Distortion Control (A Makayla Rose Mystery Book 3) Read online

  The chain! No doubt about it, the chain on my front door rattled. My mouth went dry, and for a few moments, I couldn’t move. Fear stole over me, and my brain function shut down.

  Get up, Makayla. You’re never going to be a victim again. Get up!

  The pep talk fell on deaf ears so to speak. My limbs refused to move, or my brain wouldn’t send the message. I shrank into myself, bowing my shoulders and pressed the sheets to my mouth. A scream gathered in my throat, but even that jammed. I could do nothing except wait for him to hurt me again.

  No, you made a promise to yourself.

  Then you do something, I argued.

  I’m you, idiot. Get off the floor!

  When I lost the fight with myself, I managed to rise to my feet and sit on the edge of the bed. He was still there. I heard the knob turning and the chain jerk. Something told me he was attempting to break it with as little noise as possible. I knew it was just a matter of time before he succeeded.

  A weapon. I needed a weapon, but since I didn’t like guns or knives, I didn’t have one for defense. Research on Briney Creek before I moved here had revealed an extremely low crime level, so I hadn’t prepared other means of protection either. The last months should have taught me better. Getting involved with the sheriff should have taught me different, too.

  Wait, the sheriff? Spencer. What had I just been dreaming about him? Memory of it was fading, but I couldn’t pause to try to capture it. I had to get moving. I tiptoed from my bedroom and faltered in the hall. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to keep going to the kitchen.

  A knife? I couldn’t see using it. Then a reference manual on my desk caught my attention. Another jerk on the front door brought a sob to my mouth. I slapped a hand over my lips and made a dramatic leap for my defense. If this weren’t happening to me, in the middle of the night and with only a building full of the elderly, it would have been funny.

  Maybe I need to move.

  I grabbed the manual, and before I lost my nerve, charged for the door. Just as I reached it, an arm came around the end. Darkness prevented me from identifying the clothing covering the arm, but I could make out the large glove-covered hand on the end of it.

  I raised the book above my head and brought it down hard. A cry. I raised my hands and attacked again. The arm disappeared, and I threw my weapon aside and crashed into the door to lock it again.

  Now I knew the locks wouldn’t hold him out, but he knew I was awake and maybe waiting for him with a bazooka. I was getting fanciful in my fear.

  Footsteps sounded in the hall outside, running. The building’s entrance door banged the wall and shut. I sagged to the floor with relief and dropped my head in my hands. I needed to get up and call the police. My trembling limbs wouldn’t allow me to move just yet, so I sat there, concentrating on drawing breaths. In a minute, I would rise.

  I might have dozed, but more steps sounded in the hall, and I freaked out. A heavy bang on the door was followed by a bellow of, “Police. Open up.”

  I sighed in relief and jumped to my feet, recognizing Pete’s voice. When I threw open the door, I could have kissed him, but I refrained. His new wife probably wouldn’t have appreciated it. “Pete, what are you doing here?”

  “You had an attempted break-in, didn’t you?”

  My eyes widened. “How did you know that?”

  “I got a call.” He pointed to the ceiling, and a rush of rare affection for nosy Talia came over me. The one night she stayed home in the last few weeks had turned out good for me. Pete strode into the apartment, his gaze swinging back and forth over the living room. I rushed to flick on a light and backed up as Jeff, another officer, followed him.

  “He didn’t get in,” I explained. “But I gave him a nice good wallop on the arm. I might even have broken it.”

  Pete swung to face me, admiration in his expression. “Did you get a look at his face?”

  “No, just his arm.” I hugged myself, but the fear was ebbing since the police were present. I began to feel safer.

  “I’ll get a guy in to dust for prints,” he said.

  As I recalled it Pete had done the sweeping and the photographing of crime scenes. He had moved up. I didn’t spite him, but I was sure Spencer would be coming back soon enough. “Don’t bother. He wore gloves.”

  Pete grunted in frustration. Another knock at the door, and I started forward, but he held up his hand and answered himself. Talia shuffled in wearing a lilac dressing gown of silk and fluff that surely must tickle her nose if not lodge feathers in her throat. She was all self-importance. Both Jeff and Pete’s eyes rounded.

  Talia raised her chin and pinched the robe closer around her throat as if she worried about tempting the young men. Jeff’s face reddened, and he frowned in annoyance. I squelched a chuckle.

  “I saw the thief,” Talia claimed.

  Pete perked up and grabbed a small notebook from his pocket. He thumbed the button on an ink pen and poised the tool over the paper. “What did he look like?”

  “Tall-ish, dark…ish. A man.”

  Poor Pete’s expression fell. “The only part of that I understand, Ms. Talia, is that he was a man. Can you be more specific?”

  She glared at him. “If you were any type of real sheriff, you’d figure it out. He was taller than me, and he was dark like in all black and black hair.”

  Pete sighed.

  “Everyone is taller than you,” I heard Jeff mutter.

  “What was that, young man?” she demanded of Jeff.

  He held up his hands and said nothing.

  The next time feet sounded in the hall, the person didn’t bother knocking on the door. He barreled right in, scanned the living room, spotted me, and stalked over. I found myself engulfed in strong arms and tucked against a big chest. I don’t mind admitting I liked it and wished to stay there. However, there was a room full of people—or it seemed so—who were watching, so I drew away from Spencer.

  “What are you doing here, Spencer?” Pete demanded.

  Spencer kept his arm wrapped around my shoulders. “I heard about what happened, and I came to see if Makayla was okay.”

  “How?”

  Spencer didn’t have the grace to look ashamed. “I picked it up on the scanner. Unfortunately, I wasn’t near it when the call came in, but when I went back, I heard the guys discussing it.”

  Pete grumbled. “They need to learn to focus on their jobs and stop gossiping like—”

  “Ollie,” I said without thinking.

  Talia huffed. “My Ollie has saved many lives sharing what he knows, and I saved your life tonight! You should learn to be grateful, Makayla.”

  “Thank you, Talia.” I gritted my teeth. “To be clear, I had already run him off by the time Pete and Jeff arrived. Before you say it, Pete, like I told you. I gave the man a very good hit on the arm. He’ll either need to see a doctor or will be seen around town favoring his arm soon enough.”

  I swung to face Spencer and gave his right arm a sharp squeeze. He blinked down at me, and then comprehension came into his expression. A half grin turned up one side of his mouth and he moved toward his former subordinate to pull his jacket off and roll up his sleeve.

  “Feel free to examine it,” he said.

  Pete’s mood didn’t improve, but he did look and squeeze both arms to be sure.

  “Spencer is not guilty,” I said with assertion.

  “Makayla, I know you have feelings for him, but—”

  “This is about revenge—against Spencer.”

  All eyes swiveled to me, including Spencer’s. “How do you know that?”

  I swallowed. “I remembered.”

  The room was silent. Talia grabbed a seat on my couch, apparently getting comfortable for her report far and wide later. Weariness fell over me, but Spencer stepped in front of me. He made me do an about face and gave me a slight push toward the hall. “Get dressed. You can give a full account after that.”

  I looked down at my own nightie. I had been
so amused by Talia trying to look sexy, I had been giving the policemen a nice show of my bare legs, and no one needed to see the cellulite display I offered.

  “Don’t try to take charge of this investigation,” Pete snapped.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it. Hurry up, Makayla.”

  I paused in my bedroom doorway and glanced back. Spencer and Pete faced each other. Pete’s bearing was hostile while Spencer was calm, almost buoyant. I had the feeling he didn’t care how much his presence provoked Pete’s tenuous leadership. He would stay. Knowing it made me feel better, too.

  I discarded my nightie almost whining in disappointment because my bed was looking mighty inviting. Sort of. The dream was probably waiting to reclaim me the moment I shut my eyes. After sliding into jeans and throwing on a T-shirt, I returned to the living room.

  Pete accosted me right away, no doubt to prove his position. “I’m going to put an officer on you, Makayla. He obviously wants to finish what he started.”

  Spencer flared his nostrils. “Good, frighten her even more.”

  The two men squared off, and I rolled my eyes before heading to the kitchen to make coffee. If they wanted me articulate, I needed artificial assistance. Why did these things always happen in the middle of the night? Murderers were so inconsiderate, I mean other than the killing part. Okay, coffee, stat.

  “You don’t need to assign an officer to her,” Spencer said. “She’s staying with me.”

  I affected a shiver. “Oh, the testosterone. No offense, Spencer, but I don’t want to stay with you.”

  A flash of hurt surfaced in his gaze, and then it was gone. I felt worse. “In that case, I’m staying here.”

  Pete stepped forward, opening his mouth to protest.

  Spencer cut him off. “Do you think I’ll hurt her? I’ve said in front of you and Jeff that I’m going to stay. If anything happens to her, you’ll know who to blame.”

  “What am I, chopped liver?” Talia said.

  Pete turned to face her. “Thank you for your call, Ms. Talia, but this is police business. Please return to your apartment.”

  “What!” She struggled to her feet. “I have a right to be here.”

  He raised his eyebrows, and she huffed and puffed, grumbling beneath her breath.

  “Don’t you need to question me some more?” she asked with a hopeful note in her voice.

  He appeared disinterested. “I already have your…description.

  Meaning it’s useless.

  “If I need anything else, I’ll be sure to call you.”

  Jeff held the door open, and at last, Talia stomped from the apartment. She had run out of excuses to stay. No one spoke again until she started up the stairs to her place. Then Jeff shut the door and locked it.

  “Now then,” Pete began.

  “I’m staying here,” Spencer insisted.

  “You’re not,” Pete said. “I’m conducting an ongoing investigation, and I personally haven’t cleared your name. I don’t care who you know.”

  “Oh, it’s about the fact that I got out, is it?”

  Pete’s cheeks burned. “Why you’re free has nothing to do with it. I’m just saying you’re not an officer anymore. It’s my job to protect Makayla.”

  “Try your wife.” Spencer sneered.

  “Enough!” I pushed between them before the knock down punching started as much as I wanted to be entertained with lack of proper rest. “It’s my decision. Period.”

  Pete opened his mouth, but I raised a finger, and he snapped it closed. I got a fuzzy feeling commanding a policeman with a finger. I hoped I didn’t abuse my power later.

  Suppressing my humor, I recalled the situation I found myself in.

  “Spencer can sleep on my couch.” I pointed at him but didn’t feel the same response to my disappointment. “That doesn’t mean I trust you.”

  He nodded. “Fair enough.”

  “Where is your brother?” Pete asked Spencer.

  He frowned. “What does my brother have to do with anything?”

  “I’m questioning everybody new in town.”

  “That didn’t help Zoe, did it?”

  Again the hostile crescendo. I returned to the coffeemaker and poured myself a cup. A few sips gave me a small buzz, and I offered some to the others. All three men were takers. The caffeine probably wasn’t a good thing for either Spencer or Pete. I didn’t like seeing how the sweet and respectful attitude Pete had shown to Spencer had disappeared.

  “What do you mean by it didn’t help Zoe?” Pete asked.

  I froze, thinking Spencer would reveal the connection, but it seemed Pete had annoyed him too much to help. He shrugged and then turned to me. “Why are you convinced this is revenge against me?”

  The question snapped Pete out of his focus on Spencer, and he waited to take notes on what I told them. I explained the parts of my dream I remembered. “He said he was going to destroy Spencer.”

  “Can you identify him by his voice?” both Spencer and Pete asked at the same time.

  “No, I was so scared even in the dream, it was like it came from a long way away or through water. I’m sorry. I’m trying to remember.”

  Spencer laid a hand against my lower back. “Easy. Don’t strain your mind. Let it come on its own.”

  “We need her to remember,” Pete growled. “No matter who it implicates.”

  “I don’t know what you’re insinuating,” Spencer shot back, “but you’re not going to push her until she hurts herself.”

  Jeff, who had remained quiet the entire time, stepped forward. “Easy, guys. Look, we know it’s someone from Spencer’s past. We know he’s here in town. Except it’s not that far a drive from North Carolina and Virginia, so he could be going back and forth.”

  Pete and Spencer acknowledged this.

  “I suggest you go over all the people you’ve come across, Spencer, starting with the criminals.” Jeff gave Spencer a hard look. “And the fact is, the person might be someone even closer to you. So don’t be a stubborn idiot and overlook it.”

  Spencer bristled, and Jeff smiled.

  “Goodnight. I think we’re done here, don’t you, sheriff?”

  Pete seemed about to deny it, but he gave in. “Fine. If I think of anything else to ask you, Makayla, I’ll call. Please stay safe.”

  “I’ll keep her safe,” Spencer said.

  “Yeah, well, find your brother, and don’t leave town!”

  Pete and Jeff left, and I was alone with Spencer. My little apartment grew tinier by the second. In an attempt to get my mind off bad ideas, I said, “So did you mention Zoe on purpose, or are you slipping?”

  His lips twitched, probably not in amusement though. “He’s getting too big for his britches.”

  I laughed. “You sound like an old man.”

  “It’s true.”

  “Be that as it may…” I sank down on the couch. Now that we were alone, my limbs felt even wobblier, and what little energy I’d gained from the coffee seeped away. Spencer sat beside me and pulled my feet to his lap. Affection for him rose in me, but I pushed it away to broach what I had left out of the conversation while Pete and Jeff were there. “Spencer, I know you had nothing to do with my kidnapping.”

  He had started massaging my feet, but at my words, his hands stilled. “I hear a but.”

  “In my dream, I was in your basement.”

  “Yes, you said so.”

  “Before I got there, I was in a van. Penelope was there, too.”

  Spencer leaned forward and grasped my arms. “What color, Makayla? What was the make and model?”

  I winced, and he loosened his grip, apologizing. “I don’t know. I recall the back doors opening—two of them—the taillights, the inside. It’s possible when he drugged me I never got to see the outside. When I looked out the doors, I saw your house. He was bold enough to come to your house to set up his plan. He’s really got it in for you. Can you think of anyone who hates you enough to do this?”

  Spenc
er leaned back. “If I could, his neck would be in my hands right now.”

  I shivered. Spencer appeared dead serious about the threat.

  “He’s not driving back and forth.”

  I looked in his face, but he had turned his head, his eyes glazed as if the scenario played out in his head.

  “He’s still here. He wants to be close so he can grab any opportunity to finish the job, but when he tries, I’ll be there. I’m going to stick to you, Makayla, so don’t try to shake me off until we have this guy in custody.”

  “Stick to me,” I repeated. “As nice as that sounds, I’m going to have to turn you down. I’m a very busy woman. In fact, we have Talia and Ollie’s rehearsal.”

  “Surely, it’s too soon. I heard she’s not getting married until February.”

  “How did you hear that in jail?”

  He shrugged, and I shook my head.

  “Changed again. I might not live through Talia’s drama.”

  “Don’t talk like that!”

  I smiled, all warm and cozy feeling. If I didn’t know better, I’d say the former sheriff had a crush on me. Good. I didn’t want to actually face it, but it was still nice to suspect. I pulled my feet from his reach and stood up.

  “I’ll get you some covers, and you can sleep if you want. Personally, I need a few more hours.”

  He frowned. “Are you really going to make me sleep out here?”

  “Bet your bum I am. Good night, Spencer.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  I stood at the back of the church, assessing the lighting, the structure, where the couple would stand, and if there were any obstructions. Afterward, I would go down to the basement, where I already knew the windows were tiny, and the lighting was questionable. How the elderly enjoyed bingo down there, some of them having poor eyesight, I would never know. For my purposes, soft lighting to set a romantic overtone was one thing. Dark, uninspired pictures another.

  Talia stood at the front of the church with Ollie. He had deigned to shower and change out of his usual coveralls. A simple dress shirt and slacks made him look almost dashing. Talia wore another dress designed to strike the viewer blind with vivid color.