Sara Thacker's Blog: Red Skhye In Morning, page 9
July 1, 2011
Freedom Blog Hop
Over 180 participating blogs are offering a book related giveaway and we are all linked up together so you can easily hop from one giveaway to another. The hop runs from July 1 through July 7th.
This week I'm giving away a copy of Vampiric Assignations in PDF format and one ecopy of Murder Stalks.
When evil vampire, Vlas, sets his sites on the Amber Black he will stop at nothing to take her. The Protectorate can't let her fall into the wrong hands, but Maverick's structured ways mangle the operation.
She runs off, scared of what she is becoming and what's happening to her. Maverick has to change his ways to save Amber and keep her from changing the balance of power in the vampire world. Amber doesn't know who to believe or what she wants now that she's a vampire. In the end, Maverick overcomes Vlas, and wins Amber's love.
Purchase Vampiric Assignations
When young women start dying, lead detective Tony Santos is drawn into a web of deceit and revenge that forces him out of the police department and directly into the sights of the killer. His wife walked out, and he's glad for that fact after a dead body winds up in his bed. Now he needs Marissa more than ever, but she's got her defenses up and his charm isn't working on her.
Marissa has never been physically strong, but threats to her personal safety force her to prepare for a fight. She hires a personal trainer to help her get in shape. But can Marissa get her emotions in shape and stop her overwhelming desire for Tony? He's too close for comfort but her body begs to differ. She wants him but living in a small hotel room with Tony may prove to be more dangerous than the murders happening close to home
Come back each day to read more of Red Skye in Morning.
Giveaway Details:
To enter giveaway please follow this blog then fill out the form below.
Last Day to Enter is 7/7/11
Freedom Blog Hop
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This week I'm giving away a copy of Vampiric Assignations in PDF format and one ecopy of Murder Stalks.
When evil vampire, Vlas, sets his sites on the Amber Black he will stop at nothing to take her. The Protectorate can't let her fall into the wrong hands, but Maverick's structured ways mangle the operation.She runs off, scared of what she is becoming and what's happening to her. Maverick has to change his ways to save Amber and keep her from changing the balance of power in the vampire world. Amber doesn't know who to believe or what she wants now that she's a vampire. In the end, Maverick overcomes Vlas, and wins Amber's love.
Purchase Vampiric Assignations
When young women start dying, lead detective Tony Santos is drawn into a web of deceit and revenge that forces him out of the police department and directly into the sights of the killer. His wife walked out, and he's glad for that fact after a dead body winds up in his bed. Now he needs Marissa more than ever, but she's got her defenses up and his charm isn't working on her.Marissa has never been physically strong, but threats to her personal safety force her to prepare for a fight. She hires a personal trainer to help her get in shape. But can Marissa get her emotions in shape and stop her overwhelming desire for Tony? He's too close for comfort but her body begs to differ. She wants him but living in a small hotel room with Tony may prove to be more dangerous than the murders happening close to home
Come back each day to read more of Red Skye in Morning.
Giveaway Details:
To enter giveaway please follow this blog then fill out the form below.
Last Day to Enter is 7/7/11
Freedom Blog Hop
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Chapter 14: Part 2
Sam woke to find the bed empty and the boat quiet. Where the hell had that woman gone? He walked up the dock searching for her. Before the big change he would have been ecstatic to find the bed empty after a night together, but he wanted to be with Delanie. It was funny that the girl he wanted wasn't clingy like the women from his past.
He closed up the boat and made his way into town. He guessed that he could have stayed at the wharf and eventually Delanie would show up, but he didn't want to wait.
The city was a sharp contrast to the peaceful beaches and sailboat life he had become accustomed to. Litter blew down the streets and the smell of beer and urine hit him as he walked passed an alley. The party scene he'd been active in before leaving New York had been more upscale but the result had been the same. Idiots too drunk to hit the urinal at the end of the night. The smell was universal at party places.
More people hit the streets as the hour passed. Delanie might have gone back to the sailboat, but he doubted it. He stopped at a payphone and called Bill.
It had been years since he'd even thought about Bill. On scholarship as a day student at Pawling had sucked. The connections had been invaluable in getting him into Harvard. But the abuse of the rich boys there had been unrelenting. Really, he should thank them. They spurred him onto become one of the most successful Pawling graduate ever. Bill had gone to Pawlings because his great grandfather had been close personal friends with Gamage, the founder of the school.
Sam heard Bill's voicemail come on. The disappointment was palpable. He left a brief message and decided to head over to the police station anyways. Two blocks over he caught a cab.
He hated cabs, they reminded him of his time in New York when he'd been a jerk. Eventually he'd go back, but meeting Delanie had changed how he felt about living alone.
The cab pulled to a stop and he tossed the driver a few dollars. His phone rang before he entered the station.
"Sam here."
"It's Bill. Yeah, Delanie is here. I need you to come down and listen to what she has to say."
"I'm out front of the police station you took me to yesterday. What's up?"
"Just get in here."
The line went dead. Sam stared at his phone, wondering what Delanie was up to. How the hell had he gotten so attached to the woman after spending years avoiding relationships?
Before moving to the Caribbean he would have sent his lawyer to tidy up the situation and end the relationship. That kind of crap wouldn't do with Delanie.
Copyright Sara Thacker 2011
He closed up the boat and made his way into town. He guessed that he could have stayed at the wharf and eventually Delanie would show up, but he didn't want to wait.
The city was a sharp contrast to the peaceful beaches and sailboat life he had become accustomed to. Litter blew down the streets and the smell of beer and urine hit him as he walked passed an alley. The party scene he'd been active in before leaving New York had been more upscale but the result had been the same. Idiots too drunk to hit the urinal at the end of the night. The smell was universal at party places.
More people hit the streets as the hour passed. Delanie might have gone back to the sailboat, but he doubted it. He stopped at a payphone and called Bill.
It had been years since he'd even thought about Bill. On scholarship as a day student at Pawling had sucked. The connections had been invaluable in getting him into Harvard. But the abuse of the rich boys there had been unrelenting. Really, he should thank them. They spurred him onto become one of the most successful Pawling graduate ever. Bill had gone to Pawlings because his great grandfather had been close personal friends with Gamage, the founder of the school.
Sam heard Bill's voicemail come on. The disappointment was palpable. He left a brief message and decided to head over to the police station anyways. Two blocks over he caught a cab.
He hated cabs, they reminded him of his time in New York when he'd been a jerk. Eventually he'd go back, but meeting Delanie had changed how he felt about living alone.
The cab pulled to a stop and he tossed the driver a few dollars. His phone rang before he entered the station.
"Sam here."
"It's Bill. Yeah, Delanie is here. I need you to come down and listen to what she has to say."
"I'm out front of the police station you took me to yesterday. What's up?"
"Just get in here."
The line went dead. Sam stared at his phone, wondering what Delanie was up to. How the hell had he gotten so attached to the woman after spending years avoiding relationships?
Before moving to the Caribbean he would have sent his lawyer to tidy up the situation and end the relationship. That kind of crap wouldn't do with Delanie.
Copyright Sara Thacker 2011
June 30, 2011
Chapter 14:Part 1
Delanie slid out of the berth and slipped on her shoes. She'd told Sam she'd wanted to sleep in her clothes because she didn't feel comfortable sleeping on the docked boat. He had told her they were totally safe.
She hated lying but what the hell was she supposed to do? Sam wouldn't listen to reason and that FBI agent would leave town soon. The probability of the Bahamian police getting this right was low as far as she was concerned. Maybe they were competent, she didn't know.
The sailboat didn't rock as she stepped onto the dock. Her steps were quiet as she moved towards land. The quiet morning air reminded her of this one shoot in Mexico. The ocean sounds lulled her senses. The dreamy quality of remembering a special day made her melancholy.
She made her way through the city streets, finally finding a cab. The streets were empty but for a few late night stragglers and early morning high achievers. No one recognized her and she was thankful for that.
The cabbie didn't talk, just drove. At the police station she handed the driver some American money and trudged up the steps. Once inside she wondered if she had made a mistake. Sam would be livid, but she didn't care. This maniac needed to be caught.
The desk sergeant wasn't helpful. "Please, I know he was here yesterday. His name is Bill and he's an FBI agent."
"There are no FBI agents here. This isn't the US."
Delanie held her breath and counted to five. "Sir, I know I'm not in the United States, but there was an FBI agent working out of this office yesterday and I need to speak with him."
"I don't know–"
Another local police officer stuck his head around a corner. "Did you say FBI agent?"
Delanie moved towards him, hopeful that this guy would know more than the other. "Yes, do you know where he is?"
"Sure, he's sitting in the back. About ready to leave the islands."
"Please take me to him."
Delanie followed the police officer through a labyrinth of halls with few markings. If she had to find her way out of the building she might not be able to. This was worse than yesterday and for a few brief moments she wondered if the police officer was trying to get her lost.
"Is he really back here?"
"Yes ma'am. This room."
Delanie stepped through the door, trying like hell to remember the FBI agent's last name.
"Ms. Skhye, you're here late. Are you're here alone? Do you need something?"
"Your last name."
"Rowland, agent Rowland."
"Is that like Bond, James Bond?"
The FBI agent's cheeks tinted red and he looked down at the desk, shuffling his feet. She hadn't meant to make him embarrassed.
"Sorry, that was uncalled for."
"No worries. What can I do for you?"
"I want to catch this guy."
"I do too, but there are hundreds of islands here in the Bahamas, and hundreds of thousands in the world. What do you suggest we do?"
"Use me as bait."
"Out of the question."
Delanie held up her hand. "Hear me out."
"Setting up a sting is difficult. The operation rarely works out the way you think it will. Plus the agency isn't going to give me more money to do a fools errand."
"Take a few days of vacation and help me help you. He's interested in me. He's probably going to check back on the island and try to take me again. It will be easy."
"Delanie, there is no way for this to end well."
"If you don't help me I'll be forced to do this myself. I can't let the guy keep hurting others. Plus, if you don't catch him he might just come back for me later. It's no secret where I live and I refuse to spend the next ten years living in fear because this cook is out there."
"This isn't the movies."
"Trust me, I know the difference. I see all the prep-work and sets in the movies. I know how it is."
"My boss wants me back in the states."
"Personal days, haven't you ever heard of them?"
"You are persistent."
"How do you think I've made it so far? Contrary to popular opinion, I never had sex to get a part. Please, just hear me out."
Delanie held her breath as the FBI agent shifted through papers. He picked up his phone three times before finally sitting down across from her.
"Okay, talk. I'm not saying I will do as you ask, but wow me with your plan and maybe we'll be in business."
Copyright Sara Thacker 2011
She hated lying but what the hell was she supposed to do? Sam wouldn't listen to reason and that FBI agent would leave town soon. The probability of the Bahamian police getting this right was low as far as she was concerned. Maybe they were competent, she didn't know.
The sailboat didn't rock as she stepped onto the dock. Her steps were quiet as she moved towards land. The quiet morning air reminded her of this one shoot in Mexico. The ocean sounds lulled her senses. The dreamy quality of remembering a special day made her melancholy.
She made her way through the city streets, finally finding a cab. The streets were empty but for a few late night stragglers and early morning high achievers. No one recognized her and she was thankful for that.
The cabbie didn't talk, just drove. At the police station she handed the driver some American money and trudged up the steps. Once inside she wondered if she had made a mistake. Sam would be livid, but she didn't care. This maniac needed to be caught.
The desk sergeant wasn't helpful. "Please, I know he was here yesterday. His name is Bill and he's an FBI agent."
"There are no FBI agents here. This isn't the US."
Delanie held her breath and counted to five. "Sir, I know I'm not in the United States, but there was an FBI agent working out of this office yesterday and I need to speak with him."
"I don't know–"
Another local police officer stuck his head around a corner. "Did you say FBI agent?"
Delanie moved towards him, hopeful that this guy would know more than the other. "Yes, do you know where he is?"
"Sure, he's sitting in the back. About ready to leave the islands."
"Please take me to him."
Delanie followed the police officer through a labyrinth of halls with few markings. If she had to find her way out of the building she might not be able to. This was worse than yesterday and for a few brief moments she wondered if the police officer was trying to get her lost.
"Is he really back here?"
"Yes ma'am. This room."
Delanie stepped through the door, trying like hell to remember the FBI agent's last name.
"Ms. Skhye, you're here late. Are you're here alone? Do you need something?"
"Your last name."
"Rowland, agent Rowland."
"Is that like Bond, James Bond?"
The FBI agent's cheeks tinted red and he looked down at the desk, shuffling his feet. She hadn't meant to make him embarrassed.
"Sorry, that was uncalled for."
"No worries. What can I do for you?"
"I want to catch this guy."
"I do too, but there are hundreds of islands here in the Bahamas, and hundreds of thousands in the world. What do you suggest we do?"
"Use me as bait."
"Out of the question."
Delanie held up her hand. "Hear me out."
"Setting up a sting is difficult. The operation rarely works out the way you think it will. Plus the agency isn't going to give me more money to do a fools errand."
"Take a few days of vacation and help me help you. He's interested in me. He's probably going to check back on the island and try to take me again. It will be easy."
"Delanie, there is no way for this to end well."
"If you don't help me I'll be forced to do this myself. I can't let the guy keep hurting others. Plus, if you don't catch him he might just come back for me later. It's no secret where I live and I refuse to spend the next ten years living in fear because this cook is out there."
"This isn't the movies."
"Trust me, I know the difference. I see all the prep-work and sets in the movies. I know how it is."
"My boss wants me back in the states."
"Personal days, haven't you ever heard of them?"
"You are persistent."
"How do you think I've made it so far? Contrary to popular opinion, I never had sex to get a part. Please, just hear me out."
Delanie held her breath as the FBI agent shifted through papers. He picked up his phone three times before finally sitting down across from her.
"Okay, talk. I'm not saying I will do as you ask, but wow me with your plan and maybe we'll be in business."
Copyright Sara Thacker 2011
June 29, 2011
Chapter 13: Part 5
Richard entered the harbor on Nassau about midday. He'd lost his latest quarry, lost about a day but had escaped the island.
The insanity of the last few days had convinced him that he needed to leave this side of the world. Asia could provide him with some wonderful opportunities but a white guy with light brown hair on a boat would stick out. He needed to purchase some more hair color to change his looks.
He'd let his tan deepen, maybe even use some tanning lotion to darken him further. He wouldn't look Asian, but he might be able to pull off being Mexican or Spanish.
Using the gel he'd purchased in Florida he slicked his hair back and attached a ponytail that he'd made from one of the girl's he'd dumped into the ocean a while back. He'd even dyed it to match his hair.
Real hair worked better for a ponytail than fake. The local's would really believe that he had long hair. Few would connect the dots and remember him from last week. His disguises were vast. Plus loads of rich white guys pulled into port every day. The local would mistake him for someone else, easy.
He needed to stop in Florida for a few supplies. Today would be his last day in the Bahamas'. It saddened him to leave the crystal clear waters. Many beautiful women came here for vacation and he often times had the pick of the bunch.
After a satisfying lunch he meandered around the bars, just checking out if someone looked interesting. Brunettes littered the streets, no blondes to grace his arm. Too bad. In Asia he would need to switch to darker beauties, but while he was still here where blondes were a dime a dozen he would only fantasize about the cream of the crop.
He walked out into the street after a particularly dark bar, his eyes adjusting behind his mirrored sunglasses. The sky was an unusually deep blue today. The weather made him feel good. Maybe he wouldn't find a girl to amuse himself with for the trip over, but he didn't care. This was actually better. He could focus on changing his taste to Asians.
With a jaunty step he took off and rounded the corner, running smack into none other than the blonde from the island. Fuck yeah, this was kismet.
"Sorry, didn't see you there." Her eyes never glanced at his face, instead she moved past him, totally ignoring him.
Richard wanted to scream and do a victory dance, but he kept his emotions in check, hiding his elation from the people on the street. He stooped down and tied his shoe, keeping his eyes on the pair.
There was no account for luck. Some people had it and others didn't. Richard knew he was one of those few truly blessed people who lived with luck constantly on his side. The mishap at the island was just a fluke.
The couple traipsed down to the dock, her hips sashaying, beckoning him to follow. He couldn't strike now, not with them in public. After last night they were probably on edge.
No, he would wait a few days. Stalking the golden girl would be fun. He could get back to his old ways of operating. A little money greasing the right hands would separate the pair.
Richard leaned against building across the street from the docks, his mind working on who the girl reminded him of. Now he knew they had never personally met. He'd reconciled that in his mind. But what if she was tremendously famous. She looked like a chick from a movie he'd seen a few years back.
The pair boarded their sailboat, safe and tucked away for a moment. He closed his eyes, thinking about the movie. That had to be it. The girl was that superstar. Skhye something. He'd remembered the spelling of her last name. But what was her first name?
He opened his eyes, a little shocked to see them moving back up the dock towards him. His heart raced for a few seconds, sending a fresh dose of adrenalin through his veins.
His first thought was to run, but he dismissed the impulse immediately. He didn't need to run. They had no idea who he was. His clothes were different. His hair different.
He pulled out a cigarette and lit the damned thing. They were vile sticks but smoking gave him a reason to hang out without drawing questions. With each step they moved closer, shrinking the distance, increasing his heart rate. What if they gave him more than a cursory look? Would they recognize him?
Their steps slowed, their eyes darted around. For a crazy second he thought about springing into action and cutting down the guy. But no, this wasn't the time. Overacting would only bring disaster.
They stopped at the top of the dock and ducked their heads together. Richard could just make out their words.
"We need to find a place to stay," the man said.
"Sam, your boat will...Let's take it out a ways."
"Too dangerous."
The woman shook her head, her blond hair flying. "A hotel would be dangerous."
The man grabbed her hand, and tugged her with him. "Security in numbers.
She pulled away, her back ramrod straight. Richard loved to watch them fight. Hell, seeing any couple fight really got him off. He loved the breakup process. The angry looks, the words thrown around. All fun and games for him. If only he could hear every word they said but moving closer would draw their attention and scare them off.
"Delanie, I know you...but–"
"No, don't say my name out...I'm here."
Delanie, Delanie, Delanie Skhye. The rush of excitement almost undid him. Yes, that fit. Her name, her looks. The bitch's hair was darker, a little longer, but it was definitely Delanie Skhye. Testosterone pumped through his veins. His dick sprang to life. Oh, what he could do with the bitch.
He wanted to dance and sing. To run over to the couple and take Delanie in his arms, parading her around the docks. If she only knew.
The bitch was a major prima donna and he could take her down easy. He could be the one to tame the tramp. Now he had to have her. The next few days were beyond important. This short time would set the stage for her training and reeducation.
Once he had her on board his ship he would teach her how to act, when to speak, when to beg.
Damn, he had to stop thinking about her or he would loose it right here. One thing he prided himself with was his stamina. He couldn't ejaculate in public over her. Damn the bitch, already she used her body to rule over him.
Getting his hands on her was paramount. She wouldn't say no once he turned on the charm. She was his. End of story.
Copyright Sara Thacker 2011
Murder Stalks
The insanity of the last few days had convinced him that he needed to leave this side of the world. Asia could provide him with some wonderful opportunities but a white guy with light brown hair on a boat would stick out. He needed to purchase some more hair color to change his looks.
He'd let his tan deepen, maybe even use some tanning lotion to darken him further. He wouldn't look Asian, but he might be able to pull off being Mexican or Spanish.
Using the gel he'd purchased in Florida he slicked his hair back and attached a ponytail that he'd made from one of the girl's he'd dumped into the ocean a while back. He'd even dyed it to match his hair.
Real hair worked better for a ponytail than fake. The local's would really believe that he had long hair. Few would connect the dots and remember him from last week. His disguises were vast. Plus loads of rich white guys pulled into port every day. The local would mistake him for someone else, easy.
He needed to stop in Florida for a few supplies. Today would be his last day in the Bahamas'. It saddened him to leave the crystal clear waters. Many beautiful women came here for vacation and he often times had the pick of the bunch.
After a satisfying lunch he meandered around the bars, just checking out if someone looked interesting. Brunettes littered the streets, no blondes to grace his arm. Too bad. In Asia he would need to switch to darker beauties, but while he was still here where blondes were a dime a dozen he would only fantasize about the cream of the crop.
He walked out into the street after a particularly dark bar, his eyes adjusting behind his mirrored sunglasses. The sky was an unusually deep blue today. The weather made him feel good. Maybe he wouldn't find a girl to amuse himself with for the trip over, but he didn't care. This was actually better. He could focus on changing his taste to Asians.
With a jaunty step he took off and rounded the corner, running smack into none other than the blonde from the island. Fuck yeah, this was kismet.
"Sorry, didn't see you there." Her eyes never glanced at his face, instead she moved past him, totally ignoring him.
Richard wanted to scream and do a victory dance, but he kept his emotions in check, hiding his elation from the people on the street. He stooped down and tied his shoe, keeping his eyes on the pair.
There was no account for luck. Some people had it and others didn't. Richard knew he was one of those few truly blessed people who lived with luck constantly on his side. The mishap at the island was just a fluke.
The couple traipsed down to the dock, her hips sashaying, beckoning him to follow. He couldn't strike now, not with them in public. After last night they were probably on edge.
No, he would wait a few days. Stalking the golden girl would be fun. He could get back to his old ways of operating. A little money greasing the right hands would separate the pair.
Richard leaned against building across the street from the docks, his mind working on who the girl reminded him of. Now he knew they had never personally met. He'd reconciled that in his mind. But what if she was tremendously famous. She looked like a chick from a movie he'd seen a few years back.
The pair boarded their sailboat, safe and tucked away for a moment. He closed his eyes, thinking about the movie. That had to be it. The girl was that superstar. Skhye something. He'd remembered the spelling of her last name. But what was her first name?
He opened his eyes, a little shocked to see them moving back up the dock towards him. His heart raced for a few seconds, sending a fresh dose of adrenalin through his veins.
His first thought was to run, but he dismissed the impulse immediately. He didn't need to run. They had no idea who he was. His clothes were different. His hair different.
He pulled out a cigarette and lit the damned thing. They were vile sticks but smoking gave him a reason to hang out without drawing questions. With each step they moved closer, shrinking the distance, increasing his heart rate. What if they gave him more than a cursory look? Would they recognize him?
Their steps slowed, their eyes darted around. For a crazy second he thought about springing into action and cutting down the guy. But no, this wasn't the time. Overacting would only bring disaster.
They stopped at the top of the dock and ducked their heads together. Richard could just make out their words.
"We need to find a place to stay," the man said.
"Sam, your boat will...Let's take it out a ways."
"Too dangerous."
The woman shook her head, her blond hair flying. "A hotel would be dangerous."
The man grabbed her hand, and tugged her with him. "Security in numbers.
She pulled away, her back ramrod straight. Richard loved to watch them fight. Hell, seeing any couple fight really got him off. He loved the breakup process. The angry looks, the words thrown around. All fun and games for him. If only he could hear every word they said but moving closer would draw their attention and scare them off.
"Delanie, I know you...but–"
"No, don't say my name out...I'm here."
Delanie, Delanie, Delanie Skhye. The rush of excitement almost undid him. Yes, that fit. Her name, her looks. The bitch's hair was darker, a little longer, but it was definitely Delanie Skhye. Testosterone pumped through his veins. His dick sprang to life. Oh, what he could do with the bitch.
He wanted to dance and sing. To run over to the couple and take Delanie in his arms, parading her around the docks. If she only knew.
The bitch was a major prima donna and he could take her down easy. He could be the one to tame the tramp. Now he had to have her. The next few days were beyond important. This short time would set the stage for her training and reeducation.
Once he had her on board his ship he would teach her how to act, when to speak, when to beg.
Damn, he had to stop thinking about her or he would loose it right here. One thing he prided himself with was his stamina. He couldn't ejaculate in public over her. Damn the bitch, already she used her body to rule over him.
Getting his hands on her was paramount. She wouldn't say no once he turned on the charm. She was his. End of story.
Copyright Sara Thacker 2011
Murder Stalks
June 28, 2011
Chapter 13: Part 4
Sam, his boss, Amanda, and now Skhye, what the hell else could go wrong. He'd just gotten off the phone with Baker, he wanted his flight number. Bill hadn't been able to get in a word edge wise. Baker didn't want to hear it.
He had five messages from Amanda at first she just wanted to talk. Her last was desperate, something about the face being wrong. Now Delanie Skhye was here demanding to see Sam.
"I need a few minutes to take care of some business."
"No, I've been here for long enough. I need to see Sam."
Bill held his breath, his fists clenched. This wasn't good. He needed to get control of his reactions. Usually he was totally in control. He was FBI steady through and through. No nerves, no emotions on the job, but this week had sucked. Now it was taking a toll on how he did his job.
He was glad no one else was here to witness his descent. "Ms. Skhye, why don't you come with me?" He would borrow another room from Louis. With Sam locked in one and Delanie icing in the other maybe he could find out what was so important to Amanda.
"Finally, we're getting somewhere."
"Luis, can I take room five?" It was at the other end of the building from Sam. This would keep her away from the guy for a while. He should have grabbed her at the scene but the way Sam had just showed up out of nowhere had surprised the heck out of him. Now he had her and he could question her for hours on end.
"Ms. Skhye, would you like some coffee while you wait? Maybe a bottle of water."
"Some water would be nice."
"I'll have one of the guys bring it in for you." He hated using Louis and his men like this, but what else could he do. The FBI had sent him down here as one man when they should have sent two. Really his boss had done him a favor sending him. If any other FBI agent had asked he would have been denied.
Bill asked one of the desk officers for help and promised a six pack of beer for the trouble. He then placed the call to Amanda, hoping she'd pick up. After being patched through the hospital administrator the phone rang three times. His heart sunk with the thought that they wouldn't connect. Then he heard the extension click.
"Hello."
"Amanda, it's Bill."
"Oh, thank God you called."
"The face, it was wrong."
"What do you mean?"
"The medicines, they had me confused. I remembered a man from my past, but he wasn't the guy who did this to me. The other guy looks similar."
"Wait, what do you mean? When did this happen?"
"I had a dream."
"A dream?"
"They reduced the pain killers. My mind lost the fogginess. I felt better and was able to really sleep, not some drug induced lack of consciousness."
"So you remember what he looks like now."
"Yes, poor Sam. I can't believe I thought it was him."
"You know Sam?"
"Yes, he owns the record production studio where I have a contract. I met him during negotiations."
He heard the catch in her voice, his stomach clenched. He didn't want to be runner up to Sam. What if the jerk had her before he had a chance? Fuck, what the hell am I thinking? I'm not with her.
"Listen, Amanda, I'll drop by in a few hours. Are you sure it wasn't Samuel Taylor?"
"Yes. Wait, I didn't say his last name. How did you know?"
"I've known Mr. Taylor for a few years." Bill couldn't help the bitter sound of his voice. After this case was over he really needed to reevaluate his life. He had to get away, do something different.
"Oh, that must have been hard. I'm sorry if I caused you any pain."
"Amanda, you didn't cause me any pain. Really, I'm fine. I'll see you in a few hours."
Bill put down his phone and sat at one of the open desks. He felt as thought he'd taken a hit in the gut. Samuel Taylor was innocent. The guy claimed to be wronged and he was. Damn, what if the jerk called his boss and wanted some sort of retribution?
"Everything alright, Bill?" Louis stood above him, his eyebrow cocked wildly over his left eye.
Bill stood and readjusted his tie. "Yes, everything is great. I'm going to be finished up here soon."
"Tough case?"
"Yes."
"I wish we had more men to help, but with the storm we're having trouble keeping our guys safe."
"I understand, don't worry about it. I've got this under control. I'll probably be gone by tomorrow."
"You abandoning the search or you have your guy?"
"Neither, I just don't think we're going to find him on this island. He's left and moved on to bluer waters."
"Ha, they do that often. Hard to catch a criminal when they can board a boat and sail to another country."
"Yeah, I guess I need to see what I can do with these two."
Bill walked in on Delanie pacing around the room. He was torn between wanting Sam to be the guy who had abducted Amanda and wanting to deliver good news to the famous actress.
"Ms. Skhye, would you come with me?"
"Are we going to see Sam?"
"Yes," Bill motioned for her to follow and took off across the police station. This day couldn't get any worse. He hadn't been totally humiliated, but it was close.
He opened the door to where Sam sat unshackled. If he'd left the cuffs on the guy this would have been a ton more difficult.
"Sam," Delanie rushed forward. Her arms went around Sam, hugging him tight.
"Delanie, I told you to go somewhere safe."
"What could be more safe than a police station?"
Sam's eyes cut to Bill, his stare icy. "Loads of places are safer than here."
"You're free to go." Bill hated saying those words, but what the hell else could he do. He'd eat some humble pie if it kept the big guy from suing the government.
"Oh no, not so fast. Shut the door, we need to talk."
Bill closed the door, ready to receive an ass chewing. The money buffered most of the crap he got from his boss at the FBI, but Sam didn't care about money, besides he probably did have more than Bill.
"Delanie, tell him what happened."
Her eyes went glassy as she plopped into a chair. "I don't know where to start."
"It's okay, just tell the FBI agent what happened."
"Someone was on the island with us. He attacked me." Delanie's voice caught on the last of her words.
"Could you describe him?"
"No, it was dark. I didn't get a good look. He was strong, almost too strong. He knocked Sam out."
"Really?"
"You seem pleased by that," Sam said.
Bill wanted to break into a smile but didn't. Sam already had a reason to be irritated. He didn't need the guy to get even more angry. It was perverse, and he knew it, but having Sam knocked down a peg was insanely pleasing. "I want to hear the whole story. Start from the first hint at something wrong. Don't leave anything out."
Copyright Sara Thacker 2011
He had five messages from Amanda at first she just wanted to talk. Her last was desperate, something about the face being wrong. Now Delanie Skhye was here demanding to see Sam.
"I need a few minutes to take care of some business."
"No, I've been here for long enough. I need to see Sam."
Bill held his breath, his fists clenched. This wasn't good. He needed to get control of his reactions. Usually he was totally in control. He was FBI steady through and through. No nerves, no emotions on the job, but this week had sucked. Now it was taking a toll on how he did his job.
He was glad no one else was here to witness his descent. "Ms. Skhye, why don't you come with me?" He would borrow another room from Louis. With Sam locked in one and Delanie icing in the other maybe he could find out what was so important to Amanda.
"Finally, we're getting somewhere."
"Luis, can I take room five?" It was at the other end of the building from Sam. This would keep her away from the guy for a while. He should have grabbed her at the scene but the way Sam had just showed up out of nowhere had surprised the heck out of him. Now he had her and he could question her for hours on end.
"Ms. Skhye, would you like some coffee while you wait? Maybe a bottle of water."
"Some water would be nice."
"I'll have one of the guys bring it in for you." He hated using Louis and his men like this, but what else could he do. The FBI had sent him down here as one man when they should have sent two. Really his boss had done him a favor sending him. If any other FBI agent had asked he would have been denied.
Bill asked one of the desk officers for help and promised a six pack of beer for the trouble. He then placed the call to Amanda, hoping she'd pick up. After being patched through the hospital administrator the phone rang three times. His heart sunk with the thought that they wouldn't connect. Then he heard the extension click.
"Hello."
"Amanda, it's Bill."
"Oh, thank God you called."
"The face, it was wrong."
"What do you mean?"
"The medicines, they had me confused. I remembered a man from my past, but he wasn't the guy who did this to me. The other guy looks similar."
"Wait, what do you mean? When did this happen?"
"I had a dream."
"A dream?"
"They reduced the pain killers. My mind lost the fogginess. I felt better and was able to really sleep, not some drug induced lack of consciousness."
"So you remember what he looks like now."
"Yes, poor Sam. I can't believe I thought it was him."
"You know Sam?"
"Yes, he owns the record production studio where I have a contract. I met him during negotiations."
He heard the catch in her voice, his stomach clenched. He didn't want to be runner up to Sam. What if the jerk had her before he had a chance? Fuck, what the hell am I thinking? I'm not with her.
"Listen, Amanda, I'll drop by in a few hours. Are you sure it wasn't Samuel Taylor?"
"Yes. Wait, I didn't say his last name. How did you know?"
"I've known Mr. Taylor for a few years." Bill couldn't help the bitter sound of his voice. After this case was over he really needed to reevaluate his life. He had to get away, do something different.
"Oh, that must have been hard. I'm sorry if I caused you any pain."
"Amanda, you didn't cause me any pain. Really, I'm fine. I'll see you in a few hours."
Bill put down his phone and sat at one of the open desks. He felt as thought he'd taken a hit in the gut. Samuel Taylor was innocent. The guy claimed to be wronged and he was. Damn, what if the jerk called his boss and wanted some sort of retribution?
"Everything alright, Bill?" Louis stood above him, his eyebrow cocked wildly over his left eye.
Bill stood and readjusted his tie. "Yes, everything is great. I'm going to be finished up here soon."
"Tough case?"
"Yes."
"I wish we had more men to help, but with the storm we're having trouble keeping our guys safe."
"I understand, don't worry about it. I've got this under control. I'll probably be gone by tomorrow."
"You abandoning the search or you have your guy?"
"Neither, I just don't think we're going to find him on this island. He's left and moved on to bluer waters."
"Ha, they do that often. Hard to catch a criminal when they can board a boat and sail to another country."
"Yeah, I guess I need to see what I can do with these two."
Bill walked in on Delanie pacing around the room. He was torn between wanting Sam to be the guy who had abducted Amanda and wanting to deliver good news to the famous actress.
"Ms. Skhye, would you come with me?"
"Are we going to see Sam?"
"Yes," Bill motioned for her to follow and took off across the police station. This day couldn't get any worse. He hadn't been totally humiliated, but it was close.
He opened the door to where Sam sat unshackled. If he'd left the cuffs on the guy this would have been a ton more difficult.
"Sam," Delanie rushed forward. Her arms went around Sam, hugging him tight.
"Delanie, I told you to go somewhere safe."
"What could be more safe than a police station?"
Sam's eyes cut to Bill, his stare icy. "Loads of places are safer than here."
"You're free to go." Bill hated saying those words, but what the hell else could he do. He'd eat some humble pie if it kept the big guy from suing the government.
"Oh no, not so fast. Shut the door, we need to talk."
Bill closed the door, ready to receive an ass chewing. The money buffered most of the crap he got from his boss at the FBI, but Sam didn't care about money, besides he probably did have more than Bill.
"Delanie, tell him what happened."
Her eyes went glassy as she plopped into a chair. "I don't know where to start."
"It's okay, just tell the FBI agent what happened."
"Someone was on the island with us. He attacked me." Delanie's voice caught on the last of her words.
"Could you describe him?"
"No, it was dark. I didn't get a good look. He was strong, almost too strong. He knocked Sam out."
"Really?"
"You seem pleased by that," Sam said.
Bill wanted to break into a smile but didn't. Sam already had a reason to be irritated. He didn't need the guy to get even more angry. It was perverse, and he knew it, but having Sam knocked down a peg was insanely pleasing. "I want to hear the whole story. Start from the first hint at something wrong. Don't leave anything out."
Copyright Sara Thacker 2011
June 27, 2011
Chapter 13: Part 3
Delanie watched Sam being whisked away. She turned around in a slow circle. No one milled about. No one recognized her. Hell, no one cared who she was. It was amazingly strange.
For years she'd been hounded and hunted almost like a dog. People would chase her down city streets, through alley's and into bathrooms. No privacy what so ever. Yet here she stood in one of the largest urban areas in the Bahamas and no one cared. Hell, it might be the largest urban population in the Bahamas, she didn't know. But one thing she did know was that her face drew crowds.
So far everyone she'd encountered ignored her. No one cared that Delanie Skhye walked down the streets of Nassau. Talk about humbling.
She walked into a bar, hoping to sneak her way to a payphone and call a cab. She hadn't brought her cell phone with her. What a totally inopportune time to be without the device.
Midway to the alcove where the payphones sat someone hollered out. At first Delanie thought her cover was blown. After a beat she realized they were just being friendly.
She turned to the bartender and smiled. He smiled back, his white teeth bright in the otherwise dismal space. "How 'bout a fruity drink for the lady?"
"Thanks, but not today. I do need a cab."
"Raul, this lady needs a ride."
An overly tall but skinny man ambled over, his eyes covered with shades. Did he recognize her? She held her breath, hoping this guy wouldn't try to take advantage of her just because of who she was. Unfortunately she only had about two hundred dollars American. Sam had given it to her when they docked.
"I'll take you wherever you need to go. The name is Raul."
"Thank you. I need to be dropped at the main police station, but I'm not sure which one that is."
"I know where to take you. It's only a short ways away."
"I also need a cell phone. Where can I pick up a disposable?"
"We'll stop at Getties. They can fix you up."
"Thank you." Delanie smiled and immediately realized her mistake. The dawn of recognition lit on Raul's face. Her trademark smile was recognized in too many places. They may not recognize her as an upset woman trying to get help for Sam, but they sure as hell recognized her smile.
Raul eyes cut to the bartender as he breezed past Delanie. "I'm out on fare. No need to speak to the others about the fare."
The bartender came out from behind the scared wood that had hidden his lack of a leg. He moved rather gracefully for a man with a fake leg. "I recognize you now."
Raul put his hand on the bartender, "Do not say anything. Obviously she isn't in her normal environment. It would be wrong to take advantage of the situation."
Delanie wondered if she needed to call the police for her own safety. The bartender looked as thought he would ignore the advice of the younger cabdriver. She held her breath, waiting for someone to say something.
"Pish-posh, no matter. Go, be on your way. I say noting about you being here."
"Thank you, I appreciate it." Delanie followed the cabbie out into the bright morning sun.
"When we get to Getties I'll go in and get the phone. You don't need to be in the public that much."
"So you know who I am?"
"No doubt. We see a lot of celebrities on the island. We don't ask questions. It's part of what keeps the island the island."
"Thank you."
"No thanks necessary. How about we get you that phone then I'll drop you by the police station."
Delanie knew she'd need to rent a car but all of her things were back on the island. She couldn't believe that the one person who could help her was locked up.
Getties wasn't too far from the bar and Raul was quick. In five minutes she had the new phone and was dialing her agent. Mimi didn't answer, instead she was stuck leaving a voicemail.
"Mimi, this is Delanie. I need you to call me back now on this number."
Out the window run down houses with graffiti slid by. If she were here on vacation this part of Nassau would never be seen by her eyes. There were whole parts of cities she'd never have to trudge through. The privileged life she lead had it's ups and downs, but she'd never be this far down.
The neighborhood changed slightly. Fewer graffiti tags and less trash. Then there were a couple of blocks that looked like model citizens lived there.
"We are here. Here's my number, call me if you need another ride."
"Thanks, Raul. You've been great. I'll remember you the next time I need a ride." She paid for the fair, left a great tip, and hopped out of the cab.
She needed to be strong and keep a cool head on her shoulders. Her phone range as she stepped into the police station. Without hesitation she stepped out again and answered. "Mimi?"
"Yes, it's me. You don't sound so good."
"I need you to contact the island owners and tell them there was a problem. Give them this number."
"Delanie are you okay?"
"I'm fine."
"I'm getting on a plane and coming out there."
"No, Mimi. Please don't."
"But you need help. I can help."
Delanie needed to focus on Sam, not Mimi. Plus if this guy came back she doubted that he'd play nice and not hurt her friends. She needed to keep everything simple and Mimi was never simple.
"Listen, for now it would be better if you stayed in the states. That way I could count on you for help up there if I need it."
"I'm not liking this. If things aren't better in two days I'll be there."
"Fine, but don't tell anyone where you are going. I don't want the press on top of me too."
Delanie disconnected and walked into the police station. The place looked like chaos at first glance, then she realized each person had a purpose. She moved forward, keeping her eyes on the center desk. "Hi, I need to find out more about a man brought in for questioning."
"What was his name?"
"Sam Taylor."
The guy didn't even stop to check a database or list. "No Sam Taylor here."
She wanted to shout but instead kept her voice steady. "Could you please check with someone else? He was brought in about an hour ago."
The guy finally looked up, his eyes half closed and a scowl marring his features. "Fine." He picked up his phone and dialed three numbers. "Louis, anyone named Sam picked up?"
Delanie did her best to hide her agitation from mister Scowly. She didn't need the police to be angry with her, but she needed to find Sam and get this straightened out.
"Thanks Louis." He hung up the phone, his frown deepened.
"He doesn't know, but he'll check. Take a seat over there." The guy pointed to a bench on the other side of the station.
Delanie made her way over to the bench. Her head ached and her stomach growled. Not only had she not eaten anything in hours, she felt like crap.
After an hour of sitting on the rock hard bench she would have killed for a good hamburger, a bottle of Advil and a two-liter coke. She was ready to go up and wring the guy's neck who had told her to sit when she saw the guy who'd taken Sam from the docks.
With as much grace as she could muster, Delanie hopped up and crossed the room, angling to keep up with the guy in the suit. "Excuse me."
He didn't turn around or acknowledge her. Instead, he looked as though he was going to disappear into a back office. She couldn't let that happen. Delanie raced forward, bumping into a chair that let out an ear piercing screech. All eyes turned to her, even the guy in the suit.
"Excuse me, but you took my friend. I need to see him."
"Misus Skhye, I've been wondering when you'd get her."
"I've been here for over an hour. I need to see Sam."
Copyright Sara Thacker 2011
For years she'd been hounded and hunted almost like a dog. People would chase her down city streets, through alley's and into bathrooms. No privacy what so ever. Yet here she stood in one of the largest urban areas in the Bahamas and no one cared. Hell, it might be the largest urban population in the Bahamas, she didn't know. But one thing she did know was that her face drew crowds.
So far everyone she'd encountered ignored her. No one cared that Delanie Skhye walked down the streets of Nassau. Talk about humbling.
She walked into a bar, hoping to sneak her way to a payphone and call a cab. She hadn't brought her cell phone with her. What a totally inopportune time to be without the device.
Midway to the alcove where the payphones sat someone hollered out. At first Delanie thought her cover was blown. After a beat she realized they were just being friendly.
She turned to the bartender and smiled. He smiled back, his white teeth bright in the otherwise dismal space. "How 'bout a fruity drink for the lady?"
"Thanks, but not today. I do need a cab."
"Raul, this lady needs a ride."
An overly tall but skinny man ambled over, his eyes covered with shades. Did he recognize her? She held her breath, hoping this guy wouldn't try to take advantage of her just because of who she was. Unfortunately she only had about two hundred dollars American. Sam had given it to her when they docked.
"I'll take you wherever you need to go. The name is Raul."
"Thank you. I need to be dropped at the main police station, but I'm not sure which one that is."
"I know where to take you. It's only a short ways away."
"I also need a cell phone. Where can I pick up a disposable?"
"We'll stop at Getties. They can fix you up."
"Thank you." Delanie smiled and immediately realized her mistake. The dawn of recognition lit on Raul's face. Her trademark smile was recognized in too many places. They may not recognize her as an upset woman trying to get help for Sam, but they sure as hell recognized her smile.
Raul eyes cut to the bartender as he breezed past Delanie. "I'm out on fare. No need to speak to the others about the fare."
The bartender came out from behind the scared wood that had hidden his lack of a leg. He moved rather gracefully for a man with a fake leg. "I recognize you now."
Raul put his hand on the bartender, "Do not say anything. Obviously she isn't in her normal environment. It would be wrong to take advantage of the situation."
Delanie wondered if she needed to call the police for her own safety. The bartender looked as thought he would ignore the advice of the younger cabdriver. She held her breath, waiting for someone to say something.
"Pish-posh, no matter. Go, be on your way. I say noting about you being here."
"Thank you, I appreciate it." Delanie followed the cabbie out into the bright morning sun.
"When we get to Getties I'll go in and get the phone. You don't need to be in the public that much."
"So you know who I am?"
"No doubt. We see a lot of celebrities on the island. We don't ask questions. It's part of what keeps the island the island."
"Thank you."
"No thanks necessary. How about we get you that phone then I'll drop you by the police station."
Delanie knew she'd need to rent a car but all of her things were back on the island. She couldn't believe that the one person who could help her was locked up.
Getties wasn't too far from the bar and Raul was quick. In five minutes she had the new phone and was dialing her agent. Mimi didn't answer, instead she was stuck leaving a voicemail.
"Mimi, this is Delanie. I need you to call me back now on this number."
Out the window run down houses with graffiti slid by. If she were here on vacation this part of Nassau would never be seen by her eyes. There were whole parts of cities she'd never have to trudge through. The privileged life she lead had it's ups and downs, but she'd never be this far down.
The neighborhood changed slightly. Fewer graffiti tags and less trash. Then there were a couple of blocks that looked like model citizens lived there.
"We are here. Here's my number, call me if you need another ride."
"Thanks, Raul. You've been great. I'll remember you the next time I need a ride." She paid for the fair, left a great tip, and hopped out of the cab.
She needed to be strong and keep a cool head on her shoulders. Her phone range as she stepped into the police station. Without hesitation she stepped out again and answered. "Mimi?"
"Yes, it's me. You don't sound so good."
"I need you to contact the island owners and tell them there was a problem. Give them this number."
"Delanie are you okay?"
"I'm fine."
"I'm getting on a plane and coming out there."
"No, Mimi. Please don't."
"But you need help. I can help."
Delanie needed to focus on Sam, not Mimi. Plus if this guy came back she doubted that he'd play nice and not hurt her friends. She needed to keep everything simple and Mimi was never simple.
"Listen, for now it would be better if you stayed in the states. That way I could count on you for help up there if I need it."
"I'm not liking this. If things aren't better in two days I'll be there."
"Fine, but don't tell anyone where you are going. I don't want the press on top of me too."
Delanie disconnected and walked into the police station. The place looked like chaos at first glance, then she realized each person had a purpose. She moved forward, keeping her eyes on the center desk. "Hi, I need to find out more about a man brought in for questioning."
"What was his name?"
"Sam Taylor."
The guy didn't even stop to check a database or list. "No Sam Taylor here."
She wanted to shout but instead kept her voice steady. "Could you please check with someone else? He was brought in about an hour ago."
The guy finally looked up, his eyes half closed and a scowl marring his features. "Fine." He picked up his phone and dialed three numbers. "Louis, anyone named Sam picked up?"
Delanie did her best to hide her agitation from mister Scowly. She didn't need the police to be angry with her, but she needed to find Sam and get this straightened out.
"Thanks Louis." He hung up the phone, his frown deepened.
"He doesn't know, but he'll check. Take a seat over there." The guy pointed to a bench on the other side of the station.
Delanie made her way over to the bench. Her head ached and her stomach growled. Not only had she not eaten anything in hours, she felt like crap.
After an hour of sitting on the rock hard bench she would have killed for a good hamburger, a bottle of Advil and a two-liter coke. She was ready to go up and wring the guy's neck who had told her to sit when she saw the guy who'd taken Sam from the docks.
With as much grace as she could muster, Delanie hopped up and crossed the room, angling to keep up with the guy in the suit. "Excuse me."
He didn't turn around or acknowledge her. Instead, he looked as though he was going to disappear into a back office. She couldn't let that happen. Delanie raced forward, bumping into a chair that let out an ear piercing screech. All eyes turned to her, even the guy in the suit.
"Excuse me, but you took my friend. I need to see him."
"Misus Skhye, I've been wondering when you'd get her."
"I've been here for over an hour. I need to see Sam."
Copyright Sara Thacker 2011
June 26, 2011
Chapter 13: Part 2
Sam allowed Bill to escort him into police station. The inside wasn't too dismal, not that Sam had spent much time inside any police stations.
The ride over had been made in silence. He knew enough to say nothing. Still he had no idea why Bill Rowland had shackled him. Maybe something had happened at one of his companies. It would bite if he were accused of corporate crimes while he lived down here.
His lawyer could get him off. Everyone knew he no longer had any connection remotely relating to his businesses. They'd cut him off and done better without him. Unless the files were faked.
Bill called out. "Louis, I need to use one of your rooms."
Maybe he should call his personal solicitor. Garcia, Brand and Pennington would relish charging him hours on an assignment like this. A few hours at the courts and nights spent whining and dining the locals. He rolled his eyes at the thought of how much it would cost him.
"What's wrong Taylor, not to your liking?" Bill shut the door behind them and motioned for Sam to take a seat.
Sam stood, unwilling to submit until he knew what he was up against. "Tell me why you drug me away from Delanie and my sailboat."
"You more worried about your sailboat or Ms. Skhye?"
"Of course I'm worried about Delanie."
"Why?"
"Why don't you tell me why I'm in here first?"
"Can you tell me where you've been in the last few weeks?"
"Are you going to charge me?"
"How about we keep this nice and friendly."
Sam scoffed, "Friends don't slap handcuffs on friends. Take these off and I'll talk."
Bill's eyes stayed hard, his mouth turned down in a deep frown. For a moment Sam thought he wouldn't comply, but then everything changed. Bill lost his icy glare, his face relaxed. Obviously Bill was tired, or he was playing Sam. It would take a while to figure it out.
From years of honing his negotiating skills Sam knew this could go a couple of ways. Either Bill would be nice and congenial to build trust or he would strike fast, trying to trip Sam up.
Back in school Sam hadn't been the easiest guy to get along with. No one had to write it on the wall to relay the message to him. He'd been a little shit and he guessed Bill remembered.
The last two years on the boat had mellowed him. Sam still remembered how to access his killer business tactics but he preferred to remain laid back.
"Can I get you a cup of coffee?" Bill asked.
"No. Let's stop playing games and tell me what is going on."
"First tell me why you were with Delanie."
"She's in danger. I should have insisted you bring her with us."
Bill's face turned red for a beat and his eye twitched. Sam could tell something was off with his old school companion. He guessed that this wasn't trickery. Bill unprepared to deal with what ever situation they were in.
"Bill, whatever you think I did, I didn't."
"Four women have gone missing from beaches and resort areas. One of the women was found alive at sea."
"Oh my God, is she alright?"
"Funny you should ask. She fingered you as the abductor."
"Me?"
"Interesting that you're shocked. I'm not surprised. I just want to know how you did it and where the last woman you took is."
"I haven't taken anyone. I've been with Delanie for the last two days. Someone was on the island trying to hurt her."
"You're confusing things. That was you trying to hurt her."
Sam stood up sending his chair flying. He leaned over the table and shook his fist at Bill. "I'd no sooner hurt Delanie than a kitten. I've been sailing the Bahamas for the last few years. I found Delanie one stormy night and helped her with the house she was staying at."
"So you admit to being in the area for a while."
"Bill, I've not left the Bahamas for one full year."
"Except for that week in Florida."
"No, no exceptions. I've been on my boat in the Bahamas. Two nights I've left my boat this year were to spend the evening with Delanie. I don't know what you're trying to pin on me, but I didn't do it."
"We've got a witness."
"She's wrong. Maybe she's an ex-employee or some bitch with an axe to grind."
Bill jumped up, his pulse throbbed at his temple, "She isn't a bitch and she isn't an ex-employee."
"How are you so sure?"
"It's Amanda, the singer."
Sam sucked in air and then blew it out. It was like Bill had delivered a punch to his gut. "Amanda is an employee of sorts."
"What are you talking about?"
"A record label I own has her contract."
"Oh come on, this is ridiculous. How much stuff do you own anyways?"
"More than you."
"So you do remember?"
Sam closed his eyes and sat down. He wasn't that kid from school who tried to make Bill look bad. The games they'd played and the damage they'd inflicted on each other had been wrong.
"Bill, I'm not the same kid I was in school. I've matured a little bit. I'm not rubbing it in your face about how much I have."
"I wouldn't blame you. I did that to you for years."
"Yeah, but I was an obnoxious little shit who tried to ruin your reputation. I deserved your cut downs and anger. But I'm not lying to you now. I'll sit in here all day and talk. First get some coffee and take a break."
Bill's phone rang and he grabbed it off his belt. "I need to get this. Sit down. We'll talk."
Copyright Sara Thacker 2011
The ride over had been made in silence. He knew enough to say nothing. Still he had no idea why Bill Rowland had shackled him. Maybe something had happened at one of his companies. It would bite if he were accused of corporate crimes while he lived down here.
His lawyer could get him off. Everyone knew he no longer had any connection remotely relating to his businesses. They'd cut him off and done better without him. Unless the files were faked.
Bill called out. "Louis, I need to use one of your rooms."
Maybe he should call his personal solicitor. Garcia, Brand and Pennington would relish charging him hours on an assignment like this. A few hours at the courts and nights spent whining and dining the locals. He rolled his eyes at the thought of how much it would cost him.
"What's wrong Taylor, not to your liking?" Bill shut the door behind them and motioned for Sam to take a seat.
Sam stood, unwilling to submit until he knew what he was up against. "Tell me why you drug me away from Delanie and my sailboat."
"You more worried about your sailboat or Ms. Skhye?"
"Of course I'm worried about Delanie."
"Why?"
"Why don't you tell me why I'm in here first?"
"Can you tell me where you've been in the last few weeks?"
"Are you going to charge me?"
"How about we keep this nice and friendly."
Sam scoffed, "Friends don't slap handcuffs on friends. Take these off and I'll talk."
Bill's eyes stayed hard, his mouth turned down in a deep frown. For a moment Sam thought he wouldn't comply, but then everything changed. Bill lost his icy glare, his face relaxed. Obviously Bill was tired, or he was playing Sam. It would take a while to figure it out.
From years of honing his negotiating skills Sam knew this could go a couple of ways. Either Bill would be nice and congenial to build trust or he would strike fast, trying to trip Sam up.
Back in school Sam hadn't been the easiest guy to get along with. No one had to write it on the wall to relay the message to him. He'd been a little shit and he guessed Bill remembered.
The last two years on the boat had mellowed him. Sam still remembered how to access his killer business tactics but he preferred to remain laid back.
"Can I get you a cup of coffee?" Bill asked.
"No. Let's stop playing games and tell me what is going on."
"First tell me why you were with Delanie."
"She's in danger. I should have insisted you bring her with us."
Bill's face turned red for a beat and his eye twitched. Sam could tell something was off with his old school companion. He guessed that this wasn't trickery. Bill unprepared to deal with what ever situation they were in.
"Bill, whatever you think I did, I didn't."
"Four women have gone missing from beaches and resort areas. One of the women was found alive at sea."
"Oh my God, is she alright?"
"Funny you should ask. She fingered you as the abductor."
"Me?"
"Interesting that you're shocked. I'm not surprised. I just want to know how you did it and where the last woman you took is."
"I haven't taken anyone. I've been with Delanie for the last two days. Someone was on the island trying to hurt her."
"You're confusing things. That was you trying to hurt her."
Sam stood up sending his chair flying. He leaned over the table and shook his fist at Bill. "I'd no sooner hurt Delanie than a kitten. I've been sailing the Bahamas for the last few years. I found Delanie one stormy night and helped her with the house she was staying at."
"So you admit to being in the area for a while."
"Bill, I've not left the Bahamas for one full year."
"Except for that week in Florida."
"No, no exceptions. I've been on my boat in the Bahamas. Two nights I've left my boat this year were to spend the evening with Delanie. I don't know what you're trying to pin on me, but I didn't do it."
"We've got a witness."
"She's wrong. Maybe she's an ex-employee or some bitch with an axe to grind."
Bill jumped up, his pulse throbbed at his temple, "She isn't a bitch and she isn't an ex-employee."
"How are you so sure?"
"It's Amanda, the singer."
Sam sucked in air and then blew it out. It was like Bill had delivered a punch to his gut. "Amanda is an employee of sorts."
"What are you talking about?"
"A record label I own has her contract."
"Oh come on, this is ridiculous. How much stuff do you own anyways?"
"More than you."
"So you do remember?"
Sam closed his eyes and sat down. He wasn't that kid from school who tried to make Bill look bad. The games they'd played and the damage they'd inflicted on each other had been wrong.
"Bill, I'm not the same kid I was in school. I've matured a little bit. I'm not rubbing it in your face about how much I have."
"I wouldn't blame you. I did that to you for years."
"Yeah, but I was an obnoxious little shit who tried to ruin your reputation. I deserved your cut downs and anger. But I'm not lying to you now. I'll sit in here all day and talk. First get some coffee and take a break."
Bill's phone rang and he grabbed it off his belt. "I need to get this. Sit down. We'll talk."
Copyright Sara Thacker 2011
June 25, 2011
chapter 13: Part 1
Bill didn't want to say goodbye to Amanda. He didn't think he could stand seeing her cry. The gut twisting emotions she inspired made him crazy. Unfortunately he wasn't free to act. Shana would be vindictive in the divorce if she thought he cheated. Now that she'd gone off the deep end he was glad that she'd signed the prenup. His lawyer had been brilliant and added a clause stating that if she cheated she received nothing.
He didn't want to dump her without any funds, but she'd brought the problem upon herself. Now he had a chance to break free and maybe, just maybe be with someone who would have no problem with his money or his career choice.
The coke he sipped at gurgled as he reached the bottom of the cup. He poked the straw around the ice, his thoughts on Amanda. If he had a woman like her would he stay with the FBI?
Why hadn't he quit when he married Shana? He'd thought it was his deep desire to catch the bad guys, but maybe he could see the shallowness in Shana and he couldn't stand being with that twenty-four-seven.
It did no good to obsess over Shana and her attitude. When the money came out she'd shown who she really was and now all he had to do was let her leave.
The helpless anger he felt at her betrayal surged with the helplessness he felt in his job. He was screwed. The probability of finding the guy who had abducted Amanda rose significantly since they had a sketch. It rose even more since he recognized the guy.
How the hell could Sam do something like this? Few things amazed him after seeing all that he'd seen working for the FBI, but this truly had shocked him. Sam, of all people.
Richard's phone buzzed. He checked the caller id, and decided not to answer. His boss could wait. There were two more places he wanted to check out before leaving the island.
The restaurant and the boat docks. Those two places needed to be checked. If he had time he would talk to Louis one last time, but the locals were busy trying to keep peace in the areas that were hit the hardest.
Amanda's attacker had meant to kill her. No other bodies had washed up. No one turned up like Amanda, hurt and confused.
He walked into Bleu Fish and wondered if Shana were here. If he saw her again with another man it would kill him. He knew they were done with, but still it hurt. If Shana knew how he felt about Amanda she would probably throw a fit.
It wasn't right to be with Amanda and he knew it. She couldn't be more than just a victim on another case. Come tomorrow the case would no longer be his.
His eyes adjusted to the dark interior. A few couples were munching on their breakfast. The bar was empty. He guessed even vacationers had to take a break from getting sauced.
A bouncy girl that looked way too young to be waiting tables at a bar popped over. "Hi, can I get you a table?"
"No thanks, I need to speak to the manager."
"Oh, Jack's not in, but Mattie is. She works morning shift."
Bill smiled, "Thanks, that would be great." He waited for Mattie to come out, wondering if he were wasting his time. How the hell could Banks expect him to leave?
The back office door opened. A middle aged woman walked out, her skin was the color of a milky latte, her smile white as snow. He liked her almost instantly. He let his approval show through his smile and hoped that would win him some cooperation points.
"Hello, my name is Mattie. I am in charge today. What can I help you with?"
Bill picked up his briefcase to pull Sam's picture out. The woman frowned at the formal business equipment. "I hope you are not trying to sell me something."
"No ma'am. I'm Agent Bill Rowland with the FBI."
"FBI? You do know the Bahamas aren't part of the United States?"
"Yes ma'am. I'm here just lending a hand on a case."
"Show me what you are holding," her voice lost the singsong nature, her smile gone.
"Have you seen this man?"
She studied the drawing, her brows pinched. "I remember a fellow about a year ago looking like this. But he wouldn't hurt anyone."
"Why do you say that?"
"It's island business. American FBI agent doesn't understand island business."
"You had a feeling about the guy?"
"Not just a feeling. I know bad when I see bad."
"Okay–"
She huffed and frowned. "No not okay, you don't believe me, you leave."
"I believe you, but the woman who he hurt said this was the guy."
"She's wrong."
Bill tried his best to remain calm. He'd dealt with difficult people before, they had a way of making you want to shoot them. Not that he'd ever really shoot an innocent civilian, but every minute with this lady made her seem less innocent.
"So you saw this guy a year ago?"
"Yes, but he's not your guy."
"Thanks." Bill turned to leave, a hand clamped down on his shoulder. His hand automatically reached for his gun.
Mattie's voice was soft behind him. "No need to do that. Just going to say that just 'cuz one door closes doesn't mean another one opens. Watch yourself."
"Thanks." The bright sun stung his eyes when he emerged from the Bleu Fish. What the hell had that crazy witch doctor meant? He had a sinking feeling that she'd been talking about Shana and Amanda. The door to Shana had most definitely closed. There would be no going back. He wouldn't beg her to stay and if the tables turned, he wouldn't stick around if she begged.
The cool breeze off the ocean broke up the heat two blocks from the docks. He drew in a deep breath and sighed. He loved the scent of the salty ocean air. Maybe he should chuck the day job and be a laze about bum like the rest of his family. He shook his head, disgusted. It wouldn't work and he knew it. All it took was two weeks vacation and he itched to get back to the daily grind. Even with all of its faults he loved the FBI. What a shame. He knew men who would love to be rid of the shackles of work but couldn't afford it.
Bill stood at the top of the docks and watched three sailboats, two cigar boats and one small motor boat choreograph a dance as old as time. A deep primal part of every man wanted to explore the ocean, to investigate the surprises of the horizon.
For him the investigating had been a bigger pull than searching out new horizons. Someone had seen their guy. All he had to do was investigate the shit out of this island to find the bastard.
What if the island turned up no secrets? His boss was right. This search was a fool's game. The allure of being close to Amanda had held him here longer than he needed to stay. The beautiful superstar wasn't interested in him. He'd read too much into her gratitude.
He slouched down onto a bench, looking out to the sea. Shana leaving him had left a hole that called for filling. But filling the empty place before he healed would be shortsighted and wrong. Amanda deserved better and he deserved better.
The urge to jump up and find something to fill his mind pulled at him, but he stay seated just watching the boats, birds and sea. It was almost time for him to take another vacation. This year he wouldn't go to his private island, too many memories. Maybe he could travel to Moscow and tour the city. The cold, gray bleakness would probably kill him, but it would fit his mood.
Two sailboats docked, the people aboard one of the boats scrambled to tie up to the dock. The woman's movements were jerky and unsure. The man stumbled and had to grab onto the mast more than once.
He focused in on the pair. Something looked off. The couple scrambled up the walkway, the man's gait a little off. Was he drunk?
Bill squinted and shaded his eyes with his hand. His stomach dropped and his blood when ice cold. The object of his investigation had just walked into his sphere.
Without thinking, his hand lowered to his holster, flipping the lock and drawing down on the man as he stepped onto dry land. "Samuel Taylor, put your hands on your head and drop to your knees."
Sam blinked twice and still didn't move.
"Sam, I mean it. FBI, drop to the ground now."
"William?"
"Now. Hands on head. Knees on pavement."
"What's this about?" The woman next to him asked.
Bill did a double take. "Delanie Skhy?"
"What's going on?" Sam asked.
"I'll answer your question once you do as I ask."
Sam brought his hands up and sunk to his knees. "There, I'm on my knees. Hand's up."
"This is ridiculous." Delanie made a move towards Sam.
This would get out of hand, soon if he didn't get a hold of the situation. Sweat dripped down his back and started to make a trail down from his brow.
"Okay, Ms. Skhy, I need you to step aside. Go sit on that bench and don't move."
For a moment it looked as though she wasn't going to move. Eventually she stepped aside lowering to the bench.
"Why are you arresting Sam? He's been with me for the last few days."
Delanie and Amanda had similar looks. Even though Delanie's hair was a little darker than her normal warm blond she still would draw the attention of a man hell bent on killing off blonds.
Damn, he had to find Sam with a gorgeous blonde who happened to be famous. What were the odds? It wasn't as if he'd set a sting. Hell, few stings went this well.
"Sam, I'm going to put cuffs on you. Then we'll go down to the station to talk."
Sam didn't move. It had been years since Bill had cuffed anyone alone. He always had back up. Always had another gun trained on the suspect. He regulated his breathing hoping to bring his errant heart under control. His veins had popped from the adrenalin rush. He couldn't do this one handed, he had to holster his gun.
Bill said a quick prayer as he stepped forward and slapped the cuffs on Sam. If either Sam or Delanie had made a move he would have been shit out of luck.
Bill tightened the cuffs, not wanting to chance having a problem.
"Ms. Skhye, I suggest you grab a taxi and take it into town. Find a nice hotel and hide from the press."
"Where are you taking Sam?" She moved closer, her body language non-threatening.
"We'll be at the main police station, but let me warn you, if you show up the press will get wind of it."
"I'm not going to let that keep me away," her voice heavy with anger."
"Delanie," Sam interrupted them, "Please don't–"
"No, I'm coming down there just to make sure they allow you a phone call."
"Bill and I can work this out. You need to get somewhere safe."
Bill straightened his shoulders and pushed forward. His car parked more than two blocks away. This could get a little hairy if Sam didn't cooperate. "Come on, it's time to move out."
Delanie followed behind, "Sam, I'll be there soon. Don't say anything until we can get a lawyer in there."
Sam stopped walking and there was nothing Bill could do. Sam was taller and stronger. "Delanie, I'll be fine. This is just some sort of misunderstanding. Trust me. This will blow over soon. Find a cab and go somewhere safe."
The confidence in Sam's voice angered Bill. How could the bastard know it would blow over soon? Bill had yet to tell him why he was being taken in. The arrest might be put to question. He was a U.S. officer of the law, not Bahamian. He would make it all legal after they made it to the police station.
Damn, this was wonderful and sucked all at the same time. He hoped he hadn't blown their chance to really get the guy. If Sam walked because of his impatience then he would kick himself later, but for now he had one less killer on the streets.
Copyright Sara Thacker 2011
He didn't want to dump her without any funds, but she'd brought the problem upon herself. Now he had a chance to break free and maybe, just maybe be with someone who would have no problem with his money or his career choice.
The coke he sipped at gurgled as he reached the bottom of the cup. He poked the straw around the ice, his thoughts on Amanda. If he had a woman like her would he stay with the FBI?
Why hadn't he quit when he married Shana? He'd thought it was his deep desire to catch the bad guys, but maybe he could see the shallowness in Shana and he couldn't stand being with that twenty-four-seven.
It did no good to obsess over Shana and her attitude. When the money came out she'd shown who she really was and now all he had to do was let her leave.
The helpless anger he felt at her betrayal surged with the helplessness he felt in his job. He was screwed. The probability of finding the guy who had abducted Amanda rose significantly since they had a sketch. It rose even more since he recognized the guy.
How the hell could Sam do something like this? Few things amazed him after seeing all that he'd seen working for the FBI, but this truly had shocked him. Sam, of all people.
Richard's phone buzzed. He checked the caller id, and decided not to answer. His boss could wait. There were two more places he wanted to check out before leaving the island.
The restaurant and the boat docks. Those two places needed to be checked. If he had time he would talk to Louis one last time, but the locals were busy trying to keep peace in the areas that were hit the hardest.
Amanda's attacker had meant to kill her. No other bodies had washed up. No one turned up like Amanda, hurt and confused.
He walked into Bleu Fish and wondered if Shana were here. If he saw her again with another man it would kill him. He knew they were done with, but still it hurt. If Shana knew how he felt about Amanda she would probably throw a fit.
It wasn't right to be with Amanda and he knew it. She couldn't be more than just a victim on another case. Come tomorrow the case would no longer be his.
His eyes adjusted to the dark interior. A few couples were munching on their breakfast. The bar was empty. He guessed even vacationers had to take a break from getting sauced.
A bouncy girl that looked way too young to be waiting tables at a bar popped over. "Hi, can I get you a table?"
"No thanks, I need to speak to the manager."
"Oh, Jack's not in, but Mattie is. She works morning shift."
Bill smiled, "Thanks, that would be great." He waited for Mattie to come out, wondering if he were wasting his time. How the hell could Banks expect him to leave?
The back office door opened. A middle aged woman walked out, her skin was the color of a milky latte, her smile white as snow. He liked her almost instantly. He let his approval show through his smile and hoped that would win him some cooperation points.
"Hello, my name is Mattie. I am in charge today. What can I help you with?"
Bill picked up his briefcase to pull Sam's picture out. The woman frowned at the formal business equipment. "I hope you are not trying to sell me something."
"No ma'am. I'm Agent Bill Rowland with the FBI."
"FBI? You do know the Bahamas aren't part of the United States?"
"Yes ma'am. I'm here just lending a hand on a case."
"Show me what you are holding," her voice lost the singsong nature, her smile gone.
"Have you seen this man?"
She studied the drawing, her brows pinched. "I remember a fellow about a year ago looking like this. But he wouldn't hurt anyone."
"Why do you say that?"
"It's island business. American FBI agent doesn't understand island business."
"You had a feeling about the guy?"
"Not just a feeling. I know bad when I see bad."
"Okay–"
She huffed and frowned. "No not okay, you don't believe me, you leave."
"I believe you, but the woman who he hurt said this was the guy."
"She's wrong."
Bill tried his best to remain calm. He'd dealt with difficult people before, they had a way of making you want to shoot them. Not that he'd ever really shoot an innocent civilian, but every minute with this lady made her seem less innocent.
"So you saw this guy a year ago?"
"Yes, but he's not your guy."
"Thanks." Bill turned to leave, a hand clamped down on his shoulder. His hand automatically reached for his gun.
Mattie's voice was soft behind him. "No need to do that. Just going to say that just 'cuz one door closes doesn't mean another one opens. Watch yourself."
"Thanks." The bright sun stung his eyes when he emerged from the Bleu Fish. What the hell had that crazy witch doctor meant? He had a sinking feeling that she'd been talking about Shana and Amanda. The door to Shana had most definitely closed. There would be no going back. He wouldn't beg her to stay and if the tables turned, he wouldn't stick around if she begged.
The cool breeze off the ocean broke up the heat two blocks from the docks. He drew in a deep breath and sighed. He loved the scent of the salty ocean air. Maybe he should chuck the day job and be a laze about bum like the rest of his family. He shook his head, disgusted. It wouldn't work and he knew it. All it took was two weeks vacation and he itched to get back to the daily grind. Even with all of its faults he loved the FBI. What a shame. He knew men who would love to be rid of the shackles of work but couldn't afford it.
Bill stood at the top of the docks and watched three sailboats, two cigar boats and one small motor boat choreograph a dance as old as time. A deep primal part of every man wanted to explore the ocean, to investigate the surprises of the horizon.
For him the investigating had been a bigger pull than searching out new horizons. Someone had seen their guy. All he had to do was investigate the shit out of this island to find the bastard.
What if the island turned up no secrets? His boss was right. This search was a fool's game. The allure of being close to Amanda had held him here longer than he needed to stay. The beautiful superstar wasn't interested in him. He'd read too much into her gratitude.
He slouched down onto a bench, looking out to the sea. Shana leaving him had left a hole that called for filling. But filling the empty place before he healed would be shortsighted and wrong. Amanda deserved better and he deserved better.
The urge to jump up and find something to fill his mind pulled at him, but he stay seated just watching the boats, birds and sea. It was almost time for him to take another vacation. This year he wouldn't go to his private island, too many memories. Maybe he could travel to Moscow and tour the city. The cold, gray bleakness would probably kill him, but it would fit his mood.
Two sailboats docked, the people aboard one of the boats scrambled to tie up to the dock. The woman's movements were jerky and unsure. The man stumbled and had to grab onto the mast more than once.
He focused in on the pair. Something looked off. The couple scrambled up the walkway, the man's gait a little off. Was he drunk?
Bill squinted and shaded his eyes with his hand. His stomach dropped and his blood when ice cold. The object of his investigation had just walked into his sphere.
Without thinking, his hand lowered to his holster, flipping the lock and drawing down on the man as he stepped onto dry land. "Samuel Taylor, put your hands on your head and drop to your knees."
Sam blinked twice and still didn't move.
"Sam, I mean it. FBI, drop to the ground now."
"William?"
"Now. Hands on head. Knees on pavement."
"What's this about?" The woman next to him asked.
Bill did a double take. "Delanie Skhy?"
"What's going on?" Sam asked.
"I'll answer your question once you do as I ask."
Sam brought his hands up and sunk to his knees. "There, I'm on my knees. Hand's up."
"This is ridiculous." Delanie made a move towards Sam.
This would get out of hand, soon if he didn't get a hold of the situation. Sweat dripped down his back and started to make a trail down from his brow.
"Okay, Ms. Skhy, I need you to step aside. Go sit on that bench and don't move."
For a moment it looked as though she wasn't going to move. Eventually she stepped aside lowering to the bench.
"Why are you arresting Sam? He's been with me for the last few days."
Delanie and Amanda had similar looks. Even though Delanie's hair was a little darker than her normal warm blond she still would draw the attention of a man hell bent on killing off blonds.
Damn, he had to find Sam with a gorgeous blonde who happened to be famous. What were the odds? It wasn't as if he'd set a sting. Hell, few stings went this well.
"Sam, I'm going to put cuffs on you. Then we'll go down to the station to talk."
Sam didn't move. It had been years since Bill had cuffed anyone alone. He always had back up. Always had another gun trained on the suspect. He regulated his breathing hoping to bring his errant heart under control. His veins had popped from the adrenalin rush. He couldn't do this one handed, he had to holster his gun.
Bill said a quick prayer as he stepped forward and slapped the cuffs on Sam. If either Sam or Delanie had made a move he would have been shit out of luck.
Bill tightened the cuffs, not wanting to chance having a problem.
"Ms. Skhye, I suggest you grab a taxi and take it into town. Find a nice hotel and hide from the press."
"Where are you taking Sam?" She moved closer, her body language non-threatening.
"We'll be at the main police station, but let me warn you, if you show up the press will get wind of it."
"I'm not going to let that keep me away," her voice heavy with anger."
"Delanie," Sam interrupted them, "Please don't–"
"No, I'm coming down there just to make sure they allow you a phone call."
"Bill and I can work this out. You need to get somewhere safe."
Bill straightened his shoulders and pushed forward. His car parked more than two blocks away. This could get a little hairy if Sam didn't cooperate. "Come on, it's time to move out."
Delanie followed behind, "Sam, I'll be there soon. Don't say anything until we can get a lawyer in there."
Sam stopped walking and there was nothing Bill could do. Sam was taller and stronger. "Delanie, I'll be fine. This is just some sort of misunderstanding. Trust me. This will blow over soon. Find a cab and go somewhere safe."
The confidence in Sam's voice angered Bill. How could the bastard know it would blow over soon? Bill had yet to tell him why he was being taken in. The arrest might be put to question. He was a U.S. officer of the law, not Bahamian. He would make it all legal after they made it to the police station.
Damn, this was wonderful and sucked all at the same time. He hoped he hadn't blown their chance to really get the guy. If Sam walked because of his impatience then he would kick himself later, but for now he had one less killer on the streets.
Copyright Sara Thacker 2011
June 24, 2011
Last chance to enter
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Chapter 12: Part 4
Richard checked the lump on his head. The bitch had hit him hard. He'd lost time too. It was full dark out. They'd probably sailed out on Sam's boat. The damage he'd inflicted hadn't been enough to disable them permanently, just enough to delay the pair.
The radio had been a plus. Now they couldn't call the main island and send the police out. It would take them a few hours, maybe even till morning to get to the authorities. He had time to escape.
His head throbbed and his eyes stung. He needed some Tylenol. If he were back at his boat he could take a vicodin. He found no pills in the kitchen. He made his way down the hall to a bathroom. Nothing.
Each step reverberated in his brain. The ache intensified. Next thing he knew he was face down on the carpet in the master bedroom. He pulled himself over to a bag sitting beside the bed. The contents spilled out as he pulled it to him. Lipstick, pens, hand sanitizer, a wallet.
He pulled the wallet to him and flipped it open. A California driver's license poked out of the top pocket. With his thumb he pushed it all the way out. Delynn Anne Stewart. The picture matched the woman he'd been watching, except in the picture her hair was much lighter.
He closed his eyes, thinking about the woman. He knew her face, and not just from studying her the last few days. Maybe she'd been at a bar or a restaurant he'd inhabited.
Her image popped up in his mind. Only this time she'd been in danger, holding onto a rope while swinging against a building. He shook his head, trying to clear up the mismatched images.
There were more papers in her wallet. He pulled out an airline ticket. Mysti Blake was the name on the ticket from California to Miami. There was paperwork for a chartered flight. A passport had Delynn Anne Stewart and a contract for this house for one month had Mysti Blake.
Delynn Anne didn't want anyone to know who she was.
Richard closed his eyes and let his head rest on the soft carpet. It would be so easy to pull down the blanket and spend the night curled up in a ball on the floor of this luxurious house, but he had things that needed to be done.
If he stayed till morning the cops could be here. Being caught by the cops wasn't an option. He could claim a misunderstanding for what happened here on this island but if they snooped they might figure out what he had done.
Using the last of his strength he stumbled into the bathroom and struck gold. A bottle of painkillers sat on the counter. He took three and headed back to the kitchen. Food would help to clear his head.
After eating a peanut butter sandwich his head stopped spinning. He threw open the freezer searching for ice cream. There was none. Anything sweet and sugary would make him feel better. The carbohydrate rush would give him the energy boost he needed.
The girl only ate healthy. Nothing decadent, nothing bad for your health. He settled on some fruit and another sandwich. It had been too long since he last ate. Maybe that's why his head spun, not the knock the bitch had given him.
He thought about her again. Delynn wasn't the right name. He scrolled through possible names but nothing seemed right. But the face wasn't just any old face. She was special. More special than a nobody. Damn, where did he know her from?
He checked the time. Ten after four. Hell, the sun would be up soon, possibly bringing the authorities with him. The house was a mess. The kitchen littered with broken dishes.
Decisions had to be made. Either burn the place or just leave. The DNA wouldn't be totally obliterated unless he doused the place with an accelerant where he'd spilled his blood thus ensuring a full burn. He didn't have the time to stick around and make sure the fire took. What if the place was outfitted with sprinklers? Some of the new buildings hid the sprinklers to be more aesthetically pleasing.
If he set the fire and a sprinkler system put it out he'd be screwed. The police would be sure to swab every surface for DNA.
It wasn't worth the time or the hassle to burn the place. Richard grabbed the loaf of bread and some fresh fruit. He needed to keep his strength up if he was to find the pair and do away with them both.
Copyright Sara Thacker 2011
The radio had been a plus. Now they couldn't call the main island and send the police out. It would take them a few hours, maybe even till morning to get to the authorities. He had time to escape.
His head throbbed and his eyes stung. He needed some Tylenol. If he were back at his boat he could take a vicodin. He found no pills in the kitchen. He made his way down the hall to a bathroom. Nothing.
Each step reverberated in his brain. The ache intensified. Next thing he knew he was face down on the carpet in the master bedroom. He pulled himself over to a bag sitting beside the bed. The contents spilled out as he pulled it to him. Lipstick, pens, hand sanitizer, a wallet.
He pulled the wallet to him and flipped it open. A California driver's license poked out of the top pocket. With his thumb he pushed it all the way out. Delynn Anne Stewart. The picture matched the woman he'd been watching, except in the picture her hair was much lighter.
He closed his eyes, thinking about the woman. He knew her face, and not just from studying her the last few days. Maybe she'd been at a bar or a restaurant he'd inhabited.
Her image popped up in his mind. Only this time she'd been in danger, holding onto a rope while swinging against a building. He shook his head, trying to clear up the mismatched images.
There were more papers in her wallet. He pulled out an airline ticket. Mysti Blake was the name on the ticket from California to Miami. There was paperwork for a chartered flight. A passport had Delynn Anne Stewart and a contract for this house for one month had Mysti Blake.
Delynn Anne didn't want anyone to know who she was.
Richard closed his eyes and let his head rest on the soft carpet. It would be so easy to pull down the blanket and spend the night curled up in a ball on the floor of this luxurious house, but he had things that needed to be done.
If he stayed till morning the cops could be here. Being caught by the cops wasn't an option. He could claim a misunderstanding for what happened here on this island but if they snooped they might figure out what he had done.
Using the last of his strength he stumbled into the bathroom and struck gold. A bottle of painkillers sat on the counter. He took three and headed back to the kitchen. Food would help to clear his head.
After eating a peanut butter sandwich his head stopped spinning. He threw open the freezer searching for ice cream. There was none. Anything sweet and sugary would make him feel better. The carbohydrate rush would give him the energy boost he needed.
The girl only ate healthy. Nothing decadent, nothing bad for your health. He settled on some fruit and another sandwich. It had been too long since he last ate. Maybe that's why his head spun, not the knock the bitch had given him.
He thought about her again. Delynn wasn't the right name. He scrolled through possible names but nothing seemed right. But the face wasn't just any old face. She was special. More special than a nobody. Damn, where did he know her from?
He checked the time. Ten after four. Hell, the sun would be up soon, possibly bringing the authorities with him. The house was a mess. The kitchen littered with broken dishes.
Decisions had to be made. Either burn the place or just leave. The DNA wouldn't be totally obliterated unless he doused the place with an accelerant where he'd spilled his blood thus ensuring a full burn. He didn't have the time to stick around and make sure the fire took. What if the place was outfitted with sprinklers? Some of the new buildings hid the sprinklers to be more aesthetically pleasing.
If he set the fire and a sprinkler system put it out he'd be screwed. The police would be sure to swab every surface for DNA.
It wasn't worth the time or the hassle to burn the place. Richard grabbed the loaf of bread and some fresh fruit. He needed to keep his strength up if he was to find the pair and do away with them both.
Copyright Sara Thacker 2011
Red Skhye In Morning
Introducing Red Skhye in Morning. Delanie Skhye is desperate for paparazzi free time. Samuel Taylor is on break from work. He finds Delanie alone on a private island, but something is wrong. A killer
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