Authors: Andrew Hess
Claire slowly came to the next morning, waking in her own bed. For the life of her, she couldn’t remember how she got there. The last thing she remembered, she was at the restaurant and hurried to the bathroom thinking she had been drugged again. Claire ripped the covers off her body. Her hands patted herself down, noting she was still wearing the same clothes she wore the night before. Claire jumped out of the bed, wondering if she had taken home DeMarco or another man while she was under the influence. A sigh of relief escaped her mouth when she turned to find no one there.
Claire sat back down on the bed, resting her chin in her cupped hands. Her eyes wandered the floor, seeing her cherry silk robe and matching fuzzy slippers propped up against the wall in front of her.
“How did these get out?” Claire was meticulous when it came to cleaning and putting everything away. The fact that her slippers and robe were left out creeped her out, but didn’t shrug off the notion she did it in the midst of passing out. The question still lingered on her mind.
How did I get back here?
The sound of a door closing alerted her that someone either just walked in or left her house. “Hello, is someone there?” There was nothing but silence in reply. The paranoia she typically hid from all her friends and co-workers came bubbling to the surface. She ran from the room expecting to find a stranger standing in her living room checking out her stuff. Her feet came to a stumbling halt, finding the house empty. Her mind went back to the sound of a closing door and decided to check it. If someone was there, the door would still be unlocked. Claire hurried to the front door and checked the handle. It was locked. “How can that be? I know I heard it.” The next areas to investigate were the windows, but there was nothing wrong there either. In fact, there was no apparent forced entry, nothing broken, and nothing knocked over. Everything seemed to be perfectly set in its place just the way Claire left it.
Claire gave a deep sigh and threw herself on the couch. “What the hell happened last night?” Her answer sat right in front of her in a manila envelope on the coffee table. Eager to know what was inside, Claire yanked the envelope and thumbed through its contents. The first page was a letter addressed to her.
Dearest Claire,
I’m sure by now you are wondering what happened and how you got home last night. The bigger question weighing on your mind now is who am I and how did I get into your house. Let me start from the beginning. We may have run into each other last night, but we’ve been acquainted for several months. In fact we met the night you attended your first meeting.
Claire racked her brain trying to remember anyone she met that night. Her first meeting wasn’t too long after her attack and tried to avoid talking or interacting with anyone that wasn’t a friend, a family member or a co-worker.
I know everything you’ve gone through these last six months. I know what happened to you, and I know who did it.
What? How did this guy, whoever it was, know about something I only shared with one other person
? Her eyes were glued to the paper.
I have kept my distance for many months knowing you chose to put what happened to you in the past. I respected your decision until I learned of your attack on Blake Ambrose.
Oh my god, how does he know about that?
To say how proud I was of you would be an understatement. You were taking control for the first time in your life. The men you killed had a history of drugging women to get what they wanted. Last night you were about to make the same mistake you made over six months ago. I saw the path you chose to go down and tried to help you. I thought you would use the care package I sent you, but you opted not to use any of it to defend yourself against Dr. DeMarco
.
Was he saying what I thought he was saying?
Claire shook her head trying to dispel the notion.
A woman found you in the bathroom last night. Lucky for you, I was there to help. You could barely stand and was losing consciousness fast. I knew what that scum DeMarco did to you and what he wanted to do to you. I wasn’t going to let that happen again. So I intervened on your behalf and escorted you from the restaurant. Once you were safe, I took you home and tucked you in for the night.
Claire didn’t know if she should be completely creeped out or feel thankful that this mystery man came to her rescue.
Everything in this envelope will tell you all you need to know about Dr. Ron DeMarco. Look everything over before making any decision. I will be in touch.
Claire flipped the page around but didn’t see a name or anything to let her know who left the note for her. She searched the small packet finding newspaper clippings, articles and pictures. One of which was an article dated earlier in the year. There was an attack on the White House by a group of vigilantes. Many federal agents were injured, very few died. Ron DeMarco was one of the doctors brought in to help the wounded. In a picture time stamped for four thirty, the day of the attack, Ron DeMarco was caught taking money from a man in a suit outside the hospital. Another picture saw him assisting the same man in loading someone into a white van.
“Why the hell should I care about this?” Claire flipped to the back of the pictures and saw someone had written one word on the back.
Phoenix
Claire didn’t know what that was supposed to mean, nor did she really care. It was something that didn’t really show Dr. DeMarco doing anything wrong, at least not that she could see. She pushed the first set of photos aside and continued to the second set. The pictures were of her at a club. The picture didn’t show much due to how dark the bar was. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. Claire checked the next picture. It looked almost the same as the first, but was zoomed in more. This time she could see a man’s face in the background, but was still too difficult and far away for her to make out any distinguishable features. The final photo in the set was zoomed in even more. Claire’s face was now barely in the frame, but the man in the background was in clear view. She gasped as she recognized the man as her new boss, Ron DeMarco.
Claire had the proof she needed to confirm DeMarco was there that night. She believed he was there with the frat pack and had hit on her at the bar. Claire’s hands balled up into fists at the thought of what she went through that night and what her boss has put her through since he made his triumphant return to her life. She remembered what he said last night.
I’ve wanted you from the moment I first saw you
. She thought he meant when he saw her at the hospital or at some conference or someplace random. She didn’t think want to believe he was the one that stole her innocence, her confidence and her life.
Tears trickled down her face, but she wasn’t sad. Claire’s emotions were running too high. Anger consumed her mind, causing her to almost snap. She tried to put the envelope down on the coffee table, but felt something moving inside. She held out the palm of her hand and shook the envelope. A small square with a plastic see through cover slid out and into her grasp. Her heart started racing at the thought of what was on the disc.
“This is it; no turning back.”
She opened the case and popped the disc into her DVD player. The video was spliced together to show the important parts. In the first few moments, the screen showed Claire enter the bar with the time stamp of ten thirty. The next frame showed Ron DeMarco enter around ten forty-five. It seemed like a chance encounter; nothing out of the ordinary.
The video cut to later on in the night. Claire was dancing with a drink in her hand. In the background was Ron talking to a few guys at the bar. It quickly changed to the pair at the bar talking.
Claire flashed back to the night. She remembered going to the bar and some guy in khaki pants and a dress shirt tried picking her up and offered to buy her a drink. Claire accepted the drink, talked to the man for a few minutes before turning him down. She had ordered another drink while her other sat on the bar with a shot left. The bartender pushed the fresh drink towards her and she downed the remnants of the previous one.
Claire’s eyes focused in on the video. She was ordering the new drink and saw the man lean in and drop something into her glass. He was so quick with it that no one noticed. Claire received the new drink and finished off the one that was apparently drugged. She walked away from the bar with Ron DeMarco staring at her. It was the same image as the photos.
The final clips showed Ron and Claire dancing intimately on the dance floor. His hands were all over her and she reciprocated. His lips caressing her neck as they made their way to her jaw and then her mouth. A few moments later, Claire was being helped from the bar with her arm draped around Ron’s neck. They exited through the front doors as the video came to an end.
Claire’s eyes welled up with tears. She couldn’t remember any of that happening. Everything after that drink was a blur and that was all thanks to her new boss. She read the note that was left for her one more time. Her eyes scanned the part about reading over everything before making her decision, and she did. Claire took everything back into her bedroom and pulled the box the mystery man sent her. She nodded in response to it.
“Time to give you a taste of your own medicine.”
A night of partying does funny things to you. Sometimes you wake up refreshed and ready to take on the day. Most of the time you wake up with your head feeling like it’s trapped in a vice that’s being tightened. And other times you wake up in an awkward situation with no memory of how you wound up there. That’s how this morning turned out. The bed I woke up in wasn’t mine. It was softer and more comfortable than the one I was used to. I opened my eyes but didn’t have the heavy curtains blocking out the blinding sun, but I still enjoyed the soft fabric of the sheets against my bare skin.
My shirt, where was my shirt? I ignored the splitting headache that had the vein in my head thumping painfully against my temple and tried to push myself into a sitting position. Although, that was difficult to do with one of my arms handcuffed to the bed post.
“What the...” I tugged at the handcuffs, desperate to find my way out of the precarious situation. “Fuck, where are the keys?”
“Good morning to you too,” a voice said from the foot of the bed.
Oh god, tell me I didn’t go home with some random scumbag from the bar last night. I slowly turned my head to see the man sitting in a chair with his feet propped up on the bed. It was worse than I imagined. It was Detective Thornton.
“James, what are you...what am I...what happened last night?”
“You really don’t remember?”
“No,” I replied while pulling the covers up around my chest. He laughed at how uncomfortable I was. I jingled the cuffs against the wooden bed post. “Do you mind?”
James stood up and limped his way over to the bed. He took a set of keys from his pocket and pinched one between his thumb and forefinger. “Do you promise you won’t try to kick me again?”
“Again?” Damn, I couldn’t even remember the satisfaction of knocking the smug look off his face. “I promise I won’t kick you.” I put a fake smile on my face. “Unless you give me a reason to,” I whispered under my breath. He took the key and released me from the shackles that kept me at bay. I rubbed my wrist while trying to keep the sheet covering me. “Um, where’s my shirt?”
James’s lips curled as he prowled around the room. He bent down and picked up a dark blue blouse. He held it up with a finger. “I can’t believe you don’t remember our hot wild night.” He dropped the shirt on the bed close enough for me to reach it without moving too much.
My right hand cupped my face. I was mortified. I let things get too out of hand. I was too drunk to know what I was doing and slept with my partner. Worst of all, I couldn’t remember any of it.
“James, I-I don’t know what happened last night. I was...”
“Relax Ali, nothing happened between us.”
A huge weight lifted from my shoulders. “Then what did you mean about our hot wild night?”
“I found you at the bar last night. By the time I got there, you were trashed. I tried to get you to leave, but you refused to go.”
Part of me was thankful he showed up. The last time I went on a binge like that I almost hooked up with some creep. Amanda was there to put the brakes on that one. This time it was Thornton. “Wait, what the hell were you doing there in the first place?”
“You drunk texted me.” He took his phone out and showed me the message I apparently sent him last night.
Hey sexy; come to P&Gs so we can have a good time tonight.
“I guess this makes us even from the voicemail you left me?”
“Yeah, well at least my calls didn’t lead to me getting hurt.” I stared at him, apparently not understanding what he meant by that. “I tried to get you to leave and you tried to slap me. When I blocked it, you kissed me and then kneed me in the groin.”
I threw my shirt over my head and glanced back over the covers with my cheeks a light shade of pink. “James, I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”
“I’ll be fine. I got even by arresting you and carrying you out of the bar last night.” The smirk on his face told me he was telling the truth.
“You did what?”
“I had to get you out of there before you really did something stupid, and you wouldn’t listen to me.”
I shook off the pure humiliation of being arrested at the bar; my bar, the one where I knew half of the bouncers and some of the staff on a first name basis
.
I guess I was going back there anytime soon. “So how did I end up without a shirt? And how did I end up handcuffed to the bed?”
“You tried to come onto me again when we got here. You were came on strong again. Your hands were pulling me close to you and felt your lips on me.” He stared off into space for a minute, guessing he was thinking back to the kisses from last night. “I tried to put the brakes on again.” His gaze turned back to me. The fond memory of seeing me at my worst faded, and a look of annoyance took over. “Apparently the words no and stop don’t seem to apply to you. When I tried to stop you from doing something you’d regret, you started kicking me with your heels.” He rolled up his pant legs to show the cuts and bruises. “So I handcuffed you to the bed so you couldn’t do any more damage to me.”
“So we didn’t...”
“No, but it sure looked like you did.”
“James, that wasn’t me. That was just the alcohol.”
“I know. That’s why nothing happened between us other than a few moments of making out. By the way, you’re a great kisser.”
“You’re such an ass.” I didn’t mean it. He was actually a gentleman. And to think I thought he was someone who just used women for sex. “But thank you for being a good guy.”
“Ali, I like you. There’s no denying that. But I don’t want meaningless sex. I want something more.”
“James, I...” I didn’t know what to say. He was an attractive, and successful cop. He knew the kind of crap I faced on a daily basis. I would be a fool to turn him down, but I had to. “I just got out of a relationship. I loved him and...”
He held his hand up to silence me. “Ali, I get it.” His face had fallen with disappointment. “Let me take a quick shower and I’ll drive you back to your car.”
An hour later we drove back to New Paltz in silence. After a few minutes of driving around the block, we found my car and pulled up alongside it. “Thanks again for everything,” I said in a softer tone. I appreciated him being a gentleman and for stopping me from doing something I’d regret. But I couldn’t help but feel remorseful over rejecting him earlier.
“It’s no problem Ali. I guess I’ll see you around.”
I grabbed his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Yeah, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you...” I stared at the invisible watch on my left wrist. “In about two or three hours.”
He laughed at my ridiculous attempt at a joke. “Oh yeah, the case.”
I opened the passenger side door and scrounged around my purse for my keys. As I got to my car, I noticed a small bouquet of flowers sitting on the back seat. “Hey James,” he swiveled in his seat to look at me. “Did you leave these flowers for me?”
“What flowers?”
I opened the door and pulled out the bouquet. “You mean you didn’t leave these for me to find?”
He looked just as befuddled as I did. “Nope, not me.”
There was a card attached. I plucked it from the wrapping and read it.
Good morning my sweet sexy detective,
Did you miss me? I know it’s been a while. I’ve been quite busy, but you have been on my mind every day since our last encounter. You felt so good in my arms. I can’t wait to see you again. But I know how much you love the chase. So come find me.
“This is some kind of joke right?” I showed James the card. He merely shrugged his shoulders in reply. “You really didn’t send these?”
“No, you sure it wasn’t your boyfriend?”
I didn’t want to call Matthew. It was too soon after the break up for me to talk to him. Thankfully I got his voicemail. “Hey, sorry to bother you. I found a bizarre bouquet of flowers in my car today and was just wondering if you dropped them off. I guess just let me know one way or the other.”
“Everything all right,” James asked.
“I got his voicemail. I guess I’ll deal with it later. Come on; we have work to do and I need to shower before meeting with Rodney.”