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  For once Detective Thornton was right. Although, there was no way I’d openly admit it. “We’ll have our people look into it.”

  Detective Thornton gave a sly smile that told me he already had his team running through the video and was searching for our suspect before we even had a chance to finish lunch.

  “So Detective Ryan, how did things go with our victim’s house? Were you able to find anything to help our investigation?”

  My cheeks flushed red. Heat was building up inside. I was ready to lash out and put Thornton in his place. “The warrant was denied,” I mumbled.

  “What was that,” Thornton mocked with his hand held behind his ear. His mocking tone was pissing me off and was pushing me to my breaking point.

  “The warrant was denied. Ambrose put his secretary as next of kin and she didn’t want anyone going into the office or the victim’s house. A.D.A. Reed refused to push for a search warrant without listing something specific to look for.”

  Thornton’s devilish grin was spread from ear to ear. He was one up on us and was loving every minute of it. “Sounds like you had a rough day. Maybe I should’ve gone there to help. I do have a way of getting what I want.” His eyes darted quickly to me, staying there for just a moment before switched back to Rodney.

  Was this guy for real? He surely thought so. But if he was insinuating he wanted me, then he was in for a rude awakening. “You know what, next time I go there, I’ll be more than happy to bring you with me.” I hated spending any time with him, but A.D.A. Reed would tear him apart if he tried pulling the whole cocky macho man routine.

  He turned and focused his hypnotic green eyes on me. If he wasn’t such an asshole maybe his Jedi mind trick would work on me. His wolfish grin confirmed the object of his latest desire was me.

  Chapter 10-Claire

  Pretending had Claire’s best defense mechanism since she was a kid. She pretended not to hear the disparaging remarks her fellow students made about her being a nerd or a prude. She pretended not to notice boys until she was almost through college. Now, her favorite defense mechanism did its best to block the memory of her killing Blake Ambrose. As long as Claire kept herself busy, she was a rock. Nothing fazed her. Her focus remained on her patients until she visited each one of them. They shared jokes which cheered up the patients which helped Claire take her mind off of her own problems as well.

  Claire kept the all-consuming beast at bay for as long as she could. But it was poised to strike, like a predator hunting its prey. The fear was nipping at her heels the moment she walked through her front door. It jeopardized everything she worked so hard for, her job, her future, and her life. A painful migraine pulsated the sides of her head bringing Claire to her knees next to her couch. Tears broke through the dam her eyes built as a defense. The stress had become insurmountable and she was in danger of losing control. It was the same way she felt the morning after she was drugged and raped.

  Claire’s mind wandered back to that day. After struggling to locate her clothes, she completed the proverbial walk of shame. The name was fitting. It was exactly how she felt at the time. She felt dirty and used, ashamed that she let her guard down, and embarrassed at the thought of the things she did before and after leaving the bar. At that time, Claire refused to let something like this rip her from her responsibility as a doctor. She dressed at home and marched into the hospital as if nothing happened.

  The admission of what happened would’ve made it real. Going to the police about it would only force her to relive the worst night and morning of her life over and over again. That’s when she found a flyer posted on one of the bulletin boards at the hospital. The black and white photo would’ve been passed over immediately had it not been for the picture of the gorgeous couple taking up the majority of the page. The man was dressed in a nice suit, although the black and white image didn’t do the suit justice. His slicked back hair and clean shaven appearance let his handsome features standout from any picture of the male models Claire was used to seeing. The hot blond was wearing an elegant gown with a slit up the side and sparkly shoes that most women would die to wear. The duo appeared to be spending a night on the town. At their feet lay a broken picture of a younger version of the man. This version wore glasses and had his hair plastered to his head. The bow tie, suspenders and button down shirt had the obvious intention of making the younger version appear to be the stereotypical high school geek. The top of the page had the bold words; Find the Success You Want.

  Success wasn’t something Claire needed. Being a doctor was the epitome of success in her mind. Confidence was something she lacked. Any shred of that had been ripped away from her that morning. The picture exuded what was taken from her and she wanted it back. Without hesitation, Claire attended the next meeting and was hooked from that moment on. It had given her the boost, the motivation, she needed to get her life back on track. It started with her purchasing a gym membership and sessions to work with a personal trainer. It was meant to help her shed some weight, but she didn’t expect it to become an addiction, an addiction that buried the stress and pain she had been dealing with. As long as she hit the gym, her stress levels never reached that critical point again, that was until she killed a man.

  That’s it, Claire thought. She jumped up from the floor and raced into her bedroom to her dresser. Her hands yanked open the drawers as she frantically searched for a pair of black yoga pants and a bold red tank top. Red had always been Claire’s favorite color. She owned more red dresses that anyone she knew. Every car she ever owned was another variation of the color; cherry red, flaming red, crimson red. She wouldn’t purchase the vehicle unless it came in some form of red. It was a warm color that some say elicit anger from those who see it. To Claire, it had a calming effect.

  Claire took the clothes and packed them into a duffle bag, taking them with her as she rushed off to the gym. It was later than her usual time, but still saw some of the friendly faces she was used to. One man in particular was overly excited to see her walk through the doors.

  Tyson Lee was a dark skinned man with bulging muscles that stuck out from his navy blue tank top. He spotted Claire from across the room and smiled as he continued barking orders to the woman using the lateral bar machine. He whispered something in the woman’s ear before walking to the front of the gym.

  “Hey Claire, I didn’t expect to see you today.”

  “Hi Tyson.” Claire clutched her duffle bag nervously. She didn’t know why she got defensive around him. As the personal trainer, Tyson was an intimidating specimen, but he was one of the nicest guys. He had taken Claire under his wing and showed her how to use the machines properly and how to piece together the right workout routine that would maximize weight loss and increase muscle.

  “I’m with a client right now, but I should be done in about ten minutes.” He held up both hands to illustrate how long he would be.

  “It’s okay. I’m just here to do some cardio and blow off some steam.” Claire’s uneasiness and stress demanded her full attention. She didn’t have time to devote to Tyson and his charming ways.

  Tyson hurried over to Claire and placed his large sweaty hands on her shoulder. “Is everything all right.”

  Claire shifted to her side and slipped out from Tyson’s firm grasp. “I’m fine; just the usual work stuff.” Her instincts were telling her to get away from him. She didn’t know why, but she was listening for a change. “I better get changed.” She glanced around Tyson and saw the woman getting up from the butterfly press. “Besides, I think your client is looking for you.”

  Tyson checked behind him and saw the woman storming up to the counter. “Damn, I can’t get rid of this woman,” he moaned.

  Claire was happy to remove herself from Tyson and from his client. She entered the women’s locker room and switched into her workout clothes. She returned to the gym floor a few minutes later and grabbed one of the treadmills that overlooked the parking lot. She did a few lunges and stretches to warm up. But ev
ery time she moved, it felt like someone was watching her. Was someone following me? Did they know?

  Claire turned and scanned the room. Nothing seemed out of sorts. No one looked like they didn’t belong. Claire shrugged her shoulders and hopped onto the treadmill. She started at a slow pace for the first minute and increasing it into a brisk walk for the second. By the third minute she was up to a jog. Her long brown hair bobbed up and down landing gently on her shoulders.

  “Damn Claire, you’re looking good,” Tyson said as his eyes devoured Claire until he stepped onto the treadmill next to her.

  “Thanks,” Claire replied. She didn’t want to break stride and couldn’t let herself get distracted. She kept her eyes locked on the parking lot blocking out everything else around her.

  “I was surprised to see you tonight. You haven’t been around much and missed our last two appointments.”

  Was he keeping tabs on me; Claire thought. She increased the speed and quickened her pace to a full run. Tyson kept talking to her, but she ran faster to drown out his voice. Her heart was pounding so hard she felt like it was about to burst from her chest. By the ten minute mark, she was done but was still running at level seven on the treadmill. Her feet jumped to the sides allowing her to take a break. Her breathing was erratic, but Tyson was relentlessly trying to continue a conversation she wanted no part in.

  Claire pulled the red tab from the treadmill, effectively shutting it down without using the cool down period. Once the track stopped, she stepped down and retrieved the wipes to sanitize the machine. The feeling like someone was watching her continued. She shrugged it off thinking it was just paranoia creeping in. She moved to the water fountain. The cold water soothed her thirst, but the belief someone was following her continued. Claire quickly stood hoping to catch the voyeuristic antagonist off guard, but no one was there.

  She moved to the weight machines, letting her eyes dart around the room for anyone suspicious. The butterfly press was the first stop on the circuit Tyson helped set up for her. Ten reps per set, minimum three sets per machine. She knew if she worked slowly and used the resistance to build her muscles. But Claire needed to push her workout to an extremely fast paced routine that would tear her mind from the fear that plagued her.

  “That’s three,” Claire growled as she set the weights back down. The next station was supposed to be bicep curls or the bench press, but Claire opted to sit down at the leg curl machine. She knew better than to mix the arm and leg workouts, but she didn’t care. Claire focused on her favorite stations rather than a routine. She liked the leg curl machine because it was one of the few exercises that helped sculpt her long legs.

  “Fancy meeting you here,” Tyson said as passed by. His eyes drank in Claire’s body as she lay face down on the machine while her legs pulled and released the padded bar.

  “Sorry Tyson; I’m just not in the mood to talk tonight,” Claire finally said. She put her face back down and continued her workout.

  He watched her for another minute before dropping to his knees. “If you really wanna max out here, you need to go slower.” His hands gripped the back of Claire’s thigh and her calf. Claire’s body jolted from his touch.

  “It’s fine. I can…”

  “It’ll only take a minute.” His hands massaged her muscles as he worked towards her feet. His left hand wrapped around Claire’s ankle and slowly brought it up towards her back. “You feel the difference?”

  “Uh huh.” Truthfully, it felt the same to Claire, but she didn’t want to interrupt. In fact the more she tried to protest, the longer Tyson would hang around her, or so she thought.

  He kept pulling her ankle back and then massaging her leg as he set her foot back down. Tyson wasn’t going away. Claire tried to shake herself free, but it was no use.

  “Tyson, I think I got this.” He let go and allowed her to continue working the last set. Claire sat up on the bench and stared at the clock. Tyson opened his mouth to speak, but Claire wanted no part of it. “Sorry, I have to get going. I’m on call in an hour and need to get home to shower first.” It was a blatant lie. Claire hadn’t been on call since she went into private practice a year and a half ago.

  “Are we still on for Thursday’s session?”

  This guy doesn’t quit. Claire gave him a thumbs up and hurried to grab her bag from the locker room. Once she retrieved it, she checked to make sure the coast was clear. There was no sign of Tyson and no creepy feelings of someone watching her. Claire made a beeline for the front desk. A young girl, blond, maybe seventeen or eighteen stood behind the counter.

  “I’d like to cancel my next training session with Tyson.”

  “Sure, would you like to reschedule?”

  “No, not at this time.”

  Claire hurried into the parking lot and hopped into her cherry red convertible. She didn’t want to hurt Tyson’s feelings, but he went from being a nice guy to a certified creeper in one session.

  Chapter 11-Ali

  Months of sitting behind a desk had me chomping at the bit to get back in the field. It only took one week for me to be on the verge of snapping. The case alone was difficult to crack. The victim was a man with an unlimited list of enemies that wanted him dead. The body was dumped in the water, so any shred of physical evidence was instantly compromised. We knew that he was drugged with an unknown substance that the victim accidentally dosed himself with. He only had one person he trusted to guard his secrets. Ambrose’s secretary believed fulfilling her job assignment was more important than helping us find her boss’s killer.

  If the case wasn’t bad enough, the dastardly duo of Rodney and Detective Thornton assisted in pissing me off at every turn. One failed to have my back on multiple occasions throughout this investigation. The other did nothing but belittle me with full intention of finding a way into my pants. The two of them did nothing but stress me to the point where violence seemed like a suitable way of dealing with them.

  The stress never dissipated, not even after I got home. Matthew didn’t call or show up at the house, although who could blame him? I falsely accused him of taking advantage of Amanda when she was drunk. One would think dating someone for nearly a year would make a couple more trusting of each other; apparently not. It was another mistake added to the list of stupid moves that blew up in my face. I wanted to apologize to him, but how do you say you’re sorry for accusing someone you love of something so heinous?

  It took a little while for me to accept that I was going home to empty house, but it was something I had to face. When I pulled up to the house, I noticed there were no lights on, which didn’t sit well with me. I let the car door slowly close, trying hard not to make a noise. I slipped my heels off and walked barefoot up the warm concrete path to the front door. My fingers grasped the handle of my glock and kept it ready as I unlocked the front door. I moved cautiously moved through the front door and into the living room. I extended my arm until the fingers on my left hand until it touched the metal of a lamp. I twisted the tiny black knob until the blinding light illuminated the room. I knew paranoia was seeping into every inch of my brain. I couldn’t help it. My last investigation placed me and my family in a direct line of fire. A word of warning had been sent crashing through the window of my previous house. Days later, the same person took advantage of me when I was exhausted and completely vulnerable. I needed to grow eyes in the back of my head.

  I swept the front of the house, moving cautiously from side to side as inching forward slowly. Through the darkness, I could see the two bedrooms in the distance. The door to my room was cracked open. Did I close the door before I left this morning? I racked my brain to remember but couldn’t. The nozzle of my gun slipped into the sliver of space separating the door and the frame. It opened silently allowing me to slip inside unnoticed. My eyes scanned the room, but no one was there. Immediately I turned on all the lights and checked the closets. Nothing seemed out of place. In fact, there was no sign anyone was there at all.

  “Wha
t the hell’s going on,” a woman’s voice said sleepily behind me. I spun around and point the glock at the woman’s face. Amanda was standing on the other end. Her hands flew into the air. Her eyes widened in terror. “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot,” she shrieked. Luck happened to be on her side. Had my finger been on the trigger, the C.S.U. team would be scraping her brains off the floor and walls.

  “What the hell is wrong with you? You should know better than to sneak up on someone, especially a cop.”

  Amanda’s hand clung to her chest feeling her heart beat faster than it ever had before. “I didn’t expect you to pull a gun on me.” Her panting subsided, but her eyes were glued to my glock. “Do you mind putting that thing away?”

  The comment took me by surprise until I looked down at my hands. My gun was still pointed at my sister. “Shit, sorry.” I quickly holstered my weapon. The tension in my face relaxed when the realization set in that Amanda was all right. I threw an arm around her and pulled my sister in tightly for a hug. “Why the hell were all the lights off?”

  “I guess I passed out for a little while.”

  I thought the phrase “passed out” summed it up perfectly. Amanda’s breath reeked of alcohol. Maybe it was still there from last night, but my money was on her having a few throughout the day.

  “Did you go see Dr. Barron?” I knew the answer before she even replied. The distant glassy eyed stare gave it away.

  I crossed my arms as the tip of her chin dropped to her chest. “No,” she mumbled. “Are you mad?”

  “I’m not mad, just disappointed.” It was the same phrase our mother used on us to guilt us into doing exactly what she wanted us to do. “I’m just concerned for your health. I thought you wanted to get help.” I was laying it on thick, and it was working like a charm.

  “I’m really sorry Ali. It’s just…Being here alone all day leaves me with just my thoughts. All I think about is what happened to me, what happened to you and what happened to Shawn. It’s just too much to handle.”