by Imani King
Now I seriously regretted mixing him up in this.
“He would never support you, even if you killed me.”
“Then if that’s the case, I’ll have him killed too. After all, there is always another rich fool…”
“You can’t just kill two people in your office!” I laughed aloud. “Especially not when one of them is a billionaire!”
Raleigh stepped around to the back of his desk, pressing a button. A bookcase slid aside, revealing a menacing corridor of stone within sight – and a flickering light that cast an ominous flare to the area.
“Do you really think I would dirty my office? That is my private discipline chamber,” Raleigh told me with a wicked grin on his face. “If the two of you fail to comply, then I will kill you both in there – but not after I have performed all manner of dreadful things to you. That would be fun, wouldn’t it?”
I shivered with fear.
“Of course, none of this has to happen if Blaine is willing to invest in my company’s expansion plans. He will own a ten percent share in my company, enough to ensure that he has skin in the game… It will only cost him a quarter of his fortune. A bargain, really.”
Seemingly satisfied with himself, Raleigh went silent, relaxing back into his tall chair and grinning wide. My eyes flicked across Raleigh’s desk, desperate. A heavy metallic paperweight sat just out of reach. Perhaps I could use it as some kind of weapon…
I didn’t have the chance.
There was a loud shattering noise. Sir Raleigh Bartlesby spun round in his chair as the floor to ceiling window exploded. A man leapt through the glass, slamming the butt of a heavy looking revolver up against Raleigh’s head. He slumped down into a heap on the floor.
I looked up at the man in shock.
“Grab the laptop off the desk and lets get the hell out of here,” he gruffly commanded. “We’ve gotta go. His goons definitely heard that.”
It was true. There was a shout from outside the room. As I moved round the desk and grabbed the laptop, I could hear a violent banging against the doors.
“Hurry it up!”
A gunshot rang out, then another. The men outside were trying to shoot the lock off the heavy door.
I went to the shattered window, my stomach in my throat as I saw the vast distance to the ground below. The man gave me his hand and helped me through the opening. Joining me on the washing platform, he flipped a switch that dropped us faster than I’d ever seen one of these platforms descend. My stomach was immediately in my throat, and I grabbed onto the stranger for dear life.
“Who are you?”
He slowed us, stopping the descent next to another window-washing platform, this one with a roof, and ushered me across to it. With another push of a button, the floor lurched out from under us again.
“You’ll need to give me a second, kiddo,” he replied. “Bit of a tense moment.”
I accepted this. The street was rushing up to us, and a driver pulled up beside us with tires squealing. I heard a gunshot go off from above, and didn’t even question jumping into the backseat as the man threw the door open and urged me inside.
“Turn off the voice recorder now,” he muttered as we sped away.
“How did you know I was recording everything?”
“Because you would have been an idiot not to.”
Too fearful to be impressed, I reached for the small recorder in my purse and shut it off in front of him.
“Good. You’ve got questions, and we’ve got time. I’ll answer them.”
“Raleigh!” I stammered. “Did you kill him?”
“He’s gonna be fine. Might have one hell of a headache later.”
“Those men are going to be coming after us!”
“They won’t do anything of the sort. The police will be hitting the front doors of the building any minute now. Discreet Connections is about to go out of business, permanently. That little recording device caps it.”
“So, I’m safe for now?”
“You’re safe for good. Mr. Winguard will see to that.
“Who…who are you?”
The window washer smiled courteously. “My name is Harold Figgs – call me Harry. I’m a private eye who has been tailing you for some time at Mr. Winguard’s personal request. ”
“How long have you been following me?” I asked quietly, catching his eyes and not letting go.
“That, is a question better asked of Mr. Winguard himself.”
28
Blaine
* * *
A few hours after the phone call, I was standing at the window in my office, watching the fading light. As I absentmindedly dragged by thumb against my bottom lip, the waning sunset bathed my office in shadow.
The last time that I had been standing here, admiring the light, I had been waiting on Harry to arrive with news on Sierra. Fitting then, perhaps, that this bookend would fall neatly into place on the other side of our time together.
My sister was staying afterhours with me, just like every day since I had returned to the States. Unwilling to remain in that horribly empty ship, I had the crew sail it back while I took a flight straight to Pennsylvania – after staying late to double-check a few logistics, it would likely be back in the next few days.
“Blaine, Harry is here to see you,” Ivy’s voice rang out over the intercom.
“Thank you. Send him in.”
A moment later, the door opened. Instead of handing her his hat, Harold gave her a slight nod, and then crossed over to take a seat in front of me.
“Tell me that she’s safe,” I demanded.
“Yeah. You’re girl’s safe,” Harry replied. “She’s, uh, staying tight at home for now. Got a few guys in a car nearby, keepin’ an eye on her just in case.”
“Thank you, Harry.” I exhaled a sigh in relief.
“You know, this could have gone really bad for the two of you,” Harry commented.
“You think I’m unaware of that?” I asked, turning back from the window to face him.
“Just tryin’ to figure out your angle here, Blaine. She was so important to you that you dragged her across the ocean to keep her out of trouble…and then she finds trouble as soon as she’s back? You return alone, telling me to watch her even closer than ever…what even happened out there?”
I sighed again, rubbing my forehead. “She knows… She knows almost everything.”
“Oh. Well. I take it she didn’t respond too friendly to that.”
“I was… Less than myself at the time. I might have handled it badly.”
Harry’s eyes conspicuously fell to the half-empty tumbler of whiskey on my desk. “I see.”
“This has been more stressful than I could have possibly imagined,” I explained. “Being near her tested me, pushed me to my limits…Harry, I failed.”
“You failed what, precisely?”
“I was supposed to keep her safe. I was supposed to protect her. She was never supposed to be in any danger, and she ran away from me so fast that she sprinted straight towards disaster…”
“Yeah, well, this is what happens when you try to control people, eh? Gotta admit, you’re not very good at it. This whole complex of yours, it ain’t healthy, and it’s about time that you recognized that.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, I think that you’re probably right, there.”
“Ain’t joking. Real talk? This…whatever you’ve been doing almost cost the two of you everything. Bartlesby wasn’t fucking around. Your little lady recorded the whole meeting. I heard some pretty sickening shit from their little chat, and that’s not counting the five girls the cops found chained up in his goddamned office…”
“Oh?” I asked, swallowing the pit in my throat. “How bad are we talking here, exactly?”
Harry averted his gaze. “Pretty fucking bad.”
I didn’t push the issue.
“You were right about Bartlesby, though. I’ll admit that. I’m just amazed that you were able to figure out who
he was.” I said.
“Sir Raleigh Bartlesby is not as careful as he thinks he is, as recent events can attest to,” Harry answered. “All of the local tabloids can be traced to companies under his corporate umbrella.”
“But what did he want?” I asked.
“What do people like him ever want?” Harry said. “Blackmail. Extortion. Our friend had some lofty, insidious goals, and he was going to force you to bankroll them…and he was willing to go to any length necessary.”
“All that for something so simple and stupid,” I shook my head. “I trust, then, that you are handling the cleanup to specifications?”
“Police have been scouring the building. I’m left some fun anonymous tips, and mailed in the laptop Sierra pulled from his desk along with the voice recording from their meeting. That should provide plenty of fun for the forensics team. And of course, I can’t wait to hear about Raleigh’s personal sex torture dungeon on the six o’clock news...”
“And Raleigh himself?”
“Incarcerated. Permanently,” Harry said with a firm voice.
“What about Miss Pains?”
“Far as I can tell, someone tipped her off. She’s gone into hiding. I doubt we’ll hear anything more from her, but if we do, you have my word I’ll handle it. The girl has always been about the money, and you have enough to buy her off.”
“You can assure me that Sierra is fine?”
“Shaken, but fine. She’ll have to testify of course, once the trial starts. That girl is strong. I’m sure she’ll do the right thing. By the way, I made sure to let her know who her valiant knight in shining armor is.”
“I told you to leave me out of this. There’s nothing else I can gain from interfering in her life…I’m going to just try to cut my ties and move on.”
“Can you, though? You haven’t even told me why you’re doing all of this for her. All this followin’ her around and protecting her for all these years…she didn’t even know who you are, not besides the usual tabloid bullshit. Why do you have such a hard-on for keeping her safe? Who is she to you?”
“That is none of your concern. None of it matters anymore. I’ve overstepped my bounds – and I’ve put her in danger. It’s all been for nothing. I should have just forgotten her, all those years ago…”
“There you go with that cryptic bullshit,” he replied. “I’m never gonna get a straight answer out of you about that, am I?”
A sad smile curved across my lips.
“Fine then. Be that way,” he grumbled, standing up and swiping his hat up from the desk. “But I think you’re makin’ a big mistake by running away, personally. She’s a strong girl. She can take care of herself now. Doesn’t need you sulking in the dark, directing her life. But that doesn’t mean that you can’t finally step up and meet her like a partner…and not some secretive mystery benefactor. I mean, hell, she knows who you are now…”
“I appreciate your input, and everything that you’ve done for us. For me. Keep an eye on her, make sure that she’s safe for the next few days…and I’ll ensure that your kids’ college tuitions are covered.”
“That’s…m-mighty generous of you,” Harry stammered.
“On top of your regular pay, of course – and a hefty bonus. Consider it compensation for putting up with a fool like me for as long as you have.”
“You aren’t going to do anything stupid, are you?”
“No, of course not. I just need some time alone, far from here, far from her…far from everything.”
“I see,” Harry replied. “Well…anyway, if I were you, I’d have someone keeping an eye on the news for the next few days. Particularly that news station you sent her to, if I had to hazard a guess.”
“And why’s that?” I asked.
Harry smiled, placing his hat on his head as he began strolling towards the door. “Because your girl’s done good, Blaine. If what I suspect is correct, she might have played us all for fools…and you’re gonna be proud.”
29
Sierra
* * *
While I was jotting down notes and comparing Discreet Companions profiles on my laptop, I heard my mother wandering around downstairs – back home from work. Closing the lid and flipping my notebook shut, I jumped out of bed and descended down the stairs.
“How was work, Mama?” I asked politely, throwing my arms around her.
“Long,” she muttered, setting a newspaper down on the table. “Tiring. Henderson’s giving us some trouble down at the diner, and I’m about to lose my mind on that no-good son of a bitch…” Mama gasped for a moment, glancing at me, but I shook my head.
“Oh, come on, it’s not like I haven’t heard any swearing before. If you need to vent, then vent.”
“No, child, everything’s fine. I’m just gonna relax, maybe put on some dinner, and take a nice, quiet bubble bath. That should soothe these old bones…”
“I’ve already cooked,” I told her, jabbing my thumb to the kitchen. “I baked us some chicken. Spicy, just how you like it. There’s a pot of mashed potatoes – instant, sorry, I didn’t have the time – and some peas in a pot, too. You know, the fancy stuff.”
Mama grew wide with pleasure. “Oh, child, you’re somethin’ else entirely,” she smiled. “I might have to pick at that in a few minutes. So, tell me about you…”
“What’s to tell?” I shrugged. “Nothing exciting. Just working on this piece for my internship.”
“I thought you were going to be fetching mail and pouring coffee, maybe pushin’ some papers,” Mama told me. “What’s this about you reporting?”
“Oh, it’s nothing dangerous,” I tried to lie.
She saw it in the instant, and her eyes narrowed.
“Child, what’s going on?”
“Nothing. I’m just doing a write-up on some of the rich and famous in town. Currently, I’m jotting down notes on Blaine Winguard…”
“Blaine Winguard?” Mama asked, her eyes wide with surprise. “Well, my stars. He was such a good boy, that Blaine. No matter what he got up to in the papers, I knew that his heart was in the right place…he just lost his way, was all.”
“Wait, Mama…you know who Blaine Winguard is?”
Her eyes widened as she realized the implications of what she had said. If she hadn’t been so tired, she might not have slipped up at all. Within the moment, she was sitting down and trying to bury herself deep in the puzzles of her newspaper, but it was too late.
“Mama. Spill it. How do you know Blaine?”
“The papers, of course!” She briefly shook the newspaper in her hands.
“No, you said he was a good boy,” I chided her. “You knew him. Don’t you lie to me, Mama, this is important. You’re sitting on something – and I want you tell me what it is.”
“He...oh, child, I should have told you before.”
I started to grow angry. “Please just tell me. Now.”
Mama sighed, setting her paper down. “Do you remember that night when you were fourteen, maybe fifteen? When you blacked out and you woke up home, feelin’ real sick?”
“I do,” I nodded quietly; suddenly, I was very afraid of where this was going.
“Well, there’s more to the story that I never told you, sweetie,” my mother confessed. “You were dating that Marcel boy. Well, Marcel’s dad was the groundskeeper for these rich people. You might remember that. He tended the property of the Winguard family. Inevitably, those two boys started gettin’ to playin’, as boys do sometimes…”
I thought back to Marcel – some thuggish kid that I had no business being around – and that he mentioned some “rich white kid” that he was “tight” with. I’d never imagined he could be referring to Blaine Winguard, though…and this was years before I’d even heard the name.
“The only reason I know that it happened at all is because Blaine brought you back home. He came here bloodied and bruised, with one of your little friends helping him carry you. You were knocked right out, on some sort of roofi
e or whatever it’s called.”
“What?” My voice weakened.
“I told you, I said ‘Don’t hang out with that Marcel boy, he’s bad news,’ didn’t I?” Mama was fighting tears now. “You were over at his place that day, weren’t you? Isn’t that what you told me?”
I nodded, the horror dawning on me.
“Well, the way Blaine tells it, Marcel was mad that you weren’t putting out for him. You’re my good girl, after all. Got a thick head on you, but you’re a decent person…and Marcel had gotten his hands on some bad stuff…he was gonna take advantage of you. And being the decent human being that he was,” Mama continued, glancing away while the bitterness invaded her voice, “he knew that Blaine had a thing for colored girls…and he wanted to share you with him.”
I trembled in shock, listening to her words.
“When Blaine arrived at the house, you were sprawled out on the bed – passed out from somethin’ he put in a drink – and half-naked. He lost it, that boy, and he fought Marcel good. Took some clean licks. He bore the bruises and scrapes of a vicious brawl, that little white boy, but he beat the shit out of that piece of scum.
“Marcel’s house wasn’t too far from here. Blaine carried you back, all bloodied and swollen. That boy brought you back here and told me everything. He just wanted you to be okay. I saw such anger in those eyes. There was so much wrath in the way that child looked. But there was tenderness too. It was clear as day that he fancied you, and he was damned if some thug – even his best friend – was going to hurt you.”
I swallowed, daring to wonder how much of this I would believe. If it had been coming from anyone else, I would have been laughing.
I was completely quivering with dread now.
“First thing I said was that I was gonna press charges. But Blaine, some of the first words out of his mouth, he says no. He says leave it to me, I’ll make sure Marcel gets his. And something about that look in his eyes, all that anger and conviction that was there… I’d like to say it was against my better judgment, but I could see right into that boy’s soul – and what I saw comforted me. A few weeks later, Marcel was holed up in Juvenile, and after repeated insubordination and a criminal trial for attempted murder on a guard…that was the end of that.”