Lost in Silence (The Lost Series Book 1) (4 page)

Damn, she’s good at covering her tracks
, I think knowing she was only here moments ago.

“So it seems,” the detective mutters, raking his hands through his hair. “Take Mr. Scott down to the station. Something isn’t adding up. He’s hiding something.”

I nod in agreement but look away because I have the answers waiting for me in the back of my closet and I can’t tell him.

“Roland, the woman staying here, has she checked out?”

“Not formally,” he shuffles towards the man, holding out his hand. A set of keys matching the ones he used to open the door sat in his palm. “I found them on the counter shortly before you arrived. I already told your officer before I came up here.”

Edwards nods and chews his bottom lip. He shifts on his feet and crosses his arms. The key, which was similar to mine, collaborated the story I’d given to Edwards about her departure.

“Rivers, are you going to be in town much longer?”

“I head north tomorrow.”

“Can I persuade you to stay longer in case we need you for questioning?”

“Can’t, my job depends on it,” I answer cautiously, hoping he’d catch the meaning behind my words. I was heading north but not because of my job. The next leg wouldn’t happen for at least another month. I had been instructed to head underground until I’m contacted. Apparently I pulled some heat off the big man, which was a good thing, but now it was their turn to protect me. The last thing I needed was to be seen walking into a police station.

He nods.

“You’ve seen this woman. She’s running again and if she’s running from him, I need to stop him now,” he peers over at me. I look around, we aren’t alone. I can’t give him the words he’s wants to hear. It is too dangerous.

“I’ll give you my contact information,” it was the best I could do. I take his paper and pen and write down my number.

“Roland, next time someone wants in a room, I suggest you check your registry before attempting to open a door for them,” the motel manager grunts in response. Edwards looks around the room again and sighs. “Let’s roll out.”

The room empties out quickly and Roland locks up. I walk back to my room and cautiously open the door. The room is still dark, the closet door still closed. I close the door and slide the lock into place.

Alice

The soft click of the door closing jolts me back. I’d lost myself into the world of thought when they hauled Erik away. The relief was almost instant but I knew it wouldn’t last for long. This wasn’t the first time he’s been arrested.

“You’re safe,” a familiar masculine voice says low and soft. My body responds instantly, melting into the warm tones. It was the same voice that asked for my trust before he stepped out onto the breezeway with the police and Erik.

Erik.
He came back. I knew he would but I didn’t think he would go to the police. It was a big risk on his part, one that’s now backfired. I’m sure he thought the police would side with him or out think them.

The first cruiser pulled into the parking lot just as I was placing the key to my room on the counter of the office. Roland had stepped out back for a smoke. The officer in the cruiser hadn’t seen me and I took advantage of the moment to creep back up the stairs toward my room. There was no other choice but to go up, unless I wanted to be seen. I made it to my door only to remember I hadn’t picked the key back up. Cursing at myself I realized I only had one option. I knocked on
his
door out of desperation. I honestly didn’t think he’d answer but it was worth a shot. When he opened the door I didn’t hesitate to push my way into the room, just as two more cruisers pulled into the lot. Thankfully our rooms were the exact same layout, just flipped. I headed straight for the closet.

I waited for him to haul me out and throw me to the wolves. He didn’t, he protected me.

“They’re gone,” his voice brings me back, it’s even and calm. “Are you hungry? I have an extra sandwich.”

I hear a plastic bag rustle, “Ham and cheese.”

My stomach growled. Loudly. I place my hand over it. I hadn’t had a full meal since yesterday and the small granola bar I had early this morning kept the hunger pains at bay. I couldn’t afford to eat more than once a day if I planned on leaving soon. I needed every dime I made for bus fare. The more money I have, the farther I can run.

I move closer to the door separating us, knowing I can’t hide in here forever. It was a nice concept but unrealistic. He’d kick me out sooner or later. I hear him move closer as well but he’s careful not to come too close.

“They took him in for questioning,” I gasped, as his words penetrate. “The officer in charge, Detective Edwards, he’s a good guy. I spoke with him about what happened earlier, and the story Erik told him doesn’t add up. He was already on the fence but now he knows something is up. They’ve arrested Erik for providing false information.”

They really arrested Erik.

I hang my head and silently send a prayer to keep him behind bars. I know it’s unlikely though. I’ve been down this road before. Erik always manages to find a way out. I have to get going while the opportunity presents itself, while he’s locked away.

I push the door open and peer out. The room is bathed in the soft glow from a decades old lamp on matching pieces of furniture. The entire motel is dilapidated and is need of some serious renovations, not that I’m complaining, the price was right for the budget. Sure the olive green carpet had probably seen better days and I wouldn’t chance walking barefoot on it, but it was nothing compare to the crumbling yellow and orange retro wallpaper. I’ve seen worse places and I had to look on the upside of things, this motel didn’t smell nearly as bad as the one in Tulsa.

My eyes find him sitting on the floor at the end of the bed. He’s watching me, curiosity burning behind his blue eyes.

Damn, he’s a sight.

His faded blue denim shirt is unbuttoned halfway revealing a broad chest sprinkled with dark hair. Just enough to make me want to reach out and run my fingers through it. His shirt is untucked but rolled at the sleeves, revealing sinewy forearms. His large hands are clasped in his lap, casually, showing how completely at ease he is with my eyes taking him in. Long denim clad legs are crossed at the ankles. The jeans tight in all the right places, even sitting I can see they fit him well but also gave me a good sense of just how tall he is. He’s also barefoot.

Hudson.

My eyes make their way of the length of is seated body, appreciating the maleness seeping from every pore of his body. Damn, he was even more gorgeous the second time around. When my eyes reach his face, I hesitate to meet his gaze, afraid of what I meet see. He looks at me with more than curiosity, his own observations of me being made.

His dark brown hair is unruly and in desperate need of a trim. The urge to run my fingers through his curls is strong, it frightens and excites me at the same time. His jaw is firm and set, covered lightly with a day or two of whiskers, rugged, like he belonged in some expensive clothing ad. In a word he looks, delicious.

Hudson.

I move further into the doorway, careful to keep my sweater tucked around me. The years I’ve spent with Erik have left me shredded and insecure. My clothing was nowhere near the shield I longed for to hide what this man stirs inside me. I’m nothing compared to the Adonis before me. I cast my eyes down out of habit and wait for instructions.

“Are you hungry?” he points to the bag next to him. My stomach growls again. He smiles and slowly pushes the bag toward me. I fight the urge to grab the sandwich and inhale it in one bite.

Instead, I wait and I order my stomach into silence.

This man unnerves me. I feel safe in his presence and I can’t figure out why. If he were Erik, I would be a total mess of fear and compliance. I would be cowering in the corner lost to his control and abuse. The thought of Erik makes my stomach sick and kills my hunger.

My fingers move under the stranger’s watchful eye, a nervous habit of mine. They dance to the chords of music in my head. My favorite song, one I know backwards and forwards on the violin. Whenever I feel nervous or uneasy, thinking of my song put everything right. Erik hated it and he tried breaking me of it but I simply learned to hide it better. I feel safe right now with Hudson, so I don’t try to hide it.

I can’t help the sad feeling that washes over me. I yearn for my violin. It was my first love, now that I think about it, it was my only love. It never hurt me. It never betrayed me. It never hit me. It never threatened me. It never locked me away in a closet. No, it kept me sane. It kept me believing that one day I’d get to wrap my arms around it and strum it’s beautiful strings again. Hell, right now, I’d be surprised if my hands would be able to hold a violin after the many breaks they’ve been through.

“Do you play?” he asks his eyes on my fingers. I stop instantly, my eyes go wide and I wait for him to strike. Maybe I was wrong about him? He doesn’t move a muscle. “Guitar?”

I’m frozen in my spot on the floor. I can’t answer. I don’t know how.

“Banjo?” he names off other string instrument. “Bass?”

I want him to stop. I wish he would stop. I can’t answer and if I could, there wasn’t a way to explain it to him.
I can’t play anymore because I’m not allowed to.

“Violin?” the word causes my eyes to fly wildly up to his face and gasp. I quickly remember my conditioning and cast my eyes down again. Cringing away from him, hoping he makes the strike quick. “You play the violin?”

I remain stoic and still, waiting for my punishment.

“I’m not going to hit you,” his voice is soft, my heart wrenches. I want to believe him. He leans toward me and I flinch backwards. His eyes widen and he moves back instantly. He isn’t trying to frighten me but my reaction is out of habit. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

I relax, allowing my shoulders to sag. If he was going to hurt me, he would’ve done so by now. I scoot closer to him, trying to show him some trust. I don’t know why but I have the urge to comfort him.

“Do you talk?”

If I had the words, I would’ve given them to him. I wanted to tell him but it’s been too long since I used my words. An overwhelming feeling takes hold of me as I realize I would give this man anything and it frighten me.

“I’m Hudson. Is your name Alice?”

I slowly look up at him. His eyes are warm and kind. His body is relaxed. There is nothing threatening about the man before me despite his big and domineering presence. I have no doubt he can smash a person with one hit but in this moment, he is marshmallow soft.

“You can trust me,” sadness creeps into his eyes. I sense his need to know and I understand it. I give him a quick nod and relief fills his eyes. “You do understand what I’m saying.”

I nod.
Yes, I understand what you’re saying.

“But you don’t talk?”

I shake my head.
No, I don’t talk.

“I see,” he leans back onto the foot of the bed and watches me carefully. “Do you write?”

I shake my head.
No.
A lie but I’m not sure if it’s safe, I was already crossing the line looking at him directly.

“Is your name Alice?”

I nod.
Yes, my name is Alice.

“Alice Scott?”

I shake my head.
No.

I never got the chance to change my name in any official capacity because the abuse escalated fast. Erik wouldn’t let me leave the house because I fought against his ‘rule’. I was what he considered a flight risk. My last name is actually Michaelson but I have no way of telling him that. No form of identification to prove it either, Erik had destroyed it years ago.

“Was that man your husband?”

I look down at the dingy carpet. I don’t want to talk about Erik to him. I don’t even want to think about Erik. Because thinking about him meant I’d have to figure out what I am going to do next and quite frankly, I didn’t want to run anymore. I’m tired of running.

“Alice, I know it’s hard but I can help you, if you want,” he shifts forward, pulling his knees up to his chest, resting his thick arms on them. I peek up at him through my lashes. I want his help but I hesitate. The last person who tried to help me landed in the hospital with four broken ribs, a concussion and a swollen face. I wouldn’t let it happen again, to anyone.

“I know you’re worried but he can’t hurt me,” it’s as if he is reading my mind. I shiver, shocked over his perception. My fingers start to twitch again. “He’s being booked right now. Edwards knows something is off about him and is looking into it.”

I hear the words but I don’t trust them. They can look all they want. They won’t find anything. Erik is good at hiding his tracks. Too good. He has too many connections, too many willing to play his game. Maybe this was a ruse too. A game Erik convinced this man to play and I was just a pawn.

“Alice, let me help you.”

Panic slowly pours into my body, filling every nook and cranny.

Crap! Not right now, please not right now!

A panic attack. A new development during my time running. I wasn’t too familiar with them but I’ve been having them since my second escape. They were lessening as time passed but when they hit, they hit hard and drained me for days. It was the last thing I needed, another reason to stay.

*****

Hudson

I can see the panic mounting her body. She’s going to have a full blown attack if she doesn’t calm herself soon.

She’s afraid.
Deeply
afraid.

“Take a deep breath and slowly release it,” I coax softly. I desperately want to scoop her up and hold her close but I know it would only frighten her more. I’m as close as she is going to allow me for the time being. Every inch given had been her choice.

She nods but instead her breathing becomes laborious.

Shit, fuck!

“Breath precious, slow your breathing down,” I hated seeing her tiny frame struggle against the panic but I’d be damned if I allowed her to surrender to it.

I could see how tiny she was even as her sweater drowned her in its shapeless folds. It was that obvious. She doesn’t want me to see her though because she clutches the ratty gray sweater around her as if her life depended on it. The hood of her sweater hid her face from me most of the time, especially when her gaze rests on the flooring.

I resist the urge to yank it off her head.

“Look at me,” my voice a hoarse whisper. She lifts her head. “I need to see your face. Would it be alright if I pushed your hoodie back? You don’t have to hide from me.”

She nods and takes a deep breath. Her body is shaking uncontrollably. The attack is mounting quickly and I need to be face to face with her when it happens. I have plenty experience with panic attacks, it happens when you learn to deal with the demons I live with everyday.

I reach towards her, slowly, careful not to move too fast. My hands touch the rough gray fabric and I pull it back gasping at the sight of her. Her chocolate brown eyes are surrounded by huge dark circles. Her face is gaunt and sunken it. She’s at least twenty pounds underweight. Her skin is tight and ashen from malnutrition. I’m surprised she able to hold herself up. I can only imagine what is hidden under the layers of her clothing.

She shifts back and reaches for her hood. My reaction has embarrassed her. I lift a hand to stop her and our hands touch, electricity shoots up my arm. I pull back suddenly, like she’s burned me, and stare down at the floor. I’ve never felt anything like it before.