Distortion Control (A Makayla Rose Mystery Book 3) (12 page)

Chapter Twelve

I writhed back and forth in my bed, trying to break free of the dream. A scent clogged my nostrils that was both familiar and unfamiliar. Either way, I hated it, and I wanted to get away. The smell came from him, the man standing just outside my field of view. I knew I was having something called a lucid dream. That told me I should be able to control it, right?

Everything in me tried to raise my gaze from the cement floor, but it was like a boulder sat on my chest or shackles around my neck, keeping me down. I recognized it as fear. Who wouldn’t be terrified in the same situation, and to wonderfully relive it at night? Well, I couldn’t think of anything more entertaining.

At some point, I got my eyes to open and crawled out of bed. I thought if I walked through the apartment, it would shake the cobwebs from my head and make the scenes swirling there stop tormenting me. Instead, I managed to tangle an ankle in the sheets and landed face first on the carpet.

Groaning and still incoherent, I reached up and pulled my pillow down to tuck under my head. Sleep descended like the drug the man had given me, and I heard his voice as if through water. “He’ll pay for humiliating me. I’m going to destroy his life.”

Who? I wondered, but then it didn’t take rocket science to figure out. Spencer. I was his ex-lover, and Penelope was his ex-wife. This was revenge, pure and simple.

While I slept, the basement came into view again. This time, I saw it all clearer, Penelope bound just like me, the scarf around her neck, her eyes wide with fear. My throat went dry, and I shook with the same terror. The musty scent was there, the chill of the cement behind me and under my bum.

A man’s hand appeared, nothing out of the ordinary, but he reached for me, and I shrank back. “Leave us alone,” I said. “What do you want? Who are you?”

“I’m the one who will make him pay,” he said. “For his arrogance, for thinking he was better than me.”

Bile rose in my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut and then opened them wide, willing my mind to see him so I could identify him when I woke up. His face swam before me. I began to see dark hair and eyes that were…

A sound brought me awake. I sat up on the floor, wondering how I got down there. Talk about wild sleeping. I wasn’t the type. Neither was I getting any younger that I didn’t need the comforts of a soft mattress. My back ached, and my temples pounded. With a hand halfway to my head, I froze. Something that had brought me back to reality repeated itself.

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.