Page 21

Chapter

Eight

The shrill buzzing of her alarm clock found its way inside her dream.

It took Florence a moment to realize what the noise was and what it meant.

Groggily, she sat up and rubbed at her eyes, was it really time to get up already? It felt like she’d only just dragged herself to bed and burrowed under her covers. She must have fallen asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow because she didn't remember lying awake and fretting.

Fretting.

That was a new experience for her.

She wasn't someone who was neurotic or who worried about things, but ever since she’d met Eli, she couldn’t seem to stop this back and forth argument in her head.

The two sides of her couldn’t seem to come to an agreement.

The insecure side of her insisted that she and Eli weren't compatible given their vastly different upbringings, and wanted to convince her that he was only interested in the challenge she presented, being probably the only woman who had ever turned him down.

But the part of her that had already survived more than most people did in an entire lifetime, and all before she was old enough to vote, insisted that Eli liked her, she liked him, they had fun together, and there was definitely sexual attraction, so she may as well jump right on in and give this relationship everything she had and see where it ended up.

“You are going crazy,” Florence muttered to herself as she threw back the covers.

This new neuroticism was not fun, nor did she find it attractive.

She was a practical kind of girl, she liked simple things, she was comfortable with simple things, and this constant obsessing was only serving to annoy herself.

At least her headache was gone.

When she got to her apartment she’d taken the long hot bath she’d so desperately needed before falling into bed, but she’d skipped dinner, and now her stomach was protesting with a growl.

She’d intended to hit the gym before going to work this morning but was rethinking that now.

If she went to the gym she’d miss Eli when he came to pick her up, and she felt like she owed him an apology for last night.

The headache hadn't been a lie, but she often got stress headaches, and she could have— should have—invited Eli up and let him cook her dinner and give her a massage. So far, in this little almost relationship that they had going, he had given a lot more than she had. All she’d had was doubt and insecurity and consistently turning him down.

Well, it was time to change that.

She wasn't a coward, and she had to stop acting like one. So she’d had her trust violated on multiple occasions, that was nothing to do with him. Would it really kill her to hand out her trust one more time? She’d survived everything else.

“Big girl panties.” She reminded herself as she stood and stretched.

After deciding she’d have something to eat first, then shower and get dressed, she’d hang out here and wait for Eli to come and pick her up.

Missing one morning at the gym wasn't going to hurt her, she’d just pester Jake to run with her at lunchtime until he finally gave in.

Her partner was not a runner, but he had been known to cave and go with her on occasion, usually after she’d hounded him about it.

Picking up her cell phone from the dresser she checked to see if she had messages.

Eli had been going to text her goodnight, but she’d crashed as soon as she got into bed and had missed the message.

She hoped he hadn't thought it was because she was shutting him out because she wasn't. Well, not really anyway.

Florence was reading Eli’s text as she walked into the living room when she realized she wasn't alone.

Her gun was in its lockbox in her bedroom, and she was spinning around to go and get it when someone slammed into her from behind. She was thrown up against the wall before she had a chance to do anything about it.

“Stop,” the man hissed. “I'm not here to hurt you, I'm here to help you.”

“You break into people’s houses to help them?

” she spat, annoyed with herself for not being more aware.

She was always aware of her surroundings, and not just because she was a cop.

It was a skill she’d had to learn as a kid if she wanted to keep her mother’s boyfriends out of her bedroom.

Now one moment of distraction was going to get her killed.

“Are you going to stop struggling?” her attacker asked as he pressed her body against the wall, using his superior strength and size to keep her there.

He had a leg pinning hers, and his hands wrapped around her wrists as he held them above her head.

His other hand was planted firmly between her shoulder blades, and she could barely turn her head to the side.

She knew every self-defense move ever designed, she taught classes, she was a cop for goodness sake, and yet none of that changed the facts that she was five foot one and didn't even weigh in at one hundred pounds, there was nothing she could do to get away from this man.

That wasn't going to stop her from trying though.

Forcing herself to go against her instincts, Florence stopped fighting and let herself go still, the only chance she had was to let him think she wasn't a threat, then when he let his guard down, she’d make her move.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“I told you already, I'm here to help you.”

“With what?” It was unlikely he was here to rape her because if he had been he would have gone after her when she was in bed, asleep, and vulnerable.

“Your case.”

Case?

So he knew she was a cop.

That meant this wasn't some random break-in, he’d deliberately targeted her because of her profession, and she had to wonder if this was about the Dumpster Killer case. Was this the killer she and Jake had been hunting? Someone had been watching her apartment the other morning, was it this man?

“Which case?” she asked, if this was the killer then she wanted to get him talking.

“You know. You're close, you know it was him who nearly ran you down the other night, and the sketch that was shown on the news is him, he’s an electrician, his name is Michael Stypes.”

Michael Stypes?

He was one of the two top suspects on their list, she and Jake had looked into him and another man yesterday, they’d planned to go and speak with him today.

How did this man know that?

How did he know she’d nearly been run over?

Was he following her?

Who was he?

There was no way that he could have known about the car that nearly hit her unless he had been there, so he was either one of the people interviewed as a witness or the one driving the car.

Could this be the killer?

Was he trying to throw her off, get her to look at someone else so she wouldn’t look at him? But if he was, then how did he know the name of one of their suspects?

“Are you Michael?” she asked.

“No, of course not. But you need to go and pick him up before he kills again.”

“How do you know it’s Michael? How do you know about the car?”

“You’re welcome,” he said pointedly.

Sensing that he was relaxing, he’d told her what he wanted to say, and now he was going to make his move. Whether that was to leave or to kill her she wasn't waiting around to find out.

She lifted her leg and kicked sideways, connecting squarely with his kneecap.

The man grunted in pained surprise and his grip on her loosened.

Taking advantage, Florence threw her head back, connecting with his chin and by the pain that ricocheted around her head, she knew she had hurt him.

Twisting enough that she could get her arms free she raked her fingernails down his arm, hoping that she could get a clean DNA sample for whoever found her body if she didn't make it out of this alive.

Using her cast to her advantage, she swung it at his face and slammed it into him.

Pain lanced through her wrist, but she ignored it and swung at him again.

“Stop,” the man hissed. “I told you I don’t want to hurt you, but if you won't stop, you're not giving me any choice.”

There was no way she was stopping.

Obviously sensing this, the man delivered his own blow to her head, connecting with her temple and making her see stars. He hit her a second time, then a third, and a fourth, and by then her head was swimming so badly that she didn't have a chance at fighting back.

He released his hold on her, and she fell to the floor, her legs unable to hold her up.

The man stood above her, but her vision was blurry now, her body uncooperative, and the tides of unconsciousness were lapping at the edges of her mind.

6:40 A.M.

Eli had gone back and forth with himself over coming here, but in the end, he decided that he couldn’t stay away.

He was making a real effort not to push too hard, not to pressure her too much, to take a step back and give Florence some space, but he couldn’t do it.

Last night when she hadn't replied to his goodnight texts asking how she was feeling, he’d been ready to leave the ball in her court, let her take the next step.

This morning he’d woken up and known he couldn’t do that.

Something was urging him to fight for her and keep fighting for as long as it took for her to get the message.

Maybe Florence needed to know that she was worth it.

All her life she’d felt disposable, not good enough, her father hadn't stuck around, her mother had put boyfriends and alcohol ahead of her children, she hadn't had friends to support her, she’d been alone every step of the way, no wonder she had trouble believing him.