by Adan Ramie
She turned and headed for the window. With a little effort, she dragged it open. It let out a loud shudder and squeaked as it stopped in place at three-quarters of the way open. She glanced outside, then backed up to let Josie go first. He threw a long leg over the sill, sucked in his stomach, and wiggled until he gained purchase on the squeaky fire escape.
“OPEN THE DOOR, OR I’LL OPEN IT FOR YOU, FAIRY!”
Lee glanced back at the door as the tell-tale sound of a thick, muscular shoulder against the door thumped through the apartment. Josie ducked out and started the scramble down the fire escape. Lee put both legs out, ducked under the window, and slipped outside just as the door splintered apart. She didn’t turn around as the thumping of feet on the floor came thundering toward her. At the end of the fire escape, Josie reached out two hands to break her fall, and she jumped.
The two glanced up to watch as two heads with identical furious expressions popped out of the window.
“I’ll find you!” yelled the first, and shoved the second back inside. He spat a great wad of mucus down at them, and they both turned on their heels and ran.
CHAPTER 2
Ruby Isles stared out the window into the deepening twilight. Pale brown hair spilled over her shoulders and her pointed chin rested heavily in her palms. Her elbows bit into the heavy marble desk in front of the picture window in her large living room. The house was silent behind her. The quiet stretched out, filling each of the eight rooms on two floors; it echoed so loudly that her ears rang and her head swam.
At least Truman isn't home. She leaned back in her chair, dangled her head over the headrest, and stared up at the gilded ceiling with puffy, red-rimmed eyes. When he came in, the energy of the whole house changed, and not for the better. Sometimes, she could swear she felt the chateau-style house itself cringe when the thunderclap of a slap across her face reverberated around her. Like a sympathetic but powerless neighbor, the house stood by and listened to him rage while she cried, and when he was gone, it held her like the mother she had lost.
But for now, her husband was in another city on business for two weeks. She had the whole place to herself, but it was so quiet, an idea had brewed, unbidden, in her head. More than that, she had planned it down to the last detail. She stood up and walk around the immaculate room. She straightened a picture on the wall and dusted the top of Truman's top sales award from his first year on the job. Then, she sat down again and stared out the window, her eyes disinterested and unfocused until they flicked down to the neatly packed suitcases beside her.
She stood, went to the kitchen, and then walked across the black and white tiles she hated to the stainless-steel refrigerator. Everything inside was lined up by category and color, each package sized up perfectly with its mates. They stared out at her like a troop of rigid Nazi soldiers. She grimaced, then pulled out a plastic jar of cat food, and slammed the door behind her with one foot.
As the plastic seal broke, Ruby felt a warm, fuzzy ball wrap itself around her suede ankle boots and grinned. For all his faults, Truman showered her with gifts, and it was he who had given her the kitten. Granted, it was in apology for smashing her head through their bedroom door, but she had lived through worse, and Taya was a constant joy in the mindless, lonely weeks by herself in the quiet house.
The little brown ball of fur kept her company on the nights where every creak of the refurbished plantation house fired off like a gunshot in the eerie silence. Ruby was happy to constantly brush fur off the furniture and her clothes, because Taya loved her indiscriminately, unlike her husband or his fake friends.
She forked the meaty mixture into a dish, then warmed it for a few seconds in the microwave before she placed it on the gleaming floor by her feet. Taya attacked the lukewarm paste, and stopped only occasionally to dip her face into the bowl of water by her food dish before she started to choke down the lumpy stuff again. Ruby grinned at the cat's relish for the simple pleasure of a full belly, then turned away and looked out the window, her hands on either side of the giant, steel sink she had begged Truman not to install.
Dusk had settled, and the tall, ornate post lights lining the street outside glittered. She initially thought they looked like fairy lights dancing in the dark on the still little street, but lately, they looked more like prison spotlights. Ruby tried to picture what Truman would be doing, then groaned at the image that popped into her head.
She knew he wasn't faithful, knew he had women in every city he visited who showered him with compliments and easy sex. She accepted it years before when, on a whim, she decided to fly out to see him in Pittsburgh. He told her he would be at a Pirates game with his partners all night, chugging beer, wolfing down hot dogs, and shouting obscenities at professional athletes. Ruby, newly married, and with her head full of fairy tales, intended to be waiting for him after the game with a bottle of wine and wearing nothing but a smile. But when she got to his hotel room, she slipped inside just in time to see Truman climb off a smug socialite who had eyed her scathingly at company powwows.
She left, flew home, and never spoke of it to anyone, least of all Truman. If he knew she had caught him, he would fly into such a rage, he might put her in the hospital again, and she had already been running out of excuses for broken bones, knife gashes, and cigar burns. They moved a month later.
Instead of looking for a new city to call their home, this time she had decided to make a new home without him. She picked up the cat and nuzzled it close. It licked its lips and squirmed. She put it back on the floor, and it darted back to the food it had nearly devoured.
“I’ll miss you,” she told Taya.
The cat continued to lap up its food, so Ruby turned and walked to where her suitcases waited. She had done all she could. She had clothes, toiletries, her passport, and a bank bag full of cash. She had stashed it for months, little by little so Truman wouldn’t notice, and she finally had what she thought was enough. She had her car and her little disposable cell phone. All she had to do was leave.
She pulled her phone out of her pocket and dialed his number. It was late there, but he would be awake, and she wanted to put him at ease. He liked to hear from her at least once a day while he was gone.
“Hello, Truman.” She tried to smile, but it was forced, and it didn’t cheer her voice as she had hoped it would.
“I’m busy right now. Call me in the morning,” he said.
“I just wanted to tell you that I’m going to bed. I miss you, and I love you.”
“Yeah. I love you, too,” he said, and hung up the phone.
A few minutes later, she had her suitcases in the trunk of her car, a CD in the player, and the printed directions on the passenger seat beside her. The gun was in the glove box just in case she ran into trouble; moreover, she was glad that, when he came home and found her gone, Truman wouldn't have it to use against her. If all went according to plan, she would be several states away before he even realized she was gone. She started the car, backed out, and left him.
CHAPTER 3
Standing in front of a Spartan mirror, Harrison Thresher pulled her dirty blonde hair into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. She leaned forward to inspect what looked like a bruise on her throat, then rubbed away what turned out to be a smudge of lipstick. Behind her in the motel room, she could just see the disheveled bed and the older woman dozing there.
“I have to get to work,” she called softly, and the woman’s head turned just far enough that she knew she had heard her. “You stay here. Get breakfast on me, okay?”
Her date pulled the white sheet over her head. “Don’t get killed today, Harry,” she mumbled.
“I never do,” Harry answered, and clipped her badge onto her belt. In the mirror stared back at her a feminized version of her father: pale skin reddened along the cheeks and dusted with freckles, bright eyes gleaming behind a suspicious squint, and the hint of a sardonic smile on her wide mouth that betrayed her Irish roots.
She straightened her collar, flipp
ed off the bathroom light, and walked back toward the bed. She grabbed her wallet from the bedside table, slipped out a few bills, and dropped them on the dresser.
“I’ll see you in a few days?”
The woman in the bed mumbled her assent. Harry stared down at her sheet-draped form for a moment with a twinge of something like guilt or regret. The moment passed, she snatched her keys off the side table, and walked out of the hotel room, closing the door softly behind her. Before she even got to her car, Harry had her phone to her head. It rang once, twice, three times before it went to voicemail. Harry growled.
“Cal, what the hell are you doing not answering your phone? You had better not be on a case without me. Call me back.”
She mashed the button to end the call, then stuffed the smart phone in the front pocket of her slacks just as she got to her car. She unlocked the door, got inside, then turned around and smashed her fist into the face of the man in the back seat before he could utter a word.
“What the hell?” he cried. His hand cradled his nose, but it couldn’t contain the blood that flowed between his fingers.
“I should ask the same thing,” Harry said. In the back seat, her partner, Calvin Gafferty, sat scowling through his cupped hand. She grabbed a stack of paper towels from the glove compartment and stuffed them into his free hand. “You’re lucky I don’t shoot without looking. You could have more than a bloody nose right now.” She made the motion of shooting a gun with her left hand.
“Yeah, I get it, it was a dumb move.” He shimmied over the seats, all six feet of him, until he sat in the passenger seat beside his partner. “We going to check anything out?”
Harry clasped her seat belt and started the car. “The station got a call about a teenage girl missing 48 hours. There's blood at the scene; might be an abduction.”
“Why do people wait so long to report their kids missing?”
“The movies.” Harry shrugged. “It’s probably no big deal, but we need to check it out just in case.”
“Let’s ride,” he said, and snapped his seat belt shut.
“You know you’re not Nicolas Cage, don’t you, Cal?”
Cal laughed through the bundle of paper towels. “If I was, I would be driving.”
Harry shook her head. “I seriously doubt that.”
Hours later, Harry sauntered back into the station with Cal on her heels. She wore a wide grin, and her shirt unbuttoned to the middle of her chest so that anyone looking could see the parchment white A-shirt underneath. She dropped into her chair, propped her feet on her desk, and wrapped her hands behind her head. Cal slouched onto the corner of her desk with a happy grin and tapped her on the toe of her boot.
“Well, that didn’t take long,” he announced loud enough for anyone in the room to hear.
Harry chuckled and scratched one shoulder. “I guess we’re just naturals.”
Captain Blanca Briggs walked by and nudged Harry out of her jaunty pose. Her boots fell hard to the ground and she scowled up at her superior. Briggs crossed her arms across her wide chest.
“Tell me, Detective, what the protocol is for harassing prominent businessmen?”
Cal gave Harry a look that she ignored. It said he had told her so, and she didn’t want to hear it. Harry straightened in her chair and tried to pretend that having Captain Briggs tower over her wasn’t the least bit intimidating. The woman was a few inches taller than Harry, but her broad shoulders left Harry looking frail when they stood side-by-side. She kept her hair, a black so shiny that it shone even in darkness, in a severe bun at the back of her well-formed skull, and her uniform was pristine against skin the same color and luster as sun-ripened carob fruit.
“I wasn’t aware there was a rule,” Harry answered.
Briggs took in a slow, silent breath that flared her nostrils and bit her top lip. She stared down at Harry as if the detective were a pest, and she was considering her options in exterminators. Finally, she dropped her arms and leaned forward almost imperceptibly.
“Detective Thresher, I urge you to remember that wealthy, influential men are pack animals. If you badger one, he calls his pack. When enough of the pack has assembled against you, you are doomed to be their lunch. Am I making myself clear?”
Harry leaned back and propped her boots onto the desk with a thud. “You’re telling me that the next time some pervert executive takes a 16-year-old girl on an impromptu vacation to his sex cabin, you want me to do what? Leave her to be his lunch?”
Briggs glared down at her. “All I request is more discretion, Detective. I am not asking you to stop doing your job.”
“It seems to me that’s exactly what you’re asking for, and I think it’s disgusting,” Harry said through gritted teeth.
“Watch your tone.”
“Hey,” Cal said, and hopped up from the desk. “Captain, is your phone ringing?”
Briggs turned her contemptuous gaze on him for a moment, but the ringing of the phone caught her attention. Before she left, she leveled one last gaze on Harry. “This isn’t the last time we’ll talk about this.”
“No kidding,” Harry said with a sigh.
As Briggs walked away, Cal punched Harry in the shoulder. She swore under her breath and glared up at him.
“What the hell was that for?”
“Are you trying to get us both canned, Thresher?” he asked in a harsh whisper. “Barking up that tree is about as dumb as a kitten swatting a rattlesnake.”
“Lay off the metaphors. You suck at them,” she said, but her face softened.
Cal shook his head at her. “I’m serious. You need to chill.”
“When I’m too old to work, I’ll chill. Until then, I have people to find.”
CHAPTER 4
Lee stopped, her hands on her knees, and fought the rising bile in her stomach. Josie skidded to a stop beside her. He clutched his side, panted, and stared into the still darkness behind them. Lee glanced back, too, and searched the streets for any sign of Eddie and his cronies. Everything was still, and she dropped her head back down to suck in a great, shaky breath.
"What—the hell—did you do, Josie?" She punctuated her words with gasps, and tried to calm the erratic beating of her heart.
He shook his head and squeezed a stitch in his side. "I didn't mean to. I was going to a party to look for johns, and I made the mistake of telling Eddie." He took another deep breath, and blew it out slowly. "He sent me with a bunch of pre-packaged blow. I did a little, to try to get someone to buy, but I ended up just getting a few johns high before we got down to business. It was a great night to sling ass, but I got rolled." He ran a hand through his hair and stared back from whence they came. "I wasn't paying attention."
"How much do you owe him?"
He hung his head. "Too much. More than I can make back in the time he wants it."
Lee pulled herself up and looked around them. "We have to get out of here. Out of the neighborhood, out of town."
"Out of the state, if we want to live to see tomorrow," he finished for her. She nodded. His cell phone buzzed twice in his pocket, and he pulled it out to read the incoming messages. "Oh, shit," he said, drawing the last word out in a groan.
"What is it?"
He tucked his phone away. "It's Sunny. We need to get over there."
Lee started to run before Josie did, but with the long strides of a would-be professional football player, he easily caught up and overtook her. "It's Eddie?" she asked through a puff of breath.
"Sunny said she just got off the phone with him. He was fucking livid. We have to get there before he does."
She bent her head and put all her fury into her pumping legs. She knew that, if they didn't get there in time, the sadistic drug dealer would make short work of dismantling the fast-talking exotic dancer.
"This way," he said, and led her down an alley.
Lee struggled to keep up, and was almost on his heels in the tight space when he flew out onto the street. She skidded to a stop, and her ear
s filled with the sound of screeching tires. "Josie!"
Josie lay crumpled on the street. Lee ran to him as the car door flew open and a woman scrambled out onto the street. They met over his body, a mess of tangled limbs.
The woman crouched, her face contorted into a mask of horror and shame. "Where did you even come from? Oh, God, we have to get you to a hospital."
Lee waved her hand in front of his face. "Josie? Are you with me? Say something!"
"Back off," he whispered, and both women pulled back. "I need some air." One arm craned slowly toward his hip, and he hissed a string of obscenities. "What the hell happened?"
"You ran in front of a car," Lee said.
"I didn't see you!" the other woman said, and buried her face in her hands. "I wasn't paying attention."
"Neither were we," Lee said. She gingerly pulled Josie's shirt up and winced at the bruises that had already blossomed on his midsection. "Do you think anything's broken, Jo?"
He moaned. "I'm pretty sure my fucking leg is shattered," he said through gritted teeth.
"Let me take you to a hospital," the woman said, and stood up. Josie grabbed her by the ankle, and she froze in place.
"No.” He turned his gaze on Lee. “We have to get to Sunny. If we don't hurry, a broken leg won't be the worst thing that happens today."
Lee nodded, then turned to the driver. "Can you help me get him to the car?"
The woman looked from one to the other like they had just grown extra heads. "He could have internal bleeding, and his leg is broken. He needs a hospital."
Lee stood up and faced the woman. She grabbed her hand, pulled her closer, and met her eyes. "You don't understand. If we don't get there soon, our friend could end up in the morgue."
The driver pulled back as if she had been slapped. "Call the cops."
From his prone position, Josie chuckled, then swore. "The cops don't help us. We're street trash. Offal. And so is Sunny. That's why we have to help her." He pushed himself up to a sitting position and belched out hot acid as Lee walked to the car and got in on the passenger side. "Then, you can take me to the hospital," he said with a grimace.