Page 57 of Captivating Anika
“Bullshit, you know where she’s hiding. That whiny bitch has something of mine I need back.”
“I swear she’s gone. She’s been gone since Friday,” I try again, struggling to make sense of what is happening.
This time I feel the bite of the blade in my skin and warm liquid running down my neck.
“Lying cunt,” he hisses, his spit hitting the side of my face.
Terrified he’s going to push that blade deeper if I can’t convince him I can’t help him, I start to ramble.
“I’m not lying, the police found her car yesterday afternoon at Lake Nighthorse but no sign of her. They wanted to know if she was into water sports because she’d been parked near the boat rental, but I didn’t know. She never?—”
I’m cut off when the knife disappears and I’m abruptly swung around. Losing my balance I stumble into the recycling bins, and my hand comes up to my throat feeling the warm blood with my fingers.
“What do you mean, they found her car?” Cooper yells, looming over me and waving the knife in my face. He looks absolutely frantic.
“Hey! What are you doing back there?” a voice calls out from the street.
It startles Cooper, who straightens up, momentarily distracted by whoever is out there. It gives me a chance to scramble back farther and try to pull one of the bins between us. The scraping noise draws his attention back, and I instinctively hold up my hands in a feeble attempt to ward him off.
To my surprise, instead of reaching for me, he mumbles, “Shit,” and drops the knife, which clatters on the pavement. Then he spins around and darts out of the tight space.
“Hey!” I hear again, along with the sounds of someone running.
I just manage to pull myself to my feet when the owner of the art gallery two doors down pokes his head under the stairs.
“Jesus,” he mutters when he catches sight of me.
I feel a bit of a mess, the shakes taking over my body.
“Stay put, I’m going to call 911,” he announces.
“Wait,” I stop him. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”
If he calls 911, my brother will hear, he started his shift at seven this morning. I don’t want him freaking out.
“I need to grab my phone,” I tell the man. “I dropped it on the stairs, I have the number for Detective Evans.”
He offers me a hand, which I gratefully take as I step over the knife Cooper dropped. He doesn’t let go until I sit down on the stairs and pick up my phone.
My first call is to Evans, but I call Hog next, my hands still shaking.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Anika
“Are you sure you don’t need medical care?”
The question comes from the man who walked in the back door with Bill Evans, just as I was shooting off a text to Bodhi. I have never seen him before, but he looks like law enforcement.
“I’m sure,” I repeat.
I’ve already had a peek in the bathroom and it’s just a nick. One that happened to bleed quite a bit, so my shirt is a mess, but a dab of Polysporin and a Band-Aid took care of the cut. I did pop a couple of painkillers, because I’m pretty sure before long my body will react.
“Anika, I’d like you to meet FBI Special Agent Cruz Livingston.”
“FBI?” I question Evans. It seems a bit excessive.
“Ms. Jones?” the agent draws my attention. “I’m here because Christopher Cooper is a person of interest in an investigation.”