The Dead King - Page 10

He didn’t have to recite a list of threats. I knew, deep in my bones, that he was dangerous. I’d heard Randall’s cries. And the thumping of my terrified heart reminded me how easily this huge man could overpower me. Just like Randall had. He’d pulled me by the hair and threw me in the mud. I hadn’t been able to fight back. Weak. Weak. Weak. You’re nothing but weak.

“Not for long, Jeni Sophia Arnold.”

I turned my head, eyes wide. I’d never told Jack my last name. He had been in the trailer, so he might’ve picked it up off an envelope or something on my desk. But Sophia? That had been my mother’s name. At best, I used my middle initial on bank accounts and such, but there was no way he could know it unless he’d done some serious digging online. At the moment, in this part of the country, there was no online. Unless you had a satellite hookup. He didn’t.

What is happening? Whatever the answer, I realized there would be no reconciling him and this situation with reality. He believed he’d died and come back to life. He claimed he had no memory of who he was, yet he seemed to know everything. And now he wanted me to help him with…whatever this was. None of it would ever make sense. All I knew for certain was that going into the station and coming clean might be my only salvation.

My stomach knotted with the thought of being thrown in jail. Would they do that? Would they arrest me? Florida was one of those states where a person could be charged with a crime for being a witness and not telling the cops. I was terrified of being locked up. I was terrified of people. Especially cruel ones. If I had one phobia in this world, something equal to the bogeyman, it would be prison. Timid people didn’t do well there.

I pulled back onto the road, heading toward the police station. I knew where it was because our crew had to know the location of all emergency services. Hospital, fire, police, National Guard posts. When phones didn’t work and you were one of the first allowed into a natural disaster zone, they made sure we had our bearings.

While my mind reeled, the dark sky opened up again, pouring rain down in big sloppy buckets.

“We will need to hurry and get out of the area before the roads close,” he said.

Get out of the area? He really expected me to leave with him. I had to make my move at the police station before this went any further.

CHAPTER SEVEN

According to the female officer at the front desk, Officer Nelson was not in, and apparently his partner was working another case an hour away.

“If it’s not an emergency,” she said, “you may leave a note, or you can come back tomorrow.”

I didn’t want to face Jack outside. Confrontation was not my friend. But what else could I do? Confess to doing absolutely nothing to a coworker who assaulted me?

“Tha-thanks.” I headed for the exit and stopped with my trembling hand on the door. I could still ask to see the box, couldn’t I? Then maybe Jack would simply leave me alone after he got what he wanted.

But why did that insane man want me to do this in the first place?

Using all my strength, I turned back around and approached the desk again, but the officer was on the phone. Another man in uniform, a big husky guy with brown hair, walked by.

“Excuse me,” I said. “Umm…” I loathed the sound of my submissive voice. It didn’t reflect who I truly was on the inside. Why was I so messed up?

“Yes, ma’am?”

This time, I opened my mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t form. I felt like I was about to hyperventilate. Fuck. I can’t do this. I can’t.

Can. And will, said a deep voice inside my head. There is nothing to fear. You are safe. A wave of peace washed over me, like nothing could ever touch me. Suddenly, like a switch had been flipped, my mouth started moving.

“My name is Jeni Arnold. I’m working over at the cargo port with the emergency crew.”

“Yes?”

“I might have information about the box that washed up over there—the one with the body.” I couldn’t believe how confident I sounded all of a sudden.

“All right, well, let me get someone to take your statement.”

I explained that I hadn’t gotten a good look at the box, but after hearing some of the men on the crew talking about it, I wondered if it might be the same sort of box Ripley used to transport explosives. “If yes, then maybe the box didn’t wash up with the hurricane exactly. Maybe someone from the crew dumped it offshore.” I asked if I could take a look, since I’d worked with several crews over the past six months.

Tags: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff Paranormal
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