Dangerously Close, page 1
DANGEROUSLY CLOSE
By Marie Higgins
Copyright © 2018 by Marie Higgins
Edited by Lynda Floyd & Cherub Eagle-Eyes
Cover design by Sheri McGathy
Edition 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 you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
EPILOGUE
Other published stories from Marie Higgins
Author’s Bio
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ONE
Ashley Reynolds stared at the bar’s flashing neon sign through the windshield of her car as she clutched the steering wheel. In the grassy small park that occupied the lot next to the bar, yellow crime tape blocked the area where an assault recently took place. Police officers were scattered all around the scene, taking pictures or talking to witnesses. Shadows danced everywhere in the night – amongst the cars and in the trees and bushes cornering the bar. Flashlights illuminated throughout the park behind the bar as policeman searched the perimeters.
In the parking stall next to Ashley’s, a television crew pulled up and stopped. The crew jumped out of the van, bringing with them cameras and lights. While a reporter issued orders, a woman dabbed the reporter’s face with makeup before fixing the man’s hair.
A crime took place in Queens at least once a day, and this particular bar just happened to be the center of all the action. Too bad the young woman lying under the bloody sheet didn’t figure it out before she was lured into the small park and stabbed multiple times in the chest and had her face butchered... at least according to what Ashley had heard on the police scanner.
Taking a steady breath, she turned the knob down on her scanner. She dug through her purse for some breath mints. Her cold hands shook, yet moisture gathered on her palms as she found the mints and popped them into her mouth.
She didn’t know how she’d do it, but she must get close enough to see the body. Squeezing her eyes closed, she prayed for strength. No matter what, she had to get a look at the body... and hopefully, she’d recognize the victim. Lately, she couldn’t rely on her memory at all. Perhaps that would change if she recognized this person.
She opened the door and on shaky legs, climbed out of the car.
One policeman glanced over his shoulder at her and then headed in her direction. Her heart thudded wildly against her ribs. She breathed a deep, calming breath, hoping to settle her quaking nerves.
“Excuse me, Miss.” The officer held up his hand as she neared.
“Yes?” Ashley’s voice trembled, so she cleared her throat.
“I’m afraid you can’t come any closer. There’s been a crime here.”
She licked her dry lips and nodded. “I know, but...” She gulped. “But I need to know... I need to see...”
Ashley took another deep breath as she fought for control. Lying to the officer would be good about now. Telling the truth had a way of making people think she belonged in a mental ward. Either that or telling a police officer, might get her thrown in jail.
Meeting the officer’s glare, she pleaded, “Please. I need to see if it was my friend. She came here tonight, and I haven’t heard from her.”
The scowl that darkened the policeman’s face relaxed and his mouth drooped with sympathy. “What’s your friend’s name?”
“Tessa Banks.”
“There was no identity found on the girl, so if you can identify her, we’d appreciate it.”
The officer grasped Ashley by the elbow and gently walked her underneath the yellow crime tape. The closer they came to the body, the harder Ashley’s heartbeat knocked in her chest. Blood had soaked through the white sheet in the areas of her chest, neck, and face. Ashley lifted her own hand to her throat. The quick rhythm of her heartbeat pulsed against her fingers.
“What’s your name?” the officer asked.
“Anna Richins.” She didn’t dare tell the officer her real name.
“Well, Anna, I need to prepare you for what you’re about to see. The girl murdered tonight had her neck slashed and was stabbed in the chest. And her face... well, it’s not a pretty sight. If you start to feel faint, please let me know.”
She nodded.
The forensic team had already begun to scope the surrounding area for any clues. One member lifted the sheet and flashed his camera a few times. Only the girl’s arm from her elbow to her fingers could be seen. A colorful tattoo of a butterfly decorated the wrist. Blood streaked the pale skin, almost matching the painted red nails. Ashley’s stomach twisted.
She switched her gaze to the policeman. “I’ll be all right.” In the last month, she’d looked at numerous dead bodies, hoping to jog her memory. She should be used to it by now.
They stopped beside the body. The officer nodded to another officer standing closer to the dead girl. As the sheet was pulled away from the girl’s face, bile rose to Ashley’s throat. The poor female’s butchered face was something Ashley had only seen in horror movies. Her stomach lurched, and she turned, covering her mouth with her hand. Apparently, she wasn’t used to seeing dead bodies.
She blinked back the tears stinging her eyes as desperation filled her. She didn’t recognize the deceased at all. How could she when the victim was nearly unrecognizable?
The policeman put his hand around Ashley’s shoulders. “Is it your friend?”
Helplessness was a hard emotion to handle, and she felt worse as each day passed without her remembering anything. Would she ever find what she’d been searching for? “No, it’s not Tessa.”
The officer patted her arm. “Why don’t you go to the bar that’s across from the parking lot, and get a drink. Maybe someone in there will know what happened to your friend.”
She broke away from the kind officer, and on wobbly legs, made her way toward the bar. The Drunken Dog wasn’t a place she visited, but it was well known. Zander Caruthers had talked about it all the time. He wouldn’t be here, but some of his friends might. Although she wouldn’t be surprised if the young woman lying dead on the grass wasn’t Zander’s handiwork.
An image passed through her mind, and she shivered. Zander’s dark glare had pierced into Ashley like sharp edges of steel as his vise-like grip on her wrists tightened while he pulled her against him. The stench of tobacco and alcohol combined with another woman’s cheap perfume had enveloped her and made her gag.
She couldn’t recall the words he’d yelled at her; she just remembered the harsh tone of his voice and his unyielding glower. Although this particular memory was foggy, she feared him like none other. He would kill her if given the chance. Her heart told her so.
It was difficult to wrap her mind around her ex-boyfriend being a killer, but she’d seen firsthand how ruthless he could be when things hadn’t gone his way.
Once inside the dimly-lit room, the scent of alcohol hung thickly through the air, reminding her of Zander. Coughing, she fanned her hand in front of her face as she walked toward the bar. A few police officers were asking questions to the patrons, as well as reporters from the local TV stations.
Why did she think she’d find answers in a place like this? If not for overhearing Zander and his friends talking about The Drunken Dog a few times while she dated him, she wouldn’t even set foot in this place. But now... she was here for answers and nothing more.
She sighed and scratched her head as she scanned the room, looking for someone to talk with, yet afraid of what she might discover if she picked the person who held the answers to her questions. Ahead of her, a man with a badge hooked on his belt, stepped away from the counter. But it was the tall, muscular, bartender with long, dark brown hair pulled back and tied into a ponytail that caught her interest. Why not start with him? After all, didn’t bartenders know everything?
Pulling a lock of hair behind her ear, she squared her shoulders and took her first step toward the bartender. With each step, the man’s appearance took on a familiar shape. The hard line to his jaw, and the curve of his face made her hesitate. And yet, as she met the bartender’s quizzical stare, she had a feeling she’d met him some place before – or at least met someone who resembled him. However, she wasn’t frightened. That was a good sign.
She stopped only a few feet away and narrowed her eyes. He looked somewhat familiar. Had she met him in the life that had been removed from her mind? Wouldn’t she remember seeing someone so good-looking? His dark goatee made her palms itch to stroke his facial hair just to experience what it felt like. His thick hair glistened underneath the light, as did the deep tan coating his muscular body. She swallowed to moisten her suddenly dry throat.
Blinking, she shook her head. No, she had n’t met him before. She definitely would have remembered someone as magnificently built as this guy.
Ashley blew out a nervous breath and gripped the strap of her purse, walking closer to the bar. He raised his eyes and met hers then swept his gaze over her body. Her heart leapt to her throat. Cautiously, she leaned against the bar and swallowed hard, preparing in her mind what she’d ask him.
“Listen, lady,” he said, startling her. “I’ve given all the interviews I can tonight. I need to pay attention to my customers now.”
She lifted her eyebrows. He thinks I’m a reporter? She almost laughed. But then, she was wearing a newer pair of blue jeans and a short-sleeved blouse that buttoned up the front. She swept her long, bulky hair over her shoulder. “I’m not a reporter.”
His gaze narrowed on her, becoming bolder as it swept over her face and body once again. “You’re not?”
“No. I’m just here for a drink.”
He leaned back against the counter, folding his arms across his thick chest. “Let me guess. You’re just passing by and thought this was an interesting bar, so you decided to come in for a drink?”
“Yes.”
He tapped his finger against his chin. “Haven’t you noticed there are policemen surrounding the park next to us, honey?”
She frowned. “Yes, I noticed.”
“And you say you’re not a reporter, eh?” He arched an eyebrow. “Strange, I could have sworn...” He shook his head. “Never mind. What’s your poison tonight?”
“Just a Coke, please.”
Chuckling, he turned and grabbed a glass off the front counter and took it to the back counter where liquor bottles were arranged. “What would you like in your Coke, honey?”
A scene flashed through her memory of Zander letting out an evil laugh as he gripped her jaw and forced her mouth open to pour whiskey down her throat. Blinking, she quickly dismissed the flashback as she rubbed her jaw. Along with the memory, came the pain from his hand crushing her chin.
“Please, no alcohol. Just give me a Coke. That’s all.”
Grumbling, he scooped ice into the glass then pushed it under the fountain tap. “And you say you’re not a reporter. You could have gone to a fast-food place to get a Coke. It would have been a lot cheaper, that’s for sure.” With foam dripping over the side, he brought the drink to her and placed it in front of her. “That’ll be three dollars and ninety-five cents.”
She dug through her wallet and pulled out the change plus a dollar tip and slid it on the counter. As he reached out to take it, she placed her hand over his and stopped him. His wide blue eyes met hers.
“Can I ask you a few questions, please?” she asked as her voice shook.
The quizzical stare remained on his face. Only his left eyebrow rose. “I thought you weren’t a reporter.”
“I’m not. I’m asking for personal reasons.”
He nodded and slipped his hand away from hers. “What do you want to know?”
“I... um... do you know me? Have we met before?”
So that wasn’t exactly the question she wanted to throw at him, but then she was tired of people looking at her as if she’d gone crazy. Although that destination was close in coming if she didn’t remember what had happened to her to make her forget the past few weeks. Obviously, it was something awful and traumatizing.
The bartender blinked slowly. “Why do you want to know that?”
“I’m... well, I’m a little lost.”
“Lost?” He cocked his head and leaned closer to the bar. “Where are you heading?”
She released a light laugh. “No, I’m not lost like that.” Breathing deep, she prayed for courage. “I’m searching for someone who might know me or recognize me.”
“Why?”
“Because... I need to know some things about my past.”
“You don’t know?”
She gulped down a bit of her drink. “No,” she whispered.
He leaned closer. She was able to see a tint of brown in his blue eyes, and his lips looked soft and gentle. Nothing like Zander’s.
“You’re saying you don’t remember who you are?” he asked.
Chuckling, she flipped her hand through the air. “Of course, I know who I am. There are just things in the past month and a half that I’ve forgotten.”
His gaze bore deeply into hers. “What do you want to know?”
“I want to know... I want to know...” Tears gathered in her eyes again. What was she doing here? The answers she wanted were the very thing that scared her to death. If someone answered her question, would she be Zander’s next victim?
She took another sip of her drink as she tried to put her thoughts together before saying anything. Please don’t think I’m crazy! Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them quickly. Crying only made her weak, and she needed to stay strong, even if she didn’t feel it.
His expression switched to concern and he placed his hand over hers that rested on the counter.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She nodded. “It’s hard not knowing what I can say to make you understand so you don’t think I’ve just left the looney bin.”
“Just say what’s on your mind.”
“I just want to know what happened to me. I don’t remember the last six weeks of my life.”
His gaze softened. “What’s your name, beautiful?”
Her heart did a silly flip. Why did his dark blue eyes have to be so expressive and caring? “My name is Ashley Reynolds.”
One of his eyebrows arched and he cocked his head. “You look like an Ashley.” He grinned. “Nice to meet you. I’m Hunter Ryan.”
He gently squeezed her hand, and it surprised her that a man so rugged could still be so tender.
“And to answer your first question,” he continued, “no, I don’t think you’re crazy.”
She sighed, and her body didn’t quake as badly now. He’d somehow made her feel... safe. That right there surprised her since she hadn’t felt that way since realizing she’d lost her memory of the past six weeks.
“Thank you. Most people I’ve talked to lately shrug me off and want to get far away from me.” She took another drink from her cup.
“No, you’re not crazy. But coming to this part of town, I might wonder about your intentions. I suppose if anyone is crazy, it’s me.”
“You?”
“Yeah. Look where I work. Who is the looney one now?”
She smiled. “And that makes me wonder why a nice guy like you is working in a place like this.”
He leaned on the counter, moving closer to her as his smile widened. His eyes were very alluring, and easy to stare at. She was willing to bet he could seduce a nun and get away with it.
“Shouldn’t that be my pick-up line?” he asked.
She laughed softly. “That wasn’t a pick-up line, just an observation.”
“Oh, I see.” His stare stayed on her. “You don’t think I should work here?”
She shrugged. “Now that you mentioned it...” She couldn’t stop from studying his hair, his face, his muscular neck and chest, and his bulging arms. “You really don’t fit in this type of establishment.”
Gasping dramatically, he pulled away from her and slapped a hand to his chest. “What? You don’t think I fit here?”
“Not at all.”
“Why do you think that?” He pointed to his shoulder-length hair that was gathered with a leather tie and rested on the back of his neck. “You don’t think that my man-tail makes me look rugged enough?”
“Man-tail?” She laughed out loud, which surprised her because she hadn’t done that since she’d lost her memory. “Oh, aren’t you funny. But to answer your question, yes, your hair makes you look rugged, but not enough to work at this bar.” She glanced at the end of the bar to the other bartender who stood talking with one of their waitresses. “You don’t have tattoos and facial piercings like they do.” She met Hunter’s stare again. “The only thing that makes me believe you should be here is your muscular body.”
His eyes widened. “My body? Why?”
“Because you’d have to be strong in order to toss out the thugs who cause a ruckus in a place like this.”
He tilted back his head and laughed. When he looked at her again, his blue eyes sparkled. “I suppose you’re right.” He leaned his hip against the counter and folded his arms. “I guess they hired me because of my body.” Frowning dramatically, he shook his head. “I feel so cheap now. Then again, at least I am able to put my good-looks and muscles to use, right?”
