I See You by Ker Dukey, D.H. Sidebottom Page B
Authors: Ker Dukey, D.H. Sidebottom
Tags: Novel
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that I daren’t swallow the moisture suddenly coating my mouth. I beg my heart to stop beating, its frantic rhythm loud in the solitude of my hiding place.
The faint squeal is the front door opening, and I hate myself when I start to weep. I can’t do this again. I won’t survive it again.
Footsteps thump across the floor and I huddle further back into the closet, praying to God for the first time in my life as I try desperately to hold my breath.
“Hello!” a man shouts. I frown. Would he actually call out? To him this would be a game, of hide and seek, life and death, and I’m sure he wouldn’t allow me any inkling of where he is. “Hello, Ma’am? It’s Sheriff Logan. You called in an emergency.”
I blow out a breath, my heart threating to tear through my breastbone in relief. Creaking open the door slightly, a flash of light illuminates the wall above my head from the sheriff’s flashlight. He peers down at me when I poke my head out and smiles. “Nina Drake?”
I nod, whimpering as I scramble out. “Oh, thank God.”
“I’m so sorry it took me a while. The girl who mans the phones went into labor tonight, left me and my sergeant on our own, and of course it has to be the busiest night of the year,” he rambles, with a huge welcoming smile. Sensing my panic, he studies me and straightens his shoulders. “You dialed 911 about someone entering your premises and your friend being kidnapped and hurt.”
I frown. “My friend is okay.”
Pulling out a small flipbook, he points his light at it and squints at the page then looks back at me. “Steve?”
“Oh.” I shake my head. “Steve isn’t my friend, he’s my cat.”
I want to recoil when he stiffens and stares at me in bewilderment. “You called 911 because your cat is missing?” His shock is as clear, as his disgust with me, but I shake my head.
“You don’t understand.”
“Then would you care to explain?” His lip curls slightly as his eyes trace down my body with his torchlight. I tell myself that he’s checking for injuries, not actually checking me out. When I’m unable to get the horror of my past out, he blinks at me, the contempt he shows offering me no solace.
“Ma’am? Would you care to tell me why you called an emergency service for a missing cat when I have extremely important calls to answer?” He steps towards me. “Calls that are real emergencies.”
I stare at him, my mouth open like a goddam fish but still my nerves allow nothing out.
“MA’AM?”
I jump back, his anger forcing more tears to slide down my face. “He . . . assaulted me . . . he’s coming . . .” It’s all I can manage, my voice quiet with both shame and terror.
He frowns at me, his head tilting to the side as his expression softens. It’s obvious he’s seen my fear. Reaching out, his fingers curl softly around my arm. “Please, come and sit down.” Directing me slowly across the path of his light, he leads me to the sofa. “The lights are out within a forty kilometer vicinity,” he explains as he perches on the sofa beside me and lays his light on the table so the beam is directed towards us. “Damn storm.”
I stare at the fire, my heart rate a little slower, but my senses are hyper-alert, my eyes still skimming over every inch of the room.
“Would you like to tell me what’s going on?” Sheriff Logan presses softly.
I can’t seem to control my own body, and I sit there, mute and numb. Swallowing back the bile I try and explain, with as little detail as possible.
“My cat . . . my old cat. He was . . . killed.”
The sheriff nods but his face doesn’t express what he’s thinking, which is probably that he thinks Ginger was run over, or poisoned by a farmer with a grudge.
Keeping my gaze on the flames of the fire, I squeeze my eyes closed. “His killer attacked me. He . . . he raped me and . . . hurt me. And he promised that he would be back.”
The sheriff nods and squeezes my arm soothingly. “Okay,
The faint squeal is the front door opening, and I hate myself when I start to weep. I can’t do this again. I won’t survive it again.
Footsteps thump across the floor and I huddle further back into the closet, praying to God for the first time in my life as I try desperately to hold my breath.
“Hello!” a man shouts. I frown. Would he actually call out? To him this would be a game, of hide and seek, life and death, and I’m sure he wouldn’t allow me any inkling of where he is. “Hello, Ma’am? It’s Sheriff Logan. You called in an emergency.”
I blow out a breath, my heart threating to tear through my breastbone in relief. Creaking open the door slightly, a flash of light illuminates the wall above my head from the sheriff’s flashlight. He peers down at me when I poke my head out and smiles. “Nina Drake?”
I nod, whimpering as I scramble out. “Oh, thank God.”
“I’m so sorry it took me a while. The girl who mans the phones went into labor tonight, left me and my sergeant on our own, and of course it has to be the busiest night of the year,” he rambles, with a huge welcoming smile. Sensing my panic, he studies me and straightens his shoulders. “You dialed 911 about someone entering your premises and your friend being kidnapped and hurt.”
I frown. “My friend is okay.”
Pulling out a small flipbook, he points his light at it and squints at the page then looks back at me. “Steve?”
“Oh.” I shake my head. “Steve isn’t my friend, he’s my cat.”
I want to recoil when he stiffens and stares at me in bewilderment. “You called 911 because your cat is missing?” His shock is as clear, as his disgust with me, but I shake my head.
“You don’t understand.”
“Then would you care to explain?” His lip curls slightly as his eyes trace down my body with his torchlight. I tell myself that he’s checking for injuries, not actually checking me out. When I’m unable to get the horror of my past out, he blinks at me, the contempt he shows offering me no solace.
“Ma’am? Would you care to tell me why you called an emergency service for a missing cat when I have extremely important calls to answer?” He steps towards me. “Calls that are real emergencies.”
I stare at him, my mouth open like a goddam fish but still my nerves allow nothing out.
“MA’AM?”
I jump back, his anger forcing more tears to slide down my face. “He . . . assaulted me . . . he’s coming . . .” It’s all I can manage, my voice quiet with both shame and terror.
He frowns at me, his head tilting to the side as his expression softens. It’s obvious he’s seen my fear. Reaching out, his fingers curl softly around my arm. “Please, come and sit down.” Directing me slowly across the path of his light, he leads me to the sofa. “The lights are out within a forty kilometer vicinity,” he explains as he perches on the sofa beside me and lays his light on the table so the beam is directed towards us. “Damn storm.”
I stare at the fire, my heart rate a little slower, but my senses are hyper-alert, my eyes still skimming over every inch of the room.
“Would you like to tell me what’s going on?” Sheriff Logan presses softly.
I can’t seem to control my own body, and I sit there, mute and numb. Swallowing back the bile I try and explain, with as little detail as possible.
“My cat . . . my old cat. He was . . . killed.”
The sheriff nods but his face doesn’t express what he’s thinking, which is probably that he thinks Ginger was run over, or poisoned by a farmer with a grudge.
Keeping my gaze on the flames of the fire, I squeeze my eyes closed. “His killer attacked me. He . . . he raped me and . . . hurt me. And he promised that he would be back.”
The sheriff nods and squeezes my arm soothingly. “Okay,