ROMANCE: Military: SEALED BY APACHE (Military Soldier Navy SEAL Romance) (Alpha Male Billionaire Bad Boy Romance Short Stories) (13 page)

SAVING CHRISTINA

A Mystery Paranormal Romance

BY

Jasmine Jenson

CHAPTER ONE

It was late at night and I was sitting frozen in my chair, looking over some papers for the tenth time at least, trying to find some clue I’ve missed before.

It had to be there, somewhere in those pictures, in those files, hidden away between the lines, waiting for my desperate eye to spot it.

The case didn’t make sense so far, it all seemed random and the only thing I had on my side was a feeling that something was wrong, providing me with all the strength I needed to carry on. I had to keep looking.

As a favor to my late father to help support his down and out brother, I was living in a weary, old house at the time that belonged to my uncle. He is a plump and rather vicious old bastard who was as cheap as he was cruel, I had to rely on the unsteady light of some candles when the sun faded away, which was devastating for my work.

Whenever the light flickered my eyes would seize the opportunity to play tricks on me, creating and destroying shapes as they pleased, as if they were working against me…

I figured I was done for the day when I heard a knock on the door. It startled me and forced me to rapidly move all my sleeping limbs as I stood up like a frightened animal and started staring at the door.

I was waiting fearfully for the second knock but it never came. The person on the other side either felt above repeating such a mundane task or had already left.

Thoughts flew in all directions through my mind as I felt like a mere spectator in this entire scene. Not only was I puzzled by the prospect of some unknown late night visitor, but at the same time was afraid of my uncle’s scratching voice which followed the knock.

“Who is it?” he screamed sending a violent outburst of coughing to accompany that last word all over the room.

I waited silently. I thought he would give up and return to sleep and, after a couple of minutes, he really did. I put away all my investigation papers and approached the door.

There was some electricity in the air around me. I could feel someone on the other side of the door. Turning the knob carefully I opened it.

“Finally!” the dark silhouette in front of me exclaimed.

Misplaced light in the hallway hid the face of my female visitor and created a surreal atmosphere.

“Yes?” I whispered, a bit thrown off by this ghostly figure.

“I’ve been waiting for hours.”

“Hours?”

“Maybe days. I don’t know anymore.”

With this last sentence she lowered her head and I could see a glimpse of light in her eyes. It seemed she was crying. The darkness soothed her.

“Would you like to come in?” I managed to utter, somewhat fearful of my uncle’s reaction.

She took out one of those long cigarettes from a very small purse she kept in her right hand and, struggling for a while to find the lighter while casually wiping the tears, she looked at me. She was now a little closer so I could see her fully – huge green eyes, slightly deformed by the tears that left traces down her light face; sensual, shy lips and hair as dark as a moonless night.

“No…” she said abruptly.

I stared into her eyes and saw all the injustice that she felt at the moment. Her eyes were at the same time full of derision for people who hurt her somehow and full of innate compassion and vulnerability. Her weakness gave me strength.

“I would prefer,” she continued, “If we went somewhere public. I don’t like these confinements…I think I could live under a clear sky if it was possible.”

I nodded and in a manner of moments found myself outside with a coat in one hand and keys in the other. As we walked we remained silent, she was not keen on spending words and I wanted to make a good impression so I kept my mouth shut.

However, this silent time gave birth to many thoughts. I was so drawn in by her unique beauty and the seductive line of the dress she wore that I forgot about the first rule that I made when I became a private detective – ask the name first!

I realized I could have fallen straight into a trap. Furthermore, there were a couple of people that wanted me dead at the time and I cursed myself to think I had made such a rookie mistake for a pretty face.

We went inside a small diner, not far from where I lived. As we entered I carefully observed everyone inside; there was an old homeless man on the right eating his soup; a young couple sitting in a booth on the left and a policeman standing at the counter, paying for what appeared to be a cup of coffee. As we passed him by I caught his eye and for a moment I thought he recognized me. We hurried to our table and sat down, waiting to order.

“Just a cup of coffee, please,” she said with a faint smile as the waitress approached us.

“The same, thank you.”

I waited for her to light her cigarette and look straight into my eyes. I just remained silent. That’s the trick I learned over the years – if you want to make an impression, make someone pay attention to what you say, make them wait for your every word.

“I guess I owe you an explanation” she said after a couple of minutes of pure serenity.

“It’s 1a.m. and I’m in a smoky diner with extremely beautiful, suspicious and somewhat charming dark-haired gal. I guess you do…”

She smiled faintly and let her hair fall over her face. She lowered her head a little as if she was ashamed for a second and then looked straight at me, pleadingly.

“OK…You might not believe me but I have no choice…”

CHAPTER TWO

“So where do I begin?” she smiled nervously throwing her eyes all over the place, avoiding me.

“How about we start with your name?” I tried to establish myself as an authoritative figure, although it was clear I was completely under her spell. She could have confessed to a murder. I wouldn’t care. I’ve known this woman for all of ten seconds, and it was as though I felt fully complete just being in her presence. My thoughts of her wondrous appeal abruptly halted as she answered my inquiry.

“Yes, of course…I am Christina. Friends call me Tina but I don’t like that. It’s too generic. I’ve never liked it. So, yeah, Christina is good. Probably the best.”

She rambled on for a while. My line of work always had me meet people at a strange point in their life so I was used to them being frustrated, angry, difficult to understand and, of course, nervous about talking to me. I seemed to be the last resort for most people, so meeting me would mean facing all of their current demons. If they wanted my help, they would have to bare their soul to me. After a couple of minutes, Christina got it together somehow. She stopped for a second, looked straight into my eyes and sighed.

“I'm sorry. I’ll try to make a bit more sense now. My name is Christina Summers. I work for a man named Walcow. Does the name ring a bell?”

Walcow
!
Who could forget such a name?

“It does…”

“My boss – Jonathan Walcow…He's missing. I found your name on his desk. He was writing to you,” she reached into her purse and pulled out a small piece of paper, “Here!” She touched my hand gently, as I took the letter from her. A split second that seemed to freeze time, and somehow I knew everything, from this moment, would change as I felt my heart stand still in the depth of timelessness in her gaze.

The letter only had a couple of sentences. He obviously hadn’t finished it. It read:

Rudy, it’s time! You’ll get to play an important role in all of this although you didn’t plan to. I would say that I am sorry, but I am not. It should begin soon. I think that…

His words didn’t make sense. However, his name triggered the memories that started to appear in my mind. I had met Jonathan about ten years prior to that moment. I remembered the long, brown coat he was wearing and the disconcerted look on his face. He needed me to find some people and get as much info on them as possible. I remembered that he threw a stack of money on the table before I managed to utter anything. I had been young and needed the money.

“So,” she said, “It seems you know him?”

“Mrs. Summers, you know I can’t discuss my clients.”

“It’s
Miss
Summers, actually.”

A careless smile spread across my face. Her correction meant something. She wanted me to know that before she continued her inquiry.

“He was your client then?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“What are you saying?”

I smiled. She didn’t. Instead, I saw helplessness in her eyes, as if feeling betrayed by me. She stood up and spoke hopeless from duress. 

“Listen; please don’t play games with me. If you’re not willing to help me…” All of a sudden she stopped talking. Her eyes caught someone else right behind me. I turned around and saw the policeman standing at the counter looking at her while his right hand rested close to his handgun holster. It seemed like I was taken out of the equation.

“Mr. Banks …Rudy, I-I have to go now,” she whispered slowly grabbing her purse with her left hand, “I can’t stay here. I am…sorry. I wish I could stay with you…and explain.”

Looking deeply into my eyes, as if I should know her secret, she started to move towards the back door. I heard the policeman’s voice coming from behind me.

“Stop! Stay right there, please. I don’t want to have to use this.”

She continued to move slowly toward the back door.

“It’s a mistake. Just let me go. I haven't done anything!” Suddenly she looked at me and whispered, “Rudy, please help me…”

With these words she started to run towards the door. The policeman pulled out his gun and followed her movement, trying to get a good aim. Then something unprecedented happened.

My mind couldn’t process everything that was happening.
Why is she running? Why is the policeman trying to shoot an unarmed, innocent woman? What is my role in all of this?
I couldn’t answer any of these questions. I just kept repeating one sentence in my head, over and over again –
I need more time!

Awaiting the blast of the gun, I instinctively closed my eyes and lowered my head slightly. A couple of seconds passed. Then a couple more. Then a whole minute. Nothing happened. It puzzled me.
What happened? Did he decide not to shoot? Did she manage to run away?
I told myself that I would have to open my eyes and make sure, there was no other way.

I opened my eyes. There she was, going for the door, same as before. The most beautiful, compelling woman I have ever known. What was different, however, is the fact that she moved at an incredibly slow rate, almost as if she was still. I could practically see every single thought coming into her head and making micro changes on her face. I turned around only to see that everyone around me was moving at the same speed. The policeman apparently pulled the trigger but I could only see the initial blast. The bullet was yet to come.

My mind was baffled but I quickly realized what I had to do. The explanation would have to wait. I stood up slowly, fearing the upcoming bullet. I grabbed the chair I was sitting on and using all the strength I had tried to move it up towards the bullets trajectory. The chair moved only inches on my initial try. I pushed as hard as I could and after a couple of seconds, I succeeded.

Time began to flow as usual. Christina was gone. The bullet hit my chair that flew over the counter. The policeman was confused for a few moments but, semi-realizing what happened, aimed the gun at me and told me to lie down on the floor with my hands on my head. I complied, there was no need to further aggravate what seemed to be a rather bad situation for me.

“What did you do?” The policeman yelled at me as he took out his handcuffs and restrained my movement.

I thought to myself –
I wish I knew.

CHAPTER THREE

The cigarette was in the ashtray on the table in front of me. I watched the smoke as it curled upwards and through the small vent in the ceiling. It looked so uninhibited, so free and wild, while calm at the same time. The funny thing is, all the time that I spent in the interrogation room, waiting for the detectives to tell me they had nothing on me, I watched the smoke go up and imagined Christina. The elegant smoky line perfectly matched the line of her body, at least in my imagination. I couldn’t stop thinking about her.

A loud noise roused me from my daydreaming. It was the sound of doors being slammed behind me. They had finally decided to come in.

“Get up,” one of the two detectives that came in yelled at me. He was holding a handcuffs key and I automatically lifted my chained hands towards him. It wasn’t the first time that I had been in that room.

“I was beginning to think you forgot about me…” I said with a clearly arrogant smile on my face. I even rubbed my wrists after they took my cuffs off, as they do in the movies.

“Get the hell out!” the first detective screamed at me, while the other one slowly approached me and putting his hand on my back, said that he would escort me out. I’ve never trusted the polite ones. They're usually the worst. As we walked through the precinct I could see the policeman from the diner giving his baffled statement to a bored clerk. I also spotted a couple of familiar faces staring at me. I ignored them and slowly went outside.

The rain was pouring down.
I knew my raincoat would come in useful
I thought jokingly.

The detective that escorted me out observed the rain for a while, then reached out for a cigarette in his pocket and lit it. He inhaled deeply and started to speak.

“I do like these heavy rain showers. I have a feeling that the city is cleansed all of a sudden. The smell of the street rises and disappears into the sky. People hide inside their houses. Curiously enough, they even say that only a small percentage of killings happen in the rain. Interesting, right?”

“No, not really.” I was being deliberately unpleasant. I had learned long time ago that you should never be too friendly with the police. They are never off-duty.

He smiled, looked at me and offered me his hand.

“Yeah, I don’t believe we actually met. You may know some of the other detectives but I'm new here. The name’s Michaels.”

“I’m Rudy Banks.”

“Yeah, I know who you are. What I can’t connect, however, is how you know Miss Summers…Old friends?”

“Who?”

“Mr. Walcow’s personal assistant. He was a client of yours, wasn’t he?”

“Again, who?”

“You know, Mr. Banks, I did a little background check on you. You're not quite police-friendly.”

“It’s the police that are not me-friendly…”

“Funny…” He said without ever changing his facial expression. “I still don’t get one thing. Where are you in this story? I mean…Walcow, his lover…Where do
you
fit in there?”

He managed to crawl under my skin and dig out some of my emotions. Carelessly I spilled them out with just a couple of words.

“His lover?”

The corners of his lips slowly started to curve upwards.

“Yes, Miss Summers…That’s why she's helping him. Did you really think this was all part of her job description?” He smiled and continued to taunt me, “Oh wait…so this is some kind of a love triangle, eh? Or are you trying to eliminate the third party from the equation? Giving up Walcow will help us take care of that for you.”

She was involved with him.
Makes sense…You sure know how to pick them Rudy. Or did she pick me? What is going on here? I feel as though I’ve known her, but how? Maybe he’s lying about her involvement, who wouldn’t be attracted to her after all? He’s probably just trying to get to me and read the answers straight off of my face; it’s what I would do.

“I still don’t know who those people are…”

“Yes…” He smiled again. “It would be most unfortunate if we caught you in her company again, Mr. Banks. I’ll arrest you myself. Even if it means breaking your hands in the process, you got me?” He whispered the last couple of words as if they were a poem. Like I said, the pleasant ones were always the worst.

“Sure. If I see her I’ll let you know.”

I had decided to walk home. It was going to be a long walk but I didn’t mind. I needed to clear my head and rewind the situation at the restaurant.
What the hell happened?
I had to start somewhere. Walcow…

As soon as I got home I dived into my papers. Fortunately I kept detailed records on everyone and everything. I knew it would come in useful.

“There you are!” the beaten down voice of my uncle echoed through the room.

“Not now! I'm busy.”

“Busy getting arrested, eh?” He sniggered at me. I ignored him as much as possible.

Walcow…Walcow…There he is!
I'd put all of the suspicious files in one folder. Of course, he was there. The younger me seemed much wiser than the current one. I pulled out the file and studied it.

“So, you're just going to ignore me, eh? You little rascal…”

The file didn’t have a picture, which was somewhat odd. I simply guessed that some extra cash helped disregard such a formality. He had hired me to find three people, which I did. I remember thinking how the three seemed rather normal and uninteresting. I wasn’t even sure how they were connected. Regardless, I did my part.

“Now, listen to me. As long as you’re under my roof and eating my food you’re going to respect me!”

First on the list was Martha Ilton. There was an address, phone number and even a shady picture that I managed to take, hiding behind a dumpster or something like that.

“Do you hear me, boy?”

“Uncle, that’s enough! This may be your roof but it’s my money that keeps it together. I pay the bills, I buy the food, I do everything around here as a favor for you, so don’t you DARE speak to me like that again. Alright?”

I could see the terror in his eyes. I didn’t mean to be so harsh on him but he deserved it. He huffed for a couple of seconds and stormed off into his room. After that initial slam, it was as silent as a grave.

“I’m sorry.” I whispered through the door and left the house. I needed to find Martha. I thought she could give me some answers.

I walked through the narrow streets, sliding in and out of the darkness to avoid being followed, cutting corners when possible and taking a few of the well-known shortcuts. Even though this method had proved to be rather successful in the past, this time it seemed to have failed. After a half an hour of doing this maneuver, from the corner of my eye, I spotted a dark silhouette lurking in the shadows not far from where I was. I took a couple more steps and heard the rustling of trees somewhere behind me. Someone was there. Someone wanted me dead. My gun was back home and I was never much good in a bare-knuckle fight so I started to run. The silhouette did the same. There were a couple of them. As I was running I heard the voice in my head say
DO IT! NOW!
Suddenly I realized what it meant.

I stopped. The leaves stopped rustling. The traffic from a couple of streets away became silent. Everything froze up. Again.

I know how it works now. I know what to do.