Already Trapped (A Laura Frost FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 3) Page 4

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Laura turned her back to the door for a long moment, trying to breathe. When she turned back, Rondelle was reentering the house with an older woman at his side. She was short and dumpy, with the kind of haircut that looked as though it had been cut at home with some kind of bowl as a guideline. Her frumpy, old and faded floral dress did not inspire Laura’s imagination, either.

  “Is she just ahead, through here?” the woman asked, gesturing toward the dining room. There was an authority in her voice that set Laura on edge. But there was also a gentle tone that offered some reassurance. Whatever Laura thought of her, it didn’t matter. This was what had to be done. It was the only way for Amy to move toward security and stability in the long run, even if Laura didn’t want to let her go now.

  Laura led the way back inside, keeping her movements quiet and calm as she opened the door. Nate and Amy both looked up—they were sitting on the floor, Nate evidently engaged in some kind of game with the rabbit. Amy, though, was instantly on guard, cowering back at the sight of the stranger.

  “Amy,” Laura said, trying to look and sound as though she really believed what she was saying. “This lady here is someone who is going to help you.”

  “Hello, dear,” the social worker said, not unkindly. Laura forced herself to stay still, near the door, when the woman took a step forward.

  “I have to go again?” Amy said, looking not at anyone else but Laura.

  Laura could feel the hot tears building behind her eyes and fought to push them down. “I’m afraid so, sweetie. You need to be safe.”

  “Like last time?” Amy asked, and her voice was so small and so scared that Laura’s dam almost broke.

  “Not like last time,” she promised fiercely. “You’re going to be safe now. I mean it.”

  She stopped short of saying “I promise.” She couldn’t.

  Things had gone from bad to worse for poor Amy from the moment they met. Back then, Laura had thought being kidnapped was the worst thing that would ever happen to the child. Her father’s violence had topped that. And now this—the murder of one parent by another.

  Laura would have liked to say that she couldn’t imagine it getting any worse, but she had seen enough in her career. It had been nearly a decade since she first picked up the badge. Laura knew just how things might get worse for a young, vulnerable girl like Amy. She didn’t want to think about it.

  “All right, Amy,” the social worker said. “Do you want to bring your bunny with you?”

  Amy nodded solemnly. She got up on her own, without having to be told. The social worker held out a hand to her, but Amy hugged the rabbit tighter instead. Taking it in her stride, the social worker gestured for Amy to come closer, and then guided her with a hand on the back of her shoulder.

  Talking quietly to her all the while, the social worker led Amy out of the room. Rondelle gave Laura and then Nate a meaningful glance, one that Laura was unable to interpret. She was struggling too hard to control her emotions, to breathe, to not cry while Amy could still turn back and see her.

  The door closed behind both of them, and she gulped in a mouthful of air, covering her hand with her mouth as if to stop it from spilling out again.

  “Are you all right?” Nate asked, his voice low. “I mean, I know you’re not.”

  Laura shook her head wordlessly, sinking down into one of the dining chairs. She took a long moment, carefully laying her hand down flat on the surface of the table and staring at it. Trying to think of absolutely nothing at all. That was the only way she was going to get through this. Nothing at all.

  Nate sat down beside her, waiting. She knew he wouldn’t wait forever. At last, he cleared his throat slightly, watching her. “How did you know something was going to go down tonight?” he asked.

  “I didn’t,” Laura said, her voice barely more than a hoarse whisper.

  Nate gave a disappointed groan. “Laura, you promised me. If I came to help you, you would tell me everything. You have to answer me.”

  Laura’s mouthed moved soundlessly for a moment. He was right. She had promised. But that was in the heat of the moment. She had been desperate. And yes, she would promise it a thousand times over in order to save Amy’s life.

  But Amy’s life had been saved.

  And now?

  “I’ve thought something awful was going to happen every single day since we found out she was sent back here,” she said, which was at least the truth. “I knew it in my bones. You must have seen it, too. There was no way she was going to be safe here.”

  “That’s not the point,” Nate said. He spread his big hand across the table, his dark skin matching the wood. “Look, Laura, we’ve been going around in circles for too long. I’m not going to play this game anymore. You need to tell me what’s up with you. How you know the things you do.”

  Laura bit her lip, staying silent. What was she going to say? That it was just luck? That it was all a coincidence? That she had a feeling? Maybe make something up, say Amy had somehow been in contact with her? That she’d been driving by the place every day and knew something was up when she saw the guards weren’t there?

  That could have worked, if Nate hadn’t seen her pull up just a moment before he did.

  “Laura, I’ve seen too much,” Nate said, tapping his fingers lightly on the table to underline his point. “Not just today. Other cases. You always know where to be to stop things from happening. And it’s gotten beyond a point where you can convince me that it’s just luck. If you keep lying to me, hiding this from me, I just don’t know how I’m going to be able to trust you.”

  Laura turned her head, looking at him. She had expected that he might be looking at her with anger, cold and heavy, or disappointment. But what she saw cracked her heart open instead. His face was open, raw. He wanted her trust. He was begging her to let him in. To stop shutting him out. This wasn’t so much an intervention as a last desperate plea.

  In that moment, she wanted so badly to tell him. To have everything off her shoulders at last. It would be such a weight to unload. To have someone else know, someone else whom she could talk to.

  If it would work out that way.

  Because it might not. He might think she was crazy. Worse, he might believe her but start avoiding her as much as possible, wanting to get away from her. Her ability—she wouldn’t call it a gift—might be unnerving. Knowing that someone might see your future every time you touched them.

  And if she told him about the visions, she would have to tell him all of it. About the shadow of death she saw hanging over him whenever they touched. She would have to give him a death sentence.

  She’d seen what that could do to a man. Her father, being told his cancer was inoperable, that the end was coming. Convicts on death row that she’d helped put there. The way it could destroy someone. She couldn’t even give him answers to all of the questions he would want to ask—how, why, when, where.

  Laura swallowed hard. This was a pivotal moment—she could feel it in the air. She could take the leap now. Trust in Nate. Trust in his strength, his fairness, the way he had always treated her with respect. He was a good man. She could take the decision to trust in that, and tell him everything, believing that he wouldn’t shut her out. That he would become the rock she needed, not the hard place.

  Or she could keep quiet, and shut him out instead before he had the chance to do it back, and lose him anyway.

  Put like that, the choice didn’t seem like much of a choice at all.

  Laura looked at him, trying to preserve this moment in her mind. The last moment before he knew. The last moment before it came undone, maybe.

  “Nate,” she started, and he shifted his weight toward her, making her pause. It was only a split second, and she didn’t react in time. He moved his hand toward her, and she should have pulled away, shouldn’t have let him touch her. But he did. His hand covered her wrist, a gesture of support and comfort.

  But it wasn’t support and comfort
that she drew from it. It was terror—sheer and unbridled. The specter of death that hung over him clouded her view, turning the whole room to black smoke immediately. When she tried to breathe, she felt the aura of darkness flooding into her lungs, filling her, choking her. It was stronger than ever, so thick she could barely see him looking back at her, barely fight her way out of it.

  Laura yanked her hand away and stood up, stumbling backwards.

  “Laura?” Nate said.

  The shadow of death had dissipated as soon as they lost physical contact, but it didn’t matter. She had felt it. Breathed it in. Absorbed it and all of the little ways in which it meant she was losing him.

  He was dying. She couldn’t tell him that. She couldn’t make him face it, the same way that she had to. Her nerve was gone. The hope she’d clung to a moment ago was lost, leaving only fear behind.

  “I’ve told you everything I can,” she said, fighting for control of her breathing, to look as though nothing was wrong. Her head was pounding still from the earlier vision, the adrenaline of getting here, the heartache of watching Amy go. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t look him in the eye.

  Nate didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. She could feel his disappointment radiating from him in waves. He rapped his knuckles lightly on the table once, as if closing the subject, and stood up. He didn’t look back at her as he walked away.

  Laura watched his broad back moving down the hall, leaving her behind, and for a moment she was the most alone she had ever been in her life.

  But there was still a faint sliver of hope. She was going to meet someone tonight, and maybe, just maybe, after this, she wouldn’t be alone.

  She just had to keep hold of that thought, because at the moment, it felt far too slim a hope to be real.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Jade Patrickson picked up her cell phone from the table, scrolling through the list of her contacts to her sister. Ruby’s familiar and smiling face beamed out from the screen as the connection began to ring, and Jade left it on the dresser in front of her while she studied her face in the mirror.

  The long, auburn hair that she ran her hands over was a trait she shared with her sibling. Still, Jade liked to think she could put her own individual spin on things. When they were kids, they had always copied each other—the same haircut, the same clothes off the rack, the same colors of makeup. Now that she was twenty-five, Jade felt the impulse to be the same less and less. No, she wanted to be different. She was thinking about cutting the hair, getting a cute bob or even a pixie.

  She just wasn’t going to get it done without talking to her sister first.

  She sighed as the call rang out. “Ruby, what are you even doing?” she groaned out loud. Was she out on another date? That girl was insatiable. No, surely not after a long day at work. Jade knew Ruby had been getting tired during the week, struggling to keep up with the workload. She wouldn’t be out on a date now.

  Jade frowned at herself in the mirror, pulling her hair up into her hands and then holding it behind her head, trying to see how it would look shorter. She needed another pair of hands—another pair of eyes. Her sister’s eyes.

  Jade slumped, pouting at her own reflection. It was no use. She needed Ruby.

  She dialed the number again, listening to it ringing out. Once again, no answer. Ruby’s cheerful voice told her to leave a message, but Jade ended the call instead. There was no point leaving a message. As soon as Ruby saw the missed call, she’d call back right away. That was their rule.

  But what if Ruby didn’t see it until the morning? Jade twisted her mouth, thinking. She was probably asleep if she wasn’t answering the call. She played with her hair absentmindedly. It wasn’t far from here to Ruby’s house—maybe she could drive over. But then if she was already asleep, she wouldn’t let Jade in when she knocked.

  Jade sighed. She was just going to have to wait until the morning, as annoying as it was. She got up from her vanity table and made for the wardrobe, thinking about getting changed and ready for bed herself. Might as well get to sleep early. Especially if she was going to be up late tomorrow night talking makeovers with her sister.

  Jade crossed the room and then stopped, frowning. From here, she could see the door to the bathroom, and the window beyond it. It was open. Had she left it open? She didn’t normally. It wasn’t safe. Someone might see it as an open invitation to break in.

  Jade walked the short distance across the hall to the window, still frowning. She was trying to rack her brains, to remember. When had she last opened it? After her shower in the morning? She didn’t remember. It was cold at this time of year. She didn’t usually open it unless she absolutely needed to, because it drove her heating bill up, and she was trying to save money.

  It couldn’t have been earlier than that. She’d have noticed. She must have left it open all day.

  She reached out to close it, but froze when she heard a noise in the hall. Jade’s head whipped round, seeking out the source of the sound. There was no one in the house but her. Or at least, there shouldn’t have been. Her roommate was out of town, wasn’t due back until late. She, too, would have called if she was getting back early.

  A noise in the hall. An open window. Jade was starting to put together a picture, and it was one that made her heart race.

  Was there someone else in the house?

  She held her breath, listening, still stretched out with her hand on the window latch. She could only see such a small sliver of the hallway from here. Everything beyond that was a mystery.

  She heard a creak, and she knew.

  Someone was here.

  Panic flashed through her mind, and the absolute certainty that it wouldn’t be good. If someone had broken in, at the very least they wanted to steal from her. Maybe more. She had to get out—right now. And if someone had come in through the window…

  Jade wrapped her hands around the windowsill, letting out a small whimper of fear as she grabbed on and pulled herself up as best as she could. There was nothing beyond this window—just the brick wall of the building next door, which had no windows, above an alley—but she was only one floor up, and there was a garbage can below her that she could land on. She saw all this with her head out the window, her feet scrabbling for purchase on the bathroom wall, and then glanced back—

  And she saw him, framed in the bathroom doorway.

  He looked like… like someone off the street. Someone normal. It was absurd, but in that moment she thought about how he didn’t look like a criminal. Nothing about him looked dangerous except for the fact that he was not supposed to be in her house—

  And the knife that flashed cold steel under the bathroom light.

  Jade felt the breath being sucked from her body as she realized his intent was to harm her, like she’d been punched in the gut. Her feet slipped on the smooth wall as she kicked and pushed, trying to pull herself up through the window with the strength of her arms alone. She could do it, but she was out of control—going too fast. She grabbed at the windowsill for support, gasping in terror, trying to steady herself. The ground below suddenly looked further away—too far to tumble out of the window uncontrolled, to fall right on her head.

  And then the window and the ground and all of it was gone, and Jade registered too late his arm around her waist pulling her back, and the bathroom floor hit her too hard for her to scream out or make a sound. She could only look up as he towered over her, going to his knees, raising the knife in his hand.

  Jade’s whole body was paralyzed, stiff with fear and numb with the pain of hitting the tile floor so hard, nothing responding when she tried desperately to move out of his reach. He was trapping her, straddling her legs, and she managed to put up one of her hands toward him—

  And the knife flashed down, plunging into her stomach.

  Jade’s senses registered the ripping of cloth, her shirt giving way beneath the blade, and she stupidly thought about work and how pissed they would be that she had ruined a uniform. A
t the same time, she managed to draw a breath, and strangely there was no pain. “No,” she managed to say, the beginning of something else, the start of a plea for her life that he would have to listen to.

  But the knife ripped its way back out of her stomach, and then the pain flooded in, and then the knife came down again and even her raised hand was not enough to stop it hitting her again.

  And again.

  And again.

  And when Jade tried to breathe there was nothing in her chest that would inflate, only darkness waiting for her, crowding the edges of her vision, sending her down and away into the sleep she had been planning for—but a more permanent and deeper one than she had imagined.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Laura walked into the crowded bar, almost immediately assaulted by the cacophony of noise in the warm, dimly lit space. The music and the conversation conspired to make her pause, trying to adjust. She hated coming here. She’d hated it last time she was here, with its cheap tiki decorations and the crowd of young parties who didn’t seem like her people at all.

  But this was where she had met VirginiaMan383—the mysterious poster on a message board who had claimed to be psychic. He had been intriguing enough for her to arrange to meet with him in person, part of her desperate search for someone like her. Someone who would understand. Who would maybe be able to answer some of the questions that had been plaguing her for the last thirty-three years.

  She walked right up to the bar, taking a deep breath to steady herself. This was the last place she wanted to be, but it was the place he’d chosen. The smiling faces all around her, the cheap laughter and the easy drinking, it all sickened her. All she could think of was Amy’s little body, the way she had shaken with sobs. The way Mrs. Fallow had looked, lying there beaten to death’s door. The smell of the blood was still in her nose.

  The barman noticed her and turned her way, leaning his hands on the counter and raising an eyebrow at her. It was too loud for him to talk to her properly, to ask her what she wanted.