Bombshell

“That’s the wrong address. What the fuck?” The license listed his Atlantic City beach house address, the place he shared with Tony. They’d put down the bachelor pad, not some address in Florida, as he’d originally asked for.

“I’m sorry—I didn’t have time to come up with another, so I told my connect to make one up. I didn’t expect him to use ours.”

“Too late now,” Merrick said, trying to not get upset. “But how am I supposed to explain that to Bombshell? I told her she’s never even been to New Jersey before. I told her that I met her in Florida.”

Tony and Merrick stood silent for a moment, pondering. Tony snapped his fingers. “Tell her that, since you didn’t know her old address, and she was going to be living with you from now on anyway, you had them use your future address as her actual address.”

“Okay. That works, but also reminds me of the other thing I wanted your help with.”

“Will this ever end, big bro? I have a life too, you know.”

“Shut up, or I’ll fire your ass and you can go start a limo company, or maybe that gigolo service you’d always wanted. Ouch,” Merrick yelled, pulling himself away as Tony tried to give him another charley horse. “Sorry, bro—I know I’m asking a lot of you. I really appreciate your help.”

“Sure, Merrick—so what else do you need?”

“Two things, actually,” Merrick said. “One—I need help coming up with a story. She keeps asking me questions I can’t answer. Like, where we met, and where I proposed, you know—questions like that.”

“Well, yeah—she’s a chick. That stuff’s important to them. What’s the second thing?”

“I need you to take her to the doctor while I come up with a believable backstory.”

A long stretch limo pulled up.

“I get to take the limo?” Tony asked, his eyes lighting up.

“Absolutely,” Merrick said.

“Okay—hey, wait a minute. What do I do if she asks me the kinds of questions your still dreaming up the answers for?”

“Tell her you don’t know,” Merrick said.

~~*~~

Bombshell lay in the machine, trying to be as still as possible.

On an overhead speaker, a technician sitting behind a glass window in the other room told her, “This will take about fifteen minutes. I need you to be as still as possible.”

She’d removed all her jewelry before lying on the cold table.

The machine lit up and hummed with power. She tried to still her breathing. Lights flashed overhead and the scanning commenced. A searing pain ripped through the back of the skull causing her to jerk her body and scream in agony. Unable to tolerate such pain, her mind shut down, and took her to another place.

She lay on her back, strapped and bound to a bed. Outside she heard a car on the gravel. Heart thudding, she tried in vain to pull free. The front door opened, and water ran in the kitchen. Blindfolded and gagged for so long, all she could do was feel, hear and smell. Hope faded as she recognized the rhythm of his steps. No one had found her. No one could save her. Bile rose in her as she caught a whiff of his stench as he entered the room. He hummed a two note tune. She could tell where he was as he moved about the room, setting up his equipment, turning everything on. When the studio lights came on, she was blinded beneath her blindfold. Instinct fought against futility and she tried to shrink away --but there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Any minute he’d be touching her, the way he’d touched the other girl. Bile rose in her throat, when the bed moved, and the bed springs creaked under his weight. God, please help me. She screamed through her gag, when she felt his skin graze against hers. His hands were groping at the back of her head, taking off her gag. Panic flooded her. The gag was off. She tried to scream, but no sound came out. She couldn’t get enough air. He was saying something to her. Asking her a question. She tried to listen. “Are you ready to be a star?”

Jana Peters came out of her nightmare, screaming and panting, and gasping for breath. Only the vaguest memory of what had happened lay at the tip of her thoughts, but when she tried to recall it, her mind refused to cooperate, and for her own good, she slid back into unconsciousness.

Chapter Nineteen

After another sleepless night worrying about her friend, Holly showed up to work at the diner ten minutes late. She almost called in sick, but changed her mind. The diner was the hub of all news and gossip in town. If anyone knew about Jana, that was the place to hear it.

The front door bell chimed and Sam walked in. For a moment her hopes soared. Maybe Sam’s wife had come home. Maybe he remembered something about the night Jana disappeared. But as soon as she saw the slump of his shoulders and the defeated expression on his face, she knew he hadn’t received any good news.

Holly poured him a coffee, and tried to sound up beat. “Hey ya, Sam, how are you? Any news?”

Sam squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.

Holly said nothing. Silently honoring his pain.

“What’ll it be, Sam?”