Connection, page 1
CONNECTION
CONNECTION
KIM PRITEKEL
SAPPHIRE BOOKS
SALINAS, CALIFORNIA
Connection
Copyright © 2013 by Kim Pritekel, All rights reserved.
ISBN EPUB- 978-1-939062-25-3
This is a work of fiction - names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without written permission of the publisher.
Cover Design - Christine Svendsen
Editor - Kaycee Hawn - www.renaissancewordsmith.com
Sapphire Books
Salinas, CA 93912
www.sapphirebooks.com
Printed in the United States of America
First Edition – August 2013
Dedication
For Cindy. Here’s to new beginnings and the continuation of our life-long friendship.
Prologue
Silver and shiny. Suffocated light crept in through heavy, dust-covered drapes and bounced off row upon row of quarters glued to the plaster behind them. Like little round soldiers, they marched across the wall, ending at the edge of a calendar heavily marked in small red writing. Nothing discernible, nothing making sense. The sink, a double stainless steel model, was spotted and heavily fingerprinted.
A kitchen. Linoleum tile was old, bubbled up in places, the pattern long since rubbed away by shoe tread and bare feet. The piss-yellow fridge door was covered with alphabet magnets, some forming words mostly just jumbled together into incoherent sentences—no real rhyme or reason, other than they’d been grouped according to color. Red blended into blue, which led to yellow then green, and finally orange, with purple as the caboose. An army of plastic letters, perhaps to go to war against the quarters, all heads up.
Stairs. Wooden, making a hollow thudding sound as someone climbed or descended. A wooden rail worn with wear ran along the left wall, which was painted a muddy orange, though it ended, abruptly and shockingly, in gray, cold cement, the seam edges not entirely smooth. Peaked ridges might prick the hand or fingers of someone not careful. Down the stairs into darkness that was chased away only by a single, naked bulb that shed light on the water-stained ceiling above and dust-riddled air below.
A scream...
****
With a gasp, Remmy bolted upright, eyes wide as she looked into the images in her head. She could still hear it, that awful, scary, blood-curdling scream. Chest heaving, she brushed sweat-soaked brunette bangs from her eyes as she gulped in several lungfulls of air. Finally she was able to focus on the room around her, a small, smelly motel room. Her fingers fumbled blindly over the bedside table for her pack of cigarettes, belatedly remembering that she had quit the week before.
“Jesus Christ!” She pushed the comforter and the thin, scratchy sheets from her legs as she swung them off the bed, her feet hitting the floor with a reassuring thud. The fabric of the dream was beginning to come apart at the seams, stitch by stitch, until all that was left was the tattered remains. “That was a doozy.”
Remmy pushed off the bed and padded to the bathroom, where she switched on the light. Resting her hands on the badly scarred vanity, she leaned forward and studied her face in the mirror. Her eyes were rimmed with red, making the blue color of the irises seem unnaturally vibrant. She looked tired and worn out, far older than her twenty-four years.
The lid of the toilet hit the tank with a loud crack as Remmy sat herself down, face cupped in her hands as she relieved herself. With a heavy sigh, she let the dream images go, and the earlier exhaustion seeped back in. She hoped she’d be able to get back to sleep.
Chapter One
Tink!
Julie Wilson was on her feet, cheering for her eight-year-old nephew as he shook himself out of the shock of actually hitting the ball while the crowd yelled for him to run.
“Drop the bat, Skylar!” Julie’s brother Matt yelled, hands cupped around his mouth. The boy nodded vigorously, nearly hitting the umpire with the aluminum bat as he took off like a shot.
Julie laughed with pleasure as she watched the man of her dreams round first and head strong for second. She had no children of her own, and the way her love life was going, she wasn’t sure she ever would. She tried to shake thoughts of her former boyfriend, Ray, as she cheered for the Little League Brewers.
“Man, that was a great hit,” Matt said, his grin huge as he watched his only child give him a thumbs-up, which he enthusiastically returned. “I really wish Lori was here to see it.”
“Me too, Matty.” Julie wrapped an arm around her brother’s waist. Since the death of her sister-in-law four years earlier, Matt had been so lost, trying to raise their son on his own. Julie had stepped in, playing mom to Skylar and confidante to her big brother. It was hard, and sometimes downright heartbreaking watching Matt go through the different facets of being a single dad. She often wondered why he didn’t date, didn’t even blink when a woman looked his way. She had asked him about it once, and his response was that he had his family and was content. Translated, she knew that meant he was terrified of losing someone again like he’d lost Lori.
As promised, the mini-Babe Ruth was taken out for pizza and Dairy Queen. Skylar sat proudly, cleats banging a happy beat on the booth, hot fudge dripping from the corner of his mouth. Julie didn’t have the heart to tell him to wipe his face; he was still basking in the run he had scored for his team. The fact that they had lost to the Yankees didn’t matter. He had scored!
“So, are you ready for the new school year to start?” Matt asked, digging his red plastic spoon into the dregs of his Peanut Buster Parfait, trying to scoop as much of the gooey chocolate from the bottom as he could.
“Yeah. I’ve been going in off and on over the past couple weekends to get the classroom ready.”
They ate in silence for a moment before Matt spoke again, his light brown hair falling into his eyes, just as Skylar’s did. “Heard from Ray?”
Julie sighed, running her spoon through the soup that was the remains of her sundae. “No,” she said finally. She chewed on her bottom lip, tucking a piece of short, blonde hair behind her ear. She’d been debating the idea of talking to Matt about something that was bothering her.
Pre-empting her, Skylar boomed, “Dad, are we still gonna go to the park later and practice my catching?”
Relieved at his unknowing intervention, Julie kept her mouth closed. No doubt she was being paranoid anyway. She rested her cheek on her fist and listened to the men in her life prattle on about baseball, tee ball, and sports in general, all of them subjects that didn’t enthrall Julie. Even so, listening to them got her mind off other topics.
****
Soft Italian music played in the background, the portable CD player tucked into a corner by the toaster oven. Sergio Venti sang along softly, more of a hum, really. He went over to the fridge, pulled open the door, and grabbed the carton of eggs he had bought with his large grocery purchase the day before. He hoped she liked eggs. They hadn’t gotten that far in their conversation yesterday. His grin would have been infectious if he weren’t alone in the kitchen, cooking for himself and the beautiful woman waiting for him.
As Sergio chopped up bell peppers and ham to mix into the eggs, he thought about their time together the night before. All night they had made passionate love. He could still hear her cries in his ears, eyes closing at the memory and chills racing down his spine. She had loved it, just as he’d promised her she would.
Sergio heard a thud at the front door. Wiping his hands on the thighs of his immaculate slacks, he headed through the living room. Unlocking the knob and locks, he pulled open the door and waved at the young boy who had delivered his paper. Bending down, he picked up the paper, reading the above-the-fold headline as he stepped back inside his house and closed the door soundly behind him.
ANOTHER WOMAN MISSING IN THE WOODLAND AREA: POLICE BAFFLED
The building inspector shook his head. “How sad.” Tossing the paper on the coffee table, he went back into the kitchen, energy flooding through him as his favorite aria came on. He cranked up the CD player, closing his eyes and singing out with Placido Domingo as he sang of his pain and agony at losing the woman he loved.
“I understand your pain,” Sergio said when the song ended. His breakfast preparations finished, he loaded everything on a tray. “Are you hungry, my love?” he called out. Not getting an answer, he smiled and shook his head. “She’s deaf sometimes, I swear.” Whistling softly under his breath, Sergio grabbed the tray and left the kitchen.
****
“God, it’s hot,” Remmy muttered, hitching her backpack higher up onto her shoulders. She turned around, walking backwards down the lonely highway, thumb pointing toward the heavens. She had seen only three cars in the past two hours, and both had rushed past her, leaving her in their dusty wake, just like the pick-up truck that was zooming past. “Asshole!” she yelled, throwing the driver a single-fingered salute. “Damn it.”
Turning back to face forward, Remmy began walking again, cursing the empty water bottle she carried. She couldn’t bring herself to litter. She tapped it against her leg as she walked, head bobbing to the tune she heard in her head. She had lost her DiscMan back in Phoenix, and hadn’t had the money to pick u p another one, which sucked. Remmy loved music, any kind at all. She went through phases: one week it was R&B; the next, country with a mix of bluegrass. This week, for some reason, it was Italian opera. She wasn’t sure what it was about opera, but suddenly one day she had heard the Three Tenors belting it out. Luckily, today it was Bon Jovi. It would suck trying to keep herself entertained with Madame Butterfly.
She was singing “Bed of Roses” out loud when the sound of a car engine pulled up behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she grinned when she saw a small, white Miata pulling to a stop. The woman behind the wheel had short, blonde hair tucked behind an ear.
“Hey,” the driver said, leaning over the passenger seat to look up at Remmy through the window, which was slowly buzzing downward. “Looks like you need a ride.” The blonde looked out through her windshield. “Not much around here for miles.”
Remmy grinned. “You are all that is holy and good.”
The woman smiled. “I don’t know about that, but I will give you a ride.”
Remmy climbed into the tiny car with relief, shoving her backpack to the floor between her legs. She didn’t bother with the seatbelt, a little trick she’d learned along the way: if she wasn’t belted in, she could get away faster. She had learned that the hard way.
“Where are you headed?” Remmy’s savior asked.
“Anywhere where there’s a toilet. I’ve had to pee for two hours, and,” she indicated the barren landscape around them, “there’s not much privacy on this highway.”
The blonde laughed. “No, that there’s not. I know there’s a patch of civilization about four miles up the road here. Will that do?”
“That’ll be peachy.” Glancing at the blonde again, Remmy’s smile melted from her face. The blonde’s eyes were hidden behind the lenses of her sunglasses. That didn’t matter.
Darkness. Cold. Pain. Back was hurting. Water dripping—drip, drip, drip... No! No, please, no! A shadow, dark and foreboding, coming. He’s coming. A naked light bulb...
Remmy gasped, her heart pounding out of control. She swallowed, throat and tongue cold from sucking in the cool air in the air conditioned car.
“Hey.”
Remmy was startled by the feel of a hand on her shoulder. She blinked several times, face tight from too much sun during her travels. The blonde was looking at her, sunglasses shoved up on top of her head, concern in her green eyes. Remmy realized the car had stopped in front of a convenience store off to their right. When had they arrived?
Remembering the woman’s voice, and registering what it had said, she nodded. “Yeah. Sorry. I just...” Her voice trailed off, not sure what she had just experienced. Am I awake?
“We’re here.” The woman gestured toward the gas station. Remmy followed her gaze, then nodded. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re pale. Look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“No. Really, I’m okay.” Remmy gathered her bag, grunting as she heaved its weight to her lap, hand on the door handle. She was about to open it, but stopped to glance at the driver. “Be careful. ’Kay?”
The blonde grinned. “This from the woman who takes rides from strangers?” She studied Remmy’s face, sobering. “Okay; I will. You too.”
Remmy nodded then climbed out of the car. She watched until the little white Miata was out of sight. Looking up into the gathering clouds and rumbling sky, she cursed softly under her breath. Inside the store, she nearly ran to the bathroom, whistling as she came out ten minutes later. Remmy dug into her pockets to see how much money she had left—eight dollars and fifteen cents. It was enough to buy lunch, convenience store style.
The tired clerk behind the counter barely looked at Remmy as she laid out her bottle of Quick chocolate milk and ham and cheese sandwich. He ran nimble fingers over the keyboard of his register, announcing a total and taking the proffered money with diffidence.
“Hey,” Remmy said, getting the kid’s attention. “You guys hiring here?” Without a word, the clerk reached behind the counter, then slid an application across the scarred surface of the veneered top. “Thanks. Got a pen?” The pen was delivered as rudely as the application had been.
Remmy took her three dollars and ninety-three cents in change, shoved it into the pocket of her jeans. Retrieving her food from the counter, along with the application, she headed for a table near the back of the store. She quickly filled in all the information, just as she’d done a hundred times before. If she let herself think about how many jobs she’d had in the past eight years, she might actually think she was a loser.
Ignoring the clerk’s glare as she once again interrupted his magazine reading, she slapped the application and pen on the counter with a victorious grin. “Is your manager here?” she asked.
The kid nodded with an annoyed sigh. He reached for a small walkie-talkie tucked behind the register. Pressing a button, he spoke into the microphone. “Joan, some chick here to see you.”
“Thanks.” Remmy stepped away from the counter to peruse a display of jerky while she waited for “Joan”. Within a few minutes, a plump redhead approached. She was wearing a dark green apron with the store’s name and logo stamped in crumbling white ink.
“Can I help you?” she asked, eyes underpinned by heavy bags and topped by finely tweezed eyebrows that were as fiery as the hair on her head.
“Are you Joan?” Remmy asked, extending her hand. Joan took it, nodding as they shook. “I just gave your clerk there an application. See, I don’t have a phone, heck, I don’t even have a residence yet.” She grinned. “Just got into town. I need to know if I’ve got the job or not. Good worker, ethical and friendly,” she assured her potential boss.
Joan stared at her for a moment. “Josh, lemme see the app.” She reached toward the counter. She took the piece of paper in her hand and scanned the information on it. “No address,” she said, not bothering to look up.
“Uh, yeah, uh, well, I just got dropped off, actually.” Remmy grinned. “So, maybe once I begin working, you can point in me the direction of someplace I can stay where I won’t have six-legged roommates. I’d be grateful.”
Joan looked up at her.“How long you plan on staying in Woodland?” she asked.
“As long as I’ve got a job.”
“I see.” Joan glanced over at the clerk behind the counter, who had been watching the exchange with mild interest. “Josh, go get me an employment package. They’re in the top drawer of my desk.” Joan turned back to her. “Okay, Remmy Foster. I’ll give you a chance.
Chapter Two
The rain pounded on the rag top of the Miata as Julie pulled into her driveway. She shut the car down and looked out over the landscape, seeing plants pelted nearly to the ground. Squealing, she dashed from the tiny car up the few stairs to her front door; her hair was plastered to her head by the time she got the door open. Two very excited Yorkies met her, barking and whimpering.
“Hello, my babies,” she cooed, falling to her knees to surrender to an attack by two tiny pink tongues. “How’s my Bonnie and Clyde?” she asked of the brother and sister. The sweetness of her tone got their entire bodies wriggling with the speed of their stubby tail wags. Pushing to her feet, Julie looked down at herself, groaning at her drenched clothing. Tugging her shirt off over her head, she tossed it into the laundry room on her way toward her bedroom. The two dogs followed, growling and playing with each other along the way.
She pressed the PLAY button on her answering machine as she passed the phone/machine combo on her dresser. There was a message from her nephew, thanking her for spending the day with him and for going to his game. Julie felt pride swell her chest as love for Skylar washed through her. She pushed a drawer closed with her hip, a fresh, dry shirt in hand. She was about to pull it over her head when the next message played.
