by Kim Karr
Curious, I started with those.
The center of the room was clear and if Michael had money or drugs hidden inside the room, they’d have to be in there. My pulse was thundering in every pressure point in my body as I moved quickly. If Michael came home and found me in here, I’d have no excuse that would ring true. Clementine wasn’t even in the house.
The bottom cabinet was a refrigerator that was empty. The top held a few guns, ammunition, and flashlights. The other cabinet was completely barren, but salt crystals were on the bottom of it. There was also a safe on the top that I wasn’t even going to try to open.
The desk held the monitors and a keyboard. I clicked the enter button and was shocked to see rooms in the house pop up as well as the front and back doors. In plain sight were the kitchen, the family room, and Clementine’s bedroom. Thank God, none of the other bedrooms were being monitored. Still, it made me a little jumpy to know Michael could watch me almost anywhere.
Oh, God, could he see me now?
I was just about to give up and run when a sheet a paper with what I knew to be my sister’s writing caught my attention. Her letters always looked printed in all capital letters and they were easily identifiable. My heart stuttered a little as I reached for it. It read:
Gabby,
You must have known how much I need you right now. Things in my life are a mess. I need to get away. Please bring Clementine, a bag of her things, and as much money as you can. Meet me later tonight at 615 One Park Lane. Don’t tell anyone, especially Michael, and please, be careful.
Love, Lizzy
Tears stung the back of my eyes and I sucked in a breath to hold them back. My sister had tried to contact me and somehow Michael intercepted the note. The wave of sadness I felt was excruciating.
“Miss Sterling, are you still here?”
My eyes darted toward the door and I spotted a sealed vanilla envelope on the desk labeled Clementine’s Paternity. I had no time to look through it now, though; Mrs. R and Clementine were back and I had to get out of here. Frantic I was going to be caught, my hands were shaking hard and my mind was a scattered mess.
Clop, clop, clop, like a little racehorse I heard Clementine’s small footfalls on the wooden floor in the foyer.
Snapping into action, I shot like a rocket out of the door. The door. How was I going to close it? I hoped it was programmed as Miles had described. Holding my breath, I reentered the code and then closed the panel that covered it.
“Miss Sterling.”
I felt a flicker of terror. Was I going to get caught?
The panic room door continued to close and I hoped it wasn’t noticeable that I’d been inside. With no time to dwell over it, I tore toward the office doors, which, thank God, I’d shut before sitting at Michael’s computer, and placed my hand on the knob. My heart was in my throat. A quick glance back told me I’d left the desk the way I’d found it and that the panic room door had completely closed. I heaved a sigh of relief and shut the door behind me. Then I crept out into the hallway and saw Mrs. R and Clementine in the hall powder room.
Mrs. R hadn’t seen me, and I tiptoed toward the kitchen and then turned on my heels. I drew in the deepest of breaths that I could and said, “I’m still here.”
She peeked out of the bathroom. She was soaked from head to toe and so was my little princess, who came surging for me when she saw me. “Mommy.”
Mrs. R was still looking at me. I shrugged and gave Clementine a little huff of laughter. “What happened? Did you get rained on?”
“Wet,” she giggled.
I laughed harder and held my hand out. “Come on, I’ll take you upstairs and get you changed.”
“Oh, I can do that, Miss Sterling.”
“Please, call me Elle. And you get dried off while I take care of her and then I need to get going.” Peyton opened on Wednesdays, so I could be a little late.
The rain had become a downpour by the time I pulled away from Michael’s house. The minivans, swing sets, and porch swings along the road were a blur. Rain or shine, I didn’t care. I was just relieved that I’d made it out of there without Michael coming home and without getting caught by Mrs. R.
That woodsy, pine-like smell was still potent in the car. I glanced in the backseat and saw nothing. When I got to the boutique, I’d have to check the trunk. Something had to be in there.
Taking the shortest way, I turned the corner and I swear I saw Michael’s car heading in the opposite direction, toward his house. I hoped I was wrong.
When I felt like I could mask my overwhelming need to vomit, I fumbled for my phone and called Logan.
“Are you okay?” he answered, worried. “I saw you called and tried you back. Why didn’t you answer?”
Even through everything, the sound of his voice made me smile. “I couldn’t, but listen, I’m on my way to the boutique and everything went well. More than well, in fact.”
“Did you install the program?” he asked, clearly concerned.
Suddenly, I felt a little proud of myself. I’d done it. “Yes, and I got into the safe room.”
“What the fuck, Elle? I told you not to do that.”
“I know, but the code hit me and I had to try.”
His words were laced with anger. “I said it was dangerous. What don’t you understand about that?”
I wanted to argue with him, but I knew he was right.
“It was a stupid thing to do,” I agreed.
His sigh was heavy.
“Do you want to know what the code was?” I tried to extinguish his anger.
“Yeah.” His tone was still off.
“It’s Rose, Michael’s mother’s name.”
“Son of a bitch.”
There, he was fine. I laughed. “Can you believe it?”
“No. But you still shouldn’t have gone in there. What if you had been caught?”
The car in front of me engaged its hazard lights. I pulled around it. “Since when do you talk in the hypothetical?”
“Since there was no plan A or plan B,” he answered matter-of-factly.
The light turned yellow and I pressed the gas. “Okay, okay. Do you want to know what was in there or not?”
“Of course I do. Were the drugs still in there?”
“No, I looked everywhere. There were those crystals on the floor in one of the cabinets but nothing else. However, I found a note in there, and it was from my sister to me asking me to meet her. Michael must have gotten to it before me.”
There was knock on his door. “Meet her where?”
“At some address at One Park Lane.”
“Hang on,” he told me.
The rain started to fall harder and I turned the windshield wipers up. “Okay,” I said.
“Put him in the conference room and see if he wants some coffee, I’ll be right there,” Logan said to who I assumed was Sheila, his receptionist. “I’m back. Sorry about that.”
The car in front of me came to an abrupt stop and I slammed on the brakes. The car behind me honked.
“Where are you, Elle? Are you okay?”
“Yes, it’s just raining so hard I can’t see two feet in front of me, but I’m almost to the boutique.”
“Take it easy, okay? I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“You’re sweet, you know.”
“Now, you’re pushing it.”
I laughed. “You are. Are you ready for the address?”
“Yes, shoot.”
“It was Six-fifteen One Park Lane.”
“That was one of the three buildings that cokehead pointed out to Miles.”
All the spots were taken near the boutique and I found myself weaving up and down the side streets. “I want to go with you when you go,” I said.
“No way.”
I decided to give in and pay to park in a lot. I hated the high cost and very rarely did it, but the rain was cause enough to splurge. The lot I found was farther away from the boutique than I would have liked, cons
idering I didn’t have my rain boots. “Logan, please.”
“No, Elle. Let Miles go with me and then I’ll bring you there later if there’s anything to see.”
I switched the ignition off and fumbled for my debit card. “Do you promise?”
“Yes.”
My bags were on the seat beside me and I pulled them onto my shoulder. “Oh, by the way, Clementine loved her new Rosie.”
“Did she call her that?”
The lot was deserted. Everyone must have been waiting out the storm indoors. I opened the door. “She did.”
“She’s the sweet one,” he joked. “Listen, I have to go. I’ll call Miles after I meet with this client and let you know what we’re doing. I have a few other things to fill you in about.”
Water swooshed across my shoes with my first step onto the pavement and I swiped my card to pay the hefty twenty-dollar parking fee. I knew better than to complain to Logan about it because he’d offered more than once to pay the yearly astronomical fee for the parking lot just around the corner from the boutique.
I started to move faster. The quiet of the normally bustling streets of Boston was eerie. “Logan, one more thing.”
“Yeah, sure, what is it?”
“It’s probably nothing, but when I opened the back door this morning to leave, it was covered with hundreds of black rose petals.”
“Where are you?” he asked, panicked.
He took me by surprise and I stuttered. I wasn’t exactly quite sure.
“Where are you?” he was yelling.
“I’m walking on a side street, heading toward the boutique.”
It sounded like he was moving. “Listen to me and don’t argue. Get back in the car, lock the doors, and come straight here. I’ll meet you outside.” The wobble in his voice told me to listen.
My legs buckled beneath me. “You’re scaring me.”
“I’m headed outside. I want you in your car and driving—now! Are you at the vehicle yet?”
The rain was coming down so hard it was whipping against me and it was hard to see. “No, I just turned back.”
“Reschedule my clients for the day,” I heard him say.
“I’ll call you when I’m in the car,” I said.
“No! Stay on the phone with me.”
My heart was beating erratically. “It’s just ahead.”
“Okay, keep walking as fast as you can.”
Panic like I’ve never felt gripped me. I hit the key fob and unlocked the door as fast as I could. “I’m getting inside. What’s going on?”
“I’ll tell you when you’re safely inside and the door is locked.”
“I’m in,” I said, my voice nothing more than a whisper.
“Start driving. I’m outside waiting for you.”
That woodsy, pine-like smell was still in my car. It was stronger than ever now and it no longer smelled like the outdoors, but more like the expensive aftershave I can remember my father wearing on special occasions. I wanted to gag. I couldn’t stand it.
Just as my head turned to see what it could possibly be, an arm came around and covered my mouth. Terror plagued me. I tried to scream, but all that came out was a muffled sound. My eyes darted to the rearview mirror. There was a man wearing a black ski mask in my backseat. Icy blue eyes were all I could see.
Fear assaulted me.
My pulse started to thunder out of control.
All I wanted was for my defense mechanism to kick in.
My heart beat wildly as I figured out what I had to do.
The phone fell to the ground when I raised my arms to attack. But we weren’t standing, and he had an advantage. As a result, my movements were jagged, not coordinated like they should have been. When I reached back to tear his eyes out, pull his hair, cause any bodily injury I could, he pressed something sharp against my face—a knife. “Don’t move,” he said through gritted teeth.
I knew better, but I tried to knock the knife from his hand by jabbing my elbow upward. His response was immediate and he pressed the blade harder. Along with pain, I felt warmth tricking down my face. He’d cut my cheek. How bad, I had no idea. Tears leaked from my eyes.
Then, in a rage, I went a little crazy. My hands going to my cheek, to the roof of the car, reaching behind me. My wild actions were enough to knock the knife from his grip, but in response he started to strangle me. I wasn’t going to be able to get away from him. All my training, all the strength I thought I possessed, and I wasn’t going to be able to fight him off.
“Elle?” I could hear Logan’s frantic voice.
My attacker’s hand was no longer on my mouth and I screamed, “Help! Help!”
In an instant he was covering my mouth again, this time with something thick and cottony. It smelled sweet and I immediately began to feel nauseous.
Moments later, his mouth was at my ear and I could smell the foul scent of his breath permeating my membranes even through the chemical scent. “‘They said to him, teacher this woman has been caught in adultery, in the very act. Now in the law Moses commanded us to stone such women; what then do you say?’”
My sounds, although muffled, had to convey my fear.
“You’re much stronger than your sister. I thought you weaker. I thought I’d only have to hold on to you for a day or so. That all I had to do was convince you of the value of monogamy. I didn’t realize you were snooping into affairs that have nothing to do with you.”
I shook my head no.
He tsked. “Don’t lie. He hath punishments for those who dare do so.”
Again, I shook my head.
“I overheard your phone call. I know that you were looking around at things that are none of your business,” he said in a whisper.
I tried to deny it, but nothing came out.
He removed the cloth from my mouth. “What do you know?”
“Nothing. I swear. The only thing I care about is Clementine.”
The cotton was back in my mouth.
This time my gag reflex was triggered and I tried to push air from my mouth. I didn’t like the sound of his voice at all. It was disguised in some way. It was familiar yet not. It was like he was deliberately trying to change it.
“You’re the one who’s been calling me,” I tried to say.
Just then, everything around me became hazy. He let go of his hold on me. I wanted to open the door and run, but it was too dark. I couldn’t see anything. The sound of the rain on the roof of the car seemed to be amplified and I felt like I was drowning, like I was lying on the sidewalk and the water was rushing over me.
I wasn’t breathing. I gasped and sucked in a breath. Air. I needed air. The window. Could I open it? I tried to find the button on the door, but my fingers wouldn’t move that far. The horn, what about the horn? I should pound my fists against the horn. But my body was sluggish and by the time I placed my hands on the center of the steering wheel and pressed, no sound came out. Wait, I wasn’t pressing; I couldn’t.
My limp body was like a puppet and he was tugging the strings. I could feel what he was doing, but I couldn’t fight it. He pulled at my coat, took my arm out of it, and then he tore my top. I heard the sound of buttons popping and a cool draft hit my shoulder. I heard the familiar sound of a wrapper being torn, the flick, flick of nails against plastic, and then smelled the all-too-familiar scent of Band-Aids.
It was the nightmare of my mother’s diabetes all over again, except I wasn’t diabetic and he was going to give me insulin.
In a hopeless attempt, I tried to move away. I couldn’t.
The needle plunged into my arm. It felt cool as the liquid swooshed through my veins, and then in the next moment I felt like I was falling. Falling into a deep, dark hole.
My father’s face flashed before me. “You’re so weak!” he yelled.
And this time I couldn’t argue with him, because he was right.
LOGAN
As the crow flies, Beacon Hill was only a hop, skip, and a jump from Dorchester A
venue.
At the most, it was ten miles.
Given Boston traffic, it was going to take me fucking forever to get to her, and in the pit of my stomach I knew I didn’t even have five minutes.
Black rose petals.
They meant dread.
That was all I knew.
A chill ran down my spine, my stomach lurched, and my pulse skyrocketed. I hoped I could reach her in time. But as soon as I stepped out the door, I knew I was fucked.
The sky was dark, black clouds circling overhead, and the rain was pouring down like sheets of ice. It was fucking hailing out and the temperature was dropping by the minute.
Her sharp, agonizing scream echoed in my head and I ran as fast as I could to my vehicle. Just as I started it, the passenger door whipped open.
Fuck!
My gun wasn’t on me. It was locked in my desk drawer back in the office and my other one was in the glove box right in front of where . . . my father was now sitting.
“Pop.” I blinked in surprise.
He pounded the dashboard. “Go, go, go!” he yelled.
My hands gripped the steering wheel. My heart thundered and I pressed on the gas full power. “Call the cops,” I ordered.
“No, we can’t do that, son.”
Of course, he was right. Who knew which cops would be dispersed and whose payroll they were on?
I wove in and out of the traffic, the cars moving at a snail’s pace with their hazard lights on.
“Watch it!” my father yelled.
Suddenly, I skidded to a stop at the traffic light and the burning red circle seared into my brain like a hot poker. I was being way too emotional to think this through tactically. The jerk and skid checked my emotions, though, and focused me on the task at hand—getting to Elle.
In one piece.
“Where are you headed?” my father asked.
“The boutique,” I managed.
The urgency in his voice told me he must have heard me on the phone with Elle. “Take the back way to Ashmont Street and then cut through the small alley to get to Neponset Avenue.”