Lost

by Sarah Ann Walker

  I was waking from my sleeping fog and starting to try to hear the people around me. Finally one person stepped completely through the fog and I recognized her immediately.

  Detective Dent walked to me and actually leaned down with a hip against my bed and slowly spoke my name. Reintroducing herself strangely, like I could possibly forget her, she spoke until certain words and broken sentences started to make a little sense.

  Dent spoke to me until I finally decided to trust her. She spoke to me until the pain of my loss was just that- pain. It was no longer an acute agony distorting my reality.

  Leaning forward in my bed, motioning with my head for her to come closer, Dent leaned in to me even as I felt the eyes around us watching, and then I whispered my reality to her.

  “Peter was killed by police officers I think. He said his partner betrayed him, and he had to reach someone who handled him or something, and I was so scared, but Peter said he loved me forever, and then he fought them and was shot. And I'm not sure why I was left alive, and I don't know who to trust, and,” I gulped hard, “I think I'm going to be killed, too. But I didn't see anyone or anything so I don't need to be killed,” I begged with my eyes. “Do you think you could try to find out who his boss is so you can tell him about Peter's partner?”

  And as I placed every hope I held left in her hands, Dent pulled away from me and gave such a twisted fake trying to be reassuring nod, I knew I had screwed up. I could see it all over her face. I could see she was involved, and I knew I was dead. The little smile she wore on her face filled me with the dread of my inevitability. She was in on it all, and I had fucked up.

  Knowing my reality I stopped talking, until frustrated by my lack of answers to all subsequent questions, Dent and the 2 other police officers finally left me alone in my room to mourn.

  I was then spoken to by a doctor and told I was free to leave as soon as the Police released me. My knees were cut and scrapped and I had a bruise on my cheek, but otherwise, because the obvious anxiety attack was over he said, the doctor felt no need to keep me.

  I was free to leave, and so I left. And it was exactly that easy.

  In a strange, calm world, unlike the TV shows I hated, I was not chased, and I wasn't forced to hide out and wait, watching around corners for the people to come get me. There was NO drama anywhere. I simply walked out of my semi-curtained room, opposite to a nurses' station, then down the hall to a group of hallways clearly laid out with diagrams and pictures to show me to the multiple exits, parking lots, and the city transit system entrance.

  I chose an exit that wasn't on a main street, but more the side street of basically a hospital block, and then I walked out the door. And once outside there was nothing to see and no one to hurt me. There was however a cab dropping off a horribly limping man.

  So walking over as casually as I could, quickly, but without looking rushed, I hopped in the backseat, closed the door behind me and told him my address while I thought of a plan.

  I thought about a plan until I really had no plan at all. The best I could come up with was grab clothes quickly, and take another cab across town until I could get some money from a bank machine while cabbing it somewhere else- probably to my brother’s place to wait for him to help me get away from everything and everyone.

  So on autopilot, I waited for the cab to drop me off, scrounged up enough loose money from my pockets to pay him, and thought about my lost purse at Peter's safe-house. I simply blocked out the pain of Peter from my mind while I thought of my temporary escape.

  Running around my apartment frantically, I let the adrenaline sweep me away. I allowed my body to push me forward through the fear and the haze of what I was doing and where I was going.

  In my room, I grabbed clothes and tugged the suitcase from under my bed as quickly as possible. Filling it with everything I could, I needed to hurry.

  Before I ran for my toiletries, I grabbed and stuffed the emergency Visa from my top drawer and the little bit of cash I always kept in the drawer in case I felt like Chinese delivery into a purse from my closet.

  I rushed and hurried, and dumped all my makeup and hair crap in a little carry-on case, and then I emptied my medicine cabinet and left tugging the suitcase with the purse and carry-on over my shoulder.

  I was ready, and I don't think I was more than 15 minutes in my apartment before the first knock sounded.

  With a panic that crushed my chest, I heard the knock and gasped in the hallway unsure of what to do, or even how to move. I was struck stupid as the shaking took over my whole body.

  “Sophie! Soph, it's me! Open up, girlie!” And as his voice swept over me, I almost threw up from the quick shift from panic to relief.

  Ripping the door open, I screamed, “Steven!” as I grabbed him and pulled him awkwardly into my home. Falling into the wall with Steven, my body was acting strangely. It was like my body was drunk but my mind was clear.

  “What the fuck, Soph?” Steven pushed at me as he tried to straighten against the wall.

  “I can't tell you everything, but we have to go. Like now. I'm in a lot of trouble, and I think it's dangerous here. We have to go. Grab my suitcase,” I yelled turning for my dropped purse and carry-on, but he didn't move.

  To my unbelievable shock, Steven stood still against the wall and shook his head no. He even lifted his arm to block the door as I tried to push past him. Steven then gave me the look I knew from my brother that demanded more information.

  “We have to go. Peter's dead,” I said with a weird moan. “And I was there, and they'll probably come back for me, and I can't stay here anymore. Look, I think his partner betrayed him, and I think some police are in on it. I think the cops last night were sent to kill us, but somehow more showed up, so they couldn't hurt me.” Frantically, I said as much as I could to get his attention in as little time as I had to explain.

  “Listen to me Steven, we have to go, or I have to. Can I please use your car? Mine's at Pandora’s and I need to get out of here. I have to. But I'll call you soon. Please?” I begged, but he just wouldn't move.

  “Mom and dad were at the hospital waiting to see you when the doctors were finished. We've all been everywhere tonight trying to find you. The police are looking for you, and mom is going to hurt someone soon if she doesn't find you. So can you please just slow the fuck down for a second and explain what's going on. We're getting all these half-assed reports, and phone calls, and nothing makes any sense to us. So tell me, Soph, so I know how to help you,” Steven said with his arm still blocking my escape.

  Exhaling all my tension for a second, I tried to explain quickly again.

  “Peter was in trouble with whatever case he was working on, and they got to him. Now I think they'll probably come for me, so I have to go. It's as simple as that. Oh! And I'm sure Detective Dent is in on it. She looked guilty as hell when I tried to confide in her, or like she knew I knew too much or something. So I think she's a dirty cop and I need to get away from-” but then I heard people suddenly outside my door, so I dove down the hall to my kitchen even as Steven chased behind me.

  Smashing into the counter I grabbed a huge knife from the butcher's block and turned just in time to NOT stab my brother, but not in time to stop people from entering my apartment as they called my name.

  I knew I was out of time, so grabbing Steven as hard as I could I spun him in a millisecond and placed the knife right across his throat, as I begged him to understand.

  In a whisper against his ear, I shook on my tiptoes, and breathed the truth for my twin. “This isn't real. I would never hurt you, but I have to pretend to so I can get out of here. That's all this is, I promise,” I said in less than a whisper as his head nodded only slightly in understanding against me. And I knew he understood because he stopped moving, and the tension and fight quickly left his body.

  He was so much taller than me, I had to look around his shoulder to see past my kitchen doorway, but it was enough. The knife to his throat stopped Dent from m
oving any closer. It didn't stop my mom however from shoving past Dent as she stepped a foot into my kitchen.

  Suddenly looking at my mom, I tried to plead with my eyes that she'd play along. I tried to give her a look that told her to keep up the charade so I could leave quickly. I wanted to beg my mom to hit Dent so I could get away, but I couldn't risk asking her in case Dent hurt my mom instead.

  “Sophie, you need to sit with us for a minute. You need to come to the living room and talk to us,” my mom tried to soothe, but I shook my head no.

  “Sophie, Officer Lockley would like to talk to you for a minute,” Dent tried, but I didn't know who the hell that was, so I had no interest. “Officer Lockley knows Peter and wants to talk to you,” Dent again tried, but she wasn't getting me so easily.

  “I need to leave. I'm taking Steven with me to the door, and then I'm leaving,” I pushed as Steven walked a step forward without me even trying to make him move.

  As we moved my mom and Dent backed up into my dining room, and Steven and I walked a little forward, kind of sideways, trying to make it out of my kitchen. We shuffled slowly while I watched Dent's face and body the whole time to see if she'd try to hurt me. We shuffled against each other and I was suddenly struck with the realization that Steven was completely relaxed, but my body was shaking uncontrollably.

  While we walked, Steven placed his left hand against the outside of my left thigh and squeezed it to give me strength. It's like he knew my body and mind were fading, so he held the outside of my thigh to give me a little more support as we moved past our mom and Dent, past the dining room, and into the open hallway for the front door.

  But it all ended as quickly as it began.

  I was grabbed hard around my waist by someone hiding against the front door, and my wrist was nearly broken as I cried out in pain and smashed my head back against a chest. I was lifted like I always hated, and I was pulled away from my brother as I desperately reached for him. I was pulled away from my brother as I screamed his name and tried to fight the arms around me, but it was too late.

  Quickly I was spun as my cheek landed hard against the wall near the door. I was smashed against the wall as the breath left my lungs in a whoosh, and my brain stopped for a second in pain. I was stuck with a huge body behind me crushing me to the wall. So I stopped fighting everything.

  Trying to gasp air back into my lungs, I dropped my arms from the arms around my waist, and I bowed my head a little against the wall. I stopped because I had again lost.

  “Sophie? Do you remember me?” He asked and I didn't know what to do. I was still pressed hard against the wall, with my mom crying near me and my brother panting close to me, I could hear.

  I was still pushed against the wall until I was quickly turned to a face I vaguely recognized but couldn't remember. I knew him but I didn't know how I knew him.

  “I'm David Lockley. Do you remember me, Sophie?” But I shook my head no. “You met me at a party for the Connor family last March. I'm Carrie's husband, David. Do you remember when we met?” Looking at him, I suddenly recognized him as the brother-in-law Peter didn't like.

  So gasping once more, I croaked all I could. “Yes, I remember you. Did you shoot Peter?” I asked with venom dripping from my mouth.

  After an initial moment of shock, he seemed to answer as best as he could though. “No. I would never hurt Peter. I've known him for years, and we've been family for 8 years,” he said looking truthful. But it didn't matter because I couldn't trust anyone anymore.

  “Do you know who killed him?” I asked as he flinched.

  David looked at me for a moment, like he was in pain himself. And shaking his head, he actually whispered, “Peter isn’t dead, Sophie. He was wounded in the leg, but he's very much alive. He's in Mercy right now recovering from the gunshot wound,” he said as I stared numbly at him.

  Stunned is an understatement, and shock held nothing to how I actually felt. I was beyond confused and shaken so heavily, my body simple closed in on itself.

  “I don't understand,” I managed to whisper before landing on my knees as David grabbed me under my arms and my mom dove for me. My brother grabbed me from David, and like a goddamn doll I was lifted right over the back of my couch to fall in a heap upon it.

  Gasping, I shook my head as a strange moan rumbled from my chest.

  “I don't understand,” I choked out before a wave of nausea threatened to take me. “I heard him stop,” I gagged.

  I remember the feeling I had of being completely sure of myself, but desperate to believe in that one moment what David was saying. I was so conflicted, I didn't even know how to function.

  But before I could even think what to do, Steven was beside me taking my hand and David was kneeling in front of me on the carpet.

  Closing my eyes, I could only breathe. There was so much chaos in my head, and so many emotions battering my chest, I could do nothing but breathe as I fought the nausea and the collapse that threatened to take me.

  “Sophie. What did Peter tell you was happening? Do you know what he was doing?” David asked gently, as Steven rested his arm behind my back for support.

  “Um...” But I didn't know what to say. I knew he was working a job, but I didn't know who I could trust.

  Suddenly panicking, I whipped my head to my left, and saw Dent still standing right behind my mom. Afraid Dent might hurt her, I again tried to tell my mom with my eyes to come closer. I tried, but she didn't understand my look.

  “What is it, baby?” My mom asked quietly.

  “Can you come here? Please?” I begged as she jolted and moved toward me immediately. Dent then stood only 4 feet from us, but it was enough to give me a little relief.

  So turning back to David I took a chance. Whispering, I asked, “Can we talk privately? Without her?” I nodded slightly to Dent. “I need to talk to you alone,” I begged with my eyes.

  I didn't know if he understood or not, but he did seem to understand my intent not to speak in front of Dent, so exhaling, he asked her to please wait outside.

  I don't know what she asked him. And I don't know what he said because I was just so afraid of everything in that moment I tuned everything out but my own breathing.

  I still didn't know if I could trust David, but knowing he at least knew Peter helped a little. So when he leaned back toward me, and I felt Steven’s hand against my back urge me a little I finally just spoke.

  “I don't know exactly what Peter was doing, but I think he was set up,” I confessed with a big exhale. “I might even be in trouble if whoever he was investigating thinks I saw something or know something. I don't know what’s happening, but last night was insane.”

  Nodding, David asked what I knew he would ask. “Did Peter tell you what he was doing?”

  “No. I don't know anything. I just saw him yesterday when he was trying to get away from them, and he was limping, and he needed my help getting away from them, so I helped him. But he didn't tell me anything except he was roughed up too close to home, and he thinks his partner set him up. That's all I know. And then we were at his safe house and we were alone and we-” but I blushed before I told anymore. “Anyway, then Peter and I were attacked and I thought he was dead because no one told me he wasn't dead, so I didn't know. Is he really alive?” I whispered.

  “Yes, Peter's fine, I promise. What else did he tell you? I need to know to help him,” he seemed to beg me. And looking at his eyes finally, I noticed David seemed legitimately upset by this whole situation.

  “Are you going to help him?” I cried softly.

  Sitting there I was suddenly just exhausted. I was shaken, and I had experienced too much shit for too long to maintain my strength.

  “I’m so tired from all this fear, and I need to know he's going to be helped. He said he needed to reach the man who handled him. Do you know who that is?”

  “His handler?” David asked with surprise as I nodded. “What else did Peter tell you?”

  “Are you going to
help him?” Then it hit me that I was trusting a man Peter didn't like, so I asked the obvious question. “Why doesn't Peter like you?”

  Again, David looked a little surprised, but I swear I saw hurt or upset wash across his face as well while I waited for his answer.

  “Peter does like me. He's my brother-in-law and my friend. We've been friends for longer than Carrie and I have been together, and I've always been close to Peter. He just has a hard time separating the past from the present sometimes, and it comes across like he doesn't like me. That's all there is between Peter and I- a past,” he said so sadly, I had to ask.

  “What about his past? What's between you?”

  “I'll tell you everything if you want, but I need to know what else happened yesterday so I can help Peter. Please, Sophie? You were the only one there yesterday and I need all the details so I can help him,” he pressed me again, but there was nothing else I could give.

  “I told you everything. I found Peter on the sidewalk looking hurt and messed up, and he asked me for help, and he told me he was being sought after, and I helped him walk forever until we ended up in his safe-house and-”

  “His safe-house?” David asked me again surprised.

  “Yes, where we were found. Peter said it’s his emergency safe-house and no one knows about it but his partner, and then people were there which confirmed his partner must have betrayed him, but that's all I know. I was in the hospital for shock after Peter was shot, and then I left to come here. I'm trying to get away before I get hurt, too. Um, will you help me?” I suddenly begged.

  “Sophie, what else do you know about what Peter was doing?”

  “Nothing! That's it. Everyone knows he's an undercover cop, but not what he's actually doing. I know nothing,” I insisted, almost begging him to believe me.

  “What else has Peter told you about his past?”

  “Nothing,” I moaned embarrassed. “I know about his ex-finance who's married, and about his schooling, and about his job at the 'steel company',” I said using quotes. “I know he's a very talented artist but he's hidden and working and basically he has a double life which drove us apart for whatever reason. I guess because of my safety or something Peter couldn't be with me when he was on a case because of the danger involved. But that's it. Until yesterday, I had only seen him twice since he left me. Once in the street for a split second in December, and once in February for a few hours at my place,” I remembered with a little cry.