CHAPTER THREE
‡
“This is on the company’s tab,” Ralph Forsythe insisted as he walked beside Remy down one of the long corridors of Forsythe Advertising’s office building. She slowed her step so that his seventy-one-year-old legs could keep up easily. She’d worked for this company, and Ralph, for close to ten years. She’d also been here during one of the most trying times of her life. She owed her boss a great deal of gratitude, but this couldn’t be one of them. Twenty-four-seven protection? That wasn’t going to happen. “It’s for your own safety.”
“You don’t really mean that,” Remy censored him, trying to ease the annoyance she was conveying in her tone. She’d finally reached the corner office she had earned through many long hours of dedicated work. “You’re attempting to placate me, Ralph, and it’s not going to work.”
She didn’t want to be having this conversation at the moment. It was all she could do to get dressed in the morning, let alone come into work and act normal. It was as if she were taken back to the days of learning to live without her sister all over again. She’d barely survived the first time. She couldn’t bear a return trip down memory lane.
This morning she’d discovered that Ralph thought it would be a good idea for her to have some type of around-the-clock security protection, leaving her without a moment of privacy to deal with her overwhelming personal anguish. She didn’t want anyone to witness her deep-seated rage at the fact that her sister was dead and the man responsible was now walking around the streets of Orlando almost completely free without a worry in the world. The basic requirements of his release meant nothing.
David Varan wasn’t even required to wear a GPS-enabled tracking device. He only needed to carry a phone with the same capability in order to meet the court’s requirements.
Any idiot could figure out how to beat this system of over-the-top philanthropic, yet condoling, hoops. They were designed to appease the average psychiatric patient’s legal counsel’s pleas for less restrictive parameters—all in the name of patient’s rights. Those patronizing bulwarks were only feints toward safeguarding the aggrieved, totally ignoring the victim’s suffering and the families of the injured parties whose only representation was that of the court-appointed advocate.
It just wasn’t fair, and something needed to be done. The last thing she needed was a hired dick masquerading as an objective bystander telling her that she was wrong.
Remy crossed the carpeted floor of her office and pulled out her desk chair. It rolled smoothly backward on the hardwood square strategically placed beneath the wheels, only serving to remind her that her life had been filled with nothing but boulders…large ones that no amount of conveyance could smooth over.
“David was released from the hospital on a supervised tether last Friday and has made no attempt to contact me—outside that initial phone call, that is. I do remember his exact words he used in the courtroom four years ago, but that was a long time ago and idle threats are just that. There is no need for someone to be following me around, unless it’s not me you’re worried about. I’m not going to overreact, if that’s what you’re imagining. I know you, Ralph. I know how you think and why you would believe I could go to such lengths to enact revenge, but let me assure you that I have no intention of wielding my own brand of justice.”
Remy wasn’t being completely truthful in her declaration, but it bought her the time she needed before making a decision that would affect her daily life. Should she take what Forsythe Advertising was offering? It might actually serve her well. Did she feel threatened by this psychopath? She could honestly answer that with a resounding yes, but Ralph didn’t need to know why or what she was going to do to protect herself.
She took a seat and proceeded to pick up her phone with every intention of delaying this conversation from progressing any further. She did her best not to think about what Anna looked like on her deathbed…only Remy’s mind involuntarily conjured those clear, graphic images before she could stop it. She was used to the sharp pain in her heart, so she didn’t miss a beat as she played it off once again.
“I need to cancel my appointment with Casslo Metals.” Remy looked pointedly at the door, shoving aside her worry that her life was spiraling out of control. She then gave her boss an unapologetic look, unable to give him what he wanted right now, which was satisfaction that he’d done his part. “Let me think on your offer, Ralph. I promise to let you know by the end of the day.”
“This is serious, Remy.” Ralph sighed before rubbing the back of his neck, underneath the hairline of his grey mane. He left his head bent a second longer, in the same manner he did when trying to make a decision about a new advertising concept. He was worried about her, but she couldn’t ease his concerns by telling him a lie. He needed to carry his own bag of bricks. “David Varan had no right to call you last Friday. I find it worrisome that he even had access to your number, and so does Julia.”
Ralph’s wife was an absolute sweetheart, but she would have been crushed by Remy’s recent actions. It was better that he and his wife were kept in the dark.
Remy held the phone receiver to her ear and then feigned an exaggerated, pointed finger perched over the grey buttons like a vulture. It was the only way she could prevent herself from telling Ralph how she’d spent her weekend. She breathed a sigh of relief when he finally took his leave, even closing her office door behind him to give her privacy. She slowly hung up the phone and then leaned back in her chair with exhaustion as her chest once again constricted in pain.
Had she located and scouted out the apartment David had rented upon his parole? Of course, she had. He was only required to live with his mother seventeen days a month. The rest of his time was pretty much on his own.
Remy wasn’t going to join in whatever game David was thinking of playing by calling her to apologize for his actions all those years ago. She could admit to reacting impulsively and spending the majority of last weekend sitting in her car, parked across the street from the very building David had moved into last Friday afternoon. And she’d been ready for anything with her Smith & Wesson tucked away in her purse.
Remy had applied for her permit to carry a concealed weapon a month after she’d buried her sister—all in the name of personal protection. She had spent the next four years going to the shooting range once a week. She hadn’t gone to her last scheduled practice because it had been the same day she’d made her annual call, expecting to be told David had been denied release from the state’s asylum for the criminally insane, as usual. It was then her life had once again begun to spiral out of control.
Why? She’d been dealing with everything just fine, so why was fate playing with her mind now? What had she done to deserve this type of psychological torment? First her mother, and then her sister. Now the man who’d taken her last family member was allowed to walk free without a care in the world. It wasn’t fair, but she wasn’t so unbalanced that she would commit cold-blooded murder in broad daylight—at least, not on her own or without some measure of planning.
Ralph and Julia were mistaken in thinking she was helpless, but they were correct in that she might need protection from a threat. She hadn’t divulged to him what she’d done this past weekend. She also hadn’t shared David’s reaction to discerning her surveillance of his every waking moment. A prideful sense of self-serving fulfilment was the only description she could define in his unnerving features and soulless eyes. It was then she realized she’d given him exactly what he’d wanted and no amount of showers could wash away the filth she’d unwittingly rolled in while trying to keep herself safe from him. She could very well be in trouble…as in the life and death kind of trouble.
Could this be her opportunity? God knows she’d thought of nothing else these past four years—the vision came to her now. She’d be waiting hours on end with her gun in her hand waiting for David to break into her apartment. One pull of the trigger and she could claim self-defense and the satisfaction that she’d taken his miserable, undeserving life. Only she would know that it was premeditated self-defense, right down to the Hydra-Shok bullets in the magazine with one in the chamber. But wasn’t that actually murder? Or was it simply self-preservation in that she was prepared for a known threat?
Remy couldn’t take sitting still any longer, so she abruptly stood and pushed her chair away with the back of her legs. It was then she noticed that she’d worn her red heels today. They weren’t the same shoes from that night. She’d thrown those in the garbage without regret, regardless of the fact that she’d saved for months to buy them. They had been soiled by David’s touch.
These particular heels were a Chloé designer that she’d purchased over a year later, not that it mattered. Any shoe, any color, any designer…they all brought back those horrifying memories of him crouched at the front door holding her heel to his face.
David coiled in front of her, slowly caressing the leather of her shoe against his cheek as if he were…a snake slithering against its surface in a decadent act. She’d half-expected his tongue to wriggle out just before it actually had.
Remy practically choked on her gag reflex. She wished she could shut those horrific recollections out of her mind, but they just kept returning like a bad penny. She’d rather be homeless and broke than to let him torture her one minute more.
Remy walked to the window that took up the entire wall facing east and looked out over Lake Eola. The sun was shining and people were taking a stroll around Lake Eola Park like their lives were blissful and free of any tragedy. Had she ever been so carefree and happy? No one was free of misfortune and heartbreak, were they?
Remy crossed her arms as she glanced down once more at her choice in heels. It hadn’t been a conscious decision. She’d worn her black pantsuit today and had automatically chosen the heels to add some color. Why was she questioning such an everyday, mundane decision? That was a foolish question. He was in her head, that’s why.
Setting eyes on the man who killed her sister after all these years had stirred up memories she wished she could erase forever. She even had trouble escaping that night in her dreams, spending hours caught up in a nightmare with no plausible ending in sight. Now she was having uncontrollable flashbacks during the day as she second-guessed herself. It was as if she could literally hear the police sirens from that night, the swirling red and blue lights illuminating Anna’s house through the door’s windowpane.
It was then that she realized she had caught sight of the flashing police lights. The cruiser was driving down North Rosalind Avenue at a rather high rate of speed. Had the police from that unfortunate night been as quick to react to her 911 call? She couldn’t even recall what she’d said, let alone her reaction to the officers as they tried to ask her what had happened.
Remy did remember someone yelling that they needed two buses, because they had one DOA and a male suspect who was still alive. How had that even been possible? She’d not only stabbed David, but his head had hit the island countertop hard enough to have finished the job as he went down.
She could almost hear the sickening sound of his skull cracking right this second.
David shouldn’t have survived, but he had. And now he was back to finish what he’d started so few years ago.
She’d been about to turn away and somehow try to get on with her day when something—someone—caught her eye.
It was him.
David Varan.
Nausea hit Remy hard. She involuntarily stepped back, immediately seeking out her purse which held her firearm. She always had it within reach twenty-four hours a day, but it usually denoted safety and not the icy grip of death that it signified now. She wasn’t experiencing that cold, calculating confidence at the moment and her fear only became worse upon glancing back at the sidewalk across the street to find that he had disappeared.
Remy didn’t believe that for a moment. She stayed where she was for another five minutes, searching the area for any sign of his stark white dress shirt. Had the prison given him a package of those button-down, long-sleeved shirts so that he had clothes to wear once he hit the streets? It made her sick to think that he was being treated like a human being when he was nothing but a monster.
It was one thing to be the one in control when Remy had been watching him, but it was another for him to take it away by doing the same trick to her. A rush of anger replaced her anxiety. Her decision to accept Ralph’s offer wasn’t so hard to make anymore, and she forced her legs to move toward the desk. She picked up her phone with a trembling hand and was grateful she only needed to press one button to reach her boss.
“Yes, Remy?”
“What type of protection?”
“I’ll be there in half a second.”
Remy had no choice but to set the receiver in its station, because her boss had already disconnected the line. She ran a hand through her hair and then straightened her jacket, not wanting to appear distressed. She didn’t want Ralph to know what she’d done, because he would misconstrue her intentions. Keeping a continual eye on David’s moves made it so that she had the power on her side—not the other way around.
“I’ve got to tell you, Remy, I’m relieved you’ve come around.” Ralph had entered her office with a piece of paper in his hand. He extended it to her and gave her time to review the information. “Safeguard Securities & Investigations. My family is friends with the owner and operator. My son—”
Remy hated to see Ralph in so much pain at the mention of his own son, who’d died many years ago during one of his many deployments to Iraq and Afghanistan. Neither he nor Julia had ever gotten over their tragedy, and no one could blame them. Phillip had been a good man and his life too short.
“Well, Philip had served under a man by the name of Townes Calvert. His firm is located in Sorrento, and I’ve arranged for you to stay there for a while as you and your personal protective agent get acquainted.”
“What?” That bit of information hadn’t been mentioned before. The reality of her situation became all the more real. Remy was already shaking her head in disagreement. “Ralph, I can’t do that. I have work, I have the foundation, and I—”
“There is nothing you do here that you can’t do there over the phone, at least in the short term,” Ralph pointed out sternly, gesturing toward her desk. “Pick up your next generation high-tech company cell phone that you talked us all into carrying if you need anything. I’m sure you know that Carol will set up all the video conferences you can stand, should they really be needed after all. If you need anything personal, you know all you have to do is ask Julia. Look, this is just until David Varan gets settled somewhere else and—”
“And I become used to the fact that my sister’s killer gets to live his life while Anna doesn’t?”
Remy hadn’t meant to come across so short, but she didn’t want to hear shit about how the man had recovered or responded to treatment and was no longer a danger to society. He hadn’t paid back anything, as far as she was concerned.
An eye for an eye.
A life for a life.
She didn’t care if he spent that life in a padded cell or in the general population of some prison. She just didn’t want him afforded the freedoms her sister had been deprived of by his heinous actions. He was just as dangerous as the day he’d murdered her sister, if not more so by the experience he’d gained through gaming the system.
“You’re one of my top advertising consultants, as well as becoming the daughter Julia and I never had. I don’t ever want to see any harm come to you, dear.” Ralph stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I hear Mr. Calvert has a beautiful place out in the country away from the hustle and bustle. He is personally overseeing a case that has taken him out of the state. He won’t be there, but one of his agents will be staying on the property to ensure your safety and see to your needs. You’ll be secure there. They are professionals in every sense of the word. Varan would never stand a chance.”
Remy wanted to shrug his hand off in frustration, but that would only hurt his feelings. Besides, none of this was his fault. He’d been nothing but generous with her. Almost too kind. She considered him a father figure as well, which was why she couldn’t tell him what she’d done this past weekend. He would then relay her activities to Julia. That would only worry them both more.
Remy slowly inhaled to give herself some time to accept that he’d made these preparations because he cared for her. His generosity also provided her a side benefit that she would be amiss not to utilize. This protection he’d set up for her might very well end in a couple of weeks, but maybe she could see to it that those special services provided by Safeguard Securities & Investigations were extended after the fact on her own dime…just in a different manner. Maybe she could somehow orchestrate the situation so that they could remove the threat permanently.
“Okay, Ralph. Give me the address, and I’ll go home to pack a bag. I’ll check in daily, and once a couple of weeks has passed, we’ll reevaluate the situation if it still exists.”
Remy started to calculate exactly how much money she could take out from her retirement plan here at work. She wasn’t the one who needed to be watched every second of the day, and she wasn’t so sure David wouldn’t attempt to come after her or someone else anytime soon. She would take the protection Ralph and his company were offering and see if she could hire the agency out herself for something she should have arranged long ago instead of trying to half-ass it on her own.
David Varan would strike again, and she needed to be the one to prevent him from succeeding in killing his next target…which could still very well be her.
She needed to fight fire with fire.
*
He’d thought of her and those red heels every second of the day for four years, like a long-lost lover.
Would she fight him like her sister had?
Would she beg him for his forgiveness?
He could still feel the smooth, expensive leather of her heel against his cheek.
So soft…
He could still hear her uneven breathing from when he was inches away from her, waiting for her to realize that she had nowhere to go. He’d just inhaled her sweet perfume when she came at him with that knife, taking away just the hint of his power.
She’d managed to take it away for only an instant.
Oh, how he loathed her grim determination, yet hungered to hear her scream in pain.
He struggled to swallow against the bile rising in his throat as he thought of how he would torture her physical body, not to mention what he had planned for her stained soul. Craving a meal for far too long only intensified his hunger. Maybe he would even consume some of her flesh.
He clenched his hands to provide himself the satisfaction of knowing he would soon have his fingers wrapped around her lovely throat, watching her fade in and out while he prolonged her slow strangulation. Her blue eyes would be pleading with him for forgiveness, but only death could give that to her as he continued to squeeze off and on until her soul departed her earthly body and she fought no more.
He then savored the idea of utilizing her flesh once she had gone.
Remy.
His cruel and loving enemy.
Oh, how he desired to feel her warm, sticky blood on his hands.