Waiting In Darkness_A Sabrina Vaughn Thriller Read online

  The nasty grin that worked its way across the trucker’s face told her he knew he’d scared her. That he’d meant to. That he liked it. “Yeah, you do.” He tilted his head to give her a smile that looked more like a sneer. “No swingin’ dick comes charging to the rescue like that without good reason,” he said, the laugh that followed sounding like a shovel hitting a pile of hot asphalt—black and sticky. “He’s been at you, good and proper… I’m just wondering if he knows you’re givin’ it up to that Carson kid too.”

  “That’s a lie.” The words ripped out of her, their claws leaving holes in her chest, making it hard to breathe.

  You taste like peaches.

  It’d happened last month at school. Daydreaming, as she often did in Chem class, she’d doodled through the bell, not noticing that the room was rapidly emptying. The final bell jerked her in her seat and she began shoving books and papers into her bag, giving a startled yelp when she heard her name being whispered in her ear. “You waitin’ on me, Melissa?”

  Jed. She shot to her feet and turned, running into the solid wall of his chest and her hands went up, instinctively attempting to fend him off. “No, I just—”

  He leaned into her, pinning her against one of the heavy lab tables, making escape impossible. “You aren’t afraid of me are you?” He brought a hand up, laying it on her collarbone, the heel of it pressed against the place where her heart was trying to bounce out of her chest.

  She couldn’t speak, her tongue thick and useless, glued to the roof of her mouth. She shook her head and he laughed at her, taking her fear for something else.

  “Just relax,” he said to her, lids heavy over warm hazel eyes. “If you don’t like, I’ll stop… promise.”

  He kissed her and she let him—going still as she allowed the firm pressure of Jed’s lips on hers. He must’ve taken her lack of resistance as encouragement because the firm pressure of his mouth suddenly intensified, went heavy with the kind of desperation that turned her fear to something close to terror.

  He groaned, shoving his tongue into her mouth with so much force tears sprang instantly to her eyes. The hand at her hip clamped tight, holding her in place while he pushed himself into the space between her thighs, grinding his erection against her.

  Breaking away, she turned her face to the side. “Jed, please…” she whispered, her eyes wheeling toward the closed classroom door. This was the last period of the day, no one was coming. No one knew she was in here. Not that anyone would care. She was Kelly Walker’s daughter. That made anything that happened here—anything he did to her—her fault. “Please stop.”

  Instead of stepping back, her plea moved him closer.

  He buried his face in her exposed neck, inhaling deeply against her skin. “Remember the first time I kissed you,” he whispered, his words hot against her jaw, the hand between them dipping lower to cup her breast, squeezing her so hard, tears sprang to her eyes. “Remember what I said?”

  Panic, quick and razor sharp, struck deep. Stealing the air from her lungs. Anchoring her feet to the floor. She did remember. She remembered being sprawled in the dirt where he’d shoved her after she’d rejected him. It’d been her eleventh birthday. “You’re gonna be my girl, Melissa—mine,” he’d hissed at her, his fists clenched at his sides, handsome face contorted with anger.

  Five years later, Jed still hadn’t given up. If anything, he’d become more determined. She planted her hands on his chest; prepared to push him as hard as she could when again, just like that day in the woods, his attention was drawn away from her.

  A janitor opened the door, pulling his cart behind him, stalling in the doorway, blinking stupidly at the scene he’d walked in on. Jed’s hands instantly dropped, his hips shifting away from hers so that she could breathe again. He looked down at her, leaning into her again, just for a moment. “You taste like peaches,” he whispered in her ear before walking away as if nothing had happened.

  Now, a month later she could still hear him, feel the way his words wormed their way into her ear. He thought what’d happened had been consensual and why wouldn’t he? She’d let him kiss her. Had stood there and cried like a scared little girl while he put his hands on her. Anger curled in her belly, wrapped tight around the lump of shame that had been lodged there since it happened.

  Behind her, Riley let out a whimper and she turned to see the little girl staring up at her, blue eyes filled with tears, food going cold on the tray in front of her.

  “It’s okay, Ri,” she said, softening her voice. “Eat your breakfast. Everything’s okay.” The lie came out so smooth, for a moment she almost believed it.

  “Yeah, kid—everything’s just peachy…” the trucker said, letting his words trail off for a moment. “Maybe she wants her milk.” Reaching back, he produced a pink sippy cup and waggled it at her, daring her to take it.

  Very much aware that the twins were watching her, she moved away from the table, forcing herself across the worn linoleum that covered the warped floorboards of the trailer. Stopping a few feet in front of him, Melissa reached out and took the cup from his outstretched hand, her eyes never wavering from his. Once free of the cup, Pete’s hand shot toward her wrist and snaked around it with lightning speed, pulling her close. He breathed beer fumes in her face as he stared down at her, leering over her.

  She froze, just like she had with Jed—the fear that iced her gut bringing on a wave of self-disgust. “Let go of me,” she said, her tone low and even, making promises she knew she could never keep.

  The trucker laughed at her. “Or what? You gonna run tell your daddy?” He shook his head, the look he gave her making her feel naked despite the loose T-shirt and flannel pants she wore. “I got news for you, little girl—your daddy already knows you’re a whore. No need to run off and tell him,” he said, his fingers tightening painfully around her wrist.

  She looked away, her eyes instantly finding the wooden baseball bat she kept propped against the wall behind the front door. She’d used it a few time to run off some of her mother’s dates who’d gotten a bit too rough or decided that sex with Kelly wasn’t worth the money they paid. Most of them had been locals—more afraid of the fact that her father was the chief of police than a teenage girl with a bat.

  “How ‘bout that other one? The kid with the high n’ tight, drinking coffee and reading in the back.” He shook a finger at her, head cocked, eyes mean. “You fuckin’ him too?”

  Michael. He was talking about Michael. Her throat went dry. All she could do was shake her head in denial while she jerked helplessly against the hold he had on her.

  “We’re gonna have fun, you and me.” He grinned at her, revealing teeth stained the color of weak tea. “Just you wait and see…” Laughter bubbled on his lips but he let her go. She stepped back, removing herself from his reach.

  She opened her mouth, unsure of what was going to come out but then the front door banged open. Kelly teetered in on a pair of scuffed high heels, her legs banded to mid-thigh by an impossibly tight denim miniskirt. One hand gripped a paper wrapped bottle of what Melissa would bet a week’s worth of tips was the cheapest brand of vodka she could find while the others had its fingers threaded through the plastic webbing of a six-pack. The moment she saw her, her mother’s eyes narrowed suspiciously while she bounced a look between the two of them.

  “What’s goin’ on?” she said, the cigarette dangling from her lips bobbing with each word. Behind her, Riley stopped crying. Jason had gone quiet too—both of them staring at the woman who was technically their mother. She scared them, with her screeching voice and drunken stumble. She hadn’t touched them—not once—since she’d given birth to them. Melissa thought she might kill her if she tried.

  “Nothing,” she said, turning away from the way the trucker ran a possessive hand over Kelly’s backside as she walked past him, his eyes never leaving her face.

  Kelly set the paper-wrapped bottle and the bundle of cans on the counter, taking a drag before scissoring the
cigarette from her mouth to blow out a stream of smoke. “Don’t look like nothin’.” She aimed a look at the trucker. “She’s an uppity little bitch,” she said, pressing her breasts against his arm as she leaned over him to retrieve a plastic tumbler from the cabinet he stood in front of. “Gets it from my mother.” She cooed it in his ear, shooting her a glare over his shoulder.

  The trucker’s arm snaked around Kelly’s waist, fingers digging into her hip as he pulled her closer. “No worries, baby,” he said, shooting her another look. “We were just getting to know each other, is all.”

  Kelly’s expression soured a bit but she managed a smile. “Don’t bother,” she said never taking her eyes off the trucker. “Girl wouldn’t know how to have fun if it ran up and bit her in the ass,” She thrust the cup in her direction with a smirk. “Make me a drink.”

  It was something Kelly made her do whenever she could. Her mother’s way of making her feel small and powerless because she knew how much she hated doing it. She could feel the trucker watching her. Waiting for her to show herself. To either stand up to her mother or do as she’d been told.

  She hesitated a moment too long and the cup rocketed through the air, bouncing off Jason’s tray before hitting the floor in a noisy clatter. His eyes widened for a second before his face crumpled, his features dissolving in a squall of tears. They were a year and a half old. Too young to understand what was happening around them. Too small to be so scared all the time. From her seat next to her brother, Riley stared at Kelly with a look of wary caution that would ripen into hatred before too long.

  She turned her back on the pair of them. A dangerous thing but she did it anyway to smooth a shaking hand over Jason’s cheek where the cup had struck him before hitting the floor. Her fingers brushed at the red welt the cup had left while she made cooing sounds, trying to quiet him. “It’s okay. You’re okay, I’m right here. You’re—”

  “Shut that fuckin’ brat up and fix me my goddamned drink.” Kelly’s tone left no doubt that there would be consequences if she didn’t comply.

  Hunkering down, Melissa reached for the cup while Jason squalled and Riley sat in the kind of detached silence that scared her more than the crying. She didn’t realize until she tried to pick the cup up off the floor that the hand she had stretched out in front of her was clenched in a fist.

  She forced her fingers to relax enough to pick up the cup and stood, carrying it to the refrigerator. There, she filled it with ice before making her way over to the counter, Jason’s sobs tapering off into a roundabout of watery hiccups behind her.

  Melissa pulled the bottle of rot-gut from its brown paper sleeve and cracked the cap, twisting it off as fast as she could. The trucker was watching her over Kelly’s shoulder—his hooded gaze on her face, an intrusion she could barely stomach.

  Tipping the bottle over the cup, she poured nearly the entire contents over ice, the vodka’s fumes stinging her eyes. She recapped the bottle to preserve what little was left and pushed it back along the counter until it hit the wall. If one of the twins got ahold of it and spilled it, there’d be hell to pay.

  She pressed the drink into Kelly’s waiting hand. “I gotta go,” she said as she moved. “Double shift at the diner.”

  “Don’t leave them here,” Kelly called after her, the ice in her cup rattling as she lifted it to take a drink. “Pete and me have plans, ain’t that right, Daddy?”

  “That’s right, baby,” the trucker all but growled, taking the tumbler out of Kelly’s hand before he started to maul her.

  Melissa’s stomach heaved. Sometimes the fact that they shared DNA was too much to consider. It was easier to pretend they were strangers. That this woman she lived with was not her mother. She took the twins out of their highchairs, hefting Jason onto her hip before offering her hand to Riley. Riley preferred to walk.

  On her way to her room, she risked a last look into the kitchen. Pete had Kelly’s skirt rucked up around her hips, his blunt, heavy fingers buried in the white flesh of her bare ass. His mouth was open, tongue thrusting in and out of her mother’s gaping mouth—a crude preview of what was to come. She looked away, hurrying down the hall as fast as towing two toddlers would allow.

  It wasn’t what they were doing that made her sick. It was the fact that when she’d looked back, Pete had been staring straight at her.

  FIVE

  MELISSA DRESSED THE TWINS and set them in the playpen she kept in her room before pulling a clean uniform out of her closet. She tossed it onto her bed before locking her bedroom door. Pete hovered somewhere under six-foot but he was thick. His bull neck and beefy arms promised that if he was so inclined, a hollow-core door and cheap privacy lock would offer no protection.

  She could hear them. The grunts and moans had started not long after she’d shut her door and from the sounds of it, they were still in the kitchen. Kelly had made it sound like Pete would be sticking around… she looked at her door again and thought about the way he’d watched her while she poured her mother’s drink.

  She was going to need a better lock.

  She changed clothes in a hurry, buttoning the front of the faded yellow uniform before tying on her starched white apron. Dale, the owner of the diner and Tommy’s uncle, was old-school. He liked his waitresses clean, pressed and punctual. The first two she could handle. With a pair of toddlers to care for and a mother who was fall-down drunk most of the time, the punctual part was tough.

  She looked at the cheap alarm clock on the TV tray that served as a nightstand. She had less than an hour to get the twins to the sitter and still make it to work on time. From the sounds coming at her from down the hall, what was going on in the kitchen wasn’t going to stop anytime soon.

  Ducking back into her closet, Melissa stooped down to reach into a hole the size of her fist that had been kicked into the wall by some previous tenant. Inside it was a zippered pouch stuffed with cash. Nearly three hundred dollars.

  Every cent she’d managed to scrape together over the past month that wasn’t spent on rent and utilities. WIC and food stamps took care of the majority of their grocery needs but government assistance required her mother’s participation. Getting her to the welfare office in Marshal was sometimes more trouble than it was worth. Sometimes she had to ask her grandmother for help.

  It was something she hated doing. Even though her grandmother claimed she understood, she’d been heartbroken when she’d decided to move back to Jessup to live with Kelly. She’d done it for Jason and Riley, knowing that neither of them would survive without someone sober to take care of them. Her grandmother knew that but her leaving still hurt her.

  She unzipped the pouch and pulled out a few random bills, stuffing them into the pocket of last night’s stained apron. She knew Kelly searched her room. Stole money when she could. She also knew she was lazy. If she found a few bucks in an apron pocket, she’d stop looking. Even as erratic and impulsive as she was, Kelly was predictable.

  Operating on instinct, she stuffed the pouch into the twins’ diaper bag before hefting it onto her shoulder.

  Sliding open her bedroom window, she dropped the diaper bag onto the ground before turning to lift the twins from their playpen. She climbed out the window, dropping the few feet to the ground. Jason’s face appeared at the window and she lifted him through, followed by Riley.

  Settling her brother on her hip and taking her sister by the hand, she led them into the trees directly behind their trailer.

  Their trailer park was surrounded by a thick stand of trees on three sides, a fourth tree line running down its middle. The left side of the park was for people who owned their homes. Lower-middle class who worked hard and took pride in what was theirs. The right side served as sort of housing project for Jessup’s welfare population. That’s where she lived.

  Taking slow, careful steps, Melissa led Riley through the trees and bramble, weaving this way and that to avoid low slung branches. Readjusting Jason on her hip, she let out a small sigh when Riley pulle
d her tiny hand from hers and began to toddle ahead. “Careful, Ri—stay here with me,” she called out even though she already knew that the little girl would do as she pleased.

  Riley was about ten steps ahead of her when she saw it.

  “Stop,” she called out, her voice firm enough to stall the toddler in her tracks. The wooded area around that surrounded and divided the trailer park was a popular default hangout spot.

  When no one’s parents were gone for the weekend, the town kids—the one from good families who lived in the big houses that lined the well-kept streets just north of the town square—who usually denied ever stepping foot in this trailer park would hang out in the trees, drinking and smoking the dope they scored from the dimly-lit trailers that lined the right side of the court. Sometimes their partying got out of hand. Sometimes they got carried away. Sometimes they’d throw loose change at her window and laugh about how she was a whore, just like her mother.

  They’d keep her awake at night with their raised voices and vicious taunts. But last night had been quiet. What had Wade said? That they were all hanging out at Rob Duffy’s house. His parents had gone to New Orleans for the week.

  It’d been quiet. No one had been in the woods behind her house last night. The pair of underwear lying on the ground in front of her said different. She pulled Riley away and set Jason down beside her.

  “Stay here for me, okay?” she said to them and they stood close together, watching her while she crouched down, pulling the diaper bag off her shoulder. Rooting around inside it, she came up with one of the plastic grocery bags she used to wrap up dirty diapers. Fitting it over her hand she picked up the underwear, ready to wad them up and tie the bag closed so she could throw them away. But then she looked at them.

  They were hers. Her white cotton underwear. The ones with the scratchy lace edging around the legs and the pink satin rosette in the front. She looked close. There was something crusty and stiff stuck between the fold…