by Lisa Ladew
Ivy looked up, surprised. The ghost of the smile was back on Bristow’s lips. “She didn’t know what exactly you did, but she saw you running for Dawn before the bullet hit her, and she figured you did something to stop Dawn from continuing to shoot until the gun was empty."
Ivy shuddered at the thought and nodded. Officer Bristow stood up quickly.
“I’ll be back with the detective as soon as I can.” He left before Ivy had a chance to say another word.
Alone again with only her thoughts, Ivy felt a confusing mixture of emotions. Gratitude that she’d been there to stop Dawn. Fear for Ryker. Frustration with her situation. And regret for never having told Hunter what was going on. She could sure use his help right now. She wondered if she had dropped his name, would she would have gotten her phone back by now? He was the Assistant Chief of Police, after all. But it was too late now. She put her head back down on the desk and tried to slow her thoughts.
***
This time when the door opened, Ivy didn’t wake up right away. Instead, she felt someone shaking her, and swam slowly out of the dream she’d been having. It was Officer Bristow, but another man was with him. A short, slight man with neatly trimmed hair and a mousy face. He wore an impeccably pressed blue suit. For a moment Ivy felt worried she’d been arrested after all and they’d gotten her a lawyer. Then the man sat down across from her and told her his name.
“I’m Detective Gagne. I need to question you about the events leading up to your arrest.”
Ivy rubbed her eyes and nodded, surreptitiously checking the table. It was dry.
“Can you tell me how you know Dawn Reinold?”
“She’s a friend of a friend.”
“Your friend’s name?”
“Marissa Farris.” Detective Gagne wrote the name down in a small notebook.
“And what were you doing at 42 Emery Lane?”
“I was looking for another friend.”
“That friend’s name?”
Ivy started visibly, not wanting to give Ryker’s name, but completely torn about lying too. Now she really wished Hunter knew what was going on. She decided she had no choice.
“Ryker Wells.”
“And was Ryker there?”
“No.”
“But you expected him?”
“No. I just was checking to see if he was there. I couldn’t get him on his phone.”
“He spends a lot of time there?”
“No. He never goes there, but he’s—” Ivy broke off, really not wanting to mention Brandon and the fact that Ryker was with Brandon. God what a mess this was turning out to be.
“He’s what, Miss Oakes?”
“The last time I saw him he was with Dawn’s boyfriend, Brandon. I thought maybe they had gone to the house.”
“Brandon’s last name?”
“Savoy,” She said quietly.
The two men exchanged a dark look. Ivy knew what it meant. Fiore Savoy had been the biggest criminal in town until the undercover investigation she, Jen, Ryker, and Hunter had been involved in had put him in jail. She wondered if anyone would ever put her name and Ryker’s name together with the Savoy arrests. Probably not. They had been recruits. No one knew who they were. But if Hunter were here he would set them all straight. Tell them Ryker wasn’t a criminal. But she would have a lot of explaining to do to Hunter first.
The interview went on for over an hour. Ivy felt like Detective Gagne was treating her like a criminal, but short glances at Officer Bristow always made her feel better. His eyes were kind and encouraging.
Finally, the detective put his notebook back in his pocket and nodded to her. “Thank you for your cooperation. We will be in touch with you.”
Ivy looked back and forth between the two men. “I can go?”
Bristow nodded.
“Can I get my things?”
“Yes, follow me.”
Ivy followed him out of the little room, wanting to push him down the hallway faster. Her mind filled with urgency. She had to find Ryker. Maybe he had called. Please let him have called. Finally, she stood at the counter outside the cell block door waiting for her things, her fingers tapping madly, her body filled with energy. She hadn’t really slept, but she was free. A clock on the wall showed the time. 7:14 in the morning. Ivy’s jaw dropped. She searched for a window to confirm or deny that it was already daytime, but the thick cement walls were solid. An officer slid her a zip lock bag with all the things that had been in her pocket.
“Thanks,” she said, ripping the top open and pulling out her phone.
No missed calls.
Ivy almost cried in frustration. “Ryker where are you?” she whispered.
The officer behind the counter gave her a funny look. “Sorry. Ah, how do I get out of here?”
He pointed to a pair of heavy double doors and she turned and walked towards them. She pushed them open and blinked as the early morning sunlight hit her face.
What now?
The first thing she had to do, she knew, was finally tell Hunter. There was just too much going on for him not to know. But she had to tell Ryker she was telling Hunter too. And where should she go? Home?
Ivy felt suddenly sick with helplessness. She looked out across the mostly-empty parking lot, her mind spinning.
She saw something that made her forget all her frustration and almost whoop with joy. What looked like Ryker’s truck at the very back of the parking lot, near the fence. Was he here? Ivy sprinted across the blacktop, her eyes locked on the truck, praying Ryker was alone.
Chapter 14
Brandon crouched behind the truck tire, snatching little glimpses of the movement of the woman running his way. He had no doubt it was Ivy, even though he hadn’t gotten a good look at her. He’d spent most of the night between this truck and the fence behind it, a car jack at his feet and a tire iron in his hands. He had his story all planned out, in case some interfering cop stuck his nose too far out here, but it hadn’t happened. None of them had showed any interest in the cars parked out here. It was a regular wasteland this far away from the building, with only a steep embankment on the other side of the fence. He’d watched every person who had come out of the double doors, and none of them had been Ivy. But finally, she had come out. Alone. And she’d seen the truck. It was almost perfect. If he could get her in the truck quickly and with no screaming, he’d be able to get out of here scot-free.
She slowed down as she got closer. Caution finally kicking in? Just six more feet, he chanted silently. Just six more feet and he’d have her. He had no doubt she was quick, but so was he, and action was always quicker than reaction. She reached the back of the truck and ran a hand lightly across the tailgate. He had the truck canted so that if she just went around towards the driver's side, she would not be visible from the building anymore.
Ivy stopped and peeked inside the back. “Ryker?” he heard her say softly. He heard the doubt and indecision in her voice and decided he had to act now, before she bolted like a scared rabbit. She took one more step towards the side of the truck where he crouched, then stopped. Brandon fancied he heard her heart beating in fear. His was pounding in anticipation. He took two crouched steps, almost reaching her, then jumped up and put on all his speed. She gasped and took a step backwards but before she could turn and flee he had her. He grabbed her arm and jerked her around to the far side of the truck. She pulled backwards but he was taller and heavier. She opened her mouth and he saw the scream building in her throat.
“No you don’t.” He tangled his fingers in her hair and slammed her face into the side of the truck as hard as he could. A small dent appeared in the side of Ryker’s truck and Ryker’s girlfriend slid towards the ground, blood spraying from her nose. “Sorry cuz,” Brandon said, a grin on his face. He caught Ivy under the arms and pulled her limp body to the door. He opened it and pushed her forward onto the driver’s seat. He grabbed the waistband of her jeans with one hand and her crotch with the other hand, heaving her onto the pass
enger’s side of the bench seat. The back of his fingers brushed lace under her pants and distracted him for a moment. He felt himself get semi-hard in an instant and the grin that was still on his face widened. “Sorry again, cuz,” he whispered, both hands stroking areas that didn’t belong to him. The thought filled him with fire. She was cute, this Ivy. And you know what they say, possession is nine-tenths of the law. He thought possessing Ivy might pay off a little more than he had hoped.
A car pulling into the parking lot broke into his concentration. Watching it, he quickly shoved Ivy’s legs the rest of the way in the car, pushing her so violently that her upper half rolled off the seat into the footwell. He bent her knees and shoved her feet down as far as possible, wishing he had a blanket to throw on top of her and on top of the blood smear she left on the seat. He looked behind Ryker’s seat and found a poncho. Good enough. He laid it over her, covering her entirely, then climbed behind the steering wheel and started the truck. The car that had pulled in had parked as close to the door as possible and its occupant was already striding inside. Perfect, Brandon thought, easing his way out of the parking lot.
He turned right, triumph pulsing in his chest. When he reached the first stop light on the road he realized he had no destination. Where could he take her? Victor’s house would have been perfect. That empty house. A bedroom… But Ryker was there. He imagined a brief fantasy where he carried Ivy inside right past a sleeping Ryker. He shook his head quickly. That wasn’t a smart idea. Dawn’s place was out. Brandon himself was currently between houses, as he liked to think of it since his mom had kicked him out, so he crashed over at Dawn’s place more often than not. But Ryker knew about that house. Plus there might still be cops there.
Brandon chewed on his tongue and realized he hadn’t thought this through very well. Stupid fucking idiot, he heard his uncle yelling inside his mind. He winced and drove on, trying to push the voice away. Wait! Uncle Fiore had a ton of houses, and he was in jail right now. Were his houses empty? Maybe some of them were. Maybe some of them had girlfriends and female relatives living in them. Would any of them help him? He allowed himself another short fantasy of Ivy handcuffed to a bed in one of Uncle’s houses, being looked after by someone. Then he would be free to come and go as he pleased. And he could have Ryker under his thumb once more. His overactive imagination pulled Ryker’s face into his mind, angry. He winced again, knowing that if Ryker had his way, Brandon would probably be dead in a ditch somewhere. But that was OK. If he could just control Ryker long enough to get the job done, he could shoot Ryker’s big ass and dump him somewhere. His first kill for the family. His first kill ever. The thought terrified him and excited him at the same time. Once he got this job done and tied up all the loose ends related to it, the entire family would have to take him seriously, and Uncle Fiore would be the first one to show his appreciation.
Brandon drove quickly, on auto-pilot, not realizing exactly where he was going. His mind’s eye filled with dreams of being made a Lieutenant for Uncle Fiore. Of finally being someone that everybody looked up to, and no one put down.
Ivy groaned in the footwell of the passenger seat. Brandon tensed and waited for her to move or make more noise but she lay completely still again. He looked down at what he could see of her face under the poncho and winced. Her nose was swelling already and black bags were spreading under her eyes. He didn’t want to spoil her looks. That would take some of the fun out of playing with her later, but it was too late. Hopefully she didn’t force him to beat her up anymore. He needed a gun. That way he wouldn’t have to hit her to get her to do what he wanted.
But all his guns were at Dawn’s. Dammit. He’d have to chance a drive through the neighborhood, see what it looked like. Maybe the cops were gone by now. It had been at least nine or ten hours since the shooting. He wondered who Dawn had shot and why. Not that it surprised him. Dawn had always been crazy, especially after she got a few beers in her. But even though it didn’t surprise him it still pissed him off. Now that he had a chance to think about it, he felt red-hot rage flood through him. What if someone had asked her where she got the gun? What if Dawn was talking about him right now? She could ruin everything!
Brandon turned right automatically and then shook himself out of his thoughts long enough to realize he was in Dawn’s neighborhood already. His eyes narrowed and he started scanning the streets for cop cars. Two blocks away he saw none. He took a right at the next stop sign and still saw none. He slowed to a crawl, seeing Dawn’s small house up ahead. Not one cop car was in sight. Brandon punched a fist in the air and sped up. He would be quick like a cat, in and out.
After a short conflict with himself about whether he should pull in the driveway or not, he finally did, driving straight back onto the grass behind the house so that Ryker’s truck was mostly hidden from sight from anyone driving by. He idled there, looking at Ivy. He had to go inside. He didn’t want to leave her alone, but he didn’t want to try to carry her either. Sure she was light, but what if a neighbor looked out their window at the wrong time? No, she had to stay here. He would be in the house for two minutes tops. Not enough time for her to come to, realize where she was, and get away.
Brandon threw the truck into park, pulled the keys out of the ignition, and jumped out. He took the stairs up to the back door two at a time, then unlocked it swiftly and ducked inside. Immediately, the aftermath of the cop’s investigation hit him in the face. Garbage littered the floor in the back hallway. Brandon ducked inside Dawn’s bedroom and saw stuffing strewn across the bed. Shit! He crossed the room in two large steps and chucked the stuffing onto the floor, knowing it was hopeless. There it was, Dawn’s childhood teddy bear. Or the skin of it anyway. Brandon grabbed it angrily, twisting it in his hands. Someone had found the gun he’d hidden inside it. He’d cut a slit down the back while Dawn was away one day, put the gun inside, then painstakingly sewed it back together and put the bear’s little red shirt back on.
Brandon threw what was left of the teddy bear on the floor in a rage and strode to the hallway, heading for the kitchen. He kicked over an evidence marker someone had forgotten and snapped on the bright kitchen light. Immediately he could tell that his glock was probably gone too since the refrigerator had been pushed a foot out from the wall. He pushed it out farther, dropped to his knees behind it, and reached his arm into the hole in the back where the compressor was. He felt blindly upwards, his fingers straining for the glock he’d taped to the wall inside. Just as he suspected, it was gone. Anger caused his vision to narrow. They’d taken his guns.
Brandon pushed himself up into a standing position and sprinted to the closet in the living room. A large pool of congealed blood in front of the doorway caught his eye. He grimaced. “Nobody could clean that shit up?” he yelled into the empty house. He turned purposely away from it and wrenched the closet door open. On the top shelf sat a mountain of old Xbox games he hadn’t played in years. He was surprised they weren’t scattered all over the bottom of the closet. He lifted the first stack and dropped it on the floor, then the second stack. Behind it was his old Xbox. He lifted it carefully off of the shelf and took it to the kitchen, yanking open the junk drawer. If this fucking gun was gone too… Brandon caught his tongue between his teeth and bit down hard, not wanting to follow that thought. He ripped off the face plate, then found the two-inch pin he was looking for in the drawer and shoved it through the holes in the case of the Xbox, releasing the clips. He pulled the ends off and pulled the halves of the Xbox apart.
A malicious smile spread over his face as he saw the two guns taped to the inside walls of the Xbox. Fuckers thought they were smart, didn’t they? Well they weren’t fucking smarter than Brandon Savoy. No sir. He ripped the tape off the guns, pulled them smoothly out of the Xbox shell, and released the magazine on one. Full. He shoved it back in, then crammed both guns in the waistband of his jeans and left the kitchen.
Ready or not, Ivy, here I come.
Chapter 15
Fro
m her position on the floor mat in the foot well of the truck, the sound of the engine and the wheels bouncing over the road was very close and foreign, like nothing Ivy had ever heard before. She kept her eyes naturally closed, even as her own blood flowed up into her sinuses and to the back of her throat and threatened to suffocate her. She lay as painfully still as possible, not wanting Brandon to know she was awake. She felt the truck slow, turn, and stop. And then she heard the truck door open and shut. She forced herself to lay in her cramped and painful position for a full count of twenty before opening her eyes. She didn’t see Brandon anywhere. She tried to pick up her head and pain lanced through her skull. She wondered dimly if he’d broken her nose. That doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is getting away from him. She pushed hard with her arms, trying to wrench herself out of the tiny space. Finally she climbed up onto the truck seat, drops of blood from her nose falling gently onto her shirt. She looked through the back window of the truck, trying to figure out where she was. It didn’t look like anyplace she’d ever been before. Her vision swam and dizziness threatened to overtake her. Her head dropped painfully to her hands.
Her grandma’s voice sounded in her head. Ivy, you get moving. You give in to the pain and you’re going to be in big trouble, girl.
OK Gram, she thought, pushing her head off her hands and opening the truck door next to her. Gingerly she stepped down to the ground. As quietly as she could she pushed the door closed, eyes wide and staring and trying to see everything at once. The yard was a small, overgrown square, bordered on every side by neighboring yards and houses. Behind the truck, a driveway led to a road. The road looked impossibly far away. She crouched behind the hood of the truck and eyed the house suspiciously. That must be where Brandon had gone. She had to get away from him. And quickly. She turned directly around and picked her way over long grass and weeds, then stepped over a derelict white fence that was leaning drunkenly into the neighbor’s yard. Her head throbbed and pulsed. She had to close her eyes occasionally to stop the world from spinning and jerking, but she didn’t stop walking. Instead of heading directly ahead, she turned right and headed to the next house over.