Dying To Be Heard (Book 1): Outcry (2 page)

"What normal twenty-five-year-old drinks copious amounts of coffee, watches the morning news, and reads the paper?"

Rayne scoffed into her coffee at the memory. She was so surprised that her friend actually had used the word "copious," and correctly at that, that she'd let the comment go.

"You're a fifty year-old woman trapped in the wrong body!"

She shook her head and laughed to herself as she made her way to the front door. A chilly blast of early March wind had her wrapping her arms around herself to fight off a shiver as she grabbed the paper and returned to the warmth of her small kitchen.

A stove, sink, refrigerator, and limited counter space made it just enough to be useful. The faded wooden cabinets and yellow Formica counters were just enough to make it repulsive. But she couldn't complain. It worked.

She'd only managed to remove the rubber band around the paper when her cell phone gave a resounding chime. "Who in the world?” The only person who ever called her was Layla, and she highly doubted that she was actually up this early. She generally classified early as getting together for a late brunch. She picked up the phone and was shocked to see that it was indeed her best friend.

She answered, a hint of laughter to her voice. "Ok, either my so-called bad habits have finally rubbed off on you, or someone is dead, and I seriously doubt that you are watching the news, so who is it? Do I need to buy a new dress?"

There was a short pause on the end of the line before she heard a slight chuckle. "Nope, you're spared a shopping trip yet again. I can't believe I'm going to say this, but I AM actually watching the news. Are you?"

Rayne glanced up at the television for the first time since turning it on. The screen displayed a feed of Karla's Catfish Kitchen, the restaurant where she worked, and there were several police cars surrounding the building. Across the bottom of the screen scrolled the headline, "Local restaurant vandalized, but nothing stolen."

It took a moment for her to really register what she was seeing. Her heart skipped a few beats before racing enough that she thought it might actually explode. Eyes wide with disbelief, she lowered herself into the only bar stool she owned.

"Rayne?" Layla asked from the still open line.

She couldn't believe it.
Was it a joke
?
It couldn't be coincidence, could it
?
First my home, then work
? Either someone really was after something, or Washington had horrible thieves.

"Rayne!" Layla shouted.

She swallowed loudly and with difficulty before she was able to find her voice. "I, I'm here," she managed to get out through her shock.

"Are you ok?"

She needed to think, needed to make sense of it all. Staring, mouth agape, at the screen, she ran over a million different possibilities. At least one of them logically had to explain it away as mere ironic coincidence.
Right?

It took a second for her to collect her thoughts enough to form more than two words. "Yeah, I'm fine," she said, trying to hide the nervousness and fear in her voice. Maybe if she pretended that it wasn't connected, then somehow it wouldn't be.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

There was something about Layla's voice that slightly annoyed her, almost as if she were prying for information and wanted questions answered. Rayne didn't know what to tell her. She had no more of an idea as to what was going on than did her friend.

"It's just a coincidence," she blurted, a little more defensively than she'd intended. "It has to be. Maybe they broke in and realized that we only leave a handful of cash in the building at night and decided it wasn't worth it."

Rayne nodded to herself.
That’s pretty logical.

Layla exhaled into the phone.

Was that relief?

"Yeah, you're probably right."

Rayne took comfort in her reaction. If someone else could believe it, then maybe it wasn't so far-fetched after all.

"Well, I'm assuming that we won't be working today." Layla stated. "Want to grab some coffee later?"

Leave it to her harebrained companion to take advantage of an unfortunate situation. She was nearly having a meltdown, and Layla wanted to feed her caffeine addiction. Rayne smiled, but before she could respond, a knock at the door startled her.

"Hold on," she said quietly into the phone as she crossed the small living room yet again. She unlocked the deadbolt and cracked the door just enough to peek through. On the other side stood two uniformed police officers and the owner of Karla's, Karla Stutson. For a moment, she was sure she’d seen a wave of worry cross the redhead's face, but it quickly disappeared. She swung the door open a little wider. "Karla?" she half-stated, half-asked. "Is everything ok?"

Karla, with her overly-tanned skin and flaming red hair glued into place with excessive amounts of hairspray, nodded. As usual, she wore too much makeup and clothes that were too tight for her curvy figure. "Hi Rayne," she began. "This is Officer Bass and Keller." She gestured first to a short, wide man with a goatee, and then to the other, taller and more muscular.

Rayne nodded to the both of them and realized she still held a phone with a waiting Layla on the other end. She gave a quick goodbye, but no further explanation, positive she would regret that later.

"They would like to ask you a few questions," Karla added.

She nodded and gestured for them to enter before offering some of her fresh-brewed coffee. "No thank you, Miss Slade." The short, stubby Officer Bass answered. "We're sorry to bother you so early, but this won't take long. It's about the break-in last night."

Well, so much for ironic coincidence.
She already could see her logical explanation flying out the window at the speed of light. Rayne sighed and nodded, glancing at Karla, who returned a weak smile. She resumed her position on the stool and sipped her coffee. "How can I help you?"

Chapter 2

"You're joking right?" Layla asked, her eyes wide in astonishment as they traipsed toward their favorite seats outside of Spresso's Coffee Shop. "The cops really came to your apartment?"

Rayne nodded.

They barely had managed to make it from the parking lot to the front door of the cafe before Layla began hounding her about the morning's events. She knew her friend only could take being left in the dark for a short period of time before having a meltdown, and was surprised that she had held out this long.

"I'll allow that as an acceptable excuse for hanging up on me this morning," she said with a stern glare. "But that's your only freebie!"

Rayne shook her head and took a seat at the table nearest the fence. It had become the preferred location for their favorite game of people watching, with the best vantage point from which to see the locals meandering up and down the main street of Ridgeton. The wide variety of shops and businesses gave them quite the mixture of characters for the object of their sport, and today was no different. The steadily warming weather and pleasant midmorning sun had coaxed more people from their homes than usual. It was busy with people walking and talking, cars passing, and even the occasional cyclist whizzing by, but there were more important matters to tend to.

Rayne crossed her legs and sipped her coffee, attempting to tame a stray curl caught between her lips. "I didn't hang up on you," she stated, rolling her eyes and setting the paper cup down on the wobbly table. "I said I'd call you back."

Layla's dark brown eyes widened. "And that was it!" She flung her arms about wildly as she spoke, causing her short black ringlets to bounce sporadically around her full face. "You can't just tell someone, namely me, your best friend, that you'll call back, and hang up! That's bad friend etiquette!"

"Really? Friend etiquette? You just made that up," Rayne replied as she reached into her purse, pulling out a pair of shades and slipping them on. The sun felt great on her skin in the still slightly chilly air, but her bright green eyes were not as appreciative.

She was, however, glad that she decided to go back for her brown leather jacket before leaving her apartment. It would have bordered on being too cold otherwise, not to mention it looked great with her cream-colored peasant top, jeans, and nearly knee-high leather boots.

Layla nearly slammed her coffee onto the table. "You're damn right I just made that up!" she said angrily. "But that's not the point!"

Rayne smiled in amusement at her friend’s antics and leaned back in her chair to wait patiently for the tantrum to end. Layla had been known to be overly dramatic, even about the smallest things. Luckily, Rayne had mastered the art of dealing with her friend a long time ago, and knew that it was usually best to wait it out. It was more entertaining that way.

"Finished?" she asked. The strain of producing a calm composure was evident on Layla's face. Rayne stared at her through the dark lenses of her glasses, wondering just how long her friend could keep it together. For the fifteen years they had known each other, Layla had been among the worst of the gossips and stuck her nose into everything she could. The fact that something big enough to make the local news involved someone she knew personally had to be driving her crazy.

Her foot began to tap anxiously.

"It's killing you isn't it?" Rayne asked, smiling.

Layla threw her hands into the air. "Yes! It is!" she nearly yelled.

Rayne laughed. Even with all the stress, spending some quality time with her best friend really helped to ease her mind and let her relax a little. She needed it, especially with the developments the police had brought her this morning. The outside may have seemed in order, tranquil even, but that was nothing like the storm of emotions that raged within her just beneath the surface.

It was an impeccable mask that she had learned to produce at an early age while suffering from leukemia. Seeing the horrible parts of the sickness she endured nearly had killed her mother. Eventually, she stopped letting them show and tucked away the pain.

"Just tell me!" Layla finally blurted, her ebony curls dancing violently as she shook her head. "What do they know?"

Rayne sipped her coffee and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table as if she were about to disclose a deep, dark secret. In reality, it was a lot of nothing. "Well, I already told you that Karla and two police officers came knocking on my front door this morning and wanted to ask me some questions. Stuff like where I was last night, who was I with. The usual cop stuff."

Layla sat forward in her chair, her dark brown eyes as wide as saucers while she listened. One would think her best friend was about to divulge the highly sought after meaning of life.

"After they asked their few little questions, I asked them what all of it had to do with me," she continued, receiving a nod of understanding in response.

"And?" Layla asked, with a calmness that came at great difficulty.

Rayne bit her lip and fumbled with the sleeve of her jacket. This was the part that embarrassed her. She'd never considered herself anything more than average, so the fact that someone was after her specifically was a little unnerving. "They think I have a stalker."

Layla nearly dropped her cup. "A stalker?" she asked in disbelief. "What makes them think that?"

Rayne shrugged. "My apartment was broken into and nothing was stolen. Karla's was broken into, and again, nothing was stolen." She paused for a moment. "But, they said that out of all the employee's lockers in the breakroom, mine was the only one open, and all my stuff was on the floor. They think whoever it is, is looking for a way to get to me."

Her mouth hung open and her eyes grew even larger, as if that was at all possible. "What do they suggest you do?" Her expression was no longer curious, but had transformed into genuine concern for her friend.

"Go about my life like nothing has changed," she stated. From the corner of her eye, Rayne thought she saw an odd movement, one that didn't fit with the gentle swaying of the trees in the wind, or the steady pace of the cars passing by. No, it was a quick, jerky movement that caught her attention and made her turn her head to suspiciously eye the corner of the building.

Convincing herself that she actually hadn't seen anything was fairly easy. Layla hadn't reacted to it, so there probably was nothing.
The lack of sleep must really be getting to me.
She pushed the thought to the back of her mind and returned her attention to her friend.

"Like nothing has changed? Your life could be in danger, and they want you to act like nothing is going on?" she spat.

Rayne threw her hands up in the air in an effort to quiet her friend. "Would you shut up?" It came out as an angry whisper, and she couldn't keep herself from scanning the area. "Whoever this guy is, we can't let him know that we are on to him. When stalkers think they're going to be caught, they act drastically."

Layla sat back in her chair, staring at her in disbelief. "I can't believe this. So you're literally supposed to sit around and wait for this sick bastard to make a move?" She shook her head. "What if he escalates on his own?"

Rayne shrugged. "All I know is that they told me to act normally, just be a little extra cautious. Check my surroundings, don't go out after dark, stay in well-populated areas." She reached down and grabbed her purse, swinging the strap over her shoulder as she stood. The sudden outburst had made her a little uneasy, and she just wanted to leave. "Once he gets comfortable and complacent, he'll slip up, and they'll catch him."

Mimicking her movements, Layla grabbed her own bag. "Well, I don't like it. You should get out of town or stay with someone."

Rayne narrowed her eyes. She knew the situation had gotten her friend a little riled up, so she was willing to let her comment go. Layla was fully aware that she knew very few people, and none of them well enough to stay with. As for family, well, the only family she ever had was a mother and grandfather, and both of them were gone from this life. So, her options were limited.
More like nonexistent.