Chapter Eleven

Detective Sutton picked up a book that was on the bedside table and shook it. Nothing drifted out of it. He had managed to get Miss Riley’s home address from Steve Hallitt and he and Detective Graves had gone to the small but neat apartment to search it. CSI would only be called in if it was an obvious scene of crime.

The place was small, even by Manhattan standards, but it was extremely tidy. Too tidy. Luke had always distrusted tidy people. They had way too much time on their hands if they could tidy up all the time. Whoever Jenna Riley was she was obviously a neat freak. Obsessively neat. Everything had a place and everything was in its place. Even the tea towels were ironed and put away in a drawer. Luke thought of his place with damp washing hung up wherever there was space and the remains of last nights dinner still in bowls dotted around the floor and smiled wryly. If he ever found this Jenna Riley he was going to ask her the secret to being tidy, that was for sure.

He looked up from where he was sat, on the edge of the double bed that dominated the small bedroom, to see Graves walk in from the tiny en suite bathroom that constituted the apartments only bathroom.

“Anything in there?” Luke asked.

Graves shook his head, blonde hair flopping in his face, “Nah, just the usual toiletries and shit. Though one thing’s odd, everything’s in alphabetical order in the medicine cabinet and even her dirty laundry’s all folded up neatly in the laundry bin. She’s a freak man.”

“Just ‘cause you’re a slob.” Luke muttered, smiling, knowing he was just as bad, if not worse, than Graves.

“So, whatever happened to her didn’t happen here. Have you checked the kitchen? Listen Graves, you go back to the precinct and start the report. I‘ll finish up in here, ok?” Luke said as he headed out of the tiny bedroom into the kitchen/diner/lounge area.

“Er.” Graves managed as Luke started to open cupboards. Every single cupboard was filled; tins that were lined up alphabetically, packets that were in date order and so on. The fridge was clean and smelled fresh. Luke was a little surprised at the fresh smell seeing as she had been missing for a while but realised it was because all the contents were neatly packaged into plastic boxes with the contents and use by dates hand written neatly onto small labels. Even the eggs had felt tip dates on them. He checked the freezer and found the same set up.

All her bills were neatly tidied away in an A-Z divider, which sat on the small, yellow topped kitchen table. It was an old 1950’s Formica topped table with metal fold away legs and leant the room a sunny feel.

Luke walked around the waist high divider and into the lounge area. Again it was neat and tidy. Sunlight streamed through the window highlighting a patch of beige carpet and illuminating sparkling white paint work. Even after having been uninhabited for a few weeks there was very little dust. Luke sat down on a small two seater sofa and looked around the neat but clinical room. There was nothing personal about the room at all; no paintings on the walls, no photos of loved ones, no ornaments at all.

It was the room of someone who was completely in control of everything she did, even to the point of controlling her own emotions. Someone cold and hard and shut down. Someone who could quite easily walk away from her life if she wanted to and the complete antithesis of what Miss Riley did for a living. Luke thought about her job for a moment. Rock Music Journalist.

Rock Music - the idiom of passion. He thought of the people she worked with. Every single one of them was passionate about his or her job, the music, the way of life, the style and fashion. He realised he hadn’t checked the wardrobe was heading back to the bedroom when something caught his eye. It was bright blue and red and was peeping out from under the sofa. The sun had gone in and in the gloom the bright primary colours stuck out like a sore thumb. He got down onto the floor and managed to prise it out. It was a Domino’s Pizza box. He opened it. It was empty but there was a lingering but very faint smell of grease and melted cheese.

In the clinical but well cared for apartment it was about as likely to belong there as a pork chop at a Bar Mitzvah. Luke was beginning to smell something and it wasn’t just the rank grease from the stained cardboard.

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He stood and watched as a CSI team entered the apartment block where Miss Kitty had lived. He cursed himself as he thought about his carelessness. He had forgotten the pizza box. He’d been so very careful with all of her belongings though. They wouldn’t find a single drop of him. Anywhere.

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Abby stretched out as Jon joined her back on the sofa. Outside the sky had begun to darken and fat flakes of snow drifted lazily to the ground. Abby had lit the freestanding gas fire that stood off to one corner of the room, making the room warm and cosy.

“Everything ok?” she asked as he snuggled up to her, laying his head on her shoulder, his arm snaking gently around her waist, careful of her sore ribs.

“Yup. Everything is good.” he answered, clipped. He breathed in the scent from her shampoo and pressed a kiss against her neck.

Abby smiled as she felt the weight of him leaning on her. She felt safe with Jon around. She kissed the top of his head, lifting her arm gingerly to allow him to snuggle up closer. She draped her arm around his shoulder and idly ran her fingernails along his scalp, marvelling at the thick heavy hair as it slipped through her fingers like silk.

“Richie’s nice isn’t he? He‘s such a flirt, how does his girlfriend put up with it?” she asked, feeling him breathing against her neck, causing her skin to break out in goosebumps.

Jon smiled, his lips resting against her neck. He moved his arm leisurely until his hand was cupping her breast. He could feel the nipple stiffen as he ran his fingertip across it lightly, feeling the puckered skin under her clothes

She breathed in deeply, her stomach doing somersaults. The shower they’d shared had been wonderful but not nearly enough. She wanted to feel his touch on her and inside her to make her feel real. Having holes in her memory made her feel not quite human and she had found, after the shower, that she just craved his touch.

Jon released her and with a practiced move, removed her top in one swift move. He threw it behind them where it landed none to elegantly in a heap by the bottom of the stairs. It had been quite a throw and if he was throwing the discus that far he’d have made the Olympic team. As it was, it was a different kind of gold he was going for.

He bent his head to her breast, licking at the erect nipple through the satin of her bra.

Abby moaned, feeling her pussy grow wet. She reached out blindly and began to pull at the hem of his cable knit jersey. She began to get frustrated as she couldn’t seem to get it off him, not realising it was because his arms were around her waist. Finally Jon sat back and soon the jersey joined her top, and after that her bra joined the sad little pile of discarded clothing…

Jon gazed down at Abby. She was lying naked on a pile of soft, fluffy white cushions that he’d spread out on the sofa, her hair lay fanned out, the red was like so much blood in the snow against the white of the cushions. It was dark outside and the only illumination came from the soft orange glow of the gas fire, which cast long shadows across them both.

Jon thought he’d never seen anything so beautiful in his life. Abby knew she’d never seen anything so beautiful as she gazed back at him.

With a smile she urged him into her as she pulled him back down to kiss him hard and long.

Abby gasped into his mouth as she felt the tip of him enter and stretch her. His magic was in his girth and boy did he know how to use it. Little by little he pushed his way into her, stretching her into a sense of delicious pain.

She whimpered as he inched his way in until he was fully sheathed in her body.

“You ok baby?” he whispered, grinning devilishly in the firelight, his full, lush lips, curved in a wicked smile.

“Oh god yes.” was her breathy reply, before she moaned as he slowly pulled himself out until the tip of his dick remained inside.

Oh god she felt good he thought as he rammed into her, wanting nothing more than to lose himself inside her. Dimly he heard a noise behind him but he was too lost in Abby to care.

Her back arching off the sofa, Abby was lost in a sea of sensations and feelings and knew she was about to be flung over the abyss once more. She could fell the heat and warmth, for they were two different sensations, of Jon as he plunged in and out of her. Curious little sensations took up residence in her brain; the feel of his balls slapping against the curve of her butt, a drop of sweat falling from his forehead onto her cheek, a pulsing vein in his forearm as he took all his weight off her. Inconsequential by themselves but so important all together. Finally the pressure that had built became too much and she found herself screaming as she tipped over into the dark abyss followed shortly by Jon.


Abby woke up to find herself, wrapped in a faux fur throw on the sofa. Jon was standing, fully dressed, by the window, watching the snow settling out in the grounds. Faint lights in the distance winked on and off as boats made their way over the stormy, treacherous Atlantic. Sometime passed the gentle drifting snow had developed into a raging blizzard.

“How long have I been asleep?” she asked, as, wrapping the throw around her, she made her way over to where he stood before snuggling into his warm embrace.

“Not long, ten, fifteen minutes at the most. I hadda get dressed in case Richie came down.” he explained as she looked at his clothing.

“Oh shit.” she exclaimed, “Richie. Oh god, I didn’t even think of him.”

“You can say that again darlin’.”

Abby groaned as his caramel molasses voice rang out from behind her. She turned, still encased in Jon’s grip, to see the tall man walking towards them.

“Ain’t even gonna ask if you’re naked under that, cause I know y’are.” he winked as he came closer.

“What?” she asked, puzzled, turning to look at him.

“Clothes. They’re still in the hallway. ‘Sides, I reckon they could hear you two all the way back in Manhattan.” he laughed, his eyes twinkling good naturedly as she blushed a bright pillar box red.

Abby looked up at Jon who was trying not to laugh.

“It’s all right for you two. You’ve done things like this before, probably in the same room, possibly to the same woman!” she said dryly, smiling wildly, to show she could take a joke, “But if you’ll excuse me I need to go and get changed.” She rose on her tip toes to kiss Jon, who took advantage of her nakedness to squeeze a breast as she did so.

Richie stood watching the lovers. They looked so good together he really hoped that Jon wasn’t going to let his natural ability to fuck things up when in a relationship get in the way. Abby squealed slightly, then giggled softly as Jon whispered something in her ear. Blushing slightly she pulled the wrap tighter and smiling up at Richie as she passed him, went upstairs to change. Richie smiled broadly as he walked towards his best friend and soul mate. Who says soul mates have to be either the opposite sex or for a sexual union? Richie knew Jon was his soul mate. His was the longest relationship Richie’d ever had.

“So you wanna get me some food? And then we need to talk.”

Chapter Ten

Abby sighed in delicious pleasure. Her leg was out of plaster and, providing she took it easy for a few days, there was no need to use the crutches. Christmas was a week away and she had no idea what to do about getting Jon a present. It wasn’t like she had any money at the moment and she felt embarrassed at asking him for a loan to buy a present from him. Jon had gone out for a few hours to pick someone up from the airport. Abby’d been half asleep when he’d left and hadn’t really listened to what he’d said.

She flicked through what seemed like a hundred channels on the massive Plasma TV, smiling like a child. She couldn’t believe there were so many channels to choose from. She could only remember there being four back home and it always seemed to her that there was nothing on any of them. The smile slipped slightly as she continued to flick through numerous adverts and really bad programmes. Maybe nothing had changed. There still didn’t seem to be anything on the TV. As she idly flicked something caught her eye and she hurriedly flicked back to be confronted by Jon, complete with bandana, prancing about a stage, singing into a microphone with scarves tied to it. She turned the volume up and smiled, in spite of herself, as the lyrics to ‘Livin’ on a Prayer’ blasted through.

She smiled as she thought back to the previous evening. After the wonderful shower she and Jon’d shared, he’d taken it upon himself to introduce her to the Bon Jovi family.

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“And this was taken in Moscow. You see the look on Richie’s face? Slightly shocked yeah? He’d just realised that the girl he’d been screwing the night before was married and that her husband was the KGB officer stood next to him in the photo. Thankfully for him, she kept quiet about it, which was good for us, as I’d hate to think what coulda happened ya know?” Jon chuckled as long buried memories bubbled up and broke the surface.

Abby laughed at the thought of Richie and the KGB Officer’s wife. Jon had played a selection of songs to her from all the albums earlier that day. She’d found them melodic, truthful and catchy. Some had made her want to head bang along, some were downright silly, like ‘99 in the shade’, and a few had made her cry, like ‘Make a memory’. One, in particular had made her smile. ‘You had me from hello’ seemed almost prophetic.

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She lounged back, letting the familiar yet new strains of the song wash over her. Richie was playing his solo with what looked like a loo brush sitting on his head, Abby giggled to herself as she took in the supposed fashions that were all the rage in the 80’s. The programme seemed to be a look back to the 80’s and she was rewarded when the next video flashed up to reveal Simon Le Bon stalking through the jungles of Sri Lanka ‘Hungry like a Wolf’. Abby’s jaw hung open as she watched the object of many a teenage fantasy turn his bright blue eyes to her and sing. Another pair of blue eyes entered her consciousness and she found herself, not enjoying the trip down memory lane, but comparing the two men and finding that the ice blue eyes she’d come to know over the past few days were much sexier than Simon’s ever had been. She was so lost in her mental comparison she jumped when she felt a feather light kiss on her head and hands on her shoulders.

“Hey babe.” Jon said, looking up to the TV, “Mmm, you must be in heaven.” he murmured as Simon and the boys lounged and played on the beach.

“Shit Jon, this place is even bigger than I remember.” a deep, caramel laced voice rang out from behind them.

Abby watched as a tall, dark haired, broad shouldered man came into her view and sat down on the sofa next to her. Kind, yet devilish brown eyes fixed their gaze upon her. Abby had to hold back a giggle for the lost loo brush as she took in the short haircut.

“Hi, you must be Abby. Jon’s told me nothing about you.” the man said, taking her hand and pressing a warm kiss on her pulse point.

“Richie, down boy.” Jon said, smiling, yet his eyes were tight.

“Abby, meet Richie. Richie, meet Abby, and hands off.” the warning was there for those that would listen.

Richie raised an eyebrow. Last time he’d heard that tone was when he’d been introduced to Dot and had, inadvertently, flirted with her.

Abby smiled at Richie, who waggled his eyebrows back at her. He was a devastatingly sexy man, who wore his sexuality like a war medal; with pride.

“Hi, nice to meet you. Like the hair.” she blurted, unable to hold in the peal of laughter that had been dangerously close to the surface.

“Did I miss something?” Richie asked, smiling. He always smiled when an attractive woman laughed. As long as she was looking at him he didn’t care if he was butt of the joke or not. Make ‘em laugh and you’re halfway there.

“We were looking through old photo’s yesterday.” Jon explained, leaning on the back on the sofa, his fingers playing softly yet possessively with errant curls of Abby’s hair.

“Oh, did he show the one in Moscow? Christ I nearly shit myself when Kat turned up with her husband. Fuckin’ KGB! I thought I was dead for sure, ‘specially as he was armed with a fuckin’ Uzi. Jeez, I had to go change my shorts!” Richie laughed, good naturedly.

Jon laughed as another memory surfaced.

“Turned out all he wanted was a fuckin’ autograph. Still not sure what the fuck I wrote on that photo. Could’ve been Mickey fuckin’ Mouse for all I know. All I know is I was out of there like a shot after that photo was taken. Headed back to the hotel and stayed there for the rest of the tour.”

“You still didn’t learn anything from that though, did ya, prick.” Jon bantered.

“You can talk, Mr ‘I’ll screw anything with a zip code’.” Richie countered, smiling.

“Fuck you man.” Jon shot back.

Abby sat, in amazement, watching and listening to the banter between the two men. It was obvious they were as close as two people could get without being one. It was fascinating to watch the interaction and ease between them.

Jon squeezed himself onto the sofa between Richie and Abby. He trusted Richie with his life, but knew him too well to trust him with his woman. At least, sometimes.


Richie raised an eyebrow as Jon’s butt came to close for comfort as he settled onto the sofa and grinned to himself. Oh man, Jonny had it bad for this one and he, for one, wasn’t gonna let him get away with it.

“So Abby, are you happy with this reprobate? Cause I’m happy to take over if you’re not.”

Abby laughed, linking her arm though Jon’s as she replied.

“I’m happy, very happy, and if he’s a reprobate then let me be damned too.” she smiled.

Richie looked at Jon who had turned to look at him and froze for a second as pure unadulterated anger flashed across his face for a split second. Richie’s eyes widened, then he recovered his stance.

“Ah Abs, you don’t know what you’re missing darlin’” but his heart wasn’t in it.

Making a show of it, he stretched, hearing his joints crack and pop.

“Well folks, I am shattered. Guess my age is catching up with me as flying ain’t that fun anymore. ‘Specially flying commercial. Jon, you wanna show me which room I’m in?” Richie got up and stood, smiling to hide the hurt.

“Yeah sure.” he mumbled, pressing a kiss on Abby’s temples, before getting up and walking, stiff shouldered out of the room.

Abby turned back to the marathon ‘return to the 80’s’ on the TV and was soon immersed in memories of Cyndi Lauper and ‘Girls wanna have fun’.


Richie picked his overnight case up and followed Jon up the wooden staircase. He walked along the wood and glass bridge until they were both out of sight of Abby. He was angry; no, scratch that, he was furious.

He waited until Jon opened the door of the spacious guest room to say something.

“I’ll say this and say it once so you listen to me. It’s only because of what you’ve gone through over the past few months that I haven’t ripped you a new asshole. You ever look at me like that again and I will walk. I don’t need the work, you get me?” Richie’s voice was low and quiet, always a bad sign coming from such an exuberant person.

Jon stared at his friend, poker faced.

“Now you gonna tell me what that display of anger down there was about? Or do I ask Abby?”

“Leave her out of this, man.”

“Start talking Jonny.”

The two men faced each other, neither willing to give in. The band had always thrived on the huge egos of the two front men and Richie had often seen Jon angry, but never as intensely and never directed at himself and he wanted to know why.

Slowly Jon sagged as if the air had gone out of him. Tears appeared in the corners of his over bright eyes and Richie watched, appalled, as one ran down Jon’s face.

“Jon? What the fuck is going on?”

“I’m fucked Rich. I just can’t do this anymore. The band, the music, the tours. I just…can’t. I’ve had enough, man. Just too fuckin’ tired. I’m old and,” he faltered slightly, breathing deeply to regain his somewhat composure, “I’m quitting. I ain’t gonna do another album.”

“What the fuck?” Richie exclaimed, sinking onto the plush king sized bed.

What ever he’d been expecting, and he’d been expecting something it hadn’t been that. He’d watched as Jon had withdrawn into himself over the previous few months and knew something would have to give but had never thought in his wildest dreams, and he’d had a few of those, that it would ever be the music that gave.

“Is it because of Abby?” Richie asked, shock evident on his handsome face.

“No… well… partly… but… no, I’ve been thinking this over for months now. If I hadn’t been so wrapped up in what I was doing, what the band where doing and trying to run the whole damn corporation by myself then what happened would never have happened, and now I’ve met someone I care for deeply,” he had a moment of insight as he realised he really did care deeply for Abby, “I’m not gonna waste a moment with her. So it ends, here.”

“Jon, please. What I said about walking, I was just angry man.” Richie said, unable to believe what Jon had said.

“I know, and you were right, you should’ve torn me a new one. In fact if people hadn’t been so damned afraid of tearing me new one then maybe she’d…” he shook his head as another tear rolled down his face.

He turned to face his best friend.

“I have a new chance Richie and I’m not going to mess this one up like I did before. Look you can stay here if you want, you’re more than welcome to, hell you’re my brother, but please don’t try to change my mind. The paperwork’s already signed, just needs to be sealed and delivered that’s all.”

“When were you gonna tell us?” Richie asked, his mind going off in all sorts of directions.

“New Year.”

Richie’s shoulder sagged as he realised that he wasn’t going to be able to argue with him.

“Whatever man,” he smiled at the face he’d come to know and love deeply over the previous 25 years and saw tiredness, rage and something he’d not seen before. Defeat.

With a groan he buried his head in his hands, a lone tear dripping down his face as he heard the lock snick into place as Jon left.

Chapter Nine

Detective Sutton looked at the extremely attractive blonde behind the reception desk. He had made the journey downtown to the offices of US Rock as no-one had seemed to have the time to talk to him on the telephone, plus it was always better to get a face to face in order to read their body language. He unwrapped the wool scarf from around his neck, shivered as some melted snow briefly touched his bare neck, and smiled at the woman. The sign behind her on the wall read Bauer Media Corp, which he guessed was the parent company.

He stepped closer to the reception desk and smiled. She was more attractive the closer he got and was wearing the sexiest dress he‘d ever seen, even if it was totally unsuitable for the weather outside. A 1950’s style halter dress in black with sexy little cherry bomb prints dotted all over it.

He cleared his throat, his smile faltering a little as he struggled to stop staring at her.

‘Damn it all, I need to get laid’ he thought fleetingly as she looked up from some paperwork and smiled at him

‘Oh hell, I’m lost’

“Good morning, welcome to US Rock. How can I help you?”

‘British as well. Shit I am so dead.'

“Hi, Veronica,” he squinted, reading her name tag, “I’m Detective Luke Sutton and I’m here to see Steve Hallitt.” he said in a rush.

Veronica looked at the handsome Detective and smiled to herself. It was the dress, she knew it was. She’d managed to pull every time she’d worn it and it looked like New York’s finest weren’t immune either.

“Ok, if you’d like to take a seat I’ll let him know you’re here.” she said, flicking her long wavy blonde hair over her shoulder, “Please help yourself to coffee while you wait.”

Luke sat down on a quite comfortable chair and leant back. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so affected by someone he’d just met. She really was stunning. Mentally shaking himself, he thought about the case he’d been given. He flipped open the folder and began to remind himself of the facts he had.

He was so lost in reading about Jenna’s life that he didn’t see the tall man approach him until he heard a cough.

Luke looked up into the greenest eyes he’d ever seen behind a pair of round wire framed glasses. A rather pleasant, non threatening face topped off with a mop of dark brown hair.

‘Jeez, he looks like that Harry Potter actor.’ Luke caught himself thinking as he got up from his seat and went to shake the proffered hand.

“Hi. I’m Steve Hallitt.”

He noticed Luke staring at him and chuckled.

“I guess you’re thinking, Christ he looks like Harry Potter,” Steve said, good naturedly. “I’ve heard it pretty much every day since that first film came out. Even got to the point where I was going to carve that damned lightening scar into my forehead .” he ran his hands down his jeans.

Luke recovered himself and forced himself to stop staring. “I’m…I apologise for staring, it’s just so uncanny.”

Steve smiled. “Apology accepted. You know that’s one thing I miss about not having Jenna here. She’s so damned protective towards us you know. I had to stop her from physically hurting one band member once when he wouldn’t stop calling me Harry. Anyway, this is our meeting room,” Steve said, leading Luke into a small but airy room, containing a couple of sofas, a well worn coffee table, a couple of bottles of Jack Daniels and a widescreen TV.

“Well, the guys we interview won’t sit round a table like normal, they’d just get up and leave you know…so we have to provide a few home comforts.” Steve explained to Luke’s look of astonishment.

“It’s cool, just wish I could get our Captain to approve something like this.” He said, sitting down in a squishy leather seat.

Steve sat opposite him, straightening his tee shirt and rubbing the palms of his hands on his jeans.

“You ok? You look a bit nervous.” Luke said, curiously.

“Oh yeah man, I’m fine, you know even though my uncle is who he is, I still get nervous around cops. Guess it comes with the territory you know…we’re not meant to be the most law abiding people us rockers…” he trailed off, running his hand through his mop of hair, making it stick out in all directions.

Luke smiled to put the man at ease. It wasn’t the first time he’d interviewed someone who was nervous, though it did usually mean they were guilty, of something at least.

“So, down to business. You reported Miss Riley missing when exactly?” Luke asked, wanting to get Steve to tell the story again, rather than rely on his notes. That way if there were any discrepancies Luke would spot them.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, for Steve anyway, his story matched the one written down.

“Tell me what she’s like as a person.” Luke asked.

Steve looked at him, taken aback at the question.

“Erm.”

“You said she was protective of you all.”

“Well, yeah, to a point.”

“And that point being?” Luke tried to prompt him.

“Well, she is protective of us all but can be a bit acidic if any of us are late getting the mag to bed every month.”

“Ok. In what way acidic?” Luke looked at the man in front of him, taking in the fidgeting and twitching. He knew there was something behind it and if he could probe deep enough maybe he would get the full story. This was the bit he hated, the bit where he had to be polite and listen to well meaning but obviously bullshit diatribe before the speaker hopefully got the point.

“Well, I hate to speak ill of her but, oh man, she can be a right bitch.” Steve slumped in his seat.

Luke stared in astonishment as Steve began to unload. Ok, so maybe he didn’t have to wait that long before the truth came out.

“She’s been here for six months and, yeah the magazine’s never been run so smoothly but man, is it worth it? Everything has to be done just so. I mean you saw V on reception, yeah? She’s a looker right? Well Jenna hated the fact that she dresses like ‘a 1950’s housewife on acid’ and made it her life’s work to bully her into leaving.”

“Why don’t you fire her then, you are the editor, aren’t you?” Luke asked, causing Steve to stop mid-rant and look at the man in astonishment.

“Because she’s fucking good at her job. If I fired everyone I’d ever had an argument with I’d have no staff. Ok, listen, when I said bitch maybe that was a bit much and V? Well V can be a bit much sometimes, not much going on upstairs if you get my meaning. Listen this magazine was on its last legs before she came over. She was working for Kerrang magazine in London and came over for a year or two to get us back together which she is doing, so we forgive her for her rants and general bitchiness.”

Luke sighed inside. It was obvious he wasn’t going to get much out of Steve. Something was going on and Steve had decided to backtrack on his earlier rant making Luke’s job even harder.
“I mean she’s not that bad to work with, and it’s not like I’m Jon Bon Jovi…” Steve chuckled.

“What do you mean?” Luke asked, intrigued.

“Oh man, she fucking hates that dude with a passion. No-one knows why. She has done for, like, ever,” He got up from his seat, “Come and see her desk and you’ll get a better idea.”

Luke followed Steve out of the meeting room and into a large, overcrowded, bustling room, filled with rock memorabilia, tons of paper, and the generally harassed staff of a monthly rock magazine. Some unidentifiable song screamed out from a small digital radio that was half buried under a pile of paperwork.

He smiled at the people behind desks as he passed, feeling more and more like a Mormon caught knocking on Ozzy Osborne’s front door, asking him if he’d heard of Jesus.

He was led up to a neat and tidy desk, covered with rows of in trays, all with various stickers neatly typed and was struck by the contrast between this one and the rest. He couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, except for the tidiness until Steve opened the door of a small cupboard that sat adjacent to the desk.

Luke’s eyes widened as he took in the various and many defaced and pock marked pictures of not only Jon but the whole band. He gulped as he realised one of them still had a dart sticking in it, right slap bang in the middle of Jon’s forehead.

“Ok,” he said, “I see what you mean about ‘she hates them’. Why did you show me?” he asked.

“Just thought you needed to see she’s someone who can take care of herself and that she’s got a nasty and vicious side to her so if she’s missing? Something bad has happened to her.” Steve said, perturbed that the officer had obviously missed the in joke that no one who works for a rock magazine likes Bon Jovi.

Chapter Eight

Jon settled back in his tan leather laz-e-boy chair. He had ESPN on the large screen plasma TV but wasn’t really watching it, even though it was a rerun of the Giants game at Dallas Cowboys. The tree was decorated and had pride of place in the corner of the room. It wasn’t a real one as had been planned as he hadn’t really planned on how they were going to transport it home and he’d had to admit defeat, with Abby sniggering in the background, when he’d tried and failed to get the tree fixed to the top of his car. He knew Abby couldn’t help him but it had pissed him off somewhat that she’d just sniggered as he’d fought with the tree. In the end he’d just given up and had left it in the car park for someone else to take. They had picked up a 6ft plastic one, much to Jon‘s chagrin, on the way home, as well as spending quite a few hours and quite a bit of money on outfitting Abby with a complete new wardrobe. Jon didn‘t care about the cost, just that Abby was happy. The tree was black, which had been Abby‘s choice, which had taken her well over an hour to decorate. Jon had to admit it did look impressive, with the neon blue lights and silver decorations, but he was still disappointed not to have that fresh pine smell that he’d come to associate Christmas with.

It was well past midnight but he wasn’t sleepy; tired but not sleepy. Abby had gone off to bed at about 10pm and he’d been left, pottering about in the huge house. Although Abby had only been living in the house for two days it felt empty when she wasn’t around. He sighed and rubbed his tired eyes. A steaming cup of hot chocolate sat untouched by his arm. His mobile buzzed and he picked it up. It was Obie calling.

“Hey Obie.”

“Oh good you’re awake. I have some news. You might not like it though.”

“Tell me.” Jon was instantly alert, all previous signs of tiredness had gone.

“Ok, well we’ve managed to trace Abigail Jennifer Anderson. She was born on 24th September 1970 in Carshalton, Surrey to David and Anna Anderson. Shortly after her birth they moved to a suburb of Kent called Belvedere which is where they lived, quite uneventfully, until December 1986. I’ve got all her school reports and medical reports, don’t ask me how, as I’d have to shoot you, but, and this is where it gets weird, everything stops after 15th December 1986. I have a visit to the doctors for a cold on the 15th December and then nothing. Zip, nada, zilch. It’s as if Abigail just disappeared off the face of the planet. I’ve had my guys checking to see whether they moved to another part of England or even moved country but nothing so far. As far as we can find out they didn’t have passports issued in their names so…”

“That is weird. Just vanished? Have you checked death certificates? Maybe her parents died. I just don’t know what else to think.” Jon was completely flummoxed.

On that note Jon said his goodbyes and sat back, his mind going crazy.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~oo~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


“Sutton! In my office, now!”

Luke looked up as his captain shouted. He got up from his desk which was strewn with paperwork, mostly relating to the Slasher case.

“You hollered Captain?” Luke said as he sauntered into the small office.

“I want you to look into this case.” Captain Andrew Phillips said as he handed over a manila folder.

“As well as the Slasher case?” Luke asked, puzzled.

“Instead of the Slasher case. Now before you start, I’ve already spoken with Graves and he’s informed me that you have no new leads. Now unless you can tell me that’s incorrect then I expect you to follow up on this case.”

Luke flipped through the folder.

“Missing persons? Since when do we deal with missing persons?” he asked, annoyance creeping into his voice.

This was just full of shit. He was in the middle of a full on murder investigation and to be pulled off to find some missing woman was just…shit, that’s what it was.

“We look for missing persons since the order came down from on high. Her name is Jenna Riley, she was reported missing after thanksgiving and the person who reported her is the Commissioners nephew. Now I don’t like it as much as you don’t, all this political bullshit, but you know as well as I do, the Commissioner says jump, we say how high,” Captain Phillips took a breath and looked at Luke.

“Luke, just look into it as far as you can go and then we can hand it back. Ok?”

“Lip service?”

“Exactly. We’re gonna do this by the book. We’ve been asked to ‘look’ into it and look is what we’ll do. Then you can get back to finding this murderous son of a bitch.”

“Ok Captain.” Luke felt a bit happier. He could make a few phone calls, find out a few things and then legitimately, having looked into it, give the case back to missing persons. He walked back to his desk and began the task of reading the file.

Her name was Jenna Riley, she was 38 and worked for US Rock, a heavy metal/ rock magazine, based in Manhattan. She’d been due to go into work on Thanksgiving to finish up an article, as she’d had some vacation time coming up, but hadn’t turned up. Nothing much had been done until after she’d been due back to work. Her boss, Steve Hallitt, the Commissioners nephew, had called her and left messages and after two days of calling, had called his uncle. To give him his dues the Commissioner had advised his nephew to go through the proper channels but as it was coming up to three weeks and nothing, Mr Hallitt had pulled a few strings. Luke didn’t really blame him, he just wished he hadn’t been handed the case.

Taking a sip of the luke warm coffee on his desk, he pulled he phone towards him and began the arduous task of phoning everyone on the list that he’d need to speak to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~oo~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Abby woke up with a big smile on her face. Today was the day she was getting that damned plaster cast off her leg. It was itching her something crazy and she just knew her leg would be hairy and covered in dead skin cells. She pulled a face as she thought of the huge task of shaving it after the cast was removed but smiled as she thought of the sensation of lowering said leg into a bath full of hot bubbly water. She sat up with a stretch and yawned. Bright sunlight filtered through a chink in the heavy silk curtains. She looked at the clock.

It was 9:07am. The earliest she’d woken for a very long time.

She pushed back the heavy comforter and got out of bed, glaring at the hated cast. She picked up a towel and clumped her way to the bathroom. Although she felt rested her head wasn’t yet awake and so although she noticed the bathroom was steamy, she failed to notice that the shower was still running and that Jon was in it.

Jon stood under the hot spray, his eyes closed. He hadn’t slept very well as all sorts of things had been going through his mind. Where had Abby disappeared to? What had happened to her? He was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t hear the shower door open until he heard a sharp and quite surprised squeak behind him.

Not thinking he turned round to find a wide eyed and blushing Abby looking at him. Correction, a wide eyed, blushing and naked Abby looking at him.

“Morning babe.” he said, through the steam, “Coming in?”.


Abby stared in shock at the naked man in front of her. How one person could be so beautiful, inside and out, was a mystery to her. She stared at his sculptured, muscular chest, well developed arms and powerful thighs and gulped, her mouth suddenly dry, even in the steam. She knew she was blushing and, from the goose bumps on her skin, vaguely remembered she was naked. She just couldn’t move, like deer in headlights.

Jon cocked his head at her, smiling. Christ! She was fit. Curves in all the right places, soft creamy skin, a biteable ass and breasts he could spend all day stroking and playing with. He grinned wryly and, reaching out an arm, took her of her hand and led her, quite unresisting, into the heat of the shower and his embrace.

“You were letting the cold in.” he murmured before lowering his head to kiss her.

Abby felt her stomach muscles tense and then drop as molten liquid. She felt his hands, the callused fingertips grazing her skin, skimming the sides of her breasts and down to her waist, where he held her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, losing herself in the heat and tenderness of his kiss.

Jon groaned as he felt the softness of her skin under his fingers. God he wanted her right this moment. He felt himself harden against her belly as she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him in closer to her.

Abby smiled to herself. What on earth had she been worried about? To be held in this man’s arms was just the most wonderful feeling she’d ever known and she just wanted to be lost in him.

Their kiss deepened. Jon pushed Abby up against the wall of the shower cubicle away from the spray. He bent his head and took a nipple into his warm mouth. Abby closed her eyes, giving into the intense heat that was building in her lower stomach. She clutched at his head, running her fingers across his scalp, alternatively scratching then soothing the wet skin.

Jon explored her body, running his fingertips over her ass and round her thighs, feeling the soft downy hair tickle the back of his hands as he gently stroked her mound.

Abby jumped, groaning aloud, as she felt Jon touching her. Her stomach had long since dropped away into nothingness, leaving behind a pit of molten liquid. She shifted slightly to allow him access. She felt wanton and free and safe.

Jon ran his fingertips lightly up the inside of her thigh. He could feel her heat and groaned as he touched her warmth. He stroked the hot satiny skin until he found the hard nub of nerve endings. He leant in and nuzzled her neck, feeling her jump as he pinched down on her clitoris. He smiled to himself as he slipped a finger inside her, marvelling at the warmth and tightness.

Abby could feel her legs beginning to buckle as white lightening shot through her.

Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God.

She thought as Jon wrapped his strong arms around her, pinning her up against the warm tiles. She was panting as he slowly pumped his finger in and out. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart beating wildly, as her world spiralled away from her, she closed her eyes tightly, little neon dots dancing in the darkness. Her stomach clenched once then fell away as she was tipped over the abyss.

Jon could feel her orgasm approaching and wanted nothing more than to bury himself deeply inside her and never resurface. He tried to slow his breathing but just the thought of bringing this beautiful creature to orgasm was too much for him and with his free hand he began to stroke his dick. One part of his brain immediately thought of the old trick of rubbing your stomach and patting your head at the same time before it shut down as he was lost in sensations. The vibrations of Abby’s groans shooting through his chest, the tightness of her clenching around his sodden finger and the touch of his own hand all combined to produce the most intense and forceful orgasm he’d had in a long time, if ever. His heart thudded in his chest as he waited for his breathing to slow down. He could feel Abby slumped slightly against him, shivering slightly, even in the heat of the water. He lowered his head until his chin rested on her head and closed his eyes, smiling.

What a great start to the day.

Opening his eyes he looked down and grinned.

“I think your plaster cast got a bit wet.” he said, smiling.

Two sets of eyes looked down at the sodden, pulpy plaster cast and both of them burst into giggles.

Chapter Seven

The ride to the tree place didn’t take that long and Abby enjoyed the drive. The air was dry despite the close proximity to the Atlantic Ocean and the aroma of tin in the air promised, or at least hinted snow.

Although the doctor had advised Jon not to press Abby to remember anything he couldn’t help but ask her about the parts of her life that she could remember.

“So, let me get this straight. Your last proper memory is of 1986? Yeah?” he asked as they drove along the almost deserted roads.

“Yeah, the last thing I can really remember is going to school in the autumn of 1986. I was starting my last year, the fifth year as it was called, but I don’t remember doing my exams or leaving school in 1987. I remember Live Aid though, but that was '85 wasn't it, I'm getting all messed up with my dates. I watched a bit of Live Aid, Duran Duran were on it and I remember begging to be able to watch them as I think they were on quite late and Mum didn’t like me staying up too late on a weekend as it pushed my sleep pattern out of sorts. I loved Duran Duran, had a real crush on Simon Le Bon. Maybe I still do; I have no idea but I know at the time I was crazy about them. When did you make it big?”

“Livin’ on a prayer came out in October ‘86, that was our first really big hit I guess.” Jon said.

“Oh right, I wasn't really into Rock music back then so as far as my Swiss cheese brain is concerned I’ve never heard your music.” Abby smiled.

“Oh well, that can be rectified, wait till we’re back at the house and I’ll blast some at you…if you want.”

“Oh definitely, I want to hear what you sound like. All I can recall, music wise, is the what I guess is the early eighties stuff, Duran, Spandau Ballet, Madonna, Dexys Midnight Runners, Eurythmics…” she trailed off.

“I bet you were a new romantic weren’t you? We saw a lot of them in the early eighties when Duran Duran seemed to take over the world. I bet you had a wedge haircut and wore those frilly shirts and those pointy toed boots.” Jon teased.

“You can talk, I’ve seen the photo’s in the games room. All that hair and those jeans! Were you sewn into them or did someone spray them on you? And the latex!,” she laughed, “I thought wearing neon pink legwarmers was the height of crimes against fashion but leopard print drainpipe jeans?… You know the weirdest thing about this whole amnesia thing is that I know it was twenty odd years ago, it’s not like I think I’m in 1986 I just can’t seem to remember anything past 1986.” Abby sighed.

“Don’t push yourself baby, it’ll come back when it’s meant to and if it doesn’t? well, we’ll make some memories of our own.” Jon shuddered internally as he realised he sounded like one of his own songs.

He slowed the car down as they neared the turn off for the Xmas Tree Nursery.

“I’d like that.” Abby said as they pulled into the big car park.


The air was drenched with the smell of pine. Jon helped Abby out of the car and handed her the crutches. Together they walked slowly across the gravel and chipped wood of the car park towards the brightly lit, welcoming shop that was the way in.

“Mmm, smell that pine. I love the smell of freshly cut pine trees, takes me back to when I was a kid and mom and dad would get us a big tree and me and my brothers would fight over who was gonna string the popcorn to go on it. Tony would end up eating more popcorn than we strung up but it was still a great time of year.” Jon sighed as he thought of how Christmas had changed for him.

Abby struggled over the uneven surface of the parking lot. Having a plaster cast on sucked. Big time. Her arms felt bruised from the plastic straps of the crutches and the palms of her hands hurt from putting all her weight on the handles to help steady herself. She was due to have the cast off in two days time and as far as she was concerned it was past due. She looked up at Jon and smiled. Her smile faded as she looked at his face. He looked as if all the weight of the world had landed on his shoulders.

“Jon? Are you ok?” she asked, puffing and panting as the neared the entrance.

Jon shook himself out of his reverie and placed an arm around Abby’s shoulders.

“Yeah babe, I’m fine. Just an old memory that’s all.”

“Are you sure? You look a bit pale. Tell me. What’s wrong?”

“Maybe later, ok babe? Not here,” he smiled brightly, shaking off the blues, “come on, let’s go get ourselves a huge tree.”

“Ok, but promise you’ll tell me later? I don’t like seeing you looking sad” Abby said as they reached the steps up to the shop.

Jon squeezed her shoulders, blinking back sudden tears, his throat tight.


The shop was warm and decorated to the hilt. Tinny Xmas muzak was blasting from huge black speakers that were dotted around the rafters. Directly in front of them was a section with a huge selection of decorations and off to the right there stood some pre cut and also pre cut and decorated trees. Jon grinned as he walked over to the information desk to ask about cutting his own tree. Abby smiled as she watched him join the queue, looking for all intents and purposes, like a schoolboy. He was almost bouncing on the balls of his feet he was so excited. She walked slowly over to join him, her crutches feeling like dead weights.

She was feeling tired and leant down heavily on the crutches, her shoulders were killing her. Abby looked around to see if there was an area she could sit down in but didn’t see anything. Jon had reached the head of the queue and was busy with his transaction.

“Excuse me?”

Abby turned to see a teenage girl behind her. She was wearing what looked to be a work uniform. Red trousers and a dark green sweatshirt. She had multicoloured hair and more piercing in her ears that was humanely possible.

“Did you want to sit down? We have an area over there,” she indicated behind her, “for the elderly and disabled but you would be more than welcome to…” she trailed off as she looked over Abby’s shoulder at the blonde man who was walking towards them.

“Holy shit. Is that…?”

“Hey babe, how’re you feeling? The guy said all I need to do is go out the back and choose a tree, then I can cut it if I want to. If I want to,” he chuckled to himself, “That’s why we’re here, right?” Jon said as he walked up to Abby.

The girl watched, her jaw open, as Jon placed a kiss on Abby’s forehead.

“I’m ok, but I think you’ve frightened my helper here. She was just about to help me over to a place where I can sit down when you came back and she just trailed off. I think you‘ve scared her.” Abby smiled, turning to the girl who was busy talking on her mobile.

“Jules, I’m telling you Jon Bon Jovi is here, in front of me almost, with a woman…must be his girlfriend, she’s on crutches… How the hell do I know how?…I dunno, maybe she fell down the stairs or something…No I’m not going to ask…hey it’s your fault for phoning in sick, if you hadn’t been drinking last night you’d be standing here,” the girl looked up, her eyes widening, “looking at him coming towards you. Oh shit.”

“Hi, I’m Jon, How are you?” He smiled his megawatt smile.

“I…I…”

He could hear the friend calling out tinnily on the phone.

“Sarah? Sarah, you still there? I swear if you’re playing a joke on me…”

Jon reached over and plucked the phone out of the girls unresisting hands.

Abby looked on, amused at the reaction of the girl to Jon.

“Hey, This is Jon Bon Jovi, who am I talking to?…Jules? Hey how you doing? Yeah, Sarah’s in front of me…er, she’s currently gaping like a fish. I think I scared her, No this isn’t Brian, it’s Jon…prove it to you? Ok, um, gimme a sec,” he said, clearing his throat, “Tommy used to work on the docks, union’s been on strike he’s down on his luck…” he sang softly down the phone.

Abby heard a faint scream and sniggered as Jon was forced to hold the phone away from his ear.

“Erm, Sarah? I think Jules wants to speak to you.” He held the phone out to the clearly shell shocked teenager.

“It was nice to meet you and thank you for being so kind to my girlfriend.” he said, turning back to Abby who was, clearly trying to hold in her laughter.

“I can’t make up my mind whether that was a sweet thing to do or just down right mean.”

“Mean? me?” he said, grinning.

“Yeah, that poor Jules.”

“What do you mean?” he asked

“You sang to her, she’s clearly a fan and you sang to her down the phone. If Simon Le Bon had done that to me back when I’d have just died of shock.” she laughed. She was still coming to terms with what Jon did for a living and who he was and to see the results of that up close was slightly surrealistic.

“And what if I sang to you?” he murmured, as they walked slowly towards the exit that led to the nursery.

“I don’t know if I’d scream, per se.” she said dryly, really beginning to hate the damn crutches.

“Oh you would by the time I’d finished with you.” he said softly in her ear as they stepped out into the frigid air.

Abby shivered but she wasn’t sure whether it was the temperature drop that had caused it.

Chapter Six

Anger. He was angry; furious with himself. How could he have let her slip through his fingers? He had his kitty cat in his arms and then that bloody door banged and distracted him. His eyes narrowed as he thought of the car that had hit her. For a split second he had thought she was dead; an animal howl of grief building in his throat then he’d watched in disbelief as that blond man had picked her up and driven her off.

He’d broken his own rule and had gone to her apartment. She had escaped him and the only way he could feel near to her was by being in her home. He’d only been inside once, but was keeping an eye on the building. Wouldn’t be right to get too comfortable with a kitty cat. Kitty cats had nasty claws.

He felt out of sorts. The next two kitty cats had been sloppy seconds. Not a real choice but ones that opportunity had thrown him. His mama had always warned him about getting to close; once a kitty had her claws in you son, you’ll never get away.

He knew he had to be patient and she’d turn up again, then Miss Kitty would be his.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~oo~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jon scooped out fresh beans and put them in his coffee machine. There was nothing like fresh coffee first thing in the morning. He couldn’t get through the day without it. As the coffee brewed he walked over to the living room windows and stared out at the cold, frosty landscape and shivered, despite the near tropical temperature in the house. The swimming pool had been emptied and was covered for the winter with a hardwood cover to protect it from the elements. Normally no-one would be in the East Hampton house at this time of the year, but this year every thing had changed and nothing would ever be the same again. The soft click of the machine. Jon walked back to the coffee machine and poured himself a cup of Jamaican Blue Mountain Roast.

He caught sight of a small calendar tacked up onto the cork board. Christmas was only two weeks away. Shit. He’d done nothing. Hadn’t bought any presents; not that they’d be welcome anyway, hadn’t even got a tree.

“Ooh coffee, just what I need.”

Jon turned to see Abby hobbling towards him, her riot of hair sticking out at all angles. She’d managed to get into the button up shirt but had mis-buttoned it, causing it to hang lopsided on her small frame. Coupled with the shorts hiked up round her waist and the plaster cast and Jon felt his gloomy mood start to lift.

“Afternoon sleepy head.” he said, smiling, pouring out a cup of coffee for her.

“Go, sit down I’ll bring it over. Hungry?” he asked, opening cupboards.

“ A little. God is it really the afternoon? I must have been so tired. That’s all I seemed to have done recently is sleep.” she said, sipping the fragrant brew.

“You know, I just realised that Christmas is only two weeks away, well ten days away really and I haven’t bought anything, no presents, no turkey, no ham, no tree, no nothing, so I thought we could go and pick out a tree today, if you’re up to it? Get you some new clothes as well while we’re at it, cause as cute as you look wearing my old stuff? I don’t think they really do you justice.” Jon smiled.

“Ok, let me go and get changed. I really could do with some more underwear. Do you have a jumper or something I could borrow? It looks really cold out there. Like it’s going to snow,” she turned to look out of the window,” Does it snow a lot up here?”

“Oh yeah, course I’m never normally this far up the coast this time of year so I don’t really get to see it here.”

“Oh, is this not your normal house then?” Abby asked.

“It is now, but it didn’t used to be.” Jon was looking slightly uncomfortable but Abby was facing away from him.

“Oh why’s that then?”

“The divorce. Dot got the house in Redbank, in Jersey, and I kept this one.”

“Oh god, Jon. I’m so sorry, I had no idea you were divorced. When did that happen?”

“Six months ago. Well it was final six months ago but really it was just after Christmas last year that I first knew about it.”

“Oh, come here.” Abby turned to him and held her arms out.

Jon walked into them and she hugged him tightly, kissing his cheek. Jon rested his head on her shoulder feeling the warmth from her slim body penetrating through the fog in his mind. He nuzzled into her neck, breathing against the warm skin.

Abby stepped back slightly from his tight embrace and smiled.

“Guess I need to get cleaned up or we’re never gonna get to the tree place in time.”

She turned to go, thankful he’d not said anything about the red hot blush on her cheeks.

Jon sipped his tepid coffee as he waited for Abby to get ready. He’d seen the blush and it just made him want to hug her even tighter. She was such a sweet person. Dark, intrusive thoughts gathered in the back of his mind. Thoughts about how wrong this was and how he should stop this now before he was in too deep. He consciously slammed the metaphorical gate on them, turn the key in the lock and threw the key away. He was well known for being ruthless and dealing with problems when they arose but this time he wasn’t. The last problem he’d dealt with so called ruthlessly had resulted in his being served with divorce papers. The ground hadn’t even hardened, the grass not yet laid, and she’d kicked him out. No more. He was going to start enjoying himself and if the only way he could do that was to eject the ruthless part of himself then so be it. He had lawyers and business people to take care of the Bon Jovi Empire. Did he really need to oversee everything? To put his stamp of approval onto every little change?

He was still pondering this massive shift of consciousness when Abby rejoined him in the kitchen. Jon had been so caught up with his thoughts that he hadn’t thought to lay out some clothing for her so Abby’d been forced to dig through the drawers in her bedroom.

Jon looked up and his breath caught in his throat. Abby was wearing a pair of Indigo boot leg jeans and a big sweater with the American flag knitted across it. Jon blinked back tears and cleared his throat as he remembered the last time he’d seen those clothes.

“I hope you don’t mind. I found these in a drawer unit in my room. I think they fit me better than your clothes would anyway.” the smile on her face died slowly as she looked at Jon’s drawn, dark face.

“Jon?” she began, as she hobbled towards him, “Are you ok?”

Jon smiled reassuringly. “I’m fine baby, just forgot those clothes were here, that’s all.”

“I’ll go change if you want me to.” Abby said, meaning it but hoping he wouldn’t ask her to.

“Nah, it’s just me being silly, besides you take long enough as it is…” he chuckled, as he picked up his car keys and jacket.

“Come on, let’s go get a tree. I know this one place that let’s you saw your own trees. Always wanted to do that.”

“Ok Tarzan.” she smiled as he led her out of the house towards the carport.

Chapter Five

Detective Sutton stared down at the lifeless body in front of him and grimaced. She was the fifth victim of the killer the media had dubbed ‘Jack the Slasher’. Somehow someone in the media had gotten hold of a police report on the runes that were carved into the bodies. The runes that spelt out the name Jack.

He nodded to the guy from the ME’s office, telling him it was okay to take the body.

He lit a cigarette and left the area, leaving the CSI crew to their forensic searches. He knew better than to argue with a member of the CSI team, and knew well enough to get out of their way, especially when they were setting up a grid search pattern of the area where the body had been found.

He was in an area of Manhattan that locals called DUMBO, meaning ‘Down under Manhattan Bridge Overpass’. This latest victim had been called in at around 1am. An anonymous 911 call, traced to a phone box around the corner from where he was standing. As far as he knew it had already been dusted for prints. He was on his own as his partner was nowhere to be found. Detective Graves’ phone was switched off. He’d managed to cover for him so far with their Captain but if he didn’t turn up soon there was nothing Luke could do for him.

As he stared at his mobile, a car pulled up behind him.
“Luke, I’m so sorry man, I was with a girl, ya know, and my phone switched itself off.” Graves looked at him, so contrite that Luke let it go.

“I covered for you man, if the Captain asks…”

“If the Captain asks what?” a deep gravely voice behind the two men rang out.

Luke’s stomach clenched. Shit.

Luke turned round to see Captain Phillips standing behind him.

“Sir? What are you doing out here? “ he smiled, trying to lead the man away from his question.

“What the fuck do you think I’m doing out here, apart from freezing my goddamn ass off? This is the fifth victim Sutton! You really think I’m gonna sit back and let this go to shit, with the media breathing down my neck?,” he turned to Graves,” and you, where the hell were you?”

“Sorry sir, I was ‘indisposed’ and my phone switched itself off.” Graves smiled deprecatingly.

“Fucking idiot.” Captain Phillips growled, as he made his way back to his car.

He turned and looked back at Luke.

“Anything he does I’m holding you responsible. If I catch you covering for him again I‘ll have your badge as well as his, you got me?”

“Captain! What the..” Luke threw his hands up, angrily.

He watched the man walked away and turned to his partner.

“You fucking do anything like that shit again man and… you don’t wanna know. Now get the fuck away from me.” he yelled, anger spilling out from his frustration, as he got into his car and drove back to the precinct.

As he drove he went through every thing they had in relation to the case.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~oo~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jon eased himself into his big king size bed and lay down with a tired sigh. It had been a very long day. His conscience had been surprisingly quiet and he wondered if he’d overloaded it so much that it had given up.

Abby had been overwhelmed by the sheer size and magnificence of his home. He smiled in the dark as he recalled the look on her face when they’d driven up to the gates of his property.


“Why have we stopped? Are we there?” Abby asked, wearily from the back seat. The painkilling injection she’d been given at the hospital was starting to wear off and she felt tired and drained. Her lower leg hurt and her ribs ached.

Jon looked over at her. She looked drained and in a bit of pain.

“We’re here baby, just gotta wait for the gates to open, then we’re home.”

“Gates? Just how big is your house?” she asked, her eyes widening at the thought of having gates to a property. The only house she could recall was the house she’d grown up in as a kid, and that had been a typical three up, two down council end of terrace. The only gate that had been on that property was a small dark brown wooden gate on the side of the house that led to the back garden.

As the gates opened the car moved forward slowly. Jon pressed a button opening the darkened window, allowing Abby to see the house in all its glory as they drove slowly along the gravel drive. Dark green coniferous trees lined the route as they drove along the winding road. She could smell the pine fragrance from the trees, brought in on a puff of cold air. Abby let out a shriek as they coasted the crest of the drive and Jon’s house was revealed to her. They were driving parallel to the house up to a small roundabout that also led off to the stables and to the small music studio he’d had built on the property.

The house was magnificent. It was an impressive two storey brick and wood edifice with a one storey wing on either end. Perfectly trimmed shrubs and hedges lay in ranks outside the front, alongside perfectly manicured lawns, that ran either side of each wing. It was, she thought, entirely too big a house for just one person.


Abby was rendered speechless. The house was huge, bigger than she could ever have imagined. The car stopped outside the huge, glass lined, wooden framed double doors. The door opened and Jon got out first, careful not to bang into her. He reached in and with a bit of trial and error he managed to help Abby get into a sitting position from where she could edge to the door in order for him to help her out of the car.

As it was her lower left leg than had been fractured she was, with the aid of crutches, able to walk. Jon went on ahead and opened the doors wide enough so that she could get through them comfortably.

“Welcome to my house.” he dead panned as she crossed the threshold and then stopped dead, gaping at the scene in front of her.

The entire central lower area, except for a room off the right of her at the front of the house, was open plan. Just off to the left of her an ornate wooden staircase swept up to a mezzanine level wood and glass platform that lead out of her sight.

Abby was so engrossed at looking up at the glass and wood bridge as she passed underneath it she bumped into Jon. He put his hands out to steady her and accidentally brushed the side of her breast. His posture stiffened slightly as he did so hoping that she hadn’t noticed.

Abby smiled up at Jon as he helped to steady her. She turned to look at the room they were standing in and gaped. It was stunning. A large bank of windows ran along three sides of the room giving her an uninterrupted 180 degree view of the ocean beyond. A vast dark brown suede sofa dominated the room. She was so tired so just wanted to sink into it and sleep for a week. She smiled as she thought she’d been doing just that at the hospital and now she was out she wanted to do it again.

“What’re you smiling at?” Jon asked as he watched her reaction to his house.

“Oh nothing, just thinking I want to snuggle down on that sofa of yours and sleep for a week. It made me smile as that’s all I’ve been doing lately, sleeping.”

“Well let’s get you onto the sofa and then, what do you say to something to eat?” he grinned as he helped her out of the jacket he’d leant her back at the hospital.

Abby’s stomach grumbled in response and she giggled as he helped her get comfortable on the large plush sofa. He plumped up a cushion and put it behind her for her to be able to lean back in comfort. He eyes the clothes she was wearing. One of his old jerseys and a pair of his old combat trousers with the drawstring pulled in tight.

“Tomorrow, I’m getting you some new clothes.” he said, softly as she lay back on the sofa and sighed happily.

“Why can’t we just go and pick things up from my place?” she asked, puzzled as to why he would want to buy her new clothes when she obviously had a wardrobe of items somewhere.

“Cause, I’m ashamed to say, I don’t know where you live. You never told me.” Jon was finding it easier to tell the truth when he could rather than lie all the time. His conscience was trying to battle its way back through but was failing dismally.

“Oh.” Abby replied, quietly, “ So we weren’t very close then?” she asked, feeling extremely puzzled as to why she had never told him her address.

She looked up at him, her mouth open in surprise as a thought struck her.

“Maybe I’m married! Maybe we were having an affair!” she said suddenly, causing Jon to pause on his way to the open plan kitchen/diner that was set into a corner of the living area.

“Nah, think I’d remember if you had a husband.” he smiled, turning back to the kitchen area.

Shit. Maybe she is married. You never thought of that did you Jonny? No, just had to jump in with both feet. What a schmuck. What if she’s got a family and they’re out there missing her? You have got to call a halt to this now.

Jon shook his conscience away and opened a cupboard in search of some dried pasta. He was going to make Spaghetti Bolognese, Jon Bon Jovi style, which meant lots of tomatoes, onions, herbs and a big mess in the kitchen afterwards. He started to hum a song to himself as he got the pans ready. As it was his day job, he had never been one for singing around the house, unless he’d had a few to drink, or the guys were over, but as he firstly hummed then broke in song, he was feeling something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Happiness.

Plus, he reasoned, if she wasn’t here with me then she’d be in some crummy psych ward somewhere with the freaks and weirdo’s.

And what’s more freaky and weird than bringing home a total stranger with amnesia and allowing her to think you‘re dating?.

Finally the meal was ready and Jon brought two bowls of his famous pasta dish over to the sofa.

“Mmm, that smells lovely.” Abby gushed as he handed her a bowl. She was snuggled up on the sofa, under a soft, warm blanket and was feeling cosy and safe.

Although she knew she didn’t know anything about this man, she knew she would be safe with him; that he wouldn’t do anything to her that she didn’t want him to do. She watched him sitting on the floor eating, taking in the pure masculinity of him; the animalistic rawness that he exuded, and shivered slightly. One thing had been on her mind since she’d awoken from the coma and had first seen him and that was sex. It wasn’t that she was afraid of the idea of sex, it was just that she felt slightly apprehensive about being with someone she ought to know very well but didn’t.

She ate half the bowl and had to put the rest down.

“What, is my pasta not good enough for you?” Jon smiled, to show he was teasing.

“Oh no, your pasta is plenty good enough, there’s just too much of it.” she replied, smiling happily at him. She pushed her hair off her face and grimaced.

“What’s up? You in pain?” he asked, seeing the grimace.

“Not really,” she replied, “ it’s just I’m going to need a shower and a hair wash only…” she trailed off.

Jon’s eyes widened as she blushed, and he realised the implications of what she’d left unsaid.

“You’re going to need some help getting in and out of the tub…”

Abby nodded, her earlier apprehension causing butterflies in her belly.

Shit. You didn’t think of that either did ya?

“I can’t have wash my hair myself yet cause of my ribs, I can’t lift my arms above my head yet, not until they’ve healed. And while I can wrap my plaster cast in plastic to keep in dry while I shower ... I didn’t think of this earlier, that you‘re still a stranger to me and I‘m dependent on you for help.” Abby stopped, felling suddenly out of her depth.

Jon sat back on his heels and looked her straight in the eyes.

Ok, we’ll wrap your plaster cast up in plastic so you can shower then I’ll wash your hair for you over the tub. Does that work?” he smiled, his eyes crinkling slightly at the sides, as he raised an eyebrow.

“You’ve got really blonde eyebrows and eyelashes, haven’t you?” she said, suddenly, completely changing the subject.

“Er, yeah I guess. Why?” he asked, thrown by her non-sequiter.

“Oh nothing, it’s just your real hair is so dark and yet your facial hair isn’t. I’s almost like they’re not there. Anyway that sounds like a working plan.” she said, “It must be difficult for you as I’m sure you’ve seen my naked body before, many times, as I can’t imagine a man like you waiting around for a long time, but for me, right now, it just feels weird. Can you understand that?”

Jon nodded, not trusting himself to say anything to her loaded question.

“Listen Abby,” he began, getting up from the carpet and perching on the sofa next to her, “Let’s take this slowly, and get to know each other all over again, as you were right, we didn’t know a lot about each other before and we weren’t that close, but I have a feeling we could be in the future.” Jon reached out and took her hands in his, marvelling at the smallness of her hands.

“I have a feeling we could be perfect for each other.” he smiled.

Abby stood under the hot, steamy water and groaned her appreciation. She’d been able to have a bed wash every few days at the hospital but to be able to stand under a stream of hot water was just heaven. She washed as much of herself as she could. Her ribs just ached and she knew she wasn’t going to be able to reach the top of her back. Fleetingly she thought of asking Jon to do it for her but she wasn’t ready for where that might lead. The shower itself was fantastic. It consisted of a series of buttons for On, Off, Hot and Cold which made it so much easier for her to turn it on and off. Feeling her skin start to prune up she reluctantly pressed the off button and opened the door, stepping out into a steamed up bathroom. She wrapped herself in the luxury bath towel that Jon had left for her and crossed over the expanse of marble floor tile and opened the door.

Jon was leant up against the wall outside arms folded and legs crossed at the ankle. He was waiting for Abby to finish her shower. He ruminated on the past few weeks and realised that the more he was getting to know her the more he liked her. She was funny, naïve, and said whatever seemed to be on her mind without filtering it first. He’d met so many women throughout his life that seemed to tell him what they thought he wanted to hear and it was refreshing to meet someone who just said the first thing she thought of, even if it was left of centre sometimes. He remembered her comment about his eyebrows and wondered whether he should dye them a little bit darker. He was pondering this when the bathroom door opened and Abby’s face appeared in the midst of steam.

“Hi. I’ve showered, “ she said indicating the towel, “well, obviously, otherwise why would I be wearing a towel and have wet skin.” she blushed as his eyes automatically raked over said wet skin.

“Anyway I’m ready if you are,” she thought about what she’d said,” I mean to wash my hair. Ok, babbling now…” she trailed off blushing the colour of an Egyptian sunset.

Jon just smiled tightly and brushed past her. He crossed over to the bathtub and turned on the taps flipping them onto the shower head. He motioned for Abby to come over and sit on the floor, facing him, so that her head leant back against the tub. He leant over her to test the water and she caught a glimpse of his stomach. Her eyes widened as she looked at the firm, taut muscles covered in soft, downy hair. His best buckle was inches away from her face and she gulped, unable to stop staring at the zip of his jeans.

Jon stepped back to afford him the best angle to start washing her hair and looked down at her. He smiled, wryly, as he realised which part of his anatomy had been in her eye line. Deciding to put on a show he dropped the shower head and make a slow move of taking his jersey off.

“Don’t wanna get it wet.” he murmured as he threw it across the floor, where it landed on wet tiles.

Abby felt her mouth suddenly go dry as she took in the toned physique of the man in front of her. As he bent closer to her to pick up the shower head she had no idea what to look at. His torso brushed her face as he picked up the shower head and she held her breath as she felt the warmth of his skin brush across her cheek. Ok maybe sex with this man wasn’t going to be as embarrassing or as troubling as she’d thought.

Jon ran the warm water through her long hair until it was sopping wet then picking up a shampoo bottle, allowed a large dollop to fall into his hands before transferring the sudsy liquid to her long tresses. Abby heard a moan as he worked the shampoo through her hair and scalp and realised, belatedly, that it was her. Her eyes opened sharply in shock and then closed quickly as he ran began to rinse the shampoo out. He ran a sweet smelling lemony conditioner through her hair, right to the ends, tugging on the curls softly yet sensually. Abby had gone into sensory overload and was just sitting as still as she could. She was well aware that she was sat, wrapped in only a towel whilst a feral, handsome half naked man was administering to her hair. Although neither where aware of it, Jon had just fulfilled one of Abby’s fantasies.

With her hair freshly washed and curling around her face, Abby scrambled to her feet as fast as she could with a plaster cast on and was slightly mortified when her towel slipped, slightly, as Jon helped her up. She could only stand in front of him, knowing she was blushing all over, as he tucked the towel back around her, his warm fingers lingering on her rapidly cooling body.

She mumbled her thanks and bidding him good night, made her way back to her room.

Abby sat on the large double bed and groaned out loud. She looked down at the pillow to find a button up tee shirt and shorts combo with a note attached.

“For you to sleep in until we get you something a bit more feminine. Hopefully you can get your arms into a button up rather than an ordinary one. xxx Jon.”

“What a sweet man you are Jon.” she muttered to herself as she began the arduous task of getting herself into the button up tee shirt without causing her ribs to ache.

Jon looked at the clock and groaned. It was way past three in the morning and he was feeling the effects of the past month catching up with him. He knew he was going to get caught out at some point but all the time he was spending with ‘Abby’ was making him want to spend more and more time with her. To teach her new things and see the joy in her face and she experienced it for the first time. He knew, deep down, that it wouldn’t last forever and that she would probably hate him for what he’d done, but he couldn’t help wishing it could stay like this. With these troubling thoughts slipping through his mind, he fell asleep.

Chapter Four

“Jon?”

He turned to look at Abby, and the low December sun shone through the bare windows, illuminating her hair with a fiery halo. Combined with her ice blue eyes the effect was striking. She’d been in the hospital for just under three weeks and, apart from the amnesia, she was fit enough to be discharged.

He walked over to her and held her hand.

“The doctor says I can go home, but the trouble is I don’t know where that is.” she looked up at him, her ice blue eyes wide and trusting.

“Darlin’ if you think I’m letting you be on your own after this you have another thing coming. You’re coming to live with me.” The words were out before he’d had a chance to think about it.

“Oh thank god. The doc was telling me earlier what would’ve happened if you weren’t here for me. I’d’ve ended up in a bed in a psych ward somewhere until my memory came back, and that just sounds heartbreakingly awful.” she looked so relieved and so full of hope and trust that the truth fled and hid behind his smile.




As Abby had a fractured leg and broken rib she was going to need a lot of care and Jon had a Limo ready and waiting for her when she was finally discharged from hospital. The doctor still had a problem with the fact that most of her paperwork was incomplete but as Jon had handed his medical insurance details over without blinking at the amount, no real fuss was taken about the incomplete records.

Jon wheeled Abby out through the double doors of the hospital and into the car park.

“Jon? Where are we going? I thought an ambulance was taking me to yours?” Abby said, smiling, even when Jon hit a bump in the road and jolted her leg. She hissed slightly through the smile and Jon looked down at her.

“Sorry baby.” he murmured as he manoeuvred her over to the black stretch Limo that was waiting patiently for them.

Abby looked at the huge car in front of her and gasped. Surely this couldn’t be for them? Jon had told her what he did for a living but still, she was quite shocked at the size of the car.

“Jon! This must have cost a fortune! You didn’t have to do this just for me.” Abby said, trying to twist around in her wheelchair to look at the handsome man behind her.

Jon just gave her his mega watt smile as the driver opened the door for them.

Abby was settled down on the long back seat, her leg propped up against the back of the seat.

They had left the hospital and were driving through heavy traffic. Jon had settled down on the side seat for the long ride to his house in East Hampton. A silence filled the car and he looked over to see if Abby had fallen asleep. Ice blue met ice blue.

“I’m sorry, we haven’t had much chance to talk over the past couple of days, what with all those bloody tests and the doctors hovering over me. Honestly you’d think I’d been in an accident or something.” Abby smiled to show she was joking to break the silence.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, fidgeting on the seat.

“Strange. But really glad to be out of that room. And I‘m so looking forward to having a hair wash and a bath.” she answered truthfully, trying to twist her long hair out from behind her.

Jon reached over and helped her yank the mass of hair from where she’d been leaning on it. A faint aroma of apples hit his nose and he breathed it in deeply. Abby looked up at the man holding her hair and coughed discretely. Jon dropped her hair and sat back with an embarrassed smile.

“You’re a brave man, it hasn’t been washed in almost a month, it must be really greasy.” Abby grinned, “ I like your hair though, those caramel, honey colours really suit your skin tone and eyes.” She looked him right in the eye.

He cleared his throat and wished he had brought his sunglasses with him. Her direct stares were beginning to get to him and make him feel uncomfortable.

“Erm, strange how?” he asked, breaking the silence that had once again settled between them.

“Well, this amnesia thing is weird. Like I said to you in the hospital, I can remember certain things, things from my childhood, toys I played with and places I’ve been to but I don’t remember you or New York, or anything from the last twenty-odd years. It’s like my whole adult life has been wiped clean. I know the doctor told us that it would take some getting used to and that we’d have to go through the whole getting to know you thing again, but it’s been a week since I woke up and I still don’t remember a thing,” She looked at him pensively, “Even my name seems strange. I mean what was I doing there in that alley way without my bag. Was I mugged? I mean that could explain why I had no ID on me. Ugh, it’s just so frustrating you know. ”

“Well, the doc said everything will seem strange to you at first but over time things might start to come back to you.” Jon wasn’t sure, as he said this, whether he wanted things to come back to her as then he’d have to deal with the massive hole he’d dug for himself. He was sure if he looked at the bottom of the hole he’d see China.

“Where did we meet?” she asked, fixing him with an ice blue stare.

The question was so unexpected that Jon choked on the diet coke he’d just taken a sip of.

Shit. Get yourself out of that one, Jonny boy.

“Oh, er, at a Music Studio.” he replied, hoping to god he wasn’t going to start sweating.

“Really? What was I doing there? Do I sing as well?” she asked. Abby couldn’t shake the feeling that this man, her boyfriend, was hiding something from her. His body language was cagey, shifty almost. She fleetingly wondered how she knew that but got caught up in Jon’s answer.

“No, I don’t think you sing, if you do you’ve never mentioned it before. You were doing admin.”

“How long ago was it that we met?” Abby was desperate to have some information about her life, even if it seemed that Jon didn’t really want to tell her.

“Not long really, we’ve been taking it slow and private, which is why, until now, no-one knew we were together. You know, making sure…”he trailed off, wondering just why in hell he was doing this. ‘You know why.’ his conscience told him but he ignored it, not wanting to follow through on that train of thought.

“And, are we sure?” Abby asked, looking at the man she’d been told, by one of the nurses, millions of women swoon over daily, taking in the tired, drawn eyes, the paleness of his skin and the pinched mouth. She wondered what was stressing him out so much and why he was with her. She knew, from looking in the mirror, that she was not a conventional beauty and knew, from looking at him, that he was. What had brought them together?

Jon just shrugged and turned away.

A small laugh broke him from his reverie. He turned to look at the woman he’d named Abby.

“It’s okay Jon, I understand. Listen you don’t have to do this.” Abby smiled at him, twisting her long red hair in her small hands. Her good leg was bent at the knee and leaning over her bad leg, to help stabilise her against the back of the seat. Jon looked at her, taking in her small frame, small-ish waistline and the impressive breasts and his heart missed a beat.

Understood? Understood what? His eyes widened with fear. There was no way in hell she knew what he’d done. Did she?

His confusion showed on his face, as she continued.

“We’ve broken up. Haven’t we? That’s why you’re uncomfortable about answering questions about us. I get it. I don’t quite get why you’re taking me home to live with you, but you don’t have to. Just drop me off at my place and we’ll say goodbye.” Abby said, smiling at the most beautiful man she’d ever seen in her life, wondering why he seemed so familiar when she knew she didn‘t know him.

Jon just stared at her. Broken up? That was a new one. Hell lady if you only knew, you wouldn’t be sat there so calm.

“Huh? No we haven’t broken up,” he began, “Truth is, we don’t really know a lot about each other. We haven’t actually seen each other that many times as I’ve been away.”

Good going Jonny, you asswipe, she handed you a get out clause and you just stared at it while your mouth ran away with ya.

His conscience turned away in disgust and walked off.

“Oh, that makes sense, I guess. I‘m sorry to keep asking you all these questions but it‘s just really weird and quite frightening to have a hole where a memory should be.” Abby smiled, then hissed in pain as the Limo hit a pothole and her leg bounced on the seat.

Jon was out of his seat and kneeling by her before he knew it.

“Are you ok?” he asked, concerned.

She reached out her hand and rested it on his shoulder, for support as she struggled to get back into a comfortable position. She smiled as she felt the warmth of his skin seep through the pale brown fitted jersey he was wearing. A feeling of safety swept over her and she smiled; the first real smile for a very long time.

Chapter Three

Over the next ten days Obie saw more of St Luke’s Hospital than he’d ever wanted to. Jon had asked him to find out all he could about her but so far the name Abby Anderson wasn’t ringing any bells. Obie was worried about his boss as something had gotten into Jon and he wasn’t going to leave this woman until he knew she was ok. Obie knew Jon could get somewhat obsessive at times but it was usually getting a piece of music right or making sure a contract was watertight. He’d never known him to get obsessed over a woman before, but then again, he reasoned, Jon had been with the same woman for almost thirty years.

Jon had sat by Abby’s bedside and read to her. Because of the swelling to her brain coma had been induced in order to give the swelling a chance to go down and also as a painkiller, to allow her body to rest and, hopefully, recuperate.

On the first day he’d been allowed in to see her he’d brought along a book he’d picked up at home and had subsequently brought it in every day to read to her for as long as the nurses would allow. She’d been moved to a private room at Jon’s expense and all the nurses, according to Obie, were in awe at how attentive a partner he was.

Jon didn’t so much see as feel her fingers flexing. He’d fallen asleep whilst reading to her and was softly snoring when he felt a slight, feather light touch on his forehead. He opened his eyes and stared through a swath of blond hair that had fallen across his face. At first he wasn’t sure what he was looking at then he realised he was looking at her fingers and they were moving.

Jon shot up from the bed, ignoring the crick in his neck.

“Nurse! She’s awake!” he yelled, looking back out through the glass walls of her room to the nurses station outside. The blinds that afforded some privacy had been pulled back allowing the nurses outside to see in and keep an eye on her at all times.

Jon found himself being hustled out of the room as medical staff surrounded her bed. They’d begun the process of waking her up after scans had shown the swelling on her brain had gone down, now that she’d woken up they were doing all they could to make her comfortable and to check her vital signs.

He took the opportunity to go outside for a cigarette and to check his blackberry for messages. Outside in the bitter cold, he tugged his scarf closer and took a drag off the Marlboro light. He’d gotten an email from Richie and thumbing through his contacts list pressed the call button.

“Hey man, long time no hear, how’s it going bro?” Richie’s voice boomed through the phone, bringing sunshine and warmth to Jon.

“hey Rich, what’s up?” he replied.

“Nothing…well I spoke with Obie last week and well, he’s…we’re worried about you man. He told me about your girlfriend. I’m so sorry. I didn’t even know you were dating anyone, you sly dog!” he chuckled.

Jon smiled.

“Yeah well, We’ve really only just met and we wanted to be sure before we told anyone, ya know?” the lies slipped easily off his tongue but he couldn’t stop them.

“How is she? More importantly, how are you? Have you been sleeping? Obie said you looked tired.”

“I’m ok, same shit different day, right? Abby’s just coming out of the coma she was in.”

“Coma? Shit! didn’t know about that, hell, must be rough on you man. Shit.” Richie expressed

“Well, she had some swelling on the brain and the doc thought the best thing to do while we waited for it to go down was to induce a coma. She‘s got amnesia.” Jon sighed, taking another drag of his cigarette.

“Oh hell man, that’s tough, especially after…”

“Yeah. Well I’d better get back inside, see how she is. Give my love to Ava and the flavour of the month.” he chuckled, preparing to disconnect the call.

“Hey Jon, I’m flying in next week to visit Ma. I’ll come over and catch up with ya, ok? Hang in there man, I’m sure everything will be ok.” Richie said, concerned.

“Ok.” Jon hung up and, stubbing out the cigarette, made his way back into the warmth of the building.

‘Yeah, everything will be ok.’ He thought, sarcastically. ‘Only if she’s still got amnesia. If she remembers everything then I’m in the shit. I‘ve lied to the docs, the police and now Richie.’

You put yourself there, you get yourself out of it. His conscience spoke.

Oh shut up!, he told his conscience, When I want your opinion I’ll ask for it.

He walked back in and headed for the cafeteria. His stomach was rumbling, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten in a long while. He felt hungry for the first time in days and welcomed the thought of food and caffeine.



She opened her eyes as a man walked into the room. She’d seen so many doctors and nurses over the past few hours, had been through so many tests and had been poked and prodded until she’d felt like a pincushion that the last person she wanted to see right now was another doctor.

He walked towards her bed, his brows furrowed. She smiled at him, apprehensively. He didn’t look like a doctor but then again.

“Hi” he said, his voice was aged whisky and smoke.

“Hi,” she replied, thinking how handsome and yet familiar he was and wondering why he was there, “Are you another doctor?” she asked. Her voice was soft and melodic and above all, British., “You look so familiar to me, have we met before?” she pondered as her Swiss cheese brain gave her no hints.

“I’m Jon.” he said, pulling a chair over to her bedside and sitting down. He was slightly shocked to hear a British accent but looking at her face, thought it suited her.

“Oh,” she smiled broadly, showing white, even teeth, “The doc said you’d been here at my bedside since the accident. He said that we’re…dating? Of course that would explain why I know your face.” she said, laughing softly her ice blue eyes clear and honest.

Jon looked into the woman’s face, saw the honesty and trust written there and something ignited in his soul. He wanted to help her and take care of her, get to know her.

“Yeah, it’s been low key and private but yeah.” he placed his hands on the bed and was slightly surprised when she placed one of her small hands over his and squeezed.

“Thank you.” she said, softly, “But I’m really sorry, I just don’t remember you, not really, it‘s like I know you but I don‘t. Does that make sense?”

Jon nodded.

Chapter Two

Detective (Second Grade) Luke Sutton, Midtown North Precinct, looked up from his desk as his partner perched on the side. Luke raised an eyebrow and Detective (Third Grade) Matthew Graves slid off the desk with a sheepish grin and sat himself down on a spare chair.

Luke turned to look at Matthew.

“What’s up Graves?” he asked, feeling slight relief that his attention had been taken away from filling out expenses forms.

“We’ve got another one.” Graves said, his white blond hair flopping forward into his cherubic face, making him look like a errant schoolboy.

“Shit, that makes it three. Where was she found?” Luke asked, sitting back in his chair.

“Battery Park, near the Clinton Memorial.”

“Shit, that’s way out of left field. Are we sure she’s his?”

“M.O.’s the same. Same hacked off ponytail, slashes across the cheekbones, and those strange slashes across the abdomen. Has anyone discovered exactly what they are yet?” Graves asked.

“Oh yeah, Linda called. She says they’re runes.”

“Runes? What the fuck are they?”

“Some ancient language from Norway or Denmark or some such Scandinavian country. She’s trying to get them translated.” Luke replied, tiredness now replaced by anger.

It had been three weeks since the first victim had been found and they were no nearer to finding out the perp. Luke had been working in the homicide team for over a year and had seen his fair share of vicious attacks but this one had really gotten to him. It was the total lack of regard for the women as people and the fact that all the attacks had taken place pre mortem, meaning everyone of the victims had felt the knife carving into them before the perp slit their throats.



“Jon!”

Jon looked up from the magazine he hadn’t been reading to see Obie walking towards him. After the woman had been admitted, Jon had found a payphone and had called the only person he could think of who would come running and be able to help him. Obie was his right hand man and could be counted on to do pretty much anything that was asked of him, including getting to the hospital within twenty minutes of being asked.

“Hey Obie, thanks for coming man, I couldn’t think of anyone else to call.”

“What happened JB? Are you ok? “ Obie asked, concern evident on his face.

“I’m fine Obie, I just…oh god..” he growled as the enormity of what he’d done hit him, “I hit someone with my car as I was backing out of the studios earlier.”

“Oh jeez, You sure you’re ok? You weren‘t drinking..?”

Jon shook his head, feeling a slight headache behind his eyes.

“I’m fine, but she’s..I don’t know how she is, or who she is for that matter, but…we have the same eyes Obie, of all the people I’ve ever met I’ve never met anyone who has the same eyes as me before. Don’t you find that weird?” Jon said, a broad smile on his face.

Obie was worried. It wasn’t like Jon to not be in control and hitting someone with your car definitely counted as losing control, and what the hell was he talking about eyes for? Obie looked closer at the man he called ‘boss’, although that was only when he wanted to annoy him, and saw the sheer exhaustion that he’d managed to hide for so long.

“I think you ought to go home to rest.” Obie said, careful to make it a request and not a statement as that was a sure fire way to get Jon’s anger flowing.

“I can’t Obie, I need to make sure she’s ok,” Jon looked around, a sheepish guilty look on his face, “There’s one more thing Obie.”

“What?” Obie asked, feeling that whatever it was it wasn’t going to be good.

“I kinda gave them the impression that she’s my girlfriend.” he admitted

“What?!?” Obie said, totally at a loss why Jon would have done that.

“They wouldn’t give me any information on her as I wasn’t next of kin, so I hinted that I was.”

“Hinted? How?” Obie asked, suspiciously.

“I, er…” Jon broke off eye contact, his cheeks flushing slightly.

Obie raised an eyebrow, giving Jon his version of Jon’s stern look.

“Well, when the doc asked was I next of kin I kinda didn’t say no.

“And you came up with this all by yourself? Jesus Christ Jon! Do you know how much trouble you are going to get yourself into if this comes to light? Do they know you hit her?” Obie asked, sitting down, praying his mind would be able to take in this newer version of his boss.

“Er…” Jon began, his mouth twisting wryly.

“I’ll take that as a no then, shall I?”, Obie said, sarcastically, wondering how in the name of all things good he was going to get Jon out of this mess, and also vowing never to let his boss out in public by himself again. Ever.

“Do you want me to go and get this mess straightened out?” He asked, sighing.

Obie ran his hands across his face in utter disbelief at how incredibly stupid Jon was acting. Obie had known that the divorce had taken a lot out of Jon but he hadn’t realised just how much it had affected him.

“What about telling the doc the truth? Want me to do that for you as well?” Obie asked.

“No. I‘ll do it myself, let me just..” Jon broke off as the Doctor he’d spoken to earlier came into the waiting area.

“Doc.” Jon said, getting up from the uncomfortable seat.

“Mr Bongiovi.”

“How is she?” Jon asked, worry and concern rumpling his features. He would wait until he knew she was fine and then tell them what he’d done. He guessed he really ought to retract his earlier statement to the Policeman he’d had to speak to.

“Physically she’ll be fine. She has a fractured leg and a broken rib, which, given enough bedrest, will heal naturally.” The doctor paused causing Jon’s heart rate to accelerate.

“But?” Jon prompted, making a move towards the physician.

“She’s lost her memory.”

“What? What does that mean?” Jon asked, now on the verge of complete hysteria as the days events combined with his overall stress level and threatened to tip him over the edge.

“She has amnesia, but without further tests I couldn’t tell you whether it’s organic or functional.”

“Huh? Sorry you totally lost me there..organic or functional? What the fuck does that mean.”

Obie could see Jon was getting agitated. Jon always seemed to be getting agitated these days and Obie stepped up in order to force Jon to take a back seat, to give him time to calm down. After all it wasn’t even as if he knew this woman.

“What’s the difference between the two?” Obie asked, forcing the doctors attention away from his on the edge of a nervous breakdown boss and onto him.

Jon stepped back and took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down before the doc admitted him as well.

“Well, organic amnesia is caused by either drugs or some form of damage to the brain, such as can be caused in car accidents and is usually permanent, where as functional amnesia is usually some form of repressed memory or a disassociation with a particular trauma and, given time and with help, the memory can be restored. As she was involved in a car accident, until the slight swelling she has on the brain has gone down and we can talk to her, we just won’t know what kind of amnesia it is. As she knows her name and is aware of where she is it’s more likely to be a functional amnesia as, well as the name says she can be fully functional and just have a hole in her memory, but if it isn’t, it’s likely she’ll be brained damaged to some extent.”

Jon sank down onto a chair and put his head in his hands. He was empty inside, not sure what he should be feeling. He’d hit someone with his car; a beautiful someone from what he could remember and because of that she could be brain damaged for life. All of a sudden the events of the past six months and especially that day, caught up with him and, turning away from Obie and the Doc, he retched over the threadbare carpet.