Better with Ben (How to Tame a Heartbreaker Book 3) (2 page)

Chapter 2

She approached the shed, being careful not to slip on the wooden stairs that now had a layer of water from the misty rain. There was a lock on the doorknob
and
a deadbolt, and Taylor hoped the one key she held in her hand would be adequate enough to gain entry. She tried it in the doorknob first, but it was too wide to fit in the opening. She slid it into the deadbolt, hoping against hope that it would work. It did. She had to jiggle it a little, but eventually it turned and she was able to open the door.

The shed was about the size of a one-car garage. There was built-in shelving along right and back walls and furniture stacked all against the left wall, spilling out into the middle of the room. Taylor didn't see a light switch, but there was enough light coming in through the windows for her to see what she was doing.

She made her way down the somewhat narrow space between the furniture and the shelves. It was chilly out and she'd left her jacket inside, so she blew warm air into her cupped hands as she began to search the shelves for the warming trays.

There were pots, pans, and all sorts of other silver things, but she was able to zero-in on the trays fairly quickly. They were about three-quarters of the way down, sitting on a shelf that was just above eyelevel. She studied them as she walked up, thinking she might not be able to carry three of them at once.

Without wasting time, she reached up and slid one of them off the shelf. As she pulled it down, it caught on the one beside it. Taylor could feel it catch, which made her give a little jerk. It was hung up pretty good, and instead of coming loose like she'd hoped, the lid tumbled to the ground. The clatter it made was amazing, and Taylor's face contorted as she waited for it to stop making noise. She sat down the tray she was holding so she could go pick up the fallen lid.

The lid had hit the ground about five times as it bounced and rolled, and the sound was so obnoxious, that when Taylor bent to pick it up, she instinctively said, "Oh, geez, I'm sorry," to the person who was lying there.

She was so flustered by the crashing lid, that it took a second for it to sink in that it was weird that someone was lying in the shed. From her vantage point she could only see the feet. She laughed and rolled her eyes for assuming it was a
real person
—that was how flustered she was by the clanging lid. Obviously, it was ridiculous that an
actual person
would be out there, and it must be some sort of manikin. She could see from about the knees down, and she stared blankly at the legs as she took a step forward. There was a table turned on its side blocking her view, and out of sheer curiosity, she peered around it to see the thing. It was odd to have a manikin in there, and she had a series of thoughts about how it must be for the restaurant's little retail area as she looked around the overturned table to get a peek at it.

Her eyebrows drew together as she took in the unusual look and posture. It was on its side, and the way the legs and arms were arranged looked more like a sleeping human than a rigid doll. She considered for half-a-second that it might be a blow-up doll, but dismissed the thought immediately knowing the legs and shoes had looked too real.

"What the hell?" she said, her voice a strangled whisper. The thing lying in this shed, whatever it was—was freaky looking. Taylor put a hand over her eyes, but continued to peer out as she took in the details of the figure.

Her gaze roamed from its feet to its head within a matter of seconds. She had the distinct feeling that something wasn't right, but she continued staring down at the figure. "Are you fuckin' kidding me right now?" she said. Her voice cut through the silence. "Get up if you're a real person," she said in a warning tone. "Seriously, you're freaking me out."

She pulled her hand from her eyes as she got closer to the person's head. It was definitely a girl. The jeans and tennis shoes could go either way, and really, the long hair could too, but as she got closer to the head, she could see that it had feminine features. She was still holding the warming tray when it crossed her mind that she might be staring at a dead body.

The next several seconds consisted of a series of panicked thoughts that were hard to distinguish.

"Are you a real fuckin' person?" Taylor tried to yell it in case the girl was just sleeping, but her voice wasn't working properly. Fear began to grip her like a vice as she took in the brownish liquid that pooled near the girl's neck. Her body went completely stiff. For the next few seconds, she could do nothing but stand there and stare down at the girl. Aside from the questionable liquid, there were no other signs of foul play.

A dead body would have a bullet hole or some other wound, right? She's not blue. Is she blue? She definitely doesn't have a healthy glow, but she's not blue. Dead bodies are blue, right? Dead bodies are cold. Touch it. See if she's cold.

"Hey," Taylor said out loud. "Wake up!" Nothing. Sometime during the next few seconds of uncontrollable staring, it hit home that she was indeed looking at a lifeless person. Taylor's body kicked into action the second reality hit her. She tried to turn and run, but her legs didn't move as quickly or deftly as she intended. Because of this fact, Taylor tripped over her own feet, causing her to lose balance and go tumbling forward. The tray she'd been holding fell from her hands, but she didn't even notice the sound it must have made. She couldn't hear past the ringing in her ears.

The fall seemed to take forever, and as she went down she thought it might be happening slowly enough to be prevented. She was just too far off balance to recover, though. Her left hand was the first thing to hit the ground, followed by her right.

Only, the right hand hadn't landed on the ground. It landed… oh God, it landed on the girl's leg. "Shit!" Taylor exclaimed as she immediately scrambled to her feet. She only touched the leg for the briefest of seconds, but she easily recalled what it felt like. This was no manikin. It was a
real
body. If she hadn't known it before, she knew it now. She felt an overwhelming wave of nausea and adrenaline that, had it not been for the shooting pain going up her left arm, would have doubled her over. The pain actually made her think clearer.

She knew she had to get out of there.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit. Holy shit." The words just tumbled out of her mouth unconsciously as she ran out of the shed. She descended the few front steps and ran several feet onto the grass, saying, "Shit, shit, shit," the whole time. She could think of
nothing else
but the image of the girl she'd just been staring at. She stopped running once she got out onto the lawn, and glanced back at the shed, half-expecting something to be chasing her. Nothing was behind her except the open door.

She only stopped for a second before continuing toward the restaurant. She had no idea what she'd say when she got there, but she knew she had to run to where people were—people who could hear what she was saying—people who were alive.

As she got close to the kitchen door, she noticed one of the other food-prep guys. He was standing there finishing a cigarette.

"I think I just found a dead body," Taylor said. She was breathless and the words came out stiffly like she didn't know how to talk right. "Dead body," she repeated. She had cottonmouth, and she was reasonably sure by the guy's confused expression that the words she'd just tried to speak were unintelligible. She used a finger to point in the direction of the shed. "Body. I saw a girl's body. It's in the shed. It's not moving. There's a girl in there."

Had any of that come out of her mouth? He was still looking at her with that same confused expression, and she was in such a time warp that every second felt like a
thousand years
. Was she even speaking English? She pointed again at the shed—more frustrated this time. "A body," she repeated. She pronounced the words slowly, feeling the whole time that her body had no business doing things like talking.

"I heard you," he said.

What was that guy's name, anyway? What's it matter?

"What do I do?" Taylor asked.

Just then, Gina came outside. "Oh, good, you're here. Bonnie told me to come look for you. Did you find those trays?" Her face turned serious. "What's wrong?"

"A body," the guy said. There was a slight edge of sarcasm to his voice that made it sound like he was making fun of Taylor for repeating it so many times. She noticed it, but didn't give a flying flip.

"I found a fuckin' body just now in the shed," she said to Gina. Taylor's still-breathless voice combined with the earnestness of her expression made Gina listen intently. She reached out to put a hand on Taylor's shoulder, and Taylor fell into her arms weeping.

Gina looked at the guy. "What's going on?" she asked.

He shrugged. "She ran up mumbling about dead bodies in the shed."

"Not dead
bodies
," Taylor said. "One dead body." She still clung to Gina who stiffly patted her for comfort.

Gina pushed her to arm's length when the words sunk in. She regarded Taylor with an extremely serious, almost pleading expression. "Are you kidding around right now?"

Taylor shook her head, a little relieved that, unlike the smoker guy, Gina seemed to understand the seriousness of the situation.

"You seriously found a
dead body
just now?"

Tears ran down Taylor's face as she nodded. "It's a girl."

Gina cut the guy a nasty look for being so unaffected as she dug in the back pocket of her pants to retrieve her phone. She dialed 911 as Taylor leaned over and began puking all over the ground.

The next half-hour passed in an absolute blur. It hit Taylor at one point during the whole thing that she didn't know what became of the wedding reception. She didn't care. One second, she was watching the contents of her stomach spill out onto the gravel, and the next, she was sitting on a stretcher with several people standing around her. She didn't think she'd passed out for a long time or anything, but there were definitely moments of the last little while where her consciousness was touch and go.

Her heart felt like it was going a million miles an hour even though she was sitting down. She realized, looking at the paramedic who had two fingers on her wrist to check her pulse, that apparently she wasn't the only one who thought there might be a problem with her pulse. The thought made her dizzy again. She began to see spots in her vision. She had the distinct impression that her heart, in spite of beating like crazy, could not adequately pump blood to her extremities.

Why in the world am I losing consciousness? Why is my heart not working right? Am I poisoned? The body. I saw a dead body. Is that what did this to me? Can seeing a dead body kill you? I'm pretty sure I've been poisoned or something. Do these people know about the body?

"I found something in that shed," she said. "I don't know if it's real, but there's a girl in the—"

"They know all about it Miss Soren," said the same paramedic who was checking her pulse. Taylor glanced down at her wrist. The lady
still
had two fingers on it.
How long does it take to check a fucking pulse around here?
"They're taking care of all that," the paramedic continued. "Right now I'm just here to make sure
you're
doing okay."

Taylor looked up, and the paramedic glanced at her with caring smile. "You're understandably a bit shaken up, but you seem to be okay. Can you tell me if you're having any pain?"

Taylor wrestled with whether or not she should confess the heart trouble she was having. If the paramedic hadn't detected any trouble when she was checking her pulse, then maybe she shouldn't draw attention to it.
But, good grief my heart just can't seem to pump enough blood.

"I just don't feel very good," Taylor said. Her words, to her own ears, sounded like they were coming from some distant source.

"You're okay Miss Soren," she heard the woman's voice say. Her eyes were closed as she tried to concentrate on getting her heart to pump blood. "You're just a little shaken up right now, but everything's going to be okay."

Taylor felt the relieving distraction of a cold compress being pressed against her forehead, and she reached up instinctually to grab it. She sucked air through her teeth at the sting that went up her left hand and arm when she tried to use it.

"What happened?" the paramedic asked.

Taylor looked up at her. "My hand," she said. "I think I might have hurt it."

"This one?" The paramedic gently took Taylor's shaking hand from the cold compress as Taylor nodded in agreement. It was obvious that Taylor was shaken, and the paramedic was glad to have the excuse to go ahead and get her out of there before she was exposed to any more of the crime scene chaos. "You know what?" the paramedic said sweetly. "We're gonna go ahead and take you in for a few X-rays. If the police need to talk to you, they can just come on over to the hospital."

"Are the police here?" Taylor asked. The paramedic nodded. "Is it real?"

"Is what real?"

"The girl. Was that a real girl in there?"

The paramedic stared at her for a few long seconds and then nodded again solemnly.