Daddy's Little Killer

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

 

They say that a guilty man sleeps after he's caught. It implies that prior to arrest, he is too anxious to relax. Some people are just heavy sleepers. Some of us are not. I haven't had a night of uninterrupted sleep since my father's arrest. At least, that was the case until I landed in Darkwater Bay.

I expected to toss and turn for a couple of hours, get up, shower off the travel grime and mental fog from the general level of stress in my life and meet with the law enforcement fat cats. A latte IV would probably be part of my morning. Maybe an Adderall or two. Not that I have any. I've been subsisting on caffeine and stress stimulants for over a week now.

Which is why in retrospect, I think I crashed so hard when I fell asleep Wednesday morning in Darkwater Bay. Something jostled me, hard as bone maybe. I struggled to open my eyes, to discover the source of the jarring motion. My brain whispered reassurances. I fell out of bed. It was merely a dream. Nothing I thought happened since midnight was real, and the flight gear touching earth had penetrated my deep sleep.

"Helen, wake up."

I swatted at the whispered words. Go away. Let me sleep. Don't you know how hard it is for me to get into this condition?

"Shit."

All right. I was sliding. Mmm... satin sheets.

But firm pressure under the joint sockets in my arms jolted me awake in an instant. Blackness surrounded me. "What the...?"

"Quiet." 

"Where the hell-?"

A hand clapped over my mouth. "Be. Quiet."

The darkness, the deep sleep, the uncertainty of where I was or who dragged me there pulled me deeper into disorientation. I started to struggle. A single arm banded around me like a vice. 

"Helen, be still."

I was pressed against a hard body, and identifying the whispered voice was impossible. It occurred to me that we weren't standing. My feet weren't touching the floor. I stretched my toes downward. Nothing. Heavy breathing cascaded over my right shoulder, down my flimsy nightgown. All right. Wherever I am, he's behind me and he's holding me off the floor. He's very strong, and he's got to be tall.

The hand over my mouth gentled its grip. It wasn't much, but it offered enough slack to let me open my lips. I was poised to take a vicious bite when I heard another sound. Low voices murmured.

"... Not here... "

"... Get the laptop... "

I groaned. The grip on my mouth tightened.

"... Hear that?"

Tension radiated from the body holding mine. A second later, blinding light flickered to life above my head.

"Nobody in the john. You think she's still out investigating her little crime scene?" the voice sneered.

"Shut the light off and let's get the fuck outta here before she comes back."

"You know what he said," our bathroom guest spoke. "He wants her, not her goddamned laptop computer."

The voices rang a bell in my head. Not so much the sounds, but the sneer was very familiar. My eyes widened. I'd heard that sneer before. One mystery solved. Sort of. The men from D.C., they were still looking for me. I hadn't really doubted it, but indulged in a little delusional wishful thinking. Helen isn't an uncommon name after all. Outdated, yes, but not unusual.