Tymber Dalton - Pinch Me

“You look good, girl.” He shook Rob’s hand. “Congratulations, son. Welcome to the family.”

Rob looked at the house and the other two men turning the corner. “Any problems?”

Steve shook his head. “Nope. Just wanted to make sure there wouldn’t be.” He introduced the men, Bob and Pat, and something clicked in Laura’s brain.

“They’re your brothers.”

Steve smiled. “Yep. Just wanted to check the place out for you.”

That’s when Laura spotted the bulge of the revolver in a holster under Steve’s shirt. “You came prepared.”

“You’d better believe it. You’re not the only one with a concealed carry permit now.”

The men helped them unpack before leaving them alone. Laura went to the fridge. When she opened the door she startled. “Sir!”

He came running, scared by her tone of voice.

Someone had stuffed the fridge full of food.

“Did Steve tell you he was going to do this?”

He shook his head. “No. Surprise to me.”

“Remind me to make him a red velvet cake, okay?”

Rob nodded before they realized what she’d said and hugged each other.

One more memory recovered. Another small victory.

* * *

Rob knew that next to the memory loss, the hardest thing for Laura was the actual piecemeal recovery of information. Like a jigsaw puzzle that was impossible to assemble because she didn’t have a picture to guide her. There were interconnected memories with no clues between them to attach them, which gave them no more significance than space junk orbiting the earth. Unless something spectacularly large happened to survive the descent through the atmosphere, it was barely a blip on the radar screen of recognition.

Later that evening before they went to bed, Rob wanted to talk.

“I think we need to have a discussion.”

She didn’t like his tone. “What, Sir?”

He took her hand. “No, not like that. Equals.”

She sat up. “Okay.”

“Don’t you think we ought to wait to have a baby until we get this settled?”

Laura pushed down her rage. One more aspect of her life on hold because of the madman. “Is that what you want?”

Rob knew from her clipped tones she was close to breaking. “Honey, it’s not what I want. I want us to have a family and be happy. It’s hard enough for me to risk your life. It wouldn’t be fair to risk a child. And if you get pregnant now, that’s going to make you that much more vulnerable.”

Finally, she said, “All right, Sir. Whatever.”

“No, not ‘whatever.’ I told you, this is Laura and Rob, not Sir and slave. Laura, look at me.” She finally did. “Honey, what happens if you get pregnant and then this guy sees you pregnant? It could set him off. The next time he tries he could kill you. And that would be more than I could handle, knowing that not only did I lose you and a baby, but that it was my fault.”

“What happens if they don’t catch this guy for months, years? What then? Do we never have children and live in fear hoping this guy will get caught? We put our lives on total hold and never break free? I live the rest of my life with a gun strapped to my hip and watching families take dive classes and wishing we could have kids? Or we go back to Montana and start over there, giving up everything we have just because this maniac’s still on the loose? Dammit, that’s not fair.”

Rob wrapped his arms around her. “It won’t take years. I know it won’t. I have a feeling you’re going to find the missing journals and the answer’s going to be there. If not that, then he’ll slip up and the cops will find him. Either way, they will get him.”

They curled up together. Exhausted, Rob soon fell asleep.

Laura lay awake and an hour later turned on the TV. Her body was worn out but her mind raced. Not for the first time, she wondered if there wasn’t some key clue she had overlooked because she didn’t recognize its importance.

And where were the journals?

For once, she wished Rob had been nosy and knew where and how she wrote her journals.

The enormity of the situation hit her and she broke down and cried, first upset but then angry and finally enraged.

Who the fuck is this guy to think he has a right to interrupt my life? Why does he think he has the right to torment me like this? And why the fuck is he picking on me?

There was no doubt of the crossroads before her. Either she hid until MedicineMan got bored and left her alone, or killed her, or she needed to fight back.

Rage stewed and boiled and finally bubbled over. Storming out into the living room, she opened her laptop and turned it on. Her fingers flew across the keyboard and she quickly re-read her message before punching the send button. Going to bed didn’t feel like a good idea, and there was nothing good on TV. After a few minutes she checked her email.

Nothing.

Of course he probably wouldn’t reply tonight, if at all. It was late and whoever—wherever—he was, it wasn’t likely he’d seen the email yet.

I hope I didn’t just screw up.

Whatever happened, she would go down fighting. It felt clichéd, it scared her to death, but to fully reclaim her life meant facing this madman down and she was tired of running.

When the yawning started she finally felt satisfied enough to try sleep again.

* * *

The dream centered on the condo once again, different than the ones she’d had before. It felt more like watching a TV show than living through a memory or a creation of her own subconscious. There was no way to tell if this was recall or simply terror spilling over into her imagination, but unlike the Montana dream, she recognized it as such and let it play out even though she knew it would scare her.

She watched from above and to the rear, like a camera on a boom, as her dream self toured the condo. Dark stains streaked the walls, pictures were knocked askew or broken on the floor, the back door stood open. A coil of rope lay tangled on the floor near the sofa.

Her dream self turned, looking around. The condo lay empty except for her and the mess. A dark shadow crossed the threshold in the back hall and stopped short in the doorway. Facing it, dream Laura shouted, “I’m not afraid of you!”

The shadow settled there, motionless, silent, more like a dark fog than an absence of light. A vague outline of a person coagulated somewhat, nothing recognizable.

The coil of rope slithered toward her and she kicked it, sending it skittering across the carpet back toward the shape.

“You already attacked me. What do you want?”

The shadow made no noise as it faded out of sight. Then the rear door slammed shut.

* * *

She woke with a start, breathing heavily. Next to her, Rob still slept and Doogie lay undisturbed on the floor. Nothing. Outside the sky lightened slowly with dawn approaching, and there were only fifteen minutes left before the alarm was set to go off.

No more sleep for her. Coffee sounded good and she walked out into the kitchen. Then she remembered the email message and did an about-face for the living room. The laptop was still set up on the coffee table and she checked her email.

Nothing.

The wait was worse than anything. What if he didn’t reply at all? There was a gap of several weeks before. He might be tired of the game. Or with her replying he might get scared off and decide not to play the game anymore.

Or she might have enraged him and he was plotting his attack at that moment.

Coffee. She finally got the pot going and a few minutes later Rob stumbled into the kitchen.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he greeted her. She kissed him and he hugged her. “How’d you sleep?”

She shrugged. “Dreams. Nothing I can do about them.”

“Not good ones?”

“No, Sir. Not this time.”

“Memories?”

She shook her head. “Not really. But I’ve decided I’m not going to let this guy ruin my life.” She told him about the email message she sent MedicineMan and Rob winced.

“Don’t you think you should have cleared that with Thomas first?”

“Why? I’m sick of this game. If this guy wants me, he’s going to have to come get me.”

He let out a sigh she recognized as him trying to be patient. “Let me see it.” Dom tone.

She opened up the email program and brought the message up.

Hey asshole, let me tell you something. I’m beginning to think you’re all talk and no balls. You aren’t going to get a second chance, but I sure hope you try, because I’ve got something special waiting for you. Tag, motherfucker.

He looked at her. “Tag?”

“Remember he said he was it in one of the messages?”

“Oh, yeah.” He looked back to the screen. “I still say you should have cleared this first.”

“Easier to get forgiveness than permission.”

“Yeah, but the stakes usually aren’t this high.” He turned and put his hands on her shoulders. “Promise me you’ll call Thomas first thing this morning and tell him what you did.”

She started to protest then snapped her mouth shut on that. “Yes, Sir,” she finally said.

He smiled. “Well, that wasn’t meant as an order from Sir, but good girl.”

He gave her a morning spanking that helped calm her while they were waiting for the coffee to finish brewing. Once the coffee was ready, they both took a mug and headed to the bathroom for a shower. They ended up in bed before getting there and enjoyed the moment before finally making it into the shower. Rob had to work and Laura wanted to go to the shop. Rob walked Doogie. Nothing seemed amiss outside and he watched Laura get in her car and drive off before resetting the alarm and leaving.

Steve was already at the shop waiting for her. She made her phone call to Det. Thomas to report the e-mail she’d sent.

“I wish you’d have run that past me first.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m sick of this.”

“I understand, but you can’t cut us out of the loop and hope he comes through your front door so you can blow his nuts off.”

“Why not? Sounds like a plan to me.”

“Please work with me. Let me know if he replies and then we’ll decide how to go from there.”

She reluctantly agreed. Sarah arrived as Laura hung up. She wanted to see pictures and hear updates.

“Oh, Mr. Green Eyes came in a couple of times while you were gone.”

“He did?”

She nodded. “He’s hitting on me now.”

Laura laughed. “Not interested in me anymore, huh?”

“Doesn’t seem to be. He hasn’t even asked about you. Sorry.”

“Ah, you can have him, Sar.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t want him. He’s not my type.”

Laura caught her up on paperwork and class schedules and they did some other work until lunchtime. Steve brought lunch in and they sat out on the dock. Laura had her laptop set up in the office and had been checking her email every few minutes.

Still no reply from MedicineMan. On the one hand, she was relieved. On the other, it was like waiting for a decision on a Florida election outcome—no apparent end in sight.

Det. Thomas arrived later and looked over her shoulder while she checked her mail again. Still no reply.

“Well, that doesn’t necessarily mean anything,” he said. “He could be out of town or working or just not answering.”

“I know. It’s the waiting that’s hardest.”

“Think of it this way—every moment you’re waiting is a moment you’re still alive.”

She turned to stare up at him. “But what kind of life is it?”

The days, and then weeks, crawled by. Laura sent two more taunting messages with no replies. Thomas instructed her not to send any more until something else happened. Laura still carried her gun with her, although her sense of urgency dissipated. Bob still checked in on her when she had to be alone at the house, and deputies still patrolled their quiet street at night.

Business picked up and a heavy class and dive trip schedule monopolized her time. To take her mind off the missing journals, she worked on the novel she’d started in Montana. The manuscript was up to nearly fifty-thousand words and still going strong.

Her memory recovery hit a brick wall. She continued to dream, though not about the attack and not about anything that triggered significant gains for her. During a routine follow-up with her neurologist, she asked him for a prognosis.