The Forgetting

by Nicole Maggi

  Flash.

  I sank against the glass, my eyes still fixed on the room, but the picture had come together now, one horrifying film that I couldn’t look away from. Jules was running an underground sex club, a place where these men—these monsters—could see their sick fantasies brought to life. My vision swam around the room at the faces of the girls. God, they were my age or younger… They should be at home doing their homework and gossiping with their friends. Any of these girls could be my friend or classmate or neighbor…or me. The Warehouse was my own backyard.

  Against the wall, one of the men finished with a chained girl. Just before another man took his place, the girl faced forward and her hair tumbled down around her shoulders. The light glinted off the red strands, and though her eyes slid in and out of focus—she was high on something—there was no mistaking her.

  Kitty.

  My body revolted. Nate felt me shudder and dragged me away from the window to a door on the opposite wall. He wrenched it open and pushed me inside. It was a closet filled with cleaning supplies. I twisted toward a bucket and vomited inside.

  Nate closed the door, shutting us in darkness. His hands were gentle on my back and neck as I retched. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “You’ll be okay.”

  But I wouldn’t be, not ever. I would never be able to erase those images from my mind, no matter how long I lived. They would be with me forever. After a minute, I sat back on my knees, my breath ragged.

  “How?” I panted. “How can those men do that?”

  “As long as men can’t get what they want legally, they’ll pay for it.”

  I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “It’s disgusting. No, it’s beyond disgusting. There’s not even a word for it.” I leaned into Nate. When my breathing returned to normal, I pulled myself to my feet. “We have to get out of here. We have to go back to the police and get them here.” I cracked open the door. The music and flashing light brought back a wave of nausea. I took a deep breath and shoved it down. Puking again wouldn’t help us get out of this place.

  We skirted around the room, past the guard on his iPod, and into a darkened hallway. As we turned toward the basement we’d come up through, I froze. “The girls,” I whispered. “There might be other girls.”

  Nate took a deep breath and nodded. “Where?”

  “Follow me.” We fled down the long corridor that sloped downward, my eyes half-closed as I sank back into Annabel’s memory. “This way,” I panted, and we turned right. The doors on either side, the flickering fluorescent lights… I skidded to a stop in front of the room that I knew held the girls. The knob was locked. Nate jimmied it open with his pick.

  As soon as the door swung open, that thick smell of fear washed over me. I coughed, clinging to the wall to stay upright. The dim light from the hall bled into the dark room, but it took a moment for my eyes to adjust.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  I blinked. Char stood in the middle of the room. Her hands were planted on her hips, but I could see the whites of her eyes. Only one other girl occupied the room, cowering in the corner. Her wide eyes were like jewels set into her pale face, and her gaze was fixed on the hallway behind us as though the devil himself would appear there any moment. Which he would.

  I stepped into the room. “You have to come with us. Now.”

  The other girl scrabbled to her feet but Char didn’t move. “If you stay here, you will be taken to another room and gang-raped,” I said. “Or you can come with us. Your choice.” I turned to go. I could feel Char’s resistance behind me, but we had no time. I grabbed Nate’s hand and raced up the hallway. When I glanced back, both girls were just behind me, carrying their stiletto shoes in their hands.

  I led them up, up, up the endless hallway as we traced our path back to the basement. The bass line of the music throbbed, following us, tracking us. My heart pounded in answer but nothing was loud enough to drown out the images I’d seen in that room.

  We skidded around a corner, but halfway down the hall, I slid to a stop. “Wrong way, wrong way,” I muttered. Everything looked the same. I pressed my hand to my heart, trying to see again the path that Annabel had taken out. My mind blurred, a mess of pictures and thoughts. I pointed in the direction I thought was right. But as soon as we’d turned another corner, I knew I was wrong.

  A guard stood at the end of the hall, playing a game on his phone. He looked up as the four of us froze in plain view. “Hey!” he shouted and plunged his hand into his holster.

  My scar seared as we fled back the way we came. This time, we took the right turn toward the basement. Footsteps pounded on the floors, filled my ears… They were right on top of us…they had to be… I risked a glance over my shoulder. The hall behind us was empty except for the shouts and sounds spilling into it from elsewhere in the labyrinth.

  We pressed forward as the shouts grew louder behind us. Pain ached across my chest… My ribs were about to crack open… We slammed around another corner. At the end of the long hallway, the metal door that led to the basement shimmered, a beacon across a deadly sea. The guards’ shouts bounced off the walls all around us; it was impossible to tell how close or far away they were.

  Nate shoved me in front of him as we ran full-out toward the door. He fumbled with the knob, trying to grasp the slippery metal. “Hurry, hurry,” I whispered, whirling to face the long hall behind us. The guards’ voices were getting closer…their footfalls faster… As I spun back to Nate, something red gleamed on the wall next to the door. Like it was meant for me to find, I pulled the fire alarm tab.

  Bells clanged out in every direction, ear-splitting, shattering the distant music into a thousand pieces. Nate flung open the door just as the ceiling opened up and water rained down. He propelled me into the basement. I stumbled into the darkness, followed by the two girls. Nate shut and bolted the door. His hair dripping, he crept up the stairs to the doors that led to the street. The girls and I huddled at the bottom of the steps, a steady plip-plop-plop falling from our soaked clothes onto the floor. Nate creaked the door open an inch and froze. Even from the sliver of space, I could hear the voices just outside in the alley.

  Char pushed past me. I grabbed her arm and pointed to the street and the voices that rolled back to us. She wrenched out of my grasp and stalked up the stairs. Nate turned and blocked her, his eyes furious. She backed down to my level. I faced her, my jaw tight. A sliver of light fell across her face and I swallowed. It was not defiance that filled her; it was terror. I reached out and touched her arm. She flinched and hunched herself next to the other girl.

  The voices from outside slithered in through the door. I crawled up the stairs next to Nate and listened.

  “—asswipe pulled the fire alarm.” Jules’s voice was jittery and annoyed, his smooth confidence shredded apart. “Let’s make this quick.”

  “Quicker the better.” A deeper, quieter voice. “People have been sniffing around. If anyone finds out—”

  Something about the voice was familiar, but whether it was from Annabel’s mind or my own, I wasn’t sure.

  “No one will.” The sound of paper, rustling and crackling. “This oughta make up for it.”

  I eased away from Nate and peeked through the slice of open door. They were right next to us, separated by half the doorway. I was at such an angle that I couldn’t see their faces; all I could see were their hands. Jules’s manicured nails were unmistakable as he handed the other man a thick envelope. I caught a glimpse of the thick wad of bills at one corner where the envelope wasn’t fully closed.

  The other man took the envelope and tucked the money in his pocket. “Nice doing business with you.” As he shook Jules’s hand, a flash of silver winked. A claddagh ring set with a green stone inside the center heart. A Christmas gift from his daughter…

  Lowell.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Detective C
urt Lowell, whom my father had clapped on the back, who had been eating cupcakes at our house just days ago, who had toasted me along with the rest of our friends. I doubled over, panting, my whole body aching. Michelle’s father. I didn’t like her…but I didn’t want her to have a monster for a father either. Why, why, why? The question tumbled around my brain as I fought for breath. Had Annabel reported Jules to him? Had he warned Jules to clean the place before the police got there? And had he then eliminated the threat?

  I straightened. It all made sense. Detective Lowell…had killed Annabel.

  “Georgie. Georgie? Are you okay?”

  I straightened. No, I was not okay. Our beloved neighborhood cop, a man my family had been friends with for years, was helping Jules. He was protecting an illegal sex club that exploited underage girls. He might as well have been inside, raping them himself. I gripped Nate’s arm. “We have to get out of here.”

  Nate raised the door another inch. From the other side of the basement, the sound of the sprinklers stopped. “They’re gone. Let’s go,” Nate said. I pushed the girls ahead of me and followed them up the stairs. The cold slapped me when I emerged onto the sidewalk behind Char, freezing my skin.

  The silver Porsche still idled at the end of the alley. We pressed ourselves against the wall and inched down the opposite way. My breath stuck in my throat. This was the way Jules and Lowell had gone. I swallowed, bile stuck to the back of my throat. Every time I thought of Lowell, a fresh wave of nausea passed over me.

  Nate peered around the corner and darted back. “He’s out there.”

  “Who?”

  “Jules.” But it wasn’t Nate that spoke. It was Char. Her body shook against me, her face a grotesque mask of fear. “He’s everywhere,” she breathed.

  Nate took off his coat and put it around Char’s bare shoulders. I peeked around the corner. Lowell was nowhere to be seen, but Jules was halfway down the block, talking on his cell. Far enough that he couldn’t hear us, but close enough that if we tried to make a break for it, he would definitely see us. I glanced at the other end of the alley. The Porsche was still there and, presumably, so was the guard at that door. I leaned back against the wall, the bricks pricking me through my damp sweater, and pulled out my phone.

  The dispatcher made me repeat my request three times. Whether it was because I was talking so low or because she couldn’t believe where I was, I wasn’t sure. But ten minutes later, a gleam of headlights swept over the desolate street and turned into the alley.

  “What the fuck?” Jules’s voice shattered the quiet. I shoved the girls into the cab as his footsteps came running. Nate and I dove in at the same time and slammed the doors.

  “He’s gonna kill us!” the other girl shrieked.

  “Where the hell am I going?” Manny yelled.

  “Just go!” Nate shouted and pulled the girl close to him to calm her down. The tires squealed as Manny peeled away. He swerved around the Porsche as the other guard darted toward us, but we were already barreling down the street before he could stop us.

  I scrambled upright in the seat and watched through the rear windshield as Jules emerged from the alley, his face twisted with rage as he kept running after us. A street lamp lit up the window with a bright yellow glow. I only had time to see Jules’s eyes widen before Manny stepped on the gas and we were out of sight.

  I twisted forward and slid down the seat.

  “It’s okay,” Nate said. “We’re okay.”

  I closed my eyes and tried to breathe. “No, we’re not. He saw me.”

  • • •

  We took the girls to Susan’s halfway house. As we climbed the steps to the door, my phone buzzed. “Where are you?” my mom demanded.

  Good thing she hadn’t called me fifteen minutes before. “I’m out with Nate,” I told her.

  “Georgie—”

  “I’ll be home by eleven.” I cut her off and barely had time to hear her reluctant acquiescence before I hung up. When Nate and I were back in the cab, I turned to him. “It was Lowell.”

  “Who?”

  “Lowell. The cop who was at our Valentine’s Day party. He’s the one Jules was paying off.”

  Nate’s eyes widened. “How do you—”

  “His ring. I saw his ring. He had it on at the party…said it was a Christmas present from his daughter…” I bent over. “God, I’m going to be sick again.”

  Manny jerked around but Nate waved him off. “She’s fine. You’re fine,” he told me. “Just breathe. Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I recognized his voice too.” I straightened. “Jesus, Nate, I went right to him. I told him I thought Annabel had been murdered, and he’s probably the one who killed her.”

  “We don’t know that. It could’ve been Jules.” The cab slowed at a red light.

  “How long before he and Jules put two and two together and come after me?”

  Nate hugged me close to him. “We don’t know that they will. But…” He didn’t have to finish the sentence; I knew how it ended. Not long.

  I curled into him, breathing in his warm, safe scent. “I want to come home with you.”

  Nate closed his eyes. “Georgie…” His voice was hoarse, low. “You know I want that,” he muttered into my hair. “God, how I want that.” He kissed my forehead. “But you should go home. You’ll be safer there.”

  I didn’t feel safe anywhere, except the circle of his arms. He held me tighter as the car trudged up the hill toward my house. We stopped at the curb and Nate walked me to the front door. “Stay put until you hear from me,” he said as we climbed the stoop. “I mean it, Georgie. Don’t go anywhere tomorrow until I come get you.”

  I tilted my head up to him. “Are you seriously telling me what to do? What are we, married in the fifties?”

  “Geor—gie.” Nate drew my name out with a sigh. “I just want you to be safe.”

  “I can’t sit around and do nothing.”

  Nate pulled me hard against him, buried his face in my hair. “And I can’t lose your heart. Not twice.”

  I turned my head so that my lips met the side of his neck. I covered his face with kisses until he cupped my cheeks in his hands and brought my mouth to his. All the fear and tension balled up inside me flowed away, as though its only cure was Nate. I clung to him, more alive in his arms than I’d ever felt in my life. His hands on me were strong and sweetly possessive. I could read the same thing I had in me, that it could so easily have been me in that room, that as long as these monsters roamed free, no girl was safe, that we could’ve died in the Warehouse tonight. But we didn’t. We were here, alive…and together.

  With a groan, Nate drew back. “You should go inside. It’s cold and your hair is still damp.” He ran his hand over my head, down the side of my throat.

  “I could never be cold with you,” I whispered. His eyes deepened until they were the darkest of blues, and he kissed me for a long moment that still ended too soon.

  “I’ll call you in the morning,” he said as I unlocked the door. “Get some sleep.”

  I smiled at him and watched as he jogged back to the cab. My smile faded as they drove away. There was no way I would get any sleep tonight.

  Mom sat in the living room, waiting up for me with an open book in her lap. “Did you have a good time tonight?”

  I slid to a stop in the hallway and stared at her. “What?”

  “With Nate. Did you two have a good time?”

  “Oh. Um, yes.” I backed up a couple of steps. “I’m tired, though. Good night.”

  Upstairs, I stood in the middle of my darkened room, my fingers itching for action, for time to pass quicker, for a resolution to this story that I had been written into against my will. Without Nate, I felt rudderless, unmoored. The air felt close and tight; with one small gust, it would drown me.

  I crossed to the window and pushed i
t open. Cold tumbled in, and the distant salt sea tinged my nose. Another snowfall sat right on the edge of the night, waiting. The brass music stand against the wall gleamed orange as a streak of street light fell on it. I did have a tether, an anchor, one that had sustained me long before I ever met Nate. I grabbed my oboe and curled up on my window seat, cradling the three pieces of the instrument in my arms. What I had seen tonight had filled me with a chill that I wasn’t sure would ever leave me, and my oboe was the only thing besides Nate that could keep me warm.

  About two in the morning, the snow finally spilled from the sky. I watched it pile up around the tree trunks and fire hydrants and mailboxes. The light from the street lamp grew dim as the veil of snow thickened around it. My vision blurred, but it was hard to know whether it was my own eyes or the snow was smudging the world. For a moment, my eyelids shuttered…and when I blinked them open again, the scene before me was not the street outside my house.

  Snow covers the wrought-iron balcony, the metal slippery beneath my feet… Hands grope at me, pushing me against the bars over and over… I try to fight them off, but they counter every blow. They come at me faster and harder…a voice repeating “Youcan’tyoucan’tyoucan’t” over and over… The iron creaks, the rusted bars soft beneath my body weight. I cling to the rail, fingers grappling to hang on, to stay alive, but it gives way and then there is nothing but cold air against my face, nothing but my own scream in my ears…