by Rhavensfyre
Who picks up a rock before leaving the house, then picks the same one up when you return? That would have to be one of the strangest rituals in the world. That, and who has a rock garden next to their front porch? Nope, one little plastic rock that looked more like a dried dog turd than stone…not obvious at all.
“Will do, is there anything you need from me?” Samuel asked.
“Nope, I’m on it here. Everything is going through the Sanctuary accounts, so expect to see a few odd purchases.” If Victoria’s stalker was watching Samuel, they shouldn’t be able to trace anything back to him personally. “If you have your lady PI stake out the house, make sure she stays out of camera range. As long as our stalker thinks Victoria is still around, they won’t be looking for her anywhere else.”
Which means they won’t show up here.
“That is a good thing. I’ll talk to her and see what she thinks.” Samuel sounded relieved. “I have a client in a few minutes, I need to get back to work. Unless there’s something else?”
“No, I’m good. Wait!” She caught him before he hung up. “I was thinking about it this morning. Is there any chance this stalker is an old flame? Someone Victoria was seeing, and it ended badly?”
Ransom could hear Samuel breathing, but he didn’t answer right away.
“Samuel?”
“No, Ransom. Not that I know of.” He seemed reluctant to talk to her all of a sudden, and that immediately sent alarm bells off in her head. She stopped what she was doing and focused all of her attention on the phone.
“No one at all? No ex-boyfriends, or?” Ransom’s heart sped up with the always unexpected rush of adrenaline that heralded an impending panic attack.
“Or?”
Ransom swore she could hear him laughing at her. She could even imagine him shaking his head and leaning forward, resting his elbows on that ridiculous desk of his and fiddling with his favorite pen. Tap, tap, tap…like a woodpecker working its way around an old stump. She wasn’t sure if it was a nervous habit or a way to stall while he ticked off points in his head, but right now it was setting her teeth on edge.
“Look, Ransom. The last person I know for sure Victoria was involved with was a couple of years ago, and as far as I know it was just a weekend fling. If you want to know any more, you’re going to have to ask her. Our conversations don’t usually involve discussing her sex life.” The tapping stopped. “I will say one thing. I don’t think this is the right avenue to pursue. I’d bet my money on a prior client. It wouldn’t be the first time a client became fixated on their therapist.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Ransom ground her teeth together. She needed to get off the phone now. The taste of cold iron and fear made her mouth run dry and her legs start to shake. “I gotta go, Sam,” she heard herself say, one part of her brain noting how very normal she sounded before the world tilted around her.
“Dammit,” she growled, managing to swipe the end call button before going down on her knees. The breeze kicked up around her, teasing her hair and whispering in her ears. Accusations flew, familiar ones that threaded their way through her brain like a hot wire.
“Not my fault, I’m so sorry,” she rasped past the sensation of acrid smoke choking her and burning her nostrils. Foul with the scent of burning flesh and red-hot steel, her stomach rebelled, and she gagged, dry heaving until she lost her breakfast.
She pushed, and they shoved, all those memories she didn’t want…all those emotions that tasted like bile and burned like Hell, until she finally won and they were safely back behind their locked door. The emptiness that followed was more than the hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach, it was blessed numbness…the divorce of her emotions from the pain of the past.
Slowly, she became more aware of her surroundings. Her fingers ached and her head was pounding. At some point she had leaned against the ATV, pressing her forehead against the back of her hand to relieve the pressure building there. She looked down at her hand. The Glock, black and hard and unforgiving, was locked in a death grip that turned her knuckles white. She didn’t even remember drawing it.
She forced her hand open enough to feel the sting of blood rushing back into her digits, then tucked the weapon back into its holster.
“I hope you’re happy, Samuel.”
***
She missed her morning jog, and I didn’t see her come home last night. I wonder if she is finally learning what it is like to be afraid.
Chapter Eight
Victoria was two cups into her liquor and pissed in more ways than one.
Three days! Three days of boring nothingness that was starting to make her skin crawl and her brain turn to underutilized ooze.
Ransom had been in absentia most of that time, choosing to be locked in her office or doing only God knew what out and about the Johnson Estate. Victoria couldn’t call the place a farm, not after walking inside the house and snooping around a bit. The place was almost, not quite, but almost a mansion. It reminded her of the old governor’s mansions the south was so fond of.
“Oh, duh. Why didn’t I make that connection before?” Victoria muttered. “What other secrets do you have, Samuel freaking Johnson of Johnsonville? Was daddy the town mayor, or maybe it was granddaddy?” The house was old enough for either, or both for that matter.
She took another sip of the fine whiskey Samuel had so kindly left behind, toasted to his lineage before refilling her glass. She waited for the burn to hit her stomach, welcoming anything that would warm her from the inside. My babysitter certainly wasn’t going to do it, Victoria thought. Ransom’s presence had played havoc on her subconscious, taking advantage of what she could only describe as torn desires every time she tried to sleep.
Hence, the liquor cabinet. A poor excuse for drinking too much, but perhaps she could actually make it through the night without waking up hot and bothered, her sheets soaked in sweat and her pulse racing towards a destination that eluded her.
Ransom was very good at playing the cool, collected protector when she had a mind to. And Samuel? He hadn’t contacted her either. Irritation at the man had kept her from calling him on the burner phone for an update, but she wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold out. She needed to know what was going on. Victoria pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to let the liquor do its job but Samuel’s last words of advice about dealing with Ransom kept returning to haunt her.
She needs somebody out here with her, someone that won’t let her bullshit them. I just need you to be here so she has something to do, something else to occupy her mind other than the past. Don't let her bully you, she's isolated herself for a long time so her social graces are lacking a bit, and she can be quite the pain in the ass.
Well, so far she’d done a smashing job, if alienating, upsetting and generally just being a total bitch qualified as “don’t let her bully you.”
“What are you doing, Victoria?” she asked herself. Shopping with Ransom had turned out to be a very trying experience. She had never seen someone fidget so much at being in public, and they were only in the store for an hour. Ransom wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes, and she seemed tense the entire time they shopped, her full lips pressed into an uninviting and stern line that was reflected in a cold expression that was right at home in the freezer isle. The only contribution Ransom made was to grab an entire case of Red Bull and a handful of energy bars. Not exactly a grade A diet.
On the way back to the jeep, Victoria discovered an unexpected and delightful vision. This tiny little town had a designer clothing store, right next to a lingerie store. Her hunger forgotten, she insisted on going across the street to shop for some decent clothes. Ransom was not happy, but she finally gave in to her demands.
By the time they made it back to the house, the sun was setting and so was Ransom’s willingness to entertain her. The minute she was sure Victoria was safely tucked away, she was out the door, mumbling something about rounds and being behind schedule. The sound of the ATV soon faded away, le
aving her alone with a pile of grocery bags.
Dinner was out of the question, and after putting away her purchases, she was too tired to even think about cooking.
***
As she stood there, examining the deep tones of the liquor twirling idly in the bottom of her glass and drunkenly contemplating her life, Ransom entered the room.
Victoria turned and leveled a bleary gaze at her over the edge of the crystal snifter. Ransom, in turn, watched her with the same wary expression on her face she’d expect to see when trying to sidle around an angry bull. Cool-green eyes appraised her with all the warmth that chipped ice could muster, then flashed down to the glass in her hand.
“Enjoying yourself?” Ransom’s droll question not only rubbed her the wrong way, it smacked of superiority.
“Really? You are actually going to ask me that?” Victoria slammed down her glass, sloshing liquor all over her hand and the serving cabinet. “Dammit all to hell,” she cried out, her anger spilling out of her like hot magma and bringing tears to her eyes.
Ransom grabbed a towel and handed it to Victoria, then inspected the bottle she’d been drinking from. From the amount of liquor missing, she’d been busy for quite a while. “Samuel’s not going to be happy. That’s his favorite brand.”
“Fuck Samuel.”
Ransom recoiled at the ferocity behind that curse. Red tinged eyes, whether from crying or too much alcohol, locked on hers with all the malevolent intent of the emotionally wounded. She knew that look, having seen it in the mirror all too many times before she realized she was killing herself slowly. She glanced back at the cabinet again. The various bottles there had been old friends of hers at one point, appreciated for their subtle taste as well as their ability to deaden her senses, but it was all a lie. The pain was still there when you woke up, just like the pain was there…as plain as day…in Victoria’s face right now.
“Look, Victoria, I don’t know what you expected when you came here, but…”
“No! You don’t get to make excuses.” Victoria raised her voice, gesturing wildly at her with one accusing finger. “I’ve put up with this for three days and I am done! I’ve gone along with everything Samuel has asked, abandoning my practice, my home…hell, my whole life! Just because he thinks this, this admirer I have might be dangerous. MIGHT, Ransom.”
“I don’t think Samuel was wrong, Victoria.” Ransom frowned at the inebriated woman. She wasn’t making any sense.
Victoria held up three fingers and swayed, a lopsided smile on her face that was more a sneer. “Three fingers, hah…no, that’s not right. Three days, Ransom. I’ve been here all alone while you gallivant around, doing God knows what.” The slur was back. She narrowed her eyes into thin slits before spitting out the rest. “If I was in so much danger, Little Miss War Hero, why haven’t you been here with me, protecting me from this stalker, instead of outside playing woman of the woods? Hmmm?”
Victoria ran out of steam, and the ability to stand up at the same time. She wobbled and Ransom barely had enough time to grab her before she fell.
“Sit down,” she growled, angry beyond belief. Victoria must have gone into her office today.
“You’ve been snooping around, haven’t you?” Ransom asked. She needed to know what else she’d found.
“I needed the key to the liquor cabinet. I couldn’t find it in here so I looked in your desk for it.” Victoria hunted around on her person for something, then pulled out an ornate, antique key and held it up like a trophy. She saluted Ransom and giggled. “Mission accomplished.”
Ransom snatched the key out of her hand and tucked in her pocket. This was getting out of hand. “That’s not funny, Victoria. Do you always drink like this when shit gets too hard to deal with?”
Victoria leaned back on the couch and gazed up at her, one eyebrow raised and just the slightest hint of a smile on her face. “Why, of course I do, Ransom dear. But I thought you already knew that.”
Ransom took two steps back, her expression turning cold and hard. The mask that Victoria hated with all her heart and soul slipped into place in an instant and took away everything she remembered about Ransom from that night so long ago. Through the haze of alcohol, she wondered how far that mask dug into the woman’s psyche. Something ingrained that deep could damage a person, like tree roots wrapped around and through a foundation. Remove one and the other topples over.
“I’ll make you some coffee so you can sober up,” Ransom spoke coolly. “Then, I’ll show you what I’ve been up to and why it’s so important.”
Two hours later a very red-faced and embarrassed woman knocked on the doorframe leading into her office. Ransom looked up from her desk, a troubled expression on her face that made her look much, much older than her twenty-eight years.
So much history in such a young face, so much conflict, Victoria thought, mentally wincing at her earlier cruelty. She couldn’t even imagine some of the things Ransom had seen, let alone experienced herself.
“Hi,” Victoria said, ducking her head sheepishly.
“Are you feeling better now?” Ransom asked.
“Except for my pride,” Victoria admitted. “I think it’s still cowering in the corner of the bathroom.”
“Sit down, please.” Ransom was glad for the desk between them. This wasn’t going to be comfortable for either of them, but the physical barrier would help.
“I feel like I’ve been called into the principal’s office,” Victoria said, as she took a seat.
“Hmmpfh. Not quite. But I do need to ask you not to come in here again. Not without me. I don’t care about the rest of the house, but this is my office. I’d prefer not to keep the door locked.”
“Got it.” Victoria tried to smile, but it took too much effort. She was going to have one hell of a hangover in the morning, but right now she was in that uncomfortable middle ground where she was still drunk but the nausea and body aches were starting to make their presence known.
“Are you sure you’re okay? You look a little green.” Ransom didn’t want to go through the entire spiel just to have to repeat everything all over again tomorrow.
“I will be. I need to know what’s going on.”
Ransom nodded. She could understand that sentiment. There was nothing worse than going into a situation without as much intelligence as possible. That was a surefire way to walk into a shit storm that might get you killed. She also knew that the best way to go in is hard and fast so she brought out the big gun first. Victoria had to understand exactly what she was dealing with.
Keeping things hidden from her wasn’t protecting her, it was leaving her uninformed and vulnerable. That was why she pulled out the rose first, placing it on the desk between them without a single word of explanation.
“What’s this?” Victoria eyed the black rose suspiciously, swallowing against a sudden surge of fear so strong it made her stomach flip-flop. The black rose, each thorn tipped with the same shade of red lacquer that graced her fingernails, was limp and half dead…the silken petals flattened and dull from lack of water, yet it carried a malevolent aura that made her shudder.
Ransom leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk and gazing directly into Victoria’s eyes. “This is why you should be concerned, and why I’ve been gone so much. I have security set up all over the property, but I’ve been upgrading it and rechecking all the entrances. There’s over a hundred acres to patrol, and a dozen entry points that could be used by someone determined to get on here. I can’t be everywhere at once, so I need mechanical eyes to help me.”
“Oh.” Victoria leaned back in her chair, not to distance herself from Ransom, but to put as much distance as possible from her and the black rose.
Ransom shook her head and grinned, it was time to drive her point home so she wouldn’t have to deal with this ridiculousness again. “So you see, I need you to take all of this quite seriously, as seriously as I am taking it…and I am taking it very seriously. This rose here? It’s not the only one Sam
uel found. Its twin was found the day after you left. On your bed.”
“In my house,” Victoria whispered.
“Yes,” Ransom answered simply. Victoria’s response was to turn several shades of sickly green.
“Um, I think I need to go lie down.” Victoria’s voice was so faint Ransom had to strain to hear her. Blind fingers sought the edge of the desk, relying on the hard edge to pull herself up from the chair.
“Do you need help getting upstairs?” Ransom stood up immediately.
“No, no. I’ll be fine.” Victoria waved her away. She had a pretty good idea that the next few minutes were going to involve praying to the porcelain goddess, and she didn’t want an audience. Her trip upstairs was a trial that required all of her semi-inebriated concentration, by the time she reached the landing she was exhausted. All she wanted to do was find her room and crawl into bed. Being horizontal was so much easier than standing; although she wished the room would stop spinning wildly around her.
Ransom watched Victoria’s pinball alley climb up the stairs, hovering close enough to make sure the fool woman didn’t kill herself falling backwards until she cleared the last step.
Samuel would never let me hear the end of it, she thought, and I wouldn’t be too thrilled either.
Tired but too wound up to sleep, Ransom returned to her office and plunked back down in her chair. She rubbed her eyes then ran her palm across her face, plucking at her lower lip thoughtfully before surging forward. A plain flat box sat inside the top left drawer right where she had left it two years ago. She hesitated, then snapped it open, exposing the off white silk lining cradling a medal she didn’t want and didn’t think she deserved.
Medals never told the whole story. They gave pomp and circumstance to acts that ordinary people call brave when all you were trying to do was stay alive and keep the people you cared about in one piece. They fail to remember the ones that didn’t make it. It was all about the numbers of saved souls, while the ones who went home in a flag covered casket were conveniently left out of their carefully worded histories.