Lying in Wait

By K.L. Stringle

Audra Ivers has the perfect life. A brilliant writing career, fabulous friends, Michael, her adoring husband and now a baby on the way.
But it is the night of her 32nd birthday that her life changes forever when she and Michael are brutally attacked in their home, leaving Audra battered and scared and Michael dead.
It is her best friend Alan Heath that comes to her rescue, helping her recover and eventually helping her get her life back together. It is while working in Alans restaurant that she is introduced to Robert McKeller.
As Audras and Roberts romance blooms, a killer takes hold of the city. It is while doing research on this killer that Audra comes to realize that she is this killers muse, and the killer is choosing women like her.
Audra, now afraid of losing her new life plans on putting a stop to this killer, but at what cost?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 17, 2010
• ISBN: 9781450053112

K.L. Stringle

K. L. Stringle was born in Saint John, New Brunswick and raised in London, Ontario, Canada, where she currently lives with her husband and two daughters. Although an aspiring author and actress, K. L. works full-time for a prominent international insurance company and is active in her community. K. L. enjoys sports like Nascar and hockey and is not afraid to admit that she is a die-hard Toronto Maple Leafs fan. K. L. likes to relax with family and friends and is also an avid reader enjoying the works of Stephen King and Stephanie Meyer. K.L. Stringle values the opinion of you the reader and would love to hear from you. You can follow K. L. Stringle on Facebook and Twitter.

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Copyright © 2010 by K.L.Stringle.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book contains explicit language, graphic sexual content, and violence.

Xlibris

1-888-795-4274

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Contents

Acknowledgments

Foreword

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Coming soon from K. L. Stringle

This book is dedicated to my beautiful friend, Sheri Handley,

. . . . for your courage, strength, friendship . . . and inspiration.

I thank you.

I will love you forever.

Kandice

Acknowledgments

Thank you to my husband, Phil, and daughters, Laura and Felicia, for letting me alone to write this book. Your patience with me is greatly appreciated. I love you for your support.

Thank you to Francois from the Ministry of Tourism, Quebec, for helping me with my research on the history of Montreal and its familiar sites.

Thank you to Lena from Tourism Vancouver, for all of her help on my research of Vancouver and helping me pick out the perfect place for Audra to live.

To my buddy, my pal, my proofreader extraordinaire, Amanda Mulcahy. Thank you so much for your help (kiss, kiss). Get ready for Vegas darlin’!!!!!! (and welcome baby Mya)

Thank you to Susie B for your photographic expertise and help in designing the cover.

If we judge love by most of its effects, it resembles rather hatred than affection.

—Francois Duc de La Rochefoucauld

Foreword

The waiting was killing me.

Even though Tim was close by, I was still going to have to be the one to end this myself. I was never going to allow him to hurt me or anyone else again. The idea that I was the muse for a serial killer not only disgusted me, but it caused me extraordinary guilt and pain. Alan, my best friend of fifteen years, the man who had also caused me so much pain, was now going to know what real pain was. And I was just the woman, man enough to do it.

The doorknob wiggled as he opened the door. I stayed on my side, back to him. Lying and waiting.

Audra, I’m here, honey, he whispered.

I pretended not to notice him. Pretended to stay asleep.

Audra, it’s me, time to get up, we have to go, he said louder. He reached out like he was going to lift me up off the bed.

Tim sprang from his corner, leaping out toward Alan. They wrestled on the floor. I could hear them fighting, the slap of skin as they hit each other, the cursing, and the grunting. I crawled to the floor thinking of how to make my escape. Suddenly, Alan was in front of me. This time he was coming toward me, like I had wanted him to just a few minutes before. I grabbed the gun from under my pillow and I pointed it at him. He laughed loudly as if it was the funniest thing he had ever seen.

Don’t even try it, Audra, there is nothing that you or anyone else could do to keep me away from you, he said. I could see a smug look on his face.

That is all it took. I fired, watching him fall to the floor.

It was over.

I jumped over the bed to attend to Tim, lying there bleeding.

I knew for years that Alan was in love with me. I knew for years that he was never what I wanted, but maybe it was all my fault. Maybe if I had loved him the way that he wanted me to, none of this ever would have happened. Maybe if I had loved him, nineteen women would be alive and well and in the arms of their loved ones. Maybe if I had tried to love him, Michael would be alive.

But Alan loved me. He could never hurt me.

That is probably why I never saw him coming.

Chapter 1

He watched her.

Wanted her.

He had loved her since he first laid eyes on her in college. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

The most important woman, no, the only woman in the world.

She should be his and he told himself that one day, she would be.

Her flowing brown hair, her peaches and cream skin, her full lips.

Lips he so longed to taste.

She had the most beautiful blue eyes, sapphires, steely gray, mesmerizing, intoxicating.

Looking into them made him hard.

She had a tattoo on her shoulder, and although he thought tattoos on women were disgusting, she made it look sexy, and he loved the way she loved to show it off.

She looked beautiful in everything she wore. She was never trashy, unlike some of the others.

She got along with everyone she met. Everyone loved her, none, however, more than him.

He had built a shrine to her in his bedroom. Pictures of her were on every surface of the walls.

Pictures from newspapers and magazines. Pictures from their college years. Pictures that he had taken whenever she was near. Her face was the last he saw at night, and the first he saw in the morning.

He would masturbate to her image, dreaming that he was making love to her.

He was obsessed with her. Knew everything about her, knew everywhere she went.

Yes, there had been others, but none were ever like her, they could never be her.

They all would pay the ultimate price for not being her.

She, however, was married to Michael Ivers, the big Hollywood contractor.

No more than a glorified wallpaper hanger, he mused to himself.

Seeing them together made him crazy. Michael did not deserve her. Only he could make her truly happy.

Tonight, they were there, in his restaurant, celebrating her birthday with their rich yuppie friends.

None of them really cared about her. The rich bastards were just pretending to be interested in her.

He hovered, listening to every conversation, forever playing the gracious host.

He could feel the bile rise into his throat whenever Michael would lean over to kiss her and was revolted with the thought that he could touch her whenever he wanted.

He would stare at her once in a while, but would never be obvious about it. He would even make his presence known when Michael would lean into whisper to her or reach out to touch her.

The conversations were droll by his standards; what was her new book about, what new project had Michael taken on, and they were going to have a baby.

He gasped, shuddering at that thought.

What? She was having Michael’s baby? Was she serious? How could she think such a thing?

His head was whirling, and his heart racing.

No! No! He furied.

He had to do something to stop this outrage. He would never allow that to happen.

He watched Audra as Michael came forward to him.

Hey, Alan, can I get the bill from you? Michael asked.

He stood there, a look of disgust on his face. He pulled the bill from the pile he had on top of the bar and handed it to Michael. Michael paused to review and then pulled his wallet from his pocket, oblivious to the evil look he was getting from Alan.

He straightened up as Audra came forth. She wrapped her arm around Michael’s waist as Michael handed him his credit card. He went around the bar and swiped it and then handed the slip and card back to Michael.

Happy birthday, Audra, he said as he walked out from around the bar.

Audra smiled at him. Thanks, Alan, it was a great night, thanks again for everything.

He smiled, took her hand, and pulled her away from Michael. He placed his hands on either side of her face and kissed her full on the mouth.

Michael pulled at her to break the kiss.

He smirked guiltily.

Audra backed away, bewildered.

Come on, honey, Michael said to Audra, pulling her away. Michael was not impressed.

He grinned devilishly, extremely proud of himself.

He just glared at Michael as he took her hand. Audra turned to look at him.

That look from her was it. He could not hold out for her any longer.

He loved her so much it hurt, and he hated Michael so much it made him sick with fury.

So he was now formulating a plan.

He was going to have to take care of the problem, as he saw it, himself.

Audra was going to be his . . . tonight.

Chapter 2

It was the night of my thirty-second birthday.

Between Christmas and New Years.

My husband, Michael had whipped up a little gathering for me at my favorite restaurant, Luna Bistro. It was owned by my friend, Alan Heath.

Alan and I met at the University of Western Ontario nearly fifteen years ago.

Now he wasn’t the Casanova he would have you believe, but he was always surrounded by women. He made the ladies swoon with his creations in the kitchen, and tonight, as always, he did not disappoint.

Alan had made us one of my favorite dishes.

Cornish game hens with an apricot glaze, garlic—and herb-roasted potatoes and steamed vegetables.

It was awesome.

Everyone enjoyed it as he had clearly outdone himself.

Just when I thought that the meal was over, everyone in the restaurant stood and started singing happy birthday to me.

Alan walked up, carrying a cake that had about fifty sparklers in it. Well, maybe thirty-two.

He led the way, his staff and other patrons following.

He had made his crème brûlée cheesecake, another of my many favorites, for my birthday cake.

I don’t think Michael was expecting that and frowned a little when Alan made a big deal about it.

Alan caught Michael’s facial expression and smiled a smile so big, you could tell he was gloating. It always seemed to me that Alan always had to do one better than Michael when it came to me.

At that time, I never really understood why.

Michael invited some of our friends, whom had flown in from California and New York, to celebrate with us. They planned on making it a ski weekend while they were here, and although I was a good Canadian girl from Ontario, I had no inclination to do the same.

I was a writer.

My sport was throwing my laptop whenever I got into a really nasty case of writer’s block.

The conversations would vary from contractors to writers to vacations to eventually family. Our friend, Jennifer wondered out loud as to when Michael and I were going to start trying for a baby.

You’re thirty-two now, Audra, aren’t you hearing that biological clock tick away? she asked.

I have never really given it much thought, I said looking at Michael. He winked at me.

Our friends, Jennifer Rogers and her husband, Cal, like Michael, were from California. Cal and Michael had been friends since high school. Cal was a homicide detective for the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s department. Jennifer was a part-time teacher, but her passion was interior design.

Leslie and Mark Templeton were from New York, although Leslie was originally from California too. She and Michael met in college. Leslie was a nurse, but quit her job to be a stay-at-home Mom. Mark owns a computer consulting business in Manhattan.

Jack Phillips and his wife Susan were from New York as well. Jack met Michael when he hired him to build his ski chalet up in Whistler. Jack is a lawyer and Susan is his secretary.

Michael and I have been married for eight years. We met at the release party for my third book, Speed Demon. My publisher picked a nightclub in New York as the venue, and Michael was his guest.

Michael and I were introduced, and three months later, we were married on the beach in San Francisco. That is when I met everyone.

I was nervous, at first, to be put into the middle of such a close group of friends, but they are all fantastic people and they accepted me right away.

Jennifer was like my best friend, second only to Michael.

Michael rose from his chair and cleared his throat. I looked up at him, knowing exactly what he was up to. I started to blush. He took my hand. Alan was hanging back, trying not to look too obvious. Michael looked at him. Come on over here, Alan, this is for you too. Alan gave me a confused look, waiting for me to give him the answer to an unknown question. I couldn’t help him and shrugged my shoulders. I was confused too. Michael and Alan were not friends. In fact, Alan despised Michael, and Michael made it perfectly clear that Alan was unwelcome more often than not. Michael smiled as Alan came forth to the table. He stood behind Jennifer, daring not to get too close to me. Michael looked down at me again and a gleeming smile appeared. He looked like he was about to burst.

First of all, I want to thank all of you for coming to help celebrate Audra’s birthday, but there is another reason that I wanted to see you all here tonight. He stopped talking and looked around the table at the faces of his friends. Our friends. Alan adjusted his stance and Jennifer huffed. Tell us what is up already man, Cal said to him. Michael smiled again. He bent down to kiss me, took a deep breath, and addressed the table again. Okay, well, a few days ago, I found out that someday in mid-July, I am going to be a father. He smiled again and sat back down. There was a deafening silence for just a split second and then Jennifer screamed. Cal started laughing and then the rest of our company joined in as the news sunk in. Jennifer jumped up and ran over to hug me. While I was locked in her hug I glanced quickly over at Alan. His face was a collage of emotion. First, there was shock, then sadness, and then there was a flaming look of fury. I had never seen someone look so angry before. I squeezed Michael’s hand. He looked at me, then at Alan. Alan glared at him and then turned and stomped his way back to the kitchen. I exhaled and turned to look at Michael. He was still wearing that glorious smile, and he looked very proud of himself. All I could do was roll my eyes.

Jennifer released me and then went to Michael. It made me happy that she was so excited.

I am so pissed that you kept this from me, Audy, she squealed. She then turned her attention back to Michael. He was being mauled by Cal and then Jack. We were even being congratulated by other patrons. I could feel my ears burn from the blush. Michael and I sat back down and he kissed me. Everyone started clapping.

I broke away from the conversations to look out the large bay window at the front of the restaurant. I watched as the snowflakes started falling.

Snow wasn’t unusual for Vancouver, but of all the winters I had spent here, it usually just rained.

The snow was really the only thing I missed from Ontario.

I loved winter.

Hey, look everyone, it’s snowing, I said, as I stared out the window, watching the people on the street. Jessica, one of Alan’s waitresses, came over to look out the window with me.

I heard that we were supposed to get a snowstorm tonight, she said.

Cool! I spouted excitedly. I had not seen a good winter storm in years.

Michael and I lived about forty minutes southeast of town, in Burnaby, so I told him that it would probably be best if we left soon. He nodded as he looked out the window at the snow, hoping that it would not get any worse. I took his hand.

Jess says we’re supposed to be getting a storm tonight, so I think we had better get a move on, I whispered to him.

Lovely, I hate snow, he replied.

I winked at him. Then it’s a good thing we don’t live in Winnipeg.

He smiled and then leaned in to kiss me.

We started our good-byes and see-you-laters, giving hugs and kisses all around.

I made brunch plans for Sunday with the group as Michael went to thank Alan for our wonderful evening and to pay the bill. I quickly joined them, thanking Alan for putting up with us for so long.

He wished me a happy birthday as he came out from around the bar and reached out for what I thought was a hug. Instead, he placed both hands on my face and pulled me in for a full contact kiss on the lips. Michael grabbed at my elbow and pulled me away to make Alan stop. I was shocked at Alan’s boldness and looked at him, feeling a little bewildered. Usually when Alan pulled that, I would slug him, but I was in public and in front of our friends, so I thought it best to let Michael handle it. Hopefully, he wouldn’t try to kill him right there in the restaurant.

Come on, honey, let’s go, Michael said as he pulled me away.

As we walked back to our friends, I glanced back over my shoulder and saw the look of death that Alan was giving Michael. My brow furrowed in confusion.

I did not understand it then, but the look that Alan had given Michael gave me a chill. If looks could kill, Michael was dead where he stood.

The drive home was quiet. The snow was not too bad in Vancouver, but as soon as we reached the outskirts of town, the weather intensified. We only talked a little, knowing that Michael wanted to concentrate on the roads.

I was still going over the baby conversation that I had had with Jennifer and much to my surprise, I think I was smiling. Knowing how excited Michael was about us having a baby, I pretty much figured that I still had more celebrating to do when we got home. Not that we ever really needed a reason for that anyway. I was picturing us in a few cozy scenarios in my mind.

The car jerking to the left snapped me out of my little fantasy world.

His face was tense.

The roads were getting icy, and I knew that Michael was trying to get us home quickly, unscathed.

Him being from the sunny and hot state of California, he had not yet come to appreciate the snow.

I put my hand on his knee and gave it a little squeeze, just to let him know it was all right that I understood his tension and was not going to question it. He smiled at me and raised his hand to caress my cheek and blow me a kiss. I blew one back and smiled, feeling my face flush.

We pulled into our laneway just as the brunt of the storm came at us. Michael barely got into the garage; it had snowed that much here.

I got out of the car and started toward the door. Michael was right behind me and grabbed me so that he could pick me up.

I giggled.

What are you doing? I asked him.

I’m carrying you over the threshold, he said.

You already did this when we got married, remember.

He smiled at me. But it’s your birthday.

He opened the door and carried me over to the sofa in the living room, bending forward to kiss me as he set me down.

I’m going to start a fire, he said.

Okay, I responded, I’m going to go upstairs to change into something . . . a little more comfortable.

He pulled me into him and kissed me again. He then raised one eyebrow and smirked.

I can hardly wait, he said.

I came down the stairs slowly.

Michael had laid out a blanket on the floor near the fireplace and had poured two small snifters of brandy. He was still holding them in his hands when he saw me coming down the stairs.

I was wearing the silver lace nightgown that he had given me for Christmas.

I left my hair down, no glasses, and no inhibitions.

Wow! he said, you look absolutely beautiful.

I smiled at him. I think you’re a little biased, I said. As usual, I was blushing.

I know beautiful when I see it, he said, handing me a glass.

He wrapped his arm around me as I took the glass from his hand. Knowing that I would not be drinking it, I placed the glass on the coffee table behind me and stretched up to kiss him. He kissed me back hard, his tongue finding mine. I helped him unbutton his shirt and threw it on the sofa. He grabbed my arms, rather roughly, so he must be ready, and laid me down on the outstretched blanket. We continued the high school make out scene for several minutes. He pulled away and stood up. I laid there propped up on one arm while he finished taking off the rest of his clothes. He laid himself back down beside me and started kissing me again. His kiss was very passionate, his hands exploring, but then he stopped and looked into my eyes.

Audra, I love you so much. I still can’t believe that you are having my baby? he said.

I studied his face, watching his eyes sparkle with excitement. I loved him like no one had ever loved anyone else in the world and for a split second, I felt very undeserving of him and his love.

You are happy about this? I asked.

I am very happy, sweetheart. I have never wanted anything so much in all my life. I have you, my beautiful, talented wife and now you are giving me the single most greatest gift ever. You are having my baby.

He then wrapped me in his arms again, and the kissing became more urgent. He pulled my nightgown off over my head and ran his hands up and down my stomach, stopping to fondle my breasts. He kissed my neck and worked himself downward. I was in total ecstasy and I tried to reciprocate as much as I could, but he was relentless, finally taking me.

Our lovemaking was always fantastic, but tonight it was different, almost magical.

The fire burned out long before we did.

We must have fallen asleep right there on the floor. I awoke suddenly, to the sound of the wind against the windows. It was dark except for the glow from the small light in the kitchen. I looked up seeing that I was still entangled with Michael, and though I should feel warm, the room felt cold. I realized that the fire was out so I worked my way free of him and stretched up to grab another blanket from the chair next to us. Michael rolled over onto his back, but did not wake up. He had his boxer’s back on, although I didn’t remember him moving.

I went to lie back down beside him when I saw something sparkle out of the corner of my eye. Thinking it was just the sparkle of the blowing snow outside, I sat up to take another look.

That is when I saw the two figures standing over us.

They were dressed in black, wearing ski masks and black leather gloves. One had a large knife.

I managed to nudge Michael hard in the ribs, but was unable to move anything else. He woke up and looked around. He registered me beside him and saw that I was sitting up. He sat up to ask me what was wrong when the two men started walking over to us. He jumped to his feet trying to fight with them. One of the two took on Michael while the other just stood over me, watching me, waiting for any reaction. I sat there, in disbelief for just the slightest moment, before I covered up with the blanket and tried to get up to run. He caught me and threw me up against the wall. He held me by my throat. I was shaking, and wanted to fight, but I knew that if I did, he would hurt me, hurt us.

I tried to call out to Michael, but the grip he had on me was so firm on my throat that I could not make a sound. The one who held me looked into my eyes and started to speak. There was something familiar about the voice, but I was too terrified to place it.

If I let you go, will you behave? the man asked. I listened hard to the voice, in case I had heard it or would ever hear it again.

I croaked a weak yes and tried to nod my head.

He released the grip on my throat, but started to put his hands on my breasts and stomach. I had forgotten that I had no clothes on.

I returned my eyes to Michael never again looking at my attacker.

Then I was grabbed and was thrown to the floor.

Michael called out to me, but he was still being restrained. The one holding Michael got him onto his knees. His head was being held in place to make it look like he was looking at me. Michael’s eyes were crazy, but he did not resist.

Michael started to plead with our captors.

Please, don’t hurt her, I will do anything you ask, I will give you anything that you want, please just don’t hurt her. Michael pleaded.

The one holding Michael laughed as he stuck the blade of his knife against Michael’s throat.

I screamed, pleading for Michael’s life. He pushed the blade of his knife to Michael’s throat harder, a small trickle of blood starting to run down Michael’s neck onto his shoulder.

The one hovering over me just looked down at me and smiled. Breathing heavily, triumphantly it seemed to me.

He turned his gaze to Michael.

She’s the only prize I’ve come for, he sneered.

We both knew what was coming next. Michael was going to be forced to watch as I was raped.

No, please no, don’t do this please, I’m pregnant, I screamed, trying to halt the attack.

His pants were now down around his knees, and he played with himself, getting himself ready for when he thrust himself into me.

The force of my attacker was intense, very painful. All I could do was cry. He had lifted the mouth of his ski mask so that he could kiss me, the skin on my neck and breasts. I could taste the vodka on his lips and could smell the sweet, cloying odor of his breath. It would be something I would never forget. I never looked away from Michael. Even through my own tears, I could see that Michael too, was crying, trying to get away from his captor’s grasp.

My attacker groaned as he finished his evil deed. He then he turned his gaze to Michael.

That is how you fuck a woman like this, he spat. A beautiful woman like this needs to be taken.

Michael groaned.

My attacker got up off me and pulled his pants back up. I curled up onto my side, crying harder. Still facing Michael. I looked up briefly to see what the two men were doing. The rapist looked over at the other and nodded. He then threw himself back on top of me. Holding me in place as I watched what was about to happen to Michael. A knife was being held to my side, but I did not care. I only concentrated on my husband.

That is when Michael’s captor laughed, and with one quick movement, he stabbed Michael in the neck, slicing him from ear to ear.

I screamed as he kept thrusting his blade into Michael. Michael stopped moving and slumped down on the floor, blood everywhere. I heard gurgling sounds as Michael tried to breathe. I kept screaming out Michael’s name, trying to get up from underneath my attacker.

As I struggled with my attacker, I felt the sting of something hot in my side over and over, but ignored it, keeping my focus on trying to save Michael.

I was still screaming when the other one, the one whom had killed Michael, came over and stood over me. He thrust the blade of his knife upward into my abdomen, just above my pubic bone.

Now the slate is clean, he whispered.

I could not move, the pain was excruciating, but I endured it, keeping my thoughts only on Michael, still calling to him.

I strained to listen. The attackers had left as swiftly and as quietly as they had come.

No sounds, no breathing, no movements, nothing.

"No, Michael, oh god, no!" I screamed.

That is when everything went black.

*     *     *

Where is she? he asked at the nurse’s station. Where is Audra?

The nurse sitting at the desk looked up at him.

Are you a family member, sir? she asked.

I’m her brother, he lied.

She’s in room four-oh-two, but she is unconscious, she just came out of surgery again. Maybe you should come back later.

What do you mean again?

The doctors have had to go in three times now, but they think they have finally stopped the bleeding now though. They have her in an induced coma, so you should really come back later.

He just shook his head. I’m staying.

He walked quickly, almost running to the room. There was another nurse in the room checking the machine readouts and changing the IV bag. He stood at the foot of her bed, trying to think of something to say, to do. He was pained at the fact that she was there, and there was nothing he could do to save her.

How long has she been like this? He asked of the nurse.

She looked at him mournfully. Almost four days. She just got out of surgery again. She may be out for a little while longer.

Thanks, he replied, already hearing this.

He went over to the side of the bed and took my hand in his. He knew that I couldn’t feel it.

It would be a few more days for me to come to.

I was not sure exactly when it was or who, but I heard a woman’s voice.

Mrs. Ivers, Audra, can you hear me?

It was not a voice I recognized.

Audra, it’s Alan, can you hear us?

Their voices sounded muffled at first, probably due to the medication, but then became clearer. I could hear the beeping of a machine in the distance, but then it sounded like it was right behind me. The voice came again. I knew that voice, was it the voice of an angel maybe? Was I dead?

I wanted to answer, call out, and scream. Something, anything.

My body would not function.

I could feel something or someone touching my hand, squeezing it. I felt the soft touch of fingers on my face. A hand sweeping through my hair.

I still could not make my body respond.

I could hear the footsteps of someone leaving the room as they got quieter, farther away. The fingers were still touching my hand, my cheek then my lips.

Audra, please, wake up, please, see me.

That voice again. A voice I knew. Who was there with me?

It was not long before I opened my eyes, expecting darkness, but I could see light, although it was much too bright to focus.

I could see shapes moving, dark spots floating from side to side. I kept moving my eyes, trying to make the dark spots disappear.

Audra! a calm voice called, Finally you’re awake.

I kept blinking, the black spots eventually fading so that the picture before me was clearer.

When I was able to focus I saw Alan’s face, he held my hand up to his mouth, kissing it. I could feel his warm breath travel up my arm. I looked around the room, seeing the four dozen or so, vases of pink roses. I could smell them as well.

I tried to get more parts of my body to move, but the pain in my stomach was intense. I winced and sucked in my breath.

No, don’t try to move, Alan said. You just had surgery.

Surgery? I whispered, barely.

My throat was very dry. My lips felt like they were cracked and very sore.

I need a drink of water, I whispered to Alan.

I could hear him get up and talk to someone, their voice’s low. Footsteps again, closer.

Here, Audra, here are some ice chips.

He placed a spoonful to my lips. I let them sit against my lips for just a moment and then opened my mouth. The coldness felt good on my dry throat, the water easing the soreness of my lips. I could move my hand enough to motion to Alan to keep the ice coming. He obeyed.

Alan, I whispered, where is Michael? How is he?

Silence. Alan, please, where is he?

He started to speak, Oh, Audra, I’m so sorry, I don’t know how to tell you . . .

*     *     *

Cal and Jennifer, acting on behalf of Michael’s estate, since I was incapacitated, took custody of Michael’s body and had Michael cremated, as per his wishes. Cal had placed the urn, containing his ashes, on the mantle of the fireplace in our house, until I was well enough to plan a funeral or memorial service.

I would never be well enough.

Cal had taken it upon himself to be a constant thorn in the side of the Burnaby police. Always checking in and demanding updates on the case. He would never update me though, which was probably a good thing.

Both he and Jennifer had taken leaves from their jobs in California, to stay with me and help me recuperate.

After five weeks in the hospital, I finally went home. Bruised, battered, bewildered, totally alone and completely horrified. The very thought of entering the house scared me, to the point where Jennifer had to sleep with me the first few nights.

The nightmares began the first night I was alone.

After a few weeks, Jennifer and Cal had to go home. I assured them over and over that I would be fine, and would call if I needed them.

I never did.

Alan would come over often, to see me, but I was so depressed that I barely spoke, or even acknowledged his presence. He would bring groceries or would deliver a week’s worth of meals from the restaurant, just to make sure I ate.

I never answered the phone, the newspapers stopped being delivered, and the mail piled up outside the door.

Alan, finally having enough of my depression, had Jennifer come back up to see me and in a combined force, presented the threat of hospitalization. That finally convinced me of change.

Chapter 3

Ugh!!! Why can’t I get through this?

I threw my pencil across my desk, hitting the wall on the other side of the room, leaving a gray streak on the wall. I got up from my chair and walked over to the window. It was bright and sunny, a few puffy clouds in the sky.

It was a Thursday and the last day of April, sixteen months since the attack.

My physical injuries had pretty much healed, just a few scars, constant reminders, but there was something different about me. To everyone else, I seemed pretty much back to normal, but to me, things were odd. I couldn’t sleep more than four hours, and when I did sleep, I was having nightmares. I had a temper now, and the slightest thing would set me off.

I was having the most horrible headaches. I was not a stranger to headaches; they started when I was fourteen, shortly after the death of my parents. But these were different. These were bad. Usually a couple of Advil and I would be fine, but these were the kind of headaches that would put any normal person on their ass for days. When a headache came these days, I was essentially useless. Alan would stay with me because I could not fend for myself. I would be either in bed or on the bathroom floor, for days. Alan would cook for me, if I was eating, and he would well, take care of me. He had even yelled at my doctors looking for some kind of answer. I had endured CT scans and MRIs as well as seen a neurologist, chiropractor, acupuncturist, and a massage therapist. None of them helped nor found anything wrong. My doctors prescribed different migraine medications, but I was not someone that liked taking pills.

Once upon a time, I was someone who was always so outgoing, ready to party at a moment’s notice. Now I was introverted and quiet, and I had the most severe case of writer’s block, and had not been able to write. I could not even put a few words together that would make any sense. I persevered, however, always hoping that it would suddenly pass. Now don’t get me wrong, I had had writer’s block before, but this was different, like my imagination had just shut down.

I started carrying my laptop around with me to see if I would get ideas when I was out, or down in the restaurant.

Usually nothing.

Michael was always so helpful when I was blocked. We could talk it out for hours, him always offering different scenarios for my characters.

This time I was on my own, however, Michael was dead.

Although it was one of the most difficult decisions I had ever made, I sold the house that Michael had built for us.

The house was a present to me for our second anniversary.

It was a two-story, one of a kind house with four bedrooms, three bathrooms, a large gourmet kitchen with marble floors and granite countertops. The family room was decorated inside to look like an old rustic cabin. Exposed wooden beams, hardwood floors and a stone, wood burning fireplace.

Our bedroom was my favorite. Not just because Michael and I shared our love in that room, but that one wall had two large picture windows with a set of double French doors that led out to a small deck. I would stand on the deck and stare out into the forest every day. Michael and I had watched many a sunset and sunrise through those windows and had made love on the deck, under the stars.

I was never able to really get comfortable in it after Michael was killed. I wrestled with the idea endlessly, worried that if I did sell the house, that I would be erasing him from my memories. Jennifer and Cal were helpful, like always, and agreed with my decision to sell.

I went back to California with them, just before I moved, to bury Michael’s ashes. He wanted to be near his parents. As much as I loved him, I could no longer have him so close to me. It just hurt way too much. The guilt, of not being able to save him, was so intense it felt like a hole had been punched through my chest, blowing my heart into oblivion.

I moved to Vancouver and bought the building that Alan’s restaurant was in. He was not too happy about it at first, me being his landlord now and all, but when I explained that I had no desire to charge him rent, he changed his tune and actually started to like the idea that I was so close.

The building was in the South Granville area of Vancouver.

I remodeled the entire upper portions of the building into a two-story loft. Michael had designed many a loft for Hollywood A-listers in both New York and Malibu, so I flipped through his portfolio, still not knowing why I had even kept it in the first place, and put some of his plans together with some of mine. I thought that he might get a kick out of that if he was watching me from above, and I think I did pretty good too.

The loft, as I lovingly called it, was mostly an open concept design. On the main floor was the living room with a gas fireplace, a dining room, kitchen, laundry and a small two-piece bathroom. In keeping with my old house, I placed a row of large windows in the wall behind the kitchen, and on the front wall, in the living room. My bedroom, a small guestroom, which I used as my study, and full bathroom were on the second story. From the top of the stairs there were double French doors that led out to the rooftop patio. I had a small flower garden, my patio furniture, and a barbeque. I loved it out there and would spend hours outside,