The Tutor by
K. Larsen
Published June 5, 2017
Dark Romantic Suspense
SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT
K. Larsen is giving away a
KindleFire & a Signed Paperback of
The Tutor
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link to all stores: books2read.com/u/bo6lGL
After a party gone wrong and in desperate need of money for
the fall semester of college, twenty-year-old Nora Robertson
needs to escape her hometown.
She accepts a summer long live-in tutoring job
for a handsome man and his little sister at a secluded home deep in the
mountains.
There is no running water.
No electricity.
No internet or cell service.
When her tutoring job ends she's hit with a
brutal turn of events ... she's not permitted to leave.
Short Excerpt:
Holden dressed me that first day out of the box. He dressed me and left
me in his bedroom on his bed. I sobbed until my body had no more liquid to
expel. I curled into a tiny ball and willed everything not to be true. At some
point, probably mid-day, he came in with a bucket,
washcloth, and tray of food. He gently, tenderly almost, sat me up and fed me.
Small bites. He murmured that things would be okay. That I would see. When the
food was gone, he lifted my dress from my body. I stared at the wall unmoving.
He dampened the washcloth and washed me head to toe. There was nothing sexual
about it. It was simply cleaning the filth and stench from my skin. If I’m
honest, I almost enjoyed it. Being clean is something we take for granted. He
left me in his room after a swift kiss on the crown of my head until dinner. He
brought in a tray and fed me again. Afterward, he brushed my hair free of all
the knots and braided it. When he finished I laid back down and squeezed my
eyes shut so tightly that the apples of my cheeks began to burn.
Long Excerpt:
Present Day
Nora
“What’s your name?”
“Nora,” I whisper. My throat feels
sunburned. Sweat soaks the hair covering my neck. Wind gusts hair across my
face. Something drips from my head. Or onto my head. I can’t tell which. A
blurry face appears over mine. Too close. “Nora, we’re going to lift now.”
I
stare at the gray sky. I shudder and worry about what might be watching
from the thicket of woods nearby. I can’t nod and my mouth makes no
sound. For a moment I feel weightless. Free. I imagine it’s how birds feel
soaring through the sky. Gravity quickly reminds me that something’s amiss. My
leg feels like it’s on fire. I wince when I’m jostled into some kind of metal
box. An ambulance. The sterile hygienic odor hits me like a brick in the face. Everything is a watery blur from
behind the rain-streaked windows of the ambulance doors. People have a
deep-seated craving for a sense of family, belonging, identity. I squeeze my
eyes shut. Looking back, I realize that he probably interviewed lots of
different girls for the job and picked the one he thought would be easiest. It
wasn’t just the girl he chose but the life she came from as well.
“Nora,
stay with me.” The paramedic’s voice is deep and oddly soothing. It pulls
me from my thoughts. I open my eyes, slide my gaze from the ceiling to him. I
want to know what he looks like but my eyes won’t focus enough to get a good
look. He pokes at me with something as if I am a large bug to be inspected. My
body screams with pain. It feels like there’s a noose around my throat so tight
stars dance in my eyes. I’ve experienced this before though. I can survive.
Life’s made me numb. I squeeze my eyes shut again.
“Nora, can you hear me?”
“Nora…”
***
I
jolt awake—disoriented. Lotte? Tubes
snake in and out of me. I’m covered in soft blue and don’t feel gritty with
dirt anymore. The steady beeps of nearby monitors hurts my ears. So much
white noise. A symphony of electronic background sound that’s headache
inducing. I’ve been too used to the quiet of nature for too long. The door to
the room is closed. I don’t like closed doors. Panic jumpstarts my heart.
I’m trapped. Again. My leg is hoisted up and in a cast. I squint trying
to recall the proper name for the contraption. My sternum aches and I have
white lights dancing in my peripheral vision. The door opens. Please be Lotte. A man in a
gray suit enters the room. I lift my head slightly.
“Hello, Nora.” I don’t know who he
is. I squint at him as he surveys me while chewing a nail. It’s strange to
think of the unexpected turns a person’s life can take. “I’m detective Salve.
And I need to ask you some questions.” I feel my face wrinkle in confusion.
“Do you remember what happened?”
he asks. I drop my head to the
thin pillow; stare at the ceiling as he pulls a chair next to the bed.
“I was in a car accident.” My
voice is a raspy whisper. When I chance a look at him again, he’s nodding.
“Yes. That’s good. Do you need
anything?” he asks. Not from
you.
“Water,” I answer. And Lotte.
“Sure thing. Hang on.” He stands,
the chair legs scrape across the floor and I cringe at the noise. When he
returns he holds a small cup of water out at me, a straw plunged into it. He’s
younger than Holden by maybe a few years from the looks of it. I wonder how
long he’s been a detective. His brown hair is close cropped and his nose has a
bump in the bridge. He has nice eyes and an easy smile. A nice face, Angela would say.
I take the cup from him and chance a small sip. It’s hard to swallow but I
manage. I set the cup down on the table next to the bed.
“So, Nora, what’s your last name?”
he asks.
I sigh and say, “Robertson.”
Detective Salve lifts an eyebrow
at me. “Really.” I lick my dry
lips.
“Really,” I mumble.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-one.” He eyes me then.
Takes me in.
“What’s your date of birth?”
“March 19th, 1996.” I know what
he’s thinking- I look younger than I am. I always have. And I’m only just
twenty-one.
“Do you want me to call your
parents?” I shake my head.
“I don’t have any,” I answer. Like
most people who grew up without parents, over the years I have collected little
tidbits of life knowledge, scraps and bits from friends parents, teachers, and
employers. Anyone who offered up a touch of wisdom and I kept them like fabric
remnants so that I could someday crochet them into a nonsensical afghan that
might somehow make my life better—easier. But that is the problem with
crocheting-it’s full of holes. Right now I’d kill to have a parent. I
don’t know where he is. I don’t know where Lotte is. I
don’t know if I’m close to home or close to the farm.
“Is there other family I could
call?”
I
stare at the ceiling again. A nurse comes in and explains that she’s taking my
vitals, upping my fluids and asks if I need anything for my pain level. I want
the detective to leave. He gives me an uneasy feeling. Men aren’t to be
trusted. They have hidden dark needs they want filled. He wouldn’t want me talking to any
men. Dara, the nurse, writes her name on a whiteboard and tells me to let her
know if I need anything at all. She gives Detective Salve the side-eye as she
leaves. I decide I like her.
“Angela Clark,” I croak.
“Sorry?” Detective Salve says.
“Call Angela Clark.” I give him
the phone number and wait for him to leave. We’re not done yet. He told me
that. But at least the unidentified girl in the car wreck has been identified.
I buzz the nurse. She’s quick.
“My head is killing me.” Dara nods
while simultaneously darting around. She reminds me of a butterfly with their
erratic flight patterns. She’s dainty and delicate looking. Before I can
blink twice she’s handing me pills and the cup of water from the table. I
swallow them down quick.
“You should really try and sleep.
The Doctor will be around to fill you in soon.” I bite my bottom lip and try to make
myself comfortable before I close my eyes. I shouldn’t close my eyes. I feel
guilty for not getting up. For not finding Lotte or asking about her but if I’m
here–safe, she’s probably here–safe. Scared but safe. When I sleep my brain
doesn’t hurt. The world is quiet. At least it used to be that way. Sleep was a
heavenly escape. I didn’t dream. Sleep provided me sweet escape for eight
hours. It’s dark out when I wake. Rather, when I’m roused from sleep.
“Ms. Robertson.” An unfamiliar
voice. I blink a few times before rubbing away the sleep crusties. My mouth is
dry again. My leg throbs. My chest aches. Is this a broken heart? I stuff the
idea way deep down- for Lotte.
“Nora,” I scratch out. He tucks my
chart under his armpit and hands my water to me. I drink the remaining liquid.
It’s not enough. I’m somnolent and feel desiccated.
“Nora,” he says.
“Yes.”
“You’re aware of the car accident
yes?”
“Yes,” I answer. The road was
uneven and icy. I remember screaming at Lotte to hang on as I yanked the wheel
and slammed the brake pedal.
“You’re lucky to be alive,” he
says and a part of me wants to laugh but I don’t. “You shattered your femur and
part of your patella. You sustained a nasty contusion on your sternum and
a serious concussion. It was estimated that you were pinned under your truck
for at least three hours before help arrived which is partly why you’re
dehydrated and suffered moderate hypothermia.”
“Okay. Where’s Lotte?” I ask. He stares at me a beat.
“Who’s Lotte?”
“Charlotte,” I say. “She was in
the truck with me.”
He pinches his lips closed. Swings
his tongue around his teeth behind his bottom lip.
“As far as I know, there was no
one else recovered at the scene.” He looks everywhere but me. Recovered. The word
doesn’t sit right with me.
“That can’t be right. She was in
the truck with me.” I close my eyes, recall what I can. I know she was with me. He stares at me intently now.
Then, “Tell you what? I will ask
around for you. Maybe I’m wrong.”
“When can I leave?” I ask.
“We need to do a couple more CAT
scans, get your fluids up and monitor your break. But outside of that—soon.”
Now I do laugh. “That doesn’t
sound very soon.” “It’s all
relative,” he says with an easy grin.
“Also, the EMTs didn’t recover any
personal effects. Do you have health insurance or an emergency contact you’d
like on file?” I frown and shake my head.
“I already spoke with a detective.
He’s calling someone for me but I don’t have insurance,” I groan.
“Is that a problem?”
“Not at all. Just another step to
take. I’ll send someone up to get you officially admitted and work out payment
options with you. I expect you’ll be moved upstairs out of emergency shortly.”
“How long have I been here?”
“You arrived,” he looks at his
watch. A big fancy one. One that looks expensive. I can hear the ticking from
my bed. It’s amazing how much more you use your other senses after months
living in the woods.
“Fourteen hours ago. Most of that
was spent in surgery to set your femur and get the screws in place.”
“Oh.” “Do you have any questions for me,
Nora?” My gut clenches.
“No. I’m fine.” The better I begin to feel, the more
rested I am, the worse my panic becomes. He’s still out there and Lotte is
missing. I am in deep trouble.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
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OK… this
book… my first from K. Larsen is AWESOME!! I’m all hers now! She can keep me as
her little author toy and I will gobble up all the words she drops on the floor
for me because even her crumbs have to be perfection! This book BLEW me away!!!
I can’t talk about it and won’t rewrite the darn synopsis but this book is a
MUST read if you enjoy fast paced books that are perfectly written
with a bit of dark romance tossed in for good measure!
There is
just so much I want to say about this book but this is a book the reader needs
to read and enjoy first hand! I wish I could reread if for the first time again!
If you are on the fence about purchasing this book, jump off… I don’t profit
one way or another from my blog so what I tell you, I say honestly and with
only with love for books and the written word. This book is worth it! Give it a
try! You will NOT regret the purchase… you might regret not being able to site
in one setting and consuming the book from first to last word!!
I
received an ARC of this book with the hope that I will leave an Unbiased
Opinion. I was not required to leave a review, positive or otherwise, and my
opinions are just that... my opinions.
