Kitchen Boss

I grab my laptop and log in to their website. I’m about to click the button to post a new topic when I read the one on the top of the page.

Chef Jackson’s Engagement.

My eyebrows crease. Didn’t Simon say that he saw on the website that I broke off my engagement? But it doesn’t say that here. Could they have posted it and removed it?

I look at the list of removed topics but find nothing about me and Cathy breaking up.

I frown. I guess Simon did get that information from Betty. Or did he?

Suddenly, my phone rings. I grab it, thinking that it might be Cathy calling, but it’s an unknown number I see on the screen. I answer the call hoping it could still be her.

“Hello.”

“Mr. Holloway,” a man speaks to me from the other end. “This is Lyndon Barnes, the private investigator you hired.”

Now that he’s introduced himself, I do recognize his voice.

“What is it?” I ask. “Is it important? Because I’m a little busy right now.”

“I just wanted to tell you that I found out who’s paying for the treatment of Alexandra Pitts.”

Right. I did ask him to do that because I was curious as to who would want Cathy to go to jail.

“And?”

“It’s an IT company owned by a Mr. Simon Hessler.”

Simon? My eyes grow wide. Why would Simon want to send Cathy to jail? Wait. Is that why I saw him in Milwaukee? Was he in contact with Mr. Pitts or the prosecutor? Is that how he knew my engagement to Cathy was called off?

I frown. I’m getting a bad feeling about this.

“Mr. Holloway?” Lyndon asks.

I hold the phone firmly against my ear. “Mr. Barnes, I want you to give me every piece of information you have on Simon Hessler.”

Chapter 25

Cathy

“I knew it was you.” I glare at Simon as he enters the room where I’m being held captive.

He grins. “Then I’m glad I didn’t disappoint.”

He pulls the chair from the corner and sits on it.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner. I would have, but I had stuff to do at work. I trust those men outside have followed my instructions and treated you nicely?”

I show him my bound wrists. After three days, the rope has started to chafe my skin.

“Is this your idea of treating someone nicely?”

He lifts the bottle of beer in his hand to his lips. “Well, at least only your hands were tied.”

I frown. If only I could get a shard of that bottle, I’d be able to free myself.

“Why did you have me brought here?” I ask Simon.

I can try to escape later, but first I want to know what he wants from me – and more importantly, what his role was the night Trisha died.

“Well, for one, I thought you’d love the place. After all, there is a lake not far from here.”

I did see it on my way here.

So I am right. He was there the night Trisha died.

The guy in the orange sweater.

“And the other reason?” I ask.

Simon takes another gulp of beer. “Well, that lake is where I’ll dump your body.”

His words send a chill down my spine, but I keep my shoulders square.

“You’re going to kill me?”

“Yes,” he answers plainly. “Soon.”

A knot forms in my stomach, but I force myself to calm down.

Don’t panic, Cathy. If you panic, you’ll lose.

“But first, you and I are going to have a bit of fun,” Simon says.

A wicked grin appears on his face. Fear grips my nape.

He sets his bottle down near the leg of his chair and stands up. I back up against the wall.

“Don’t come any closer,” I warn him even as I try to keep my voice from shaking.

“Now, now.” He walks towards me with a lecherous look in his eyes. “Why don’t you be a good girl and play along? Don’t you want to enjoy this? This is going to be your last bit of fun, after all.”

I quickly look around for a weapon but find none. Those thugs swept this place clean of anything that could be used for escape or self-defense.

There’s only one thing to do – run.

I dash to another corner. “Stay away from me.”

Simon frowns. “Run away from me again and I’ll call the men outside to hold you down and spread your legs for me. I might let them have their share of fun, too.”

My knees shake. The knot in my stomach grows tighter. Now what?

Think, Cathy. Think of something.

Simon comes closer. His grin grows wider.

“You were the guy in the orange sweater,” I blurt out.

He stops. His eyes grow wide.

“You remember?”

I nod.

Simon strokes the cleft in his chin. “I guess I made the right decision, then. I was surprised when I heard you had amnesia. And disappointed. I thought the reason why you never told anyone about me was because you were scared. When I found out you could remember what happened one day…”