by Lila Rose
I didn’t bother removing my clothes. It was time to change them and attempt to clean them after my hair. It didn’t matter if they got wet in the process.
The usual thought crossed my mind as I stood before the small sink. I wished I had some shampoo or conditioner; even soap would have been good. However, water would do. Like it always had.
Turning on the water, I picked up the small plastic cup I’d found lying around. I filled it, leaned over the sink, and poured it over my hair, cringing from the coldness. Still, I kept at it, and it wasn’t until I was done that I realised I’d been humming to the song Ryan had sung for me.
A pang of sadness swept through me. I wanted to run to my phone to see if he had replied in the end, but I had to stay strong. Even if he had, it wouldn’t change my mind.
As I dried my hair with an old T-shirt, I glanced out the window to see the day was overcast. However, the basement remained warm no matter the weather outside, which I was grateful for in the winter months. I went over to a box and picked out fresh—to some extent—clothes. A man’s old T-shirt with some logo I’d never seen before on the front. It came down to my knees, like most of the clothes I’d salvaged from the boxes. I could wear it as a dress, but I would never want to walk around in just my underwear alone underneath. Digging deeper in the box, I pulled out a pair of cut-off leggings I’d worn only a couple of times before. Previously they had been too tight for me. Now they sat comfortably around my waist.
My body used to be in good shape, especially from working on the farm. But after years of nothing, my collarbones were visible and my ribs stood out. While I had pretty much two solid meals a day, the calories didn’t seem to do their part. I didn’t understand how I’d gotten so thin.
In the clear space in front of the bed, I placed a blanket and laid it out flat. Standing on it, I sank to the floor, lying down.
I pulled my body up. Well, tried to. I got halfway—grunting and panting—before dropping back. I’d been slack on my exercises, having felt weakened, but I had to do them.
I dropped an arm over my face, only to feel the hard ridges of my scars. I pulled my arm back enough to stare at the raised lines. I ran my fingers over them. More scars lined my thighs, stopping just above my knees. I trailed my fingers to my chest and felt the ones there.
There were fewer than on my arms and thighs, but enough to be noticeable.
I let my arms fall to the floor and stared up at the roof.
Footsteps banged from above, meaning someone had just come home or gotten out of bed or stood from the couch to go into the kitchen. Since the kitchen was right above where I was, the footsteps sounded louder, so I knew it was their destination.
Lifting a hand, I stuck my middle finger up at the roof.
Fuck them.
Fuck what they do.
Fuck how they are.
Fucking fuck them.
A laugh escaped me, but it cut off into a sob.
Fuck me.
Fuck my life.
Was my hope worth having?
If I didn’t have Harriet to think of, I would walk up those stairs, bang on the door, and punch whoever answered it in the face. Then they might kill me.
Then again, I didn’t have it in me to do it.
I was weak, not only in body but in mind.
The one good thing I had, I’d pushed away. It had to be done though. At least I could give a person something in my miserable existence.
Safety. As long as I did what I was told… and I would for them.
CHAPTER NINE
WARDEN
It’d been nearly fucking two weeks without a word from Emmie. I didn’t know if I should worry or what. Knew she’d said she wouldn’t text anymore, but what was the reason for it? I’d sent text after text without an answer to any of my random questions. In the last couple of days, I’d even begged for her to tell me she was all right. Shit, I’d called once or twice as well, but the phone had been switched off, and since her number came from one of those fucking apps that the police and private investigators hated because it wasn’t traceable, I was shit out of luck finding the location of it.
She wasn’t the only thing putting me in a goddamn foul mood. Shanti had been a dead end. All of the other night-time employees had been a dead end too. Though, they all said the same thing: ask the manager when he got back.
I swore to Christ, if this guy didn’t have anything for me, there’d be hell. I wanted answers to give the mother. I wanted the people responsible for destroying her daughter’s life to pay.
I wanted fucking blood.
What I didn’t want was to be told to have the afternoon off. But the others at work were caught up on their own cases, and since I was at a standstill until fuckhead got back, Violet ordered us to get some much-needed rest. The woman didn’t leave the office until she knew I was out the door because she wasn’t dumb; I would have stayed and tried to find another clue to my case.
On the way home, my thoughts returned to Emmie. Then I was pissed all over again, as even my late-night singing didn’t have her reaching out either.
Slamming through my back door, I stood on my deck in the afternoon sun. I pulled my sunglasses down over my eyes and glared out at the houses around me.
Emmie was in one of those. She had to have been to have heard my music.
“Emmie,” I called. Nothing. Fuck, she was probably at work, but I doubted it because I still thought that was a lie.
Dragging my phone out of my back pocket, I called out again, my tone rougher from annoyance, “Emmie.” Out the corner of my eye, I thought I saw movement down near the ground. But when I looked, there was nothing but a window to the neighbour’s basement. I didn’t know the people. I had their names when I looked into the folks around the area, but that was it. “Emmie,” I barked louder.
Nothing.
Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair. “Emmie, answer your damn phone,” I clipped, louder still.
My phone beeped. I opened it.
Emmie: Shut up.
There was a follow-up beep.
Emmie: Please, shut up. Please.
Worry twisted my gut. She was in trouble.
Ryan: Are you okay?
“Hey, man” was called. I turned to the side, seeing a guy in his late twenties maybe. He looked like he’d been on a bender all night and could use a shower.
“Hey,” I replied.
His eyes twitched. “Heard you calling someone. All good?” He sniffed, ran a hand over his face, and I caught his quick look down at the window by his feet.
“Yeah, ah…”
“Lenny,” he supplied.
Lenny Kavas and Gloria Summers. I recalled their names from the information I got. Obviously not married, but together or just roommates.
“Right, Lenny.” I waved my phone in my hand. “Was tryin’ to get my woman to answer her phone. Left some messages.”
He huffed. “Woman troubles. Never ends, right, brother?”
I nearly screwed my face up at him. He didn’t have the fucking right to call me brother. First impression of the guy already had me on edge. There was something about him I didn’t like. Besides, he looked like a druggie and didn’t really introduce himself as my neighbour, just wanted to see what I was doing yelling out.
“That’s right.”
“What’s her name?”
Why in the fuck would he want to know that?
“Emily,” I said. “Cute name, but she can be a stubborn pain in my arse.”
Lenny chuckled. “Can’t they all.”
“You talk like you got one. By the way, name’s Jackson. Moved in here nearly two months ago.”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “Heard. And, ah, like I said, name’s Lenny, and my missus is Gloria.”
“Just you two living there?”
His eye twitched. “Sure is.”
With my eyes covered by sunglasses, I glanced down at the window and I was sure to fucking Christ I saw fingers there for a second before
disappearing.
“Your lady at home? Maybe I could meet her. She might know some other birds around here since it seems I won’t have this one for much longer.”
Lenny laughed. “Nah, brother, she ain’t home right now.”
Big blaring alarm bells rang through my head. I did see something; there were fingers in the tiny goddamn window. So whose were they?
“Too bad. Maybe another time.”
“Yeah. Sounds good.” He kicked at the ground. I started to turn when he questioned, “You work around here?”
“Just outta town. Mining.”
“Right, cool.” He nodded. “Guess I’ll see you around.”
I put out a fake, friendly smile. “Maybe, maybe not. The hours are crazy.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I heard that. I couldn’t do it.”
“You work?”
“Not right now.”
“Always a place at mining. We go through a lot of people.”
“Not for me, brother.” He grinned, sent a salute, and walked off to the front of his house.
It wasn’t until he was out of sight that a message came through.
Emmie: Please don’t call my name.
Ryan: Tell me you’re safe.
Emmie: I’m safe.
Ryan: Tell me it’s not you in that fucking basement.
Pressure shot to my chest when no reply came.
Ryan: I can get you out.
Emmie: No!
I clenched my jaw.
Ryan: Why the fuck not?
Emmie: I just can’t. Not yet.
I heard the rev of an engine flying up the road. It came to a screeching halt out the front of the neighbour’s house.
Emmie: Go inside. Don’t worry about me.
Ryan: Emmie. I can’t do that.
A woman climbed out of the car and headed for the front door at a swift pace.
Emmie: Please, please go inside. I have to hide my phone. Don’t text. PLEASE.
Fuck.
Motherfucking hell. It felt wrong. I wanted to storm the place, but I didn’t. Instead, with a burning gut, I spun and stalked back inside. I paced just inside the closed door, phone gripped in hand. I wanted to text, to call, but her plea kept rolling in my mind. I had to fucking wait until I knew that fucker Lenny and his woman were either out or asleep.
I was never good at waiting.
Pressing a name in my contacts, I lifted my phone to my ear. Violet answered after the third ring with a laugh. “I told you to have the damn afternoon off.”
“You need to come here.”
“What’s going on?” Any trace of humour she’d held in her voice vanished.
“I don’t know.”
“I’m on my way. Do you need me to call in Butch?”
“I’ll do it.” It’d give me something to do.
“Right. See you soon,” she said, then hung up.
I pressed Butch’s name. He answered with “Hey, I was just about to call you. My guy at the airport in Melbourne rang. That manager, Jarrod Daltron, just landed. Got home early it seems. It’ll take him at least an hour and a half to get back here. You want me to come with you when you question him?”
“You’re gonna have to do it. I’ve got something goin’ on.”
“You good?”
I blew out a breath. “I don’t fuckin’ know what to think of it. Got Vi coming over. You head here after you see that guy. I’ll send through what I have on the case for you to have a quick look over.”
“Right. On it.”
“Thanks.”
“Sure you don’t need me earlier? The manager can wait until tomorrow.”
“No. Get that done for me. Then come here.”
“Will do. Later,” he said, then disconnected without a reply from me.
It’d take Vi at least half an hour to get to my place since she lived out of town in her soon-to-be husband’s house. Fuck, what was I gonna do with my time?
One thing I could do…. I pressed another name on the phone. A new connection the firm had, who came to us when Mally had her shit go down. We had others in the police force, but no one like Lan Davis. He did things differently than the others. He’d had the Hawks MC’s backs behind the line of duty.
“Lan Davis.”
“Lan. Warden here. I work with—”
“Ryan Warden, works for Violet Marcus, Talon’s sister. Know who you are. What can I do for you?”
“I’m not sure yet. This is what I do know.” I told him everything I could about Emmie. He listened silently. “What do you think?” I asked at the end.
“I think you can’t do anything without proof, and some texts won’t do without a photo. What makes things hard is how this woman isn’t willin’ for help. What’s stopping her? There’s more we need to find out, but for now, I’ll get what I can on Lenny and Gloria. Give you a call when I have it.”
Relief was instant. Some of the tightness in my chest lessened. Fucking hell, I’d made the right choice by bringing him in. Yeah, we could do our own background work, but I was sure Lan could do it faster. Besides, I wanted to stay close and keep an eye on the place next door.
“Appreciate it, Lan.”
“Anytime,” he said before hanging up.
I moved to the back door again and peered out. I couldn’t see the window to the basement; it was just out of sight. I opened the back door but left the screen closed. I strained to hear anything, but not a sound reached my ears.
I goddamn hated not knowing what was going on.
What did Emmie have to deal with?
Who was she?
Why was she in the basement?
Who in the fuck was Gloria or Lenny to her?
Why didn’t Emmie want to leave?
So many fucking questions, and I was determined to get the answers.
CHAPTER TEN
EMERSON
A FEW MOMENTS EARLIER
A s I sat on the bed, I held the phone in my hand and stared down at all the messages Ryan had sent. Not only were there messages, but he’d tried calling a couple of times. I didn’t know why, but that day my resolve had diminished, and I’d taken out the phone to see if he had contacted me. I’d been strong, like I promised myself, except for then.
Maybe it was because I was missing my dad more that day since it was his birthday and I wanted some type of contact with the real world, even for just a moment.
I hadn’t expected to find all the messages.
He’d started out telling me how he didn’t care if I didn’t message back, he just wanted to reach out.
Then it continued from there.
Favourite food? Mine’s nachos.
Do you read? I don’t. I’ve tried but I fall asleep too fast.
Do you like sports? I do. Football.
Is Emmie short for something? Emily?
Emmanuel?
Emma?
My smile had grown with each suggestion. With each message. Not all of these texts were on the same day either.
Emmit?
Screw that, sounds like a guy’s name.
Emmalise?
Forget it, I’ve probably guessed it right already or your name is just Emmie.
I’m about to smack the shit outta Butch, a guy I work with. He ate my damn lunch again.
Are you okay?
I feel like a fucking idiot messaging when I’m not getting a reply, but I’m gonna still do it.
Do you like Disney? A friend of mine does but I don’t see the point in watching it.
Some days I hate my job when I can’t find the answers I want.
He wasn’t just asking me things; he was also giving. Reading all of his responses was yet another something special he was giving me. I knew he liked to run, drink beer over spirits, read the comics in the newspaper, sing. But he also told me he’d never sung in front of anyone before. I was the first. He didn’t like the attention. No matter what Butch said about him being a ladies’ man and sucking up all the attention for himself when they wen
t out, it was—in his words—bullshit. He was a loner when he could be, but it seemed his friends list was growing each year, and he was glad for it.
My eyes widened when I heard “Emmie” called loudly.
“No, no, no,” I chanted, climbing on top of the bed to peer out the window. When I saw Ryan standing on the back deck, I slammed my back into the wall out of sight. Only I still gripped the window edge to keep from falling.
“Emmie” was clipped roughly. I wavered on my feet. Why was he calling me? My hand left the window edge to grip at my chest. I needed to reach inside myself and hold my heart to steady the fast beating. When I heard footsteps above me, fear rolled my stomach. If they heard him, they could put two and two together. If they even guessed he was calling out for me, I didn’t know what would happen. All I could see was more blood and death flashing through my mind.
“Emmie” was snapped, louder than before.
I heard the front door open. With trembling hands, I quickly texted, Shut up. Only I didn’t think it was enough, so I sent another: Please, shut up. Please.
Then my throat closed over when I heard, “Hey, man.” Lenny was out there talking to Ryan.
Please, please don’t say anything about me. When Ryan replied with a greeting, Lenny went right into questioning him. After Ryan said he was calling his girl named Emily, some tension eased from my shoulders. I chanced a glance out the window. Lenny stood right near it, so I quickly moved away. What I couldn’t understand was why Ryan gave Lenny a different name.
Confusion drew my brows together, my pulse raced, and as soon as I heard Lenny leave, I quickly shot off a text to Ryan, telling him not to call my name again. If Gloria got home and Lenny told her anything about what Ryan said, I knew she would come down questioning me.
Tears threatened, but I closed my eyes tightly to blink them away. My phone vibrated. Ryan asked me if I was safe. I was for now, but I only told him I was.
His next message had me gasping. Tell me it’s not you in that fucking basement.
I didn’t know what to say. How had he known? Did he see me? It was hard to say since I didn’t see him once look that way, but he also had sunglasses on that didn’t show his eyes.