Protected

PROTECTED

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapteen Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Epilogue

I stepped outside of
Denver International Airport and glanced around at the crowds of people scurrying
around eager to reach their intended destination. Whether they were flying into
unknown horizons or returning from new discoveries, they were hugging, some crying,
with the emotion of being reunited, or possibly separated, from their loved
ones. This fleeting realisation causes pain to sear directly through the centre
of me.  I knew there would be no one here to welcome me, to hug me tight
and promise me that everything was going to be okay, but witnessing it first-hand
only brought home how alone I truly am.

I intended for my
first visit to Denver to be a memorable occasion of another kind, something I
had been looking forward to for almost two years.  We had made strategies,
promises, spoken weekly on video call to formulate our plans, plans that were
no longer possible. I suck in a deep breath to prevent the tightening in my
chest from spreading through my entire body. 

What happened, Ollie?
I scream inside my mind.  Why you, why now? 

Someone bumps into
me, and in the usual British manner, I apologize, although this interaction distracts
me from the misery inside my head.  I wander aimlessly until I locate the yellow
car rental sign.  I follow the directions until I have joined a queue that
will bring me closer to Krystal, a small town just two hours outside of Denver
City, where my brother had been attempting to reshape his future.

While I wait in
line, I bring out my mobile phone and send a text to Shauna, my best friend,
notifying her of my safe arrival.

My phone
immediately rings, Shauna! I glance at the three people in front of me in the
queue, to estimate the time I have to reassure my best friend I am okay.  Calculating
I have enough time I bring the phone to my ear.

‘I’m fine, Shauna,’
she had wanted to accompany me on this trip, but having a baby just six weeks
ago meant that she was still adjusting to becoming a new mum and all it
entailed. Besides, the last thing I would want to do is bring her down from the
incredibly high that she and her husband were currently experiencing, with my
tragic dramas.

‘I wish I were with
you,’ she worries.  ‘I hate that you are alone right now,’ she admits,
softly.

‘I know,’ I close
my eyes, I wish she were with me too. I wish I had someone, anyone to share the
grief and burden with, unfortunately, I don’t.  I don’t think I have ever
had that, not really; it has always been me, standing alone against the
world. 

I had hoped,
desperately, that Ollie and I reconnecting four years ago meant that I would
finally have someone for me, to trust and depend on, someone that would love me
unconditionally, listen to my anxieties and fears as I would them.  

It seems fate had
other ideas.

‘What time is it
there?’ I glance at my watch, it was almost midnight here, which meant it was
early morning for London. 

‘Seven,’ Shauna
yawns, ‘it seems my daughter is an early riser.’

‘How is she doing?’
I ask, softly.  Shauna and Matt were ecstatic at the arrival of their
daughter, Emily-Jane, and they had every right to be.  Shauna had
struggled to conceive for eighteen months before the line on the applicator
finally turned positive. 

‘Adorable,’ the
warmth in her voice is unmeasurable.  ‘Although, she wants her godmother
back in the same country sometime soon,’ she remarks, dryly.

I smile, ‘I only
left this morning, Shauna,’ I remind her.

‘I know but,’ she
begins, and then stops.

‘What?’ I
encourage.

‘Well, what if you
love it there and don’t want to come back?’ She questions playfully, although I
hear a hint of uncertainty in her tone.

‘Shauna, I am here
for Ollie,’ I curb the impatience in my voice, knowing her words are coming
from the heart.  ‘Do you seriously think I want to be here?’ I test,
unfairly.

How can she not
know that I would prefer to be anywhere in the world, rather than here? 
If she’d asked me the same question before the devastating phone call of
yesterday morning, I may have felt a pang of guilt at the recent deliberations
of maybe building a new life in Krystal, with my brother.  Now, however, nothing
could prevent me from dealing with whatever it is that I face, as quickly as
possible, before racing back to London, to resume my life and put this heartbreaking
event firmly in the ever increasing vault in the back of my mind.  The
vault that carried all of the wreckages from my thirty-one years of life.

‘No,’ she murmurs,
quietly.  ‘I’m sorry babe I am cranky through lack of sleep and upset that
you are facing what you are facing, alone.  Is your dad flying in?’ Shauna
ignores my impatience and guilt punches me clean in the gut, none of this is
her fault, she is a supportive friend.

‘No, it’s me that
should be sorry,’ I admit.  ‘I am also sleep deprived and now have a
two-hour drive ahead of me.  My dad hasn’t replied to my calls, so I have
no idea what is going on there.’ 

My father’s silence
is nothing new, my relationship with him is non-existent. We know nothing about
each other’s lives, we are strangers that share genetics, it’s as simple as
that.

‘I’m sorry, Soph,’
Shauna sighs, I know in frustration at her inability to help.

‘I’ll be fine,’ I
assure her, gently.  ‘Listen, Hun.  I am almost at the front of the
queue to get my rental car, I’ll call you later,’ I promise, noticing that
there is now only one person in front of me.

‘Okay, Soph. 
Drive safely, can you send me a text, so I know you have reached Krystal?’ She
pleads. ‘I will worry otherwise,’ and there it is, my Shauna, always fretting
about me.

‘Of course, I’ll
catch up with you soon,’ I disconnect as I move forward to the cashier’s
desk. 

Thank goodness the
Jeep has a Sat Nav system.  It is pitch black outside, and I have no idea
of where I am heading.  Fatigue, and concentrating immensely on driving on
the opposite side of the road from London, has provided me a thumping tension headache.

By the time I pull
in alongside the Barbers shop, situated halfway down the small high street of
Krystal, it is almost three in the morning and the whole area is understandably
deserted.

I stare at the red
and black sign that has ‘
Ollie’s’
slanted in italics, with an image of a
set of clippers set on one corner, a pair of scissors in the other.  I swallow
down the lump that’s a combination of emotion and exhaustion as I climb
clumsily out of the vehicle. I take a deep gulp of the mountain air to prevent
me from melting into an emotional heap on the pavement.

I lean back against
the car, my body feeling weak with tiredness, and gaze at the pretty row of
shops.  On our weekly video call, Ollie had said he was doing brilliantly,
building up a clientele and making new friends.  I have to question what
the hell happened between last Wednesday, and two days ago? 

I turn to the sound
of an engine rumbling, as a car moves into the street from a distance and pulls
in behind me.  A police car.

I push off of the
Jeep and watch as a tall man, maybe six-foot-tall, greying hair in a dark
uniform, gun at his hip, steps out and regards me cautiously.

‘Everything alright
here, Ma’am?’ His hand at his utility belt, he steps closer. 

‘Hello officer,’ I
reply politely, ‘yes, I have just arrived from the airport,’ I explain, fear
filling me with the knowledge he has a gun at his fingertips.  I find it
hard to accept that in the UK, the police have now started to carry guns at the
airports, seeing one out on the street on the belt of a police officer is even
more intimidating.

He nods, looking
into my Jeep with interest.  ‘You staying in Krystal?’

‘Yes,’ I nod to the
vehicle, ‘you want to have a look inside?’ I asked sarcastically, but he nods.

‘If you could open
up the vehicle, Ma’am, and step back onto the sidewalk,’ his hand is still
hitched to his hip belt.  Jesus, don’t they need a search warrant to explore
your car?

‘Don’t you need a
warrant?’ I test irritated, but I open both doors that lean against the
sidewalk regardless before stepping back, as instructed. 

‘You just gave me
permission, Ma’am,’ his accent is lazy, his gaze informs me otherwise.

The officer refuses
to turn his body away from me, but glances casually inside the empty
vehicle.  My luggage is in the boot, my handbag on the front passenger
seat along with my travel documents. 

‘Can I see your ID
and license, Ma’am,’ he twists in my direction and grasps his radio calling in
my car details.

‘My papers are in
the car if I am permitted to fetch them?’ I arch an eyebrow towards him in
question.  He nods his agreement. I climb over the driver’s seat and bring
out my handbag, which holds my passport and license.

‘Move your hands
slowly, Ma’am,’ he commands, I comply, fear sobering me from my fatigued state.

I watch as he keeps
one eye on me and another on the paperwork that I hand to him. 

‘You Oliver
Parker’s sister?’ His eyes flicker up to me, his tone less severe.

‘Yes, sir,’ I
swallow, painfully.

‘I’m sorry for your
loss, Ma’am,’ he nods.  ‘Where are you heading?  Forensics haven’t quite
finished here, expected to be finished by Friday.’ He returns my paperwork.

‘Oh!’ I feel my
shoulders sag; I am dead on my feet.  I would die for a shower and a soft,
clean bed right now. ‘I didn’t know that,’ I hear the squeak in my voice, the
tears that have been threatening the entire journey about to erupt at this
unwelcomed information.

‘There’s a hotel on
the hill, not sure anyone is there to book you in this time of night,’ his eyes
soften at my evident distressed state.

‘Okay, am I free to
go?’ I ask, I’ll sleep in the car if I have to.

‘Of course, Miss
Parker.  Let me just call through to Marnie, she owns the hotel, see if
she can help you out. Sit in your vehicle,’ he encourages, his eyes softening
at my obvious emotional state.

‘Thank you,
officer,’ his kindness is doing nothing to suppress the locked emotion that
curls in my chest. 

I take a deep
breath and wipe away one stray tear that has somehow managed to escape. ‘I can
get through this,’ I recite to myself, as I climb in the Jeep and lay my head
back against the soft headrest closing my eyes against the throbbing in my
temple.

‘Miss Parker?’ the
officer is leaning into the car, ‘you okay, Ma’am?’

‘Yes, sorry. 
I have been on the go since yesterday,’ I explain.

‘Of course,’ his
previous hostile glance now exposes his concern.  ‘Marnie said if you go
on up, she’ll get you a room prepared.’

‘I am so grateful,’
I murmur, expelling a relieved breath at this news.

‘No problem,
Ma’am.  If you continue up to the second set of lights and turn a left up
the hill, you’ll see the hotel before you. Marnie will meet you there.’

‘Thank you again, Officer,’
I call as he closes my door with a courteous nod.

True to his word,
as soon as I pull into the hotel car park and turn the engine off, the front
door of the hotel opens.  A middle-aged woman, who I suspect is Marnie,
wrapped in a white towelling dressing gown, waves at me warmly.

I wave back as I
open the boot, and lift out my rolling suitcase. 

‘We can get your
things in the morning, honey.  You come in now and get yourself some
sleep,’ Marnie calls over affectionately.

‘It’s okay. I need
my toiletries,’ I explain, as I lock up the vehicle and move towards the
doorway.

 ‘Come on in,
honey. You look like you are sleeping on your feet.’ Her accent is warm and
welcoming, instantly calming my insides.

I send her a watery
smile, ‘Thank you so much for opening for me, Mrs?’ I question.

‘Just call me
Marnie, honey.  You go straight on up, we can deal with the booking-in
tomorrow,’ she passes me a key card.  ‘First floor, room seventeen. 
You think you can manage from here?’

‘Yes, thank you,’ I
take the key card and search for the lift to take me up to my bed, ‘I’m
Sophie,’ I smile.

‘Elevator on your
left Sophie honey, sweet dreams now,’ her hand squeezes my bicep gently,
reassuringly.

********

I
wake and glance at the bedside clock, which enlightens me to the lateness of
the hour.  Two-thirty in the afternoon and I have slept solidly for ten
hours.  Stretching out against the soft white sheets, I lay and take in my
surroundings.  I didn’t take much notice in the early hours of the
morning, all I had in me to do, was shower and flop into the waiting bed. 
The room is clean and comfortable providing everything that you would require
as a guest.  The décor is neutral, the shower room basic, but again clean
with grey fluffy towels. 

Stepping
inside the bathroom, I go about my business and take another shower to wash
away the lingering fatigue.  Dressing in black skinny jeans and a black
tank top, I dry off my short elf shaped dark locks enticing the longer front
over to one side.  I apply my daily makeup of liner and mascara and line
my lips, colouring them in with gloss, before pushing my feet into my cute
ankle boots.  I look in the mirror and notice how sad my huge hazel eyes
appear beyond the long lashes.