Gift of Friends

Chapter Eight

It was after midnight and Lynette knew she should go to bed, but the events of the previous day wouldn’t stop twirling through her mind. Donna had gone up earlier, leaving her alone downstairs.

Eventually, she flipped off the television, throwing the sitting room into shadow. Even though they’d recently released new episodes of her favorite series, the storyline failed to hold her interest.

What she really wanted was a gin and tonic. After yesterday’s shock, she decided she even deserved one.

She shuffled through the semidarkness to the kitchen and pulled a crystal highball down from the cupboard with the cracked door. She liked to start her cocktails off with a generous helping of ice. Moonlight illuminated three pastel planters containing herbs on the wide ledge over the kitchen sink. Donna liked to use the fresh sprigs in her cooking. Lynette broke off a sprig of rosemary and nestled it amongst the cubes in her fancy glass.

If she was going to splurge on a cocktail, she’d make it a good one.

She broke the seal on a bottle of Bombay Sapphire that she’d received in a congratulatory gift basket from a long-time vendor to celebrate the sale of her company. The unopened bottle was a testament to her ability to refrain from drinking alcohol whenever she chose.

Or at least that’s what she’d keep telling herself.

But this had been no ordinary day. Her past had come back to haunt her, and she deserved a cocktail.

She didn’t bother with a shot glass, and instead poured what looked like a reasonable splash of gin. Then she pulled a can of tonic water out of the back of the refrigerator. After stirring the combination as best she could with her index finger, she decided fresh air would provide the perfect complement to the gin and exited the quiet house through the backdoor.

A bright white moon greeted her, illuminating the path under her bare feet. Despite the wash of moonlight, her midnight-blue peignoir and matching nightie allowed her to blend with the shadows. If anyone happened by or looked out a window, they might not even notice her. Only the silver in her hair might give her away.

Not that anyone should be up at two in the morning.

The icy glass in her right hand felt comfortable—maybe too comfortable. She took a delicious sip and recognized the irony of it all. Here she was, right back to making potentially poor decisions now that Storm was back in her life.

Old habits and all.

She stopped on the pathway and dropped her head back, eyes closed, envisioning the moonbeams enveloping her. While she loved sunlight and the warm days of summer, there was a certain magic to a full moon. And here in Ruby Shores, unlike her many years in the city, she could slip outside under the relative privacy of her own backyard to simply bask in its unpolluted light.

A crick formed in her neck and she straightened, wandering over to the statue amongst the roses. Had the young girl there also enjoyed frolicking under the stars? Another sip of her cocktail exploded against her taste buds. She swallowed, and a sigh of pleasure escaped her lips. The pop! and fizz of the tonic water tickled. It was a pleasant experience. One she’d missed.

The statue girl looked as if she’d been about to execute a pirouette, one slender arm poised gracefully above her head. Her wavy hair, its greenish-copper color bleached to silver, seemed to undulate in the moonlight. But Lynette knew it was simply a trick of the light as the moon’s beams plunged through shivering leaves above that dipped toward the statue’s extended hand.

The poor girl would remain forever frozen like that, never moving forward.

Lynette shook her head to dispel the hovering sense of melancholy. The statue added the perfect touch to the back garden. She was happy that she’d been able to fix the water pump and fill the basin with water. Its tinkling sounds complemented the chirps of hidden crickets, creating a symphony of sorts in their midnight garden.

Heavy shadows muted her sight but magnified her sense of hearing, and the sensation whisked her mind back in time to the gurgling of another water fountain. Years fell away as she let her mind drift. The peace she’d felt in her moon-washed garden evaporated.

She stood in front of the iconic fountain in Ruby Shores’ town square. Gripped tightly in her hand was the mortarboard she’d worn that day for her high school graduation ceremony. Her blood raced at a feverish pitch, driven by excitement, a deep thirst for something, and a primal splash of fear. Her mind galloped, nearly as fast as her blood.

The constraints of high school were officially behind her. The vast world was wide open before her, full of boundless possibilities. It was a time to celebrate—to escape this overload of sensations—but all anyone else wanted to do was go to some stupid chaperoned party.

Of all nights, why had Storm picked tonight to abandon her?

But she knew that wasn’t really fair. He hadn’t abandoned her. In fact, he’d stood up for her just a short time ago. Maybe now her mother’s disgusting boyfriend would finally keep his distance.

Tonight had to be special. After all, a girl only graduates from high school once. She’d be a good sport and attend the silly party at the Ruby Shores Community Center so as not to disappoint her friends. But first she’d convince them to take her to meet Storm in the park. He’d promised beer, but he had plans for later that didn’t include her. He thought she should go to the after-graduation party, too.

The party was as boring as she’d expected, and the shadow was back again, lingering just beyond her peripheral vision. Her logical mind knew it concealed something with the potential to derail the future she’d always imagined for herself. If she could just keep the shadow at bay, that terrifying thing that lurked within it might dissolve away.

The shadow seemed to be getting stronger every day, threatening to consume her. Being with Storm helped; the beer and the sex meant fun and laughter and light. When she was with him, the darkness couldn’t seep through to choke her.

A chaperon called out bingo numbers. Lynette struggled to take a deep breath. If she couldn’t find Storm soon, the monsters might finally break free from the shadows. Her friends would be upset, but she couldn’t stay.

Escaping the party wasn’t hard. She slipped into a bar next door to use their pay phone, but no one answered at Storm’s house.

She’d have to save herself.

Once outside, she spied a truck that she recognized. It wasn’t Storm’s, but it belonged to a guy who often came to her work. He always sat in her section, ordered a large mushroom-only pizza, and seemed to do homework. She thought he was maybe a college kid, since he didn’t go to her school. He’d flirted with her, and even offered her something stronger than alcohol once when she’d complained of boredom. He hadn’t ever actually asked her out, but she’d sensed his interest.

It was funny. Even though most considered Storm a “bad boy” type, he was never into drugs. But if Storm wouldn’t help her tonight, maybe this guy could. Maybe what he had to offer could keep the shadows away.

She wished she could remember his name as she knocked on the passenger-side window. When he motioned for her to climb in, she did, feeling independent and proud of herself for taking charge.

The air inside the cab was thick. The haze quickly reminded her of the encroaching shadows, and the first whispers of fear tickled the back of her mind. His truck was old, and she had to roll down the window by hand. She lowered it an inch to help clear the air as the guy punched the gas.

They careened away from the curb, the party, and the safety of her friends.

Exhaust from the souped-up engine left a trail of noisy pollution behind them, and she wondered why he’d been sitting there in the first place, outside of a high school graduation party. Was he a dealer, waiting to make a sale?

He passed a joint her way, and she took it, scoffing at herself. She was being ridiculous. This was Ruby Shores. He wouldn’t hurt her. The image of her mom’s furious boyfriend, locked in a shouting match with Storm, floated before her eyes. Only older men were truly dangerous. She held the joint to her lips and took a few shallow, inexperienced puffs, then dissolved in a fit of coughing.

She hunched forward, eyes watering. Or were those actual tears? She’d hoped the pot would help erase her fears. He reached over to swat her on the back, but even once the choking subsided, his hand remained there. She could feel the moist heat of it.

The racing of her blood accelerated, but now pinpricks of ice, instead of the familiar fire, jabbed at her extremities.

Soon she could feel a curious mix of lethargy blanket her, quieting the pinpricks, but her gut couldn’t be silenced. Two little words churned, over and over.

Get out! Get out!

She finally found that deep breath she’d sought earlier.

Think!

“Hey, thanks for the ride,” she said, carefully easing her way closer to the passenger door. The added distance between them caused his hand to fall away from her back, but only for a second. He reached for her knee, and the way he squeezed and massaged her leg made Lynette feel like vomiting.

Where was Storm? Why wasn’t he here to protect her?

You have to save yourself!

Why couldn’t she even remember this loser’s name?

“Drop me at the gas station on the corner here, will you? I need to run inside and buy some tampons. I left the party early because I got my period, but my friends are coming to get me soon.”

The boy, who now looked even older than before, smirked in her direction. Had the textbooks been for show? Was he some pervert teacher from a nearby town?

“What’s wrong, little girl? Not so high and mighty now, are you? I think that’s a lie, and I’m calling your bluff. You’re a tease, aren’t you? How about if you and I head out to the lake instead? I know this perfect little picnic spot. And if you aren’t hungry, we can use the picnic table for something other than food.”

The hand on her knee moved higher on her thigh and squeezed tight. He was no longer groping her. He was restraining her.

How could she have been such a fool? Hadn’t her encounters with creeps her mother brought home taught her anything? Those men pretended to be upstanding citizens, but they were someone else, even something else, when their masks fell away.

Think!

Then it dawned on her. She had actually learned one important thing from those disgusting men. Those types of guys always thought they were so clever, and they often underestimated girls like her.

She had to let him think he had the upper hand. She’d need to play along, instead of fighting him, and watch for a way to save herself from what she knew had quickly become a very dangerous situation.

Biting her lip to keep from cringing, she slid across the bench seat toward him. Her foot kicked something on the floor and it clanged against the door.

You can do this!

She casually draped her arm across his lap. Would he see right through her act? When her elbow brushed against his arousal, she nearly fainted with fear.

You can do this,she kept repeating in her mind.

She was back to only being able to take shallow breaths, but she focused on those, doing her best to tamp her panic down. The lights of Ruby Shores faded behind them. This road was familiar to her. She’d traveled it countless times with her friends on trips to their favorite beach.

She knew of the picnic area overlooking it, too, and was terrified that it would all be deserted at this time of night.

The awful man turned his truck onto the old rutted path leading to the picnic area. Everything was dark beyond the reach of the headlights. The pickup bounced over the rough ground, throwing her forearm against the front of his jeans. He groaned and released her thigh to press her arm more tightly against his lap. His other hand gripped the steering wheel.

“Shit, girly, I’m going to show you what it means to be with a real man tonight,” he said, a disgustingly excited quality to his voice. “I know you’ve been sleeping with that long-haired creep you work with. Oh . . . you tried to hide it, didn’t you? But trust me. He was just a warmup for tonight.”

The man’s mention of Storm helped clear her mind, and she remembered something important. Storm lived on this lake with his mom and baby brother. She’d been to his house a handful of times, but only once when his mother was home. He’d introduced her as his girlfriend, but the woman had been cool toward her.

Was Storm back home yet? Probably not. When they’d met for beer at the park before the graduation party, he’d told her he was going out with buddies tonight. She’d been mad, but he’d convinced her she should spend her graduation night with her friends and he’d call her tomorrow.

Oh, why didn’t I listen to him and stay at the party?! Bored is so much better than dead.

Would this man kill her? She knew it was possible.

Storm’s house wasn’t far from the beach. Less than a mile. If she could get out of this truck, she could probably find it, even at night. He’d told her once that they never locked their garage. Maybe she could hide in there, if his mom wasn’t home and able to help. The woman might not like her, but surely she wouldn’t refuse to help a young girl in need.

She slid forward on the seat when he slammed the brakes and threw the truck into park. She fought her gag reflex as he ground his hips against her arm, now caught between his crotch and the steering wheel.

If she let him drag her out to a picnic table, she’d never be able to fight him off.

He’d left the headlights on; moths danced in their glow. It was like he wasn’t even afraid of getting caught. That was probably because they were out in the middle of nowhere. No one was going to pop up and save her, and he knew it.

As he reached for his door handle, she grabbed his hand.

“Look,” she said, nodding her head toward the front of the truck. “The bugs are terrible out there. Besides, I’d much rather lie down on this soft seat in your truck than a hard, splintery picnic table.”

He stared at her in the dim light cast by his dashboard, as if deciding whether he could believe her. If she was going to sell this, now would be her only chance. She released his hand and slid hers up under his shirt, caressing him. His stomach felt soft; wiry hairs covered his chest.

Storm, the only other male she’d ever touched in a similar fashion, felt so different. He was different. Storm would never hurt her. This man might kill her . . . but first he’d rape her. If he sensed any fear in her, he’d pounce, like the animal he was.

She forced her hand down toward his waist, where she made a show of not having enough room to wiggle her hand beneath the leather strap of his belt.

“Slide over this way so I can climb on top of you,” she demanded, trying to sound breathless.

He chuckled. “That sounds even better than you underneath me.” He glanced toward the picnic tables out there in the darkness, then he swiveled his head to check all around them. “Fine,” he moaned, killing the engine and lights, then sliding far enough away from the steering wheel to pull her onto his lap.

It was as if the world beyond the truck windows faded into nothing. The only sound was the ticking of the engine as it cooled and the panting of the man beneath her. Her breathing came hard now, too. She’d let him think she was hot for him.

Her mind raced as he thrust his thick tongue into her mouth. It took every ounce of her willpower not to either bite it or puke. She let him kiss her while she tried desperately to think of a way out of the truck before things went any further.

She pulled her face back just enough to rest her nose against his. “I want to take my jeans off. They’re in the way.”

He let out a whoop and pushed her off. “About damn time,” he said, tossing off his shirt and unbuckling his belt. “You’ve teased me for months. You finally figured out what you’ve been missing, didn’t you?”

“I did,” she said. She pulled her top off but left on her bra. Then she unzipped her jeans and made a show of wriggling them down her hips and thighs. She moaned. “They’re stuck on my damn shoes.”

She bent at the waist and reached for the floor under the guise of removing her shoes. Her fingers searched for and found the metal item she’d kicked earlier. It felt like a wrench of some sort, heavy and cold against her palm. Holding it tight, she kicked her jeans away so they wouldn’t interfere with what had to come next.

The man beside her wasn’t worried she’d try to escape now. He’d pushed his jeans down to his knees. Moonlight revealed the maniacal light in his eyes, sending a chilled dagger of fear down her spine.

She angled her body toward him and crawled back onto his lap, keeping her right hand and the only chance at escaping behind her back. She was careful not to let the tool smack against the steering wheel. The air in the cab grew thicker with heat and danger, despite her window still being down a little. A white moth had found its way inside, landing on the glass just behind her attacker’s head.

She kept the wrench as far away from their bodies as possible and distracted him with her lips and tongue.

When she sensed his complete abandonment to his repulsive desires, she trailed kisses down his neck and onto his chest. The salt of his sweat reinforced her panic. She stole a look at his pasty face. His eyes were shut, his mouth slack in anticipation of what he thought was coming.

The white moth fluttered in front of his temple, as if giving her a target.

Hoping she had enough leverage, she swung the wrench at his head as hard as she could. It connected with a dull crack, and his head fell back against the seat. The moth landed silently on his forehead as blood began to trickle.

The man didn’t try to flick it away. He never even uttered a word.

Clouds parted above the pickup truck as she scooted away from him. Stronger moonlight shone through the windshield, reflecting off the dash. It gave her just enough light to see the trickle of blood grow and ebb down the side of her attacker’s face.

Was he . . . dead?

If not, she still wasn’t safe. She dropped the wrench and it clanked against the steering wheel before falling to the floor. She groped around in the semidarkness for her clothes and tiny purse, then shoved the passenger door open and hopped to the ground.

Run!

But if she’d killed him, she needed to make sure she left nothing behind that could identify her. It was self-defense, but would anyone believe her? Hadn’t she willingly gotten in the vehicle of a near stranger?

She dressed quickly and used the hem of her shirt to wipe the door handles on the passenger side, both inside and out. She heard a shallow, pained gasp and eased the door closed as quickly and quietly as possible.

Not dead.

At least not yet.

She turned to run toward Storm’s lake house, unsure whether her shaking legs would support her, when she remembered the wrench. She couldn’t leave it behind. Her fingerprints were all over it. Besides, if he woke up and came after her, he might even use it on her.

“You can do this,” she said, whispering the words aloud now.

She dashed around the front of the silent hulk of the truck and pulled the driver’s door open, half expecting the man to pounce on her. But despite the one moan, he hadn’t moved. Maybe she’d imagined it. She found the wrench, closed the driver’s door as quietly as possible, and again used her shirttail to wipe the outer handle clean.

Free.

She was almost safe. Now she just had to find her way through the darkness to Storm’s house.

Something furry wove its way between her ankles, drawing a gasp out of her. Her eyes fluttered open.

The ugly truck was gone, banished back to the place where her nightmares dwelled. In the moonlight, a young girl once again stood frozen in a basin of babbling, bubbling water.

A soft meow pulled a smile from Lynette.

“Darn it, cat, you need to quit sneaking out of the house like that,” she whispered.

She downed the rest of her gin and tonic, scooped up the long-legged kitten with her free hand, and held the purring pet against her thundering heart.

“Thank you for not running off again,” she said. “It’s like your black fur disappears in the shadows out here and I’d never find you.”

The kitten rubbed her head affectionately under Lynette’s chin. It tickled. Her giggle helped to dissipate the remaining negativity she’d conjured up by diving deep into one of her darkest memories.

Storm’s reappearance might be the catalyst behind Lynette’s justification for the gin and tonic, but she couldn’t blame him for the terrifying nightmare she’d lived through on that long-ago night. Her mistakes were what led to both the attack and the accident that had come later.

She turned back toward the house, keeping a tight grip on her pet, thankful for the distraction she provided. “I suppose it’s about time I named you. I think Ebony would be the perfect fit. How about you?”

The moon had continued its descent while she’d stood in the garden, lost in her long-buried memories, and it no longer illuminated the path for her. But she didn’t need it. She knew her way home.