deep breath. “My computer was hacked just a while ago. I came here to tell you as soon as I could.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know what information the person was able to get but you know your current address is in my files.”

  I clasp my hand over my mouth. “Shit.”

  “I know your name on my files isn’t Savannah Brown and your photo is different. Even so…”

  “He knows.” I stand up and start pacing. “He knows I’m here, and he’s coming to get me. He…”

/>   “Sabrina.” Carol grabs my hand. “We’re not sure what he got, okay? We’re not sure it’s the same guy.”

  “Oh, come on, Carol,” I snap. “You know Vince! Of course it’s the same guy!”

  Carol nods sadly. “It’s a possibility.”

  No. It’s not a possibility. It’s very likely.

  “I can’t stay here.”

  “Yes, you can. You’re safe here. If they come after you here, Mr. Brewster can have them arrested.”

  “Or they can harm Mr. Brewster and David,” I tell her. “You don’t know what Vince is capable of. I have to leave. Isn’t that what you came to tell me?”

  “I told you that you might have to leave but that’s up to you. I only came to warn you.”

  “I’m warned and I’m leaving.”

  “Now? I can’t bring you to my house since they already know I might know you, but I can drop you off somewhere. I can talk to Mr. Brewster if you like.”

  “What will you tell him?” I ask out of curiosity.

  She shrugs. “That you have a really sick relative?”

  Something tells me Randall isn’t going to believe that. In fact, something tells me he’s not going to let me leave, which means I have to leave in secret.

  “So are you leaving with me?” Carol asks.

  “No,” I tell Carol. “I’ll sneak out tonight. If Vince knows I’m here, he’ll come and get me himself. That gives me a bit of time.”

  She nods. “Okay. You do that. Don’t worry about Mr. Brewster. I’ll explain things to him tomorrow and get him a new nanny immediately.”

  A new nanny? The thought makes my heart sink.

  David and I have only just begun to get to know each other. We’ve already begun. And now I have to leave.

  But I have no choice. Maybe I should never have come here. I should never have hoped I could be safe or happy.

  My time here was just a dream, a dream I didn’t deserve to have. Now, I have to wake up and face reality once more, even though it’s a nightmare.

  That’s all there is to it.

  Suspicion

  Randall

  “That’s all?” I stare at the report on my screen in dismay as I speak to Gil.

  I’m looking at the background check he made on Sabrina and it doesn’t say much. All it says is that Sabrina was born in Akron, Ohio, but after her parents died in a car accident when she was two, she was taken in by her aunt and uncle who lived in West Farmington, then she went to the Bristol local school district from kindergarten to high school. It also says she got into Youngstown State on a scholarship and had good grades during her first year but dropped out. The report doesn’t say anything about what happened after, which is what I’m interested in.

  “Do you want me to dig deeper?” Gil asks. “Because I still can.”

  “Yes,” I tell him without hesitation. “I’m particularly interested in finding out what she’s been doing for the past three years.”

  “Well, you could have told me that at the start.”

  “Sorry. I just thought it would come up.”

  I guess I should have known it wouldn’t. Whatever Sabrina’s hiding, she’s hiding it well and I’m just as interested in finding out what as I am in finding out why.

  “What? You think your new nanny is hiding something?” Gil asks.

  “I don’t think it. I know it.”

  “Okay. You know, if she’s hiding something and I’m guessing you think it’s something bad, you can just ask the agency for a replacement.”

  “No. I’m not going to do that. I don’t want to replace her.”

  “I see. Then you’re asking because you want to keep her?”

  I lean back in my chair and frown. “Just get me the information, Gil.”

  “All right, all right.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You know, if you’re desperate, and you sound it, you can send me a DNA sample.”

  A DNA sample?

  “I’ve already lifted the thumbprint off the file in the agency’s database. That can get a hit in a lot of databases but a DNA sample can get more hits, especially when there’s crime involved.”

  “I didn’t say there was crime involved,” I tell him.

  “Well, you don’t know, do you? That’s why you want me to find out.”

  Unfortunately, he’s right.

  “I didn’t know you were into these things. What? Do you have a crime lab now?”

  “No. But we did design the latest software for the country’s crime labs and, of course, we have some of the equipment. We could easily process the sample and get the data and then run that through a number of databases. All we need is the sample.”

  I sigh, leaning over my desk. “Fine. Tell me how I’m supposed to get a sample.”

  “Saliva,” Gil says. “You could get her to spit in a cup.”

  I frown, unable to imagine that.

  “Or you could prick her finger and get the blood.”

  That seems even worse.

  “Is there another way?”

  “The easiest – get a strand of her hair. You can pluck one off her head or you can get one from her hair brush or a hair pin or from the drain of the sink or the shower – you get the picture.”

  I do.

  So, all I have to do is go to her room and search for a strand of hair in her bathroom, huh?

  That shouldn’t be too hard.

  ***

  Wrong. It is hard.

  As soon as I step inside Sabrina’s bedroom, I feel like a criminal even though I’m playing the role of the detective. Yes, it’s my house, but this is her room. Everything about it speaks of her: the leftover red bedroom slipper on the bedside table that she now uses as a coaster, the new pink pair hanging from a hanger on the closet door so Zombie doesn’t easily run away with them to the folded sweater on the bed, the poetry books that she borrowed from the library on a chair, and the bottle of sanitizer in front of the mirror. The room even smells like her. In such a short time, she’s made this place her own just like she’s made room in David’s heart.

  I find myself pausing to run my hand over the sheets of her bed as I imagine her sleeping on them and then I approach the vase containing the flowers I gave her this morning – roses that I had the gardener pick in order to put her in a good mood after that hell of a night she’d gone through. She seems to have arranged them and watered them and they look even more beautiful by her window than they did in the garden.

  Looking around this room, I find no trace of the past she’s trying to hide, of the memories she’s trying to run away from. Should I snoop around since I’m here? No. That’s beneath me. I should just get that strand of hair and leave. The sooner I can send it for analysis, the sooner I can find out what Sabrina is hiding and the sooner I can help her.

  I want to help her.

  I go to the bathroom, searching. I see her hair brush but there are no strands of hair in it. The hair pins look clean, too, along with the drains. Even the shower tiles are pristine, not a single strand of hair sticking to them.

  Now what?

  I take a minute to look around, pushing aside the image of Sabrina undressing here, showering here.

  Concentrate, Randall, damn it.

  Finally, my eyes rest on the trash can. I look at it, seeing a clump of hair there.

  Okay. I’ve never really rummaged through trash before but this is for a good cause. I pick up the clump, grabbing just two strands of hair from it – one as a back-up. As I do, I notice the box of hair dye at the bottom. So, copper isn’t her natural hair color?

  It isn’t just that. I see a bottle of contact lens solution near the sink. Does that mean her eyes aren’t naturally the mysterious shade of black they appear?

  Now I know she’s really hiding something. Though, of course, she could just be dyeing her hair for no reason like most women or wearing contacts because she has poor vision.

  I thought you weren’t going to snoop around, Randall.

&nbs
p; Right. I put the hairs in the tiny Ziploc bag I’ve brought with me, having a bit of trouble because my hands are too big and the opening is too small and the hairs don’t seem to want to be shoved inside. I hear the bedroom door open.

  Fuck.

  Quickly, I put the hairs inside my pocket.

  At first, I think it’s Zombie. I hope it’s Zombie. But I hear the heavy, hurried footsteps and the sobs and I know it’s not.

  Why is Sabrina sobbing? I thought she was in a better mood. And why does she seem in a hurry?

  Suddenly, she barges into the bathroom, almost bumping into me since she has her head down.

  “Whoa!” She steps back, hastily drying her eyes. “I almost bumped into you there.”

  “Yeah.” I nod. “It was almost déjà vu.”

  She looks around. “Um… What are you doing here?”

  That is the question, isn’t it?

  “Um…”

  Quick, Randall, think of something.

  “I was trying to find out what kind of lipstick you wanted,” I say. “Tess’ orders.”

  Good job.

  “Oh. She just asked me that earlier, though.”

  Oops.

  “Well, we said we’d both ask.”

  “You could have asked me.”

  “Yes, but I couldn’t find you.” I lean on the sink. “Where were you?”

  She hesitates. “In the library with Carol. She did a routine check on me.”

  “Oh. I didn’t know she would do that. What did she say? Anything bad?”

  She looks at me in surprise. “No. She… Everything’s fine.”

  And yet, something tells me it isn’t.

  “Then why were you crying?” I ask her.

  “Oh. I wasn’t crying. I just had dust in my eye.”

  Cliché.

  “You mean in your contacts?”

  Sabrina pauses, looking worried.

  “I didn’t know you wore contacts.”

  And I didn’t know you liked snooping around in women’s bathrooms,” she says, annoyed. “I can’t see that well.”

  “I–”

  I think of making an excuse but I don’t. In the end, there’s no excuse for my behavior.