Kelsey
“I’m exhausted but it will be worth it,” I say to my empty condo while I collapse on my battered couch weary from working two jobs plus special events. I don’t even have a dog to listen to me anymore. My temporary canine houseguest, Charley, has moved home with his mom, my bestie, Genevieve. She got married, and I’m so happy for her. Her husband, Joseph, recommended me for an annual event with Johnson and Wales, which will greatly increase my special event exposure. Both of my jobs are simply stepping-stones toward the bigger picture. I currently spend my evenings as the head pastry chef at Louie’s, a high-end bistro in Downtown Providence. I handle the dessert menu and preparation. My second job is a small bakery where I sling huge fancy cupcakes and cookies to stay-at-home moms and business people on their lunch breaks. Working at the bakery allows me time to experiment. My time at the bistro is better for networking and perfecting my craft plus, the pay is significantly better. I spend my days off networking and sampling my wares to obtain special events contracts.
I can’t quit either job until the events are more frequent, but on the flip side, I’m working myself to the bone. I pull myself up and move to my comfy bed to rest. I have to be at the bistro in four hours. On Monday and Thursday every week, I prepare the dessert menus. This gives the kitchen staff enough notice to purchase the ingredients I need. During my bakery shifts and on my days off, I create new recipes or tweak the flavors of old ones. My shifts at the bistro are fast paced as I rapidly prepare the desserts for guests. I typically work the dinner shift. I aim to leave by eleven each night, especially if I have to get to the bakery by five the next day for the morning shift. Luckily, I’m off from both jobs tomorrow. I can rest, recover, and hopefully get a gorgeous man in a grey suit out of my mind.
I only met William briefly during Genevieve’s wedding last Saturday. Damn! That man is insanely hot. I know very little about him other than his name and the way he filled out his charcoal suit. When he introduced himself to me at the bar, his deep brown eyes and dimples made me swoon. Not to mention, the tingles that shot from my fingers to my toes when he took my hand in his. It will take a lot to forget about him. Focus, Kelsey! Table six needs their chocolate crème brûlèe. I caramelize the sugar and place it in the window.
Pulling myself out of my delicious thoughts, I yell, “Trish, table six – ready for dessert service!”
The rest of the shift goes by quickly. I park at my condo and step out of my car. After my breakup with Kyle, and especially at night, I routinely check my surroundings when I’m alone. I lock my car and enter the secure foyer. After opening the hallway door, I see a mysterious package at my door. I cautiously eye the package knowing that I didn’t order anything and typically deliveries aren’t left here. It’s addressed to me but doesn’t have a return address. I know better than to bring the package into my condo, but I truly don’t want to call the police now. Ultimately, I’m not willing to take any risks, so I call.
As instructed by the dispatcher, I leave the package untouched and go back downstairs to the foyer just inside the front door. About ten minutes pass, before a cruiser pulls up outside my building. I open the door and let the two officers in.
“Good evening, I’m Officer Smith and this is my partner Officer Hughes. Could you please take us to the suspicious package?” Officer Smith is very tall but portly. He is definitely older than me. Officer Hughes is younger than Officer Smith, also tall with blonde hair.
“Sure,” I say motioning for them to follow me. I lead them upstairs to the first-floor hallway. There are two units on this floor. I point the two officers to the door and slowly back away. They examine the package without touching it. They exchange words. Then Officer Smith walks back toward me, leaving his partner at my door.
“Miss, please follow me.” I nod and follow Officer Smith back to the foyer. Over the radio, I hear him call for the bomb squad. He must see the sheer panic on my face.
“It’s protocol, but I don’t believe it’s an incendiary device,” he says.
“Miss, why don’t you tell me your whereabouts before you found the package.”
“Kelsey. My name is Kelsey Sava. I just got off shift at Louie’s downtown. I’m the pastry chef there I worked dinner service tonight. I found the package when I got home, then I called you.”
“Thank you. For now, let’s wait to see what is inside. It won’t take long for it to be examined.”
At this point, Officer Smith escorts me off to the side and waits with me while the package is checked. A member of the bomb squad arrives and waves him over. He urges me to stay put for now. After speaking to the other officer, he returns. He tells me the contents were not incendiary but gruesome.
“What was in the package?” I ask him. He purposely ignores my inquiry and starts asking more questions.
“Is there anyone who might want to hurt you, Miss Sava?”
“Not that I know of.” I immediately start shaking. A female officer I hadn’t noticed earlier steps closer to me, placing her hand on my arm.
The gesture is actually comforting. She introduces herself as Detective Jocelyn Harmon.
“Good evening, Miss Sava. Have you broken up with any one recently? Are you currently in a relationship?”
“Kelsey, please call me Kelsey. Yes, I broke up with someone about two months ago. His name is Kyle Rizzuto. I have been on two dates with Michael Carson in the last few weeks.” I also provide Kyle’s birthday and address, but I don’t know any of Michael’s information yet.
Officer Smith steps away to speak with the other officers on scene while Detective Harmon continues her questioning.
“How long did you date Mr. Rizzuto? Why did you break up with him?” I pause knowing I need to put the whole truth out there.
“I dated Mr. Rizzuto for just about six months. I broke up with him because he is verbally abusive and controlling. I have three jobs and he didn’t like that I was always working. He didn’t like the fact he couldn’t control who was on shift with me. When we were together, he controlled everything - where we went, with whom, and what I was allowed to wear.”
“Did he ever hit you, Miss - Kelsey?” She asks carefully.
“No, he never hit me. He raised his hand to me once but never actually hit me. That was just before I dumped him.” Detective Harmon gives me a curt nod as if to say, ‘way to go.’
“Does Mr. Rizzuto know where you work or have access to your work schedule?”
“He knows where I work but not my schedule. It’s different each week.”
“Let’s shift focus to Mr. Carson now. You recently started seeing him, correct?”
“Yes, we have been on two dates, I guess.”
“Do you have any concerns about Mr. Carson?” I know what she is asking, so I keep the snark to a minimum.
“No, Michael is nothing like Kyle.”
“Thank you, Kelsey. Here is my card. If you think of anything else or another incident occurs, please reach out to me directly. I will be in touch if I learn anything that you need to know. We will increase patrols in this area tonight.”
I stand there shocked at the last two hours of my life.
I thank the officers for their time and start walking towards my building. Officer Hughes offers to escort me to my door. I gratefully accept.
“Do you mind if I take a look around inside before I leave?” He asks me.
“No, go ahead,” I say, figuring it might make being here alone a bit easier. I open the door and gesture for him to enter. A few minutes later, he returns, having checked my condo.
“Goodnight, Miss Sava. Please make sure you lock this door behind me.”
“Thank you, Officer. Goodnight.” If my heart wasn’t pounding in my chest, I might have noticed Officer Hughes’ soft blue eyes, his genuine concern for my well-being, and his arms so threaded with muscles that they stretched the sleeves of his shirt to capacity. I double-check both locks on the front door and the one on the balcony’s French doors. I think about texting Genevieve, but it’s crazy early in the morning. It dawns on me that, I should consider texting Michael too. Why wasn’t he my first thought? Niggling in the back of my mind must be the thought that, he isn’t the one. That is why you didn’t call him as soon as you saw the box at your door. Ugh! Another one bites the dust. Still wearing my work clothes, I collapse onto my bed and doze off.
I wake with a start. It has been less than an hour since I crashed on my bed. Disregarding the early hour, I text Genevieve. She will get it first thing in the morning well, her morning.
Me: Give me a call when you get up. I need to talk to you.
Knowing I won’t get an answer, I pad to the kitchen to make coffee. I will need it to get through this day running on no sleep at all. Once it’s brewed, I set up my laptop on the kitchen so that I can see my whole condo. Crazy, maybe, but I feel better knowing there are no windows behind me. My condo is perfect for me. It’s small with two bedrooms and one bath. The kitchen and living room are combined in one large space. The kitchen has white cabinetry and a Corian countertop with a black and brown imitation granite pattern. I use the designated dining area for a cozy relaxing space. There are two colorful comfy chairs and plenty of brightly hued pillows and throw blankets. It’s where I usually unwind after working two or three jobs consecutively. The bedrooms are standard-sized, each with a closet. There’s nothing over the top about my room or the guest room - simple paint colored walls but bright and bold.
After Charley left, I decided to adopt a dog of my own. Up until this morning, I haven’t put any effort into the search. I pull up petfinder.com and start to look. So many questions float through my head. Do I want a puppy? What breed should I consider? What size dog do I want? Answering that one is easy - big. No miniature anything for me. There are a bunch of dogs available for me to adopt. I narrow it down to two places to check out later today when they open. I set that aside and scan my email. There is a request for a special event in Maine. I glance at it quickly and realize it will be over the Christmas holiday. I leap up, grab my phone and check my calendar. I can absolutely pull this event off. I reply to the inquiry, asking to set up a teleconference to iron out the details. In the midst of my glee, I hear my phone chime.
Gen: What’s up? Everything ok?
Me: No, it isn’t. Can I call you?
Gen: Sure, give me a minute to go downstairs.
Me: Okay.
I wait about five minutes and call Genevieve. I clue her in to the happenings of the last twenty-four hours or so but mainly focusing on the package.
“Oh, Kels. That’s awful. Do they know who it is yet? Can I do anything for you?”
“I think it’s too early. The detective is very nice. I will call her in a few days to check-in if I don’t hear from her first. How is married life?”
“That makes sense. Married life is fantastic! Thank you again for the desserts you made for the proposal and the delish cake for our wedding. You rocked it all - while looking fantastic in Kelly’s designs.”
“Thanks. That is the other reason I need to chat with you. I have an inquiry for an event at the Bluff on December 20, will your cottage be finished?”
“Great, Kels! The cottage should be finished later this week. The only thing not complete is the floor sanding and polishing. You can stay there for your event, no problem.”
“Yay! Girl’s night plus!” We laugh.
“Keep me posted on what the police say.”
“I will. Love you.”
“Love you too. Call me if you need anything.”
“I will.” I stumble to the shower and dress for puppy adopting.
I’m actually looking forward to this. I take a short ride to the animal shelter in my city, where I’d seen two dogs that might work for me. I’m greeted by a cheerful and youthful volunteer.
“Hi! We’re so happy you are considering adopting one of these lovely pups,” she says. She has an exuberance I’ve never had.
“Thank you.” She leads me back to the viewing area and hands me off to a sullen looking young man, named Phil, who is likely putting in his community service hours.
“What type of dog are you looking for?” he asks.
“I want a medium to large-sized dog. Preferably housetrained. Looking for a guard dog more than a companion.”
“Do you have any other pets?”
“No.”
He leads me back to the kennel area. I would honestly take all of them if my budget and space would allow. It’s sad to see so many animals who need a home.
“This is Molly. She is a two-year-old spayed Shephard mix. She was abandoned in a park a few months ago.”
I bend down in front of her kennel but she doesn’t come near me. Phil mentions that she is shy and doesn’t like new people. Perhaps not the best of guard-dog options.
“Are there any other dogs here that meet my needs?”
“Unfortunately, no.” It dawns on me that, I’m right about Phil. He isn’t here willingly.
I nod, thanking him for his time and leave the shelter. I type the address of the next rescue into my phone and point my car in that direction. I stop for a coffee on the way. I love coffee without restrictions on the time of day, temperature, or occasion. It’s something my bestie and I have in common. Coffee is always a necessary addition.
The second rescue is further south in Ashaway. It’s on a farm that takes in foster animals from larger national shelters. I’m greeted by the owner, Kathy. The set up here is very different. There are about six unleashed dogs running on the property. Kathy asks the same questions of me as the other shelter workers did. She points out a large-breed dog which she thinks may be a Shephard and Great Dane mix.
She calls out, “Nixon!” and he comes trotting over. He is about half as tall as I am. She explains that he was abused and he believes he’s a lap dog despite his size.
“I’m looking for a guard dog.”
She nods, whether out of experience or genuine understanding, and tells me the other foster dogs at the rescue won’t work.
“Thank you,” I say. “Have a nice day.”
Resigned to the fact that today will not be the day I get a dog, I return home.
In my condo complex’s parking lot, I carefully survey each car as I pass, looking for our parking sticker in each window. Before stepping out of my car, I check for other people. I don’t see anyone. With my key out and ready to unlock the outer door, I speed walk toward the building. Arriving at the door, I make sure that it’s securely closed before walking upstairs to my condo.
Knowing that I can’t waste away the whole day despite last night’s events, I begin the menu for next week. I search through my catalog of recipes, with an eye toward what produce is in season, select the desserts for Tuesday through Friday which puts me at least one day ahead. Perfect! I email the ingredient requirements to my kitchen manager and decide to try to take a quick nap. It’s just after one in the afternoon. I verify that all the doors and windows are, indeed, still locked and flop onto my bed. I figure falling asleep should be a piece of cake.
Instead, I spend an hour tossing and turning in my bed. Sleep is a fickle bitch! I’m exhausted but still can’t sleep, so I plod towards the kitchen and grab a water. I resume my search for a dog. After searching through site after site, I see a link off to the side.
Adopt a working dog.
Adopt a what? I think. I click the link and read voraciously through the site. It describes working dogs, as retired military or police working dogs. Even though the site doesn’t say it, I think this type of dog would be protective, or at least appear imposing and protective. I read up on the adoption process. Everything about this agency is perfect except for the wait time and limited availability. Well, let’s start this, I figure. I fill out the application and send it off for review. I know it’s a long shot, but it feels right.
I step away from my laptop feeling a bit better. I text Michael to see if he’s free and start to tidy up my condo. I’m not a neat person. In fact, I’m straight-up messy. That is one of the things I miss about living with Gen. She is a neat freak. She cleans without even knowing she is doing it. My phone chimes with his reply.
Michael: Hi. How was your shift last night?
Me: My shift was fine. Afterwards wasn’t great. Are you busy now?
Michael: I have a few things to finish up. I can come over around five, if that works.
It bothers me a bit that he doesn’t ask why it wasn’t great. Why isn’t he concerned right now?
Me: Sure. I will cook something for us.
Michael: See you later.
I finish cleaning up and take stock of the ingredients I have for dinner. A simple spaghetti dish with artichokes and sundried tomatoes will do just fine. I’m amazing with dessert but in my mind, dinner is just a roadblock to dessert. I have enough time to change and watch an episode of Friends. The next episode in the queue is where Rachel and Joey kiss. I always root for Ross and Rachel to be together forever, so this one isn’t a fave of mine, but it passes the time.
I change into jeans and a light sweater while I watch. The sweater is fitted, not overly tight but showing a little cleavage, nothing too revealing. Deep down you know he isn’t the one. I shrug the thought away, putting in my earbuds and start to cook dinner. The water is set to boil, and I’m sautéing the other ingredients. I set out two place settings on the island countertop. Through my earbuds, during a lull in one of the songs, I hear the buzzer for the door. I glance at the clock and it’s just before five. I pull out the earbuds and place my phone and them on the table near the door. I buzz Michael up and head back to the kitchen. I dump the pasta into the strainer and turn off the stove. The only remaining step is to plate the meal. A knock at the door, I walk over drying my hands and open it.
“Hi, Michael,” I say, opening the door.
“Who is Michael? Who is Michael, Kelsey? Are you cheating on me?”
Panic rushes through my body. I immediately start to shake. Yesterday, that package was at my door and now he’s here. He grabs both my wrists in one of his hands. Holding on tightly, he pushes himself into my condo and slams the door shut. I’m a normal-sized woman, Kyle is very tall and skinny. He towers over me, and he is absolutely stronger than me. He pins me against the door.
“Kyle, what are you doing here? We aren’t together anymore. I haven’t seen or heard from you in two months. I was clear. I don’t want to see you anymore.”
“I will ask you again, who is Michael?”
“He is someone I just started seeing. No one important.”
“He is important enough to make dinner for though! He is important enough for you to dress like a slut for dinner at home.” He eyes flare with anger. He jaw ticks tighter. My back is flat against the door with his hips holding me in place. He is getting off on trapping me here. He releases my hands, which I slowly drop to my sides. He drags his hands down over my breasts, squeezing them hard. I edge my left hand in the direction of my phone in an attempt to repeat my last call, but I fail. He places his hands on the door on each side of my head.
“I have been trying to see you again, but either that damn dog would keep barking or I couldn’t get into the building. I’m the only one for you, Kelsey.”
Failing to tamp down the fear and panic coursing through me, I quickly assess my options. He just admitted to being here more than once, and I figure that he must have sent the package as well. So far, I’m not hurt badly but that could change very, very quickly. The door buzzer rings again.
“Don’t let him in, Kelsey!” he growls.
Think Kelsey! Think!
“Why don’t you let me go downstairs and talk to him face-to-face. I will send him away.”
My phone rings. The screen shows Detective Harmon’s name. Silently, I curse myself for saving her number last night. Kyle glances at the screen and slaps me across the face. His ring catches the outside of my left eye.
“Who is Detective Harmon? Why are you talking to the police? I was trying to send you a nice gift and you call the police! You dumb bitch!” He slaps on both sides of my face in between questions. I don’t have the opportunity to defuse the situation. Kyle is seething, and he is growing more agitated that I haven’t responded to his barrage of questions.
Kyle grabs my shoulders and tosses me to the floor. My head slams into the hardwood. Kyle yanks the door open and hurries away, leaving it swinging. Downstairs at the outer door, he comes face-to-face with Michael.
“Good luck, dude. She is a raging bitch! Run away while you still can,” he says.
Confused, Michael lets him pass and enters the complex, heading to my door. He has no idea what he is about to find. I try to get over to my phone, but I’m too dizzy so I lay back down on the floor.
My door is ajar, but Michael knocks anyway.
“Kelsey. Sorry, I’m a bit late,” he says. He peers through the open door and sees me lying on the floor.
“Kelsey!” He runs and kneels next to me. I can only imagine what my face looks like. It’s hard to open my left eye.
“Michael? Is that you? Kyle, is he gone?” I ask. I try to sit up but fall back to the floor.
“Yes, he’s gone. I’m calling 9-1-1. Stay there.” Michael calls and tells the police that I was attacked. They say they’ll send an ambulance and officers right away.
“What can I do?” he asks.
“Just sit with me until they get here, please,” I say, quietly.
“Of course.” Michael lowers himself to the floor next to me and holds my hand. I’m not sure who is shaking more: me or him.
The buzzer goes off again, and Michael lets the police into the building. The same officers from yesterday are back, along with EMTs. Michael slowly steps back as they enter my condo. Officer Smith begins to ask Michael questions.
“What is your name? Did you do this to her?”
Before he can answer, I shout,
“No!” I shout. “He found me!” I start to tell them it was Kyle who attached me but I pass out before I can finish. The next thing I know I’m waking at the hospital.
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