by Stacy Juba
"What can I do for you?" Cassidy asked, shifting her attention to the detective.
"I thought you might be interested in hearing some news," Detective Pierce said. "We found Olivia's maternal grandparents."
A flicker of happiness lifted Cassidy's depressed mood. She had liked Olivia and wanted the best for her. It wasn't her fault she had a deranged father. "That's great. Are they nice people?"
Nodding, Pierce flipped back a few pages. He trailed a finger down his notes. "Mitch was married to Olivia's mother, Denise, for five years. Last year, Denise filed for divorce and two weeks later, she disappeared. Her family said his possessiveness frightened her and she'd felt trapped. They insisted she would never leave Olivia. The family believed Mitch killed her, but the body was never found. No one could prove she didn’t take off on her own."
"I knew he'd done this before," Cassidy muttered. "Hard to believe someone would marry the lunatic."
"He was afraid Olivia’s grandparents would fight him for custody. One day, he moved out of his apartment without leaving a forwarding address. Mitch told Olivia her grandparents were dead, taking her from Florida to California. They’ve been worried sick and had even hired a private detective. They’re coming to get her tomorrow."
"I'm glad she’s away from him. Mitch has about a thousand screws loose."
"He quit his job to come out here. He and Olivia stayed in a hotel outside Garrett, but once money got tight, they moved into the mill. When he traveled to kill Reggie and Felicia, he left his daughter alone in motel rooms. Same thing when he went to the gym, or drove around to follow you."
Although Pierce kept his tone neutral, Cassidy read the disgust in his eyes. Olivia had been as much of a victim as herself.
They both stirred as the doorbell chimed. Sighing, Cassidy dragged herself away from the table and over to the living room window. An automatic singe of heat flared through her body. Zach waited on the porch, hands hooked over his belt.
"I need to get back to the station and finish some paperwork," Detective Pierce said, rising. "I just wanted to fill you in personally. By the way, has that Rhonda Sue Vanelli harassed you anymore?"
Cassidy abandoned her post at the window and rejoined the detective. "No, she sent me an apology and mentioned she’s addicted to another reality show. Hopefully, that’s the end of her. For their benefit, I hope the other contestants live in Alaska."
She led the detective to the front door. Pierce nodded at Zach as they brushed shoulders and, with a wave at Cassidy, strode toward his unmarked sedan. Cassidy took a deep breath and regarded Zach, a cascade of jumbled emotions brimming in her chest.
He’d lied to her, planned to exploit her. Yet, if he’d been telling the truth, he had jeopardized a lucrative publishing deal because of her. Cassidy had regretted not forgiving him back at the mill. Now she would find out whether her wistfulness was justified.
"Come in," she said.
Zach followed her to the couch and pulled down on his Stetson, his face contrite. As she sat down, Cassidy left deliberate space between them.
"You could have been killed," he said, darting a glance at her.
"We got out of it okay." Involuntarily, Cassidy shuddered, imagining what might have happened.
"I wanted to call right away, but I wasn’t sure you’d want to hear from me. I thought you might need a couple days to recover. What now? I’ll bet your agent is getting inundated with offers after all the publicity."
"She was, but I’ve turned down most of them. I’ve decided to be a spokesman for Sensational Seas Cruise Lines, since they’re local, and use the money to start up a small club." Cassidy eyed the mantel, replenished with the photographs Mitch had stolen. Police had discovered the pictures in his van. One small part of her life back in order.
With any luck, the other pieces would soon follow, but she could never erase what had happened. She’d almost gotten herself and Bo killed. Reggie and Felicia were gone, because a madman considered them her enemies. Cassidy hadn’t mustered the courage to call Reggie’s mother and find out whether the woman blamed her. In time, perhaps she would reach out. Once she stopped blaming herself.
"You’re walking away from all those offers? Weren’t they what you’ve been waiting for?" Zach tilted his head, studying her. For the first time, Cassidy noticed his tired bloodshot eyes.
She shrugged. "I got some good advice once, not to spread myself too thin. I’m not sure how I feel about the messenger, but he had a point. What about you? What happened to the book deal?"
"That depends." Zach turned his body sideways and closed the gap between them a few inches. "I had an idea, which the publisher is willing to pursue. Since you’ve got firsthand experience on a reality show, and have witnessed both the good and bad aspects, we think you should be my co-author."
"Co-author? Of your trashy book?" Cassidy blinked, not quite understanding what he was saying. Why would she want to make herself look like a fool?
"It won’t be trashy. We’ve changed the thrust to exploring what happens when normal people become celebrities, whether fame is all it’s cut out to be." Enthusiasm touched Zach’s voice as he went on, "I’d do all the writing, so you could concentrate on developing your business, but we’d spend a lot of time together going over the copy. Your job would be to give editorial input and you could write the introduction. I’d pay what I owe you on the advance and we’d split royalties."
Cassidy raised herself off the couch and trudged to the window. The money would boost the amount she could afford for gym space, and the revised topic triggered her interest. But if she agreed to this, would she be selling herself out?
"I have to discuss this with my agent," she finally announced. "I want to make sure I’d get a real voice in the editorial content and receive my fair share of the profits."
"I’ll have my people call your people. There’s one more thing. Once this book is finished, I want to get back into newspapers or magazines. I don’t know whether to look for a full-time job in Texas or Massachusetts." Zach shuffled up behind her and rubbed the back of her hair. "Any thoughts?"
Cassidy cleared her throat, a strange tickle making speech difficult. He would consider permanently relocating here? That idea intrigued her even more than the book offer, but it was too early to give him a definitive answer. She wouldn’t mind exploring the possibility, though. In fact, the prospect was downright appealing.
"Well, you did promise me riding lessons so I could see what’s so great about horses," she said. "I don’t want to advise you about jobs, but it might not be a bad idea to stick around for awhile. I’m not used to being around horses. Could take me a little time to get used to it."
Slowly, she turned to face him. Zach smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "You just wait till you're hanging onto the reins. It's the ultimate freedom, you and the horse working in tandem."
"We'll see about that, cowboy."
"You’ll see. Trusting someone doesn’t have to be scary. Even an overgrown pony."
He slipped his arms around her, folding her close. Cassidy hugged him hard, never wanting to let go. She didn’t know where her future led, but it was time to sink or swim.
THE END
###
DARK BEFORE DAWN
By Stacy Juba
When teen psychic Dawn Christian gets involved with a fortuneteller mentor and two girls who share her mysterious talents, she finally belongs after years of being a misfit. When she learns her new friends may be tied to freak "accidents" in town, Dawn has an important choice to make – continue developing the talent that makes her special or challenge the only people who have ever accepted her.
Copyright 2011 by Stacy Juba
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.
License Notes
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Chapter One
Dawn Christian curled under the covers, shivering in her nightshirt. Goosebumps had popped up on her bare arms. She breathed in and out, trying to calm herself. Even the safety of darkness couldn't hide it.
Something was wrong.
She knew it the same way she had known it would rain despite the weather report. Now gray clouds blistered outside the window.
I can't go, I can't go, I can't go, something bad's going to happen. Dawn rubbed between her eyebrows, the message flying around inside her brain like a loose pinball.
The red numbers of her alarm clock flickered to 6:29. Dawn rolled onto her other side and faced the wall. In an hour, she'd be starting her junior year at a lame new high school. She missed Boston and taking the T, the city’s subway system, wherever she wanted to go. Dawn used to hang out at museums, watch the college kids in Harvard Square and read books at the Common. Sometimes, she and her mother caught Saturday matinees in the theater district.
Not anymore. Ever since the wedding in July, Dawn had been stuck in Covington, Maine, a beach town overflowing with rinky dink carnival rides, cheesy souvenir stores and bad vibrations.
"Dawn?" She turned to find her mother framed in the dimly lit doorway, fully dressed. "Are you coming down for breakfast?"
"I'm not hungry."
"Nervous about school?"
Gulping, Dawn huddled under the blankets. No way could she discuss her feeling with her mom. Her mother wanted a normal daughter who was on the basketball team or school newspaper, had friends and didn’t live in fear. "Kind of."
Her mother lowered herself onto the bed and squeezed Dawn’s hand. Her manicured pink nails shone against Dawn’s pale skin. Since meeting Jeff eight months ago, Dawn's mother had been letting her curly hair hang loose and wearing makeup.
She smoothed back a tangle of Dawn’s chestnut waves. "You don’t look like yourself. Do you feel all right?"
"I’m fine." Dawn shoved her stuffed monkey, Buddy, further under the blankets. Her father gave her Buddy shortly before he died, and holding it was like hugging a piece of her dad. Still, sleeping with a toy monkey was kiddish and Dawn didn’t do it often. Her mother would get suspicious if she noticed.
Darn it. Her mother drew out Buddy by his slender tail and patted his furry brown head. "Calling in the reinforcements, huh? What’s on your mind, honey? Maybe I can help."
Dawn sat up and clasped her knees. Her mother never understood about Dawn’s hunches. "I don’t think you really want to know, Mom."
"Of course I do."
Yeah, right. But Dawn didn’t have the stamina for lying today. "I’m getting one of my premonitions. Something’s wrong. I think it has to do with school."
She waited and sure enough, her mother got the frightened look she’d worn too many times before. Dawn remembered the look that terrible night with Mrs. Frazier ... but she didn’t want to think about that.
Her mother dropped Buddy onto the mattress and squirmed as if fighting off a chill. "I’m sure it’s just regular old nerves," she said in an overly cheerful voice. "It’s hard enough adjusting to a new home and a new family without throwing a new school into the picture. Who wouldn’t feel edgy?"
"That’s not it, Mom."
"Just be normal. Don’t worry about your premonitions. You shouldn’t have to live your life afraid."
"Get real, Mom. I’ll never be normal and fit in."
"If you paid more attention to talking with the other kids, and less to these visions and feelings, things would be so much easier for you."
How many times had she heard her mother say that? Dawn rolled her eyes. "This is why I didn’t want to talk about it. I can’t help that I ‘know’ things, Mom. The only way I can keep that stuff secret is by never opening my mouth. Then the other kids think I’m a snob."
"Being different is no reason to separate yourself. You’ve been through a lot already, honey, and I want you to be happy here. We have a fresh start. If you pushed your feelings to the back of your mind and stopped working yourself up over them, maybe they’ll stop coming." Her mother offered a brittle smile.
That was like asking Dawn to walk around blindfolded, or to stuff earplugs in her ears, giving up one of her senses. She couldn’t just shut off her feelings. They were too overpowering, demanding attention.
"You made me promise to hide my abilities around Ken and Jeff," Dawn said. "Okay, I want them to like me, but I shouldn’t have to hide things around you. Why can’t you just help me?"
Her mother slipped an arm around her shoulders. "I’m trying to help you, honey. You need to tell yourself that your imagination is running wild and you’ve got normal jitters. Do you understand what I’m saying?"
Dawn’s jaw tensed. Her mother deserved an Oscar. She had an amazing knack for pretending Dawn suffered normal teenage angst, acting as if they were on some TV drama when the truth was closer to the Stephen King movie Carrie.
"Whenever I’m in a new situation, I say hi to the person sitting next to me and do my best to start a conversation," her mother went on. "Maybe that would work for you."
Dawn took a few breaths to contain herself, then muttered, "I'll try."
Her mother's face lit up with relief. Dawn accepted her hug, inhaling the scents of Dove soap and raspberry body spray, but rather than make her feel better, the embrace ticked off Dawn even more. Did her mom really believe everything was solved? Dawn clamped her lips shut to keep back the harsh words brimming on her tongue.
"You're smart, you're pretty, you're sweet," her mother said. "The kids at Covington High will love you. Ken’s willing to give you a ride. Isn’t that great? I’d drive you myself, but I think it would be better if you’re not seen with your uncool old mother."
"Yeah. Great."
Her mother retreated downstairs to make breakfast. Dawn pushed back the covers. She knew her mom meant well. Since her dad’s death when Dawn was in first grade, life had sucked for both of them. They’d had lonely dinners, lonely holidays, lonely vacations. Having each other made it bearable. Now they had a chance to start over.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t as easy as her mother believed.
Dawn left Buddy on the disheveled bed and rested her bare feet on her pink throw rug. She flipped the wall switch and winced as harsh light glared down on her bone white bedroom set. Everything looked orderly, the way she liked it. Young adult romance novels and the latest issues of Seventeen Magazine filled a pair of baskets, while trays on her dresser organized accessories.
She had enough clutter in her own head. Dawn couldn’t stand seeing it reflected in her surroundings.
A sudden wave of music blared down the hall, "I’m a rock-and-roller, that’s what I ammmmm..." Dawn cringed, pressing her temples against the beginnings of a headache.
She wanted to storm in and tell Ken to shut off his music, but he wasn’t her real brother. Then he’d hate her, for sure.
Dawn snagged her new jeans and shirt out of the closet and covered her ears as she crossed the hallway into the bathroom. She hung her clothes on a hook, shaking her head at the beach junk adorning the walls. Dawn had gotten used to the twig wreath overflowing with glued dolphins and starfish, but the foam life ring above the toilet reminded her of the Titanic.
A shower was what she needed. A steady stream of water sprayed into the tub as she undressed, the whooshing sound drowning out Ken’s music, but not her internal voice.
Be very careful. Something is wrong.
***
Dawn skipped breakfast, too queasy to eat. Ken downed a bunch of chocolate chip cookies out of the package an
d refused her mother’s offer of scrambled eggs.
"Oh, come on Ken, cookies aren’t a real breakfast," her mother said. "Here, just have a spoonful of eggs. It won’t take a minute."
"Leave us alone, Mom," Dawn snapped. "It’s too early to eat."
Jeff plucked a crisp slice of bacon off the damp paper towel. Ten extra pounds softened his middle, but hardly any gray touched his blond hair or mustache. Even Dawn appreciated what her mother saw in his boyish smile. "I’ll have some, honey. It looks delicious. Dawn, your mother was just trying to be helpful. And Ken, you’ve been sleeping till 11:00 all summer. After a couple hours of school, you’re going to be starving."
"I’ll risk it." Ken swaggered out to the car. A varsity letter gleamed on his Covington High School Blue Stars ice hockey jacket.
Dawn followed him out to his secondhand Toyota, a garbage can on wheels with crumpled McDonalds bags, movie stubs and Milky Way wrappers littering the backseat. Setting foot in the disaster area doubled the size of her headache.
"Your mom sure can be pushy." Ken was seventeen, a year older than Dawn. He started the ignition and flicked his shaggy hair out of his eyes. He wore it long and floppy on top, like a rock band reject. Dawn never would have guessed how much time guys spent fixing their hair.
"No kidding," Dawn agreed.
As Ken backed out of the driveway, Dawn searched her brain for something interesting to say. She finally gave up. Ken didn’t seem in any hurry to chat, either.
She and Ken had made small talk a few times over the summer, but he never invited her to join him and his friends downtown. She didn’t think Ken disliked her, but he wasn’t that friendly, either.