* * *
Lauren glanced at the clock on her computer screen. Five o’clock, Friday. Quitting time. She got up, stumbled to the sofa, and collapsed. She’d forced herself through another work week. Her projects helped keep her mind off Melanie’s disappearance, but when she stopped working, despair engulfed her. It had been a month and still no sign of her sister. She pulled a pillow to her chest and dropped her head. She waited for the tears to flow, but nothing happened. All cried out.
After her date with Jacob Flynn, Melanie had simply vanished. There’d been no sign of her or her car. The police had interviewed Jacob and he’d stuck to his story. The date had gone well. Melanie left his house around three and told him she was going home. The detective had assured Lauren there was no sign of foul play. Jacob had allowed the police to search his house and he seemed genuinely concerned about Melanie.
Lauren thought about the past month. She’d done everything she could think of to find her sister. She posted flyers around her neighborhood, organized a search party, and got the media involved for a few days before they lost interest and went on to their next news story. But her efforts were futile. Still no trace of Melanie and at this point, Lauren accepted something terrible had happened. She knew in her heart someday there’d be a knock on her door---Melanie’s body found.
Regardless of what the police thought, Jacob had to be involved. It didn’t make sense someone could have accosted Melanie on her way home. Not her savvy sister. She wouldn’t have stopped her car at three o’clock in the morning for anyone. If she’d had car trouble, her sister would have called for help. Something bad must have happened to Melanie on her date, and Lauren couldn’t sit around waiting for that fateful knock on her door to discover what it was.
She jumped off the sofa and ran to her bedroom. She‘d drive to Jacob Flynn’s house, trail his car if he left, and see if she could “bump” into him wherever he went. She wouldn’t identify herself as Melanie’s sister; she didn’t want him to be wary of her. She needed him to open up about what happened that night. Maybe he’d reveal something she could take to the police.
She pawed through her clothes until she found the perfect dress, slipped it on, and faced the mirror: low-cut, micro-mini, skin-tight, fire-engine red. A pair of black stilettos and her outfit complete. Just the thing for a Friday night hook-up.
One last item. She pulled open her nightstand drawer and removed the gun her father had given to his daughters when they’d moved into their apartment. Lauren held it for a moment, felt its weight in her hands. Too late to save Melanie, but Lauren would have it if she needed it.
Lauren glanced at her watch---ten o’clock. She’d give it another hour before she bailed. Ten minutes later she watched as the garage door lifted and a silver BMW pulled out. She slid down in her car seat as the sedan flew by. Then she started the engine and followed, maintained her distance while keeping his car in sight. When the BMW pulled into the parking lot of a popular night club, she drove past and circled the block to give her quarry time to go in.
When she stepped through the doorway, Lauren paused and let her dress do its magic. Heads swiveled, eyes widened, mouths dropped open. She didn’t seek out her quarry. It wasn’t necessary. He’d find her. Slowly, sensually, she placed one foot in front of the other like a model on a catwalk. Her hips swayed in time to the beat of the music pulsating through the club speakers. At the bar, she located two empty stools. She sat in one and put her purse down on the other. It only took a moment before the bartender hustled over, drawn to her like every other man in the room.
Lauren ordered a dirty martini, then turned the bar stool to face the crowd. Crossed her long legs and rotated her ankle so her shoe dangled from her toes. Rested her elbow on the bar counter and arched her back, her breasts swelled against the silky fabric of her dress. When her martini arrived, she took a long sip, swallowed, and licked her cherry red lips, her lipstick an identical match to her dress. Before she took a second sip, the first man materialized in front of her.
He gestured to the stool next to her. “This seat taken?”
“Afraid so. I’m saving it for someone.”
The man shrugged and moved away, his spot quickly replaced by another hopeful. Like a rewind button, the scene played out over and over until she drained her martini. She spun around to catch the bartender’s eye when a man’s hand plucked her empty glass from her grip. He raised it, then signaled for two with his other hand. Lauren glanced up, ready to send the man on his way, but the words caught in her throat. She’d studied this man’s face on Facebook, Linked In, his blog, his features as familiar now as her own. Jacob Flynn .
She smiled at him, removed her purse from the adjacent stool. “I’d just about given up hope. Loser Lane in here until you showed up.”
“I like a girl with high standards.” He thrust his hand out. “I’m Jacob.”
“I’m April,” Lauren said, the alias tripped off her tongue. She didn’t want to risk Jacob remembering her name from her long-ago phone call.
The martinis arrived, and Lauren turned on the charm like a hundred watt light bulb in a dim basement. Their glasses empty, the bartender asked if they were ready for a refill.
“How about if we head over to my place?” Jacob asked.
Lauren hesitated. Not comfortable going to his house, but realized she wouldn’t get any useful information making small talk in the club. She needed to see his home. Maybe she’d find some evidence he killed her sister. She put her fear aside. “Sounds great.”
Jacob scribbled his address on a piece of paper and talked her through the directions. “Not too far from here. Just follow me. Park in the garage next to my car.”
Twenty minutes later, Lauren stood in Jacob’s living room and waited for him to bring a glass of water. When he stepped into the room, he carried two glasses.
He handed her one and answered her unspoken question. “Two drinks is my limit, too. I usually stick to wine.” He pointed to the sofa. “Shall we?”
Alarm bells went off in Lauren’s head. In the safety of her apartment, trying to trap Jacob seemed like a good idea, but now that she was alone with the man, she felt vulnerable. She took a step away from him. “Actually, I’ve been sitting all day. Feels good to stand for a change.”
Lauren walked to a display cabinet filled with trophies. “Quite a collection you have.”
Jacob moved closer, his arm grazed hers. He began to rattle off a list of the marathons and bike races he’d competed in---more often than not, placing at the top of the field.
As she listened to him brag, Lauren peered into the display case. Something caught her eye. A bracelet dangled from the arm of one of the trophies. She stared at it, then gazed down at her wrist where she wore an identical piece, the bracelets gifts from her father to his two daughters. She turned to Jacob, horrified, and she could tell he’d seen the matching bracelets. Their eyes locked.
Before Lauren could react, he lunged at her, grabbed her arms, and shook her violently. “Who are you?”
“What do you mean? I told you my name.”
“Where’d you get that bracelet? You knew Melanie Hughes, didn’t you?”
Lauren couldn’t go on with her lie. “I’m her sister, and that bracelet proves you killed her.”
She yanked herself free, but before she could run away, he grabbed her by the throat. He squeezed, his fingers a vice around her neck.
Adrenaline flooded her body and Lauren jammed her thumbs into Jacob’s eyes. He screamed and dropped his hands. She turned and ran across the living room, grabbed her purse, and ran for the door. Before she could reach it, Jacob tackled her from behind. They tumbled to the floor, his body smothered hers. Lauren twisted, tried to free herself, but she couldn’t shake him. He pinned her arms to her sides, but she managed to free her leg and shot her knee into his groin. He howled and rolled off while she scrambled to her feet, still clutching her purse. The door just a few feet away. She leapt for it, then felt his h
and grab her ankle and pull her to the floor.
Lauren knew if he got on top of her again, she’d never get free. She reached into her purse and grabbed her gun. She aimed it at his head. “Let go of me!”
“All right. Don’t shoot.” Jacob held up his hands.
Lauren stood, backed away. She watched Jacob warily as he got to his feet. “Keep your hands up.”
She aimed the revolver at his chest. “Did you kill my sister?”
“If I did, you’ll never prove it. Not with a bracelet.”
“Just tell me what happened. Where’s her body?”
Jacob gazed at her, his lips curled into an arrogant smirk. “I dumped her into Lake Mead -- same place I’m going to dump yours. You two can be reunited.”
He grabbed for the revolver, his fingers wrapped around hers. Lauren felt the gun slipping from her hands. She squeezed her finger on the trigger and heard a deafening noise. Jacob’s eyes widened, his grip loosened, then he collapsed onto the floor. His body twitched once, then lay still.
Lauren stood over him, panicked he was going to get up. But the monster lay dead. She collapsed to the floor and dropped the gun. Put her head in her hands and wept. Between tears, she whispered, “I’m coming, Melanie. I’ll take you home.”
# # #
www.LindaJohnson.us
Other works by Linda Johnson:
“A Tangled Web” - a novel
Divorce is unpleasant and messy. Murder is simple. Cathy Nelson is a young, successful career woman and mother. When her marriage sours, she turns to a time-honored solution: arsenic. Toni Ambrose is a young, but relentless detective, assigned to the murder case. Her instincts tell her that Cathy is guilty and she defies her superiors to doggedly build a case against this black widow disguised as a grieving wife.
“Trail of Destruction” - a novel
Brad Newcomb believes he is destined to be President of the United States. When he has an affair with a staff member and gets her pregnant, there is nothing he won’t do to fulfill his destiny – including murder. Brad’s brother, Ryan, is a journalist who uncovers the story and is faced with a monumental decision that could determine the fate of the entire country: bury the truth and see a murderer elected president or destroy his brother's life.
“Redemption” - a short story
Ben Hawkins blames his father for a psychologically abusive childhood and for triggering his mother’s suicide. The two men have been estranged for years. But when Ben is falsely accused of murder, he has no other option than to turn to his father, a retired homicide detective, for help. As Ben languishes in jail, the noose growing tighter, his father desperately searches for the real killer. The evidence continues to mount against Ben until the case takes an unexpected turn.
The Switch - a short story
Michael came from old money, but when he married Rita, his parents disapproved and cut him off from the family wealth. With his beautiful wife and their three children, Michael never regrets what he lost -- until Rita is diagnosed with breast cancer and he doesn’t have the health insurance to cover her care.
Michael hatches a desperate plan to fund Rita’s life-saving treatments and exact revenge against his family.
“Winner Takes All” - a short story
Robert Lewiston has fled the country. After executing the largest Ponzi scheme in history, he changed his name, had plastic surgery, and escaped to Rio de Janeiro, where he's living the high life on billions in stolen funds.
John Henderson is an ex-employee of Lewiston's who is helping the FBI track down his former boss. When John discovers information that could lead to Lewiston's whereabouts, he is faced with a crucial decision that could lead to dangerous and unexpected consequences.
“Breaking the Cycle” - a short story
Kate Bynum is a patrol cop working the graveyard shift. She has seen more than her share of domestic violence calls. More often than not, these besieged women are unable to find a way to stop the torment on their own.
When she meets a young woman who is trapped in an abusive marriage by her politically connected and powerful husband, Kate knows she must find a way to help the woman escape and break the vicious cycle of abuse.
The Player - A Short Story Page 4