by Coulton, JC
“He was just worried I’d get myself in trouble after I noticed someone following me some nights ago. I think it has less to do with the case, and more to do with his personal feelings.”
I see the confused look on his face. He looks shocked at everything I’m saying.
“Yes. I was stalked the other night, and chased and for a while. I thought it was the kidnappers coming back to kill me as I’m a witness. Now, I think it was just Blake’s ex-girlfriend. She phoned me to warn me to back off and leave Blake alone, too. The more I think about it, the more I feel it might have been her, trying to scare me.”
He interrupts me. “And did you ask Blake about this person?”
I nod. “Yes, I did. He refused to say anything. I felt he didn’t trust anything I had said about her call; or the case, for that matter.”
“Okay,” he says. “Thank you for your honesty, Carrie. I had no idea so much had happened. I want to ask you a few questions about Detective Anderson before we go on. After that, you can tell me more about when you and April were attacked.”
I gesture in agreement.
“Did Detective Anderson make it clear to you that you had the option of staying at another safe house?”
“Yes.”
“Did he reveal the history you have to his superiors?”
“I believe he did, but I am not sure exactly what he told them.”
“Were you ever of the impression that Detective Anderson was operating under the influence of alcohol?”
“Definitely not. I know he was going to meetings, or talking to his sponsor. I saw his behavior around me for days. I’m a hundred percent sure he never drank.”
Jason takes more notes, and I start to feel worried. I don’t want to drag Blake into anything, but this line of questioning seems inappropriately timed.
“I think you have the wrong idea about Detective Anderson.”
Jason looks up from his note taking. “What do you mean?”
“He’s a hard-working police detective. He’s good at what he does. There was nothing suspicious about the way he worked. I know what suspicious looks like. I’m a reporter, and the only thing I’m not happy with is he didn’t tell me the truth about his ex. There’s no reason to suspect him of drinking. I know how proud he is of his sobriety.”
“Carrie, there are some things you don’t know about Detective Anderson; things that will surprise you. The person you went to school with is very different from who you reconnected with ten days ago. A lot has happened, and whenever a police officer and a witness have a connection, it jeopardizes a case.
“My primary focus is to investigate April’s disappearance, but I’ll also be providing my superiors with a report on how the case was handled. Should that reveal any negligence by Detective Anderson, I assure you, it’s nothing to do with you.
“The objective decision making process of an officer of the law is of the utmost importance. We often have to make life or death decisions. Your safety and your mental wellbeing are just as important as that of the primary victim, and I don’t believe you were treated well.”
“In what way?” I say.
My throat starts to close. I’ve said too much. It’s starting to sound like a witch hunt.
“When you were first processed at the station, the report says you didn’t get a chance to speak about what happened with a female officer. Is this true?”
I think back. “I didn’t want to see the sexual abuse team. There was no abuse to report. Is that what you mean?”
“No. I’m talking about the fact that you were carrying evidence that wasn’t processed until two days after the attack. You were wearing the victim’s bag under your clothes. At first glance, it may seem suspicious, but in reality, it was a flaw in the intake process. It’s a relatively minor issue, but it means there was a delay in collecting evidence, which, in itself could have made a difference to the victim’s current situation.”
Hearing that I could have put April in danger again makes me want to bawl, but I hold it together.
“Are you asking me to tell you that Blake was negligent? Because he’s not to blame for the purse. That was all on me. I was the one who forgot I had it.”
The tone in my voice is creeping towards desperation. There’s something so sad about a woman defending a man that isn’t committed to her. But then again, maybe he is, if this morning was anything to go by. Agent Cooper’s questions are thrumming at the pain and confusion I feel about Blake. Here’s another handsome guy, pointing out some logical truths to me.
He’s suggesting April’s case was handled poorly; that I should never have been put under the protection of a police officer with whom I had a prior history. And even though I loved every minute of it, Blake probably shouldn’t have come on to me. I don’t know where the line is. I don’t want to make judgments about Blake, but from this man’s point of view, the case clearly did not start off on the right foot.
The way Jason Cooper is talking, he’s already made the decision about Blake. I get the sense I’m being used to prove a point, and it’s not fair. I feel guilty. I want to back track and take back everything I just said, but it’s too late. I have just encouraged a witch hunt, but does Blake need help?
Loyalty to him may have meant keeping our involvement a secret, but in the end, things like this come out. I don’t know if in this case, whether it’s for his own good. Right now, I don’t feel good about sharing so much without having told him I was doing it first.
I tell myself this would have come out anyway. If Blake has done something wrong, it needs to be put right. Saving April is the most important thing—even if I want to save the man I think I’m falling in love with. I just wish I didn’t have to be the one to have brought these details to light.
Before I can think any more about it, Jason tells me he wants to go back to the night of the kidnapping.
“I want you do the same thing we did before. Just free flow. Tell me what you remember now, and I’ll ask questions afterward. You can just start wherever you want to start, okay?”
I like this method. My mind tends to shut down every time someone asks me about the chain of events. I’ve gotten so used to telling them in the same order, things get left out. I wonder if the FBI has hypnotists outside, or are planning to strap me up to a lie detector. The thought makes me want to giggle out loud. I can’t believe my life is so much like a suspense thriller right now.
“I remember the way the ground felt under my skin when I was hiding under the car. It was scratching my knees, but I didn’t feel it much. It was the safest piece of concrete I’d ever been on. It felt warm instead of rough.”
I look down at my knees. They are both nearly healed now. “It was funny, because I could see they were bleeding at the time, but I didn’t feel a thing. There was also the way the guys ran at me when they saw I was with April. It was like a pack of dogs. I was on their scent, and there was nothing stopping them. I was scared.
“Then there was the way they held April’s neck. She’s so thin, you know, and they just bent it. It was like watching a Barbie doll being torn apart. Her breast popped out from her top, and all I could think about was the magic tape that we had used. It let her down.”
By now there’s tears freely running down my face. For the first time, I am reliving the event as it happened, not as an observer telling the story over and over to a blank-faced cop.
Agent Cooper doesn’t say anything. He keeps nodding, and hands me some tissues from the box close to him on the table. He’s a compassionate man.
“Go on when you’re ready.”
His gentle encouragement and lack of questioning help. I imagine this is how it feels in a therapist’s office.
“I remember the sound of the hotdog vendor approaching. His voice is what made them give up and leave me behind. I was watching their feet under the car. I just knew they weren’t going to give up. They wanted to kill me. April was already in the trunk by then. I was hiding, spread out on the concr
ete, bleeding and trying not to breathe too hard.
“The whole thing seems to take hours, but it must have happened fast. For the first few minutes, I couldn’t move. I have a fair bit of martial arts training behind me, and I was paralyzed. At one point, I grabbed a bottle from the top of the bin, and smashed it to defend myself. It didn’t help much. He was too strong. They overpowered me and I couldn’t do anything to help her.
“They had knocked her out on the wall. Her head was bleeding. I was bleeding too. All I could think about was how I had failed her. I was supposed to look after her. I’ve always been the one who knows what to do. That was the hardest part; not when they hit me, but when I knew I had to let her go. There were so many of them, Jason.”
I mistakenly call him by his first name, but he doesn’t appear to mind. Instead, he reaches out to me with another tissue. Sharing what happened feels very different than it did with Blake. Blake was angry, and seemed like he wanted to hurt something when I shared my pain. These two men are wired completely differently. Yet how can I be attracted to them both? How am I even attracted to Jason at all? Blake has my heart.
Chapter Seven
Carrie
I tell him I need a break. Jason looks at me and nods. I use the bathroom and return to the balcony for another cigarette. He’s kind enough to recognize the feelings this line of questioning invokes. It’s not all pressure here, like it was with Blake. I don’t feel bad about asking for a moment. Compared to the experience of being interviewed by Blake, it’s like night and day.
I think back to the scene at the café that first day. The way he pulled me onto his lap was so fucking hot. I can still feel the way his beard felt against my neck. God, my whole body reacts just having these thoughts. I take a drag of the cigarette and look down over the balcony.
The smog is bad today, but I can still see the street below. Everyone’s continuing on with life just as they were a few days ago. There’s a whole world out there; millions of people who couldn’t care less about April or any of the other victims. That’s why this is important. It’s why I have to put my feelings aside, and tell the truth about everything; even on how Blake handled things. It could be the only chance we have of finding April and everyone else who’s been taken.
I make the decision right then and there. No matter what loyalty I have to Blake, there has to be a time for telling the truth; and that time is right now. This may be the last chance I have to talk to someone whose job is to find April. I don’t want to end up bitter and resentful like one of those kidnapped boy’s mothers Blake told me about. I can’t take this chance because of a high school crush.
I extinguish the cigarette and open the sliding door to head back inside. I meet Jason’s eyes. I’m ready to continue.
“There’s something I have to tell you.”
Again, he stays silent. This man is a world-class listener. My mother would love him.
“Agent Cooper, there’s been something I’ve been thinking about. I know you’re not going to approve, but I need to tell you now. When I went to the warehouse this morning, someone saw me. I don’t know who it was. I didn’t see them, but they saw me. I think they know who I am.”
He looks up sharply. “Who do you think it is?”
I swallow, and lay it all out for him. “I got word from a contact at the newspaper that there was some type of conflict between the bidders at the auctions. Before Saturday, the property belonged to Jessup Lee, April’s Uncle. It has to be connected. There has to be something there.
“When was the last time you heard the Police being called to an auction? I mean, seriously, screams? That’s why I went this morning. The place is deserted, but there was someone waiting there. Someone was watching even if they weren’t working. There were fresh cigarette butts in the tin outside.”
I know I’m starting to ramble, but I don’t care. I’m going crazy with this stuff inside my head.
“I think I should be the bait.” I pretty much spit out what’s been going through my mind since I got back. I need to know what he thinks—what a real professional thinks, not someone I’m sleeping with.
Agent Cooper places the tip of his palms together, making a pyramid of his hands. It reminds me of a professor. Intense eyes and body language, the guy’s nodding like he’s deep in thought, as if he’s got all the time in the world. There is something captivating about his demeanor.
Do not do this, Carrie. Do not engage. Do not even entertain the thought. Do not fall for another officer of the law. This is so inappropriate. I tell myself off, and despite chastising myself, I can’t help having these thoughts. He is alluring. More sleek and clean cut. He’s more a force of power than a bad boy.
Or maybe I’m thinking like this to get back at Blake? After all, he clearly has something going with Neon. As much as I see him in my future, he’s not committed to me, so maybe I should enjoy looking at the man sitting in front of me now. If Blake’s sharing his time elsewhere, so can I.
I turn my thoughts back to Jason and why he has some appeal. I see his commitment, and his seemingly natural heroism. This is a guy who saves children from being trafficked, and swoops in to take over cases. I look at the shade of his eyes. They’re so blue. I imagine his voice in my ear.
I need to stop myself. If April was here now, we’d be shrieking with laughter at my sassiness. I need to get back to the conversation. He must be starting to wonder what I’m thinking. These long periods of silence aren’t really acceptable in the context of the FBI. It’s like saying bomb at an airport customs line—you just don’t do it.
I decide to be direct. “So what do you think? Is it even feasible, or am I too idealistic.”
Jason clears his throat. “Carrie, we do not put the public in harm’s way. I think with the right support, you’d make an excellent fit for going undercover. One day, if you join the FBI. You’re probably exactly the type of person that the Bureau likes to train. But you’re not an agent now. I highly recommend not doing anything else by yourself. It’s too dangerous. There’s too much at risk, and if they already know who you are then, well...”
He pauses for a second and turns those eyes towards me. It’s his look that makes my breath catch—the intensity of it, the self-assuredness. I’ve just all but told him I’m with Blake, but he doesn’t care. We’re locked into a silent conversation. This man is straight up intense. I don’t know what it is. He’s like a wolf. Lean and hungry, and I don’t even know for sure if that hunger is for me.
The only way to find out is to take a risk. If I do that, and then he rejects me, what then? I’ll spend the whole investigation feeling embarrassed. I’m certain my sub-conscience is doing this to get back at Blake, but I go along with it. I need to make sure I’m reading the look in his eyes correctly. There’s a heat there; a willingness. I look down at myself. I’m still tousled from this morning’s adventures with Blake.
“Excuse me, Agent Cooper?”
I use the formal tone again on purpose. I want to measure whether I’m reading him right. I also need to gather as much information as possible about this man before I decide what to do. He looks up with those wolf-like eyes, and waits for me to speak.
“I know this is a little rude, but I really need to take a shower after my run. Do you mind?” The top of his pink tongue escapes and runs gently over his top lip, and at the same time, he inhales deeply. I could take it as annoyance or desire. I don’t know what the emotion is behind those eyes, except that he might be laughing at me.
“Is something funny?” I give him a challenging look. I don’t want to be anyone’s fool. If he’s laughing at me for trying to save my friend, he can go to hell. “Are you laughing at my bait plan?”
He must read the sour tone in my voice.
“No, no,” he says. “I’m not laughing at all. I’d be upset if you got hurt, which is unusual for me, thinking like this after years being in my line of work. I also smiled because it’s admirable, to see your willingness to put yourself in harm
’s way.”
I raise an eyebrow at his first admission. “You don’t seem cold-hearted.”
He shakes his head again, “No, I’m not, but you learn to keep a safe distance when you work in this sector. I’m sorry to tell you, but you probably already know most of these cases end in tragedy, or never end at all. There are thousands of bodies still to be found—women just like April, and innocent children who were there one day, and gone the next. I don’t want to bring you down, but that’s what happens with many of these cases, Carrie.”
Without warning, the tears start again. I feel so vulnerable standing in front of this FBI agent. I’ve only just met him and the urge to seek comfort in his arms is already present. There’s something so lost and lonely little girl about it. I wish I was whole. I wish I wasn’t so fucked up that I had to have the affirmation of the men around me. I wish I could be different. I turn away.
“Excuse me, sorry I’m just…it’s just talking to you about everything makes me so doubtful we’ll ever find April.”
He says nothing at first. I wonder if it’s going to always be this awkward around him—with me making confessions, and him listening silently, taking in every word I say as if he’s constantly forming an opinion. Instead, I feel his hand on my shoulder. He puts it there, and doesn’t move. He doesn’t come closer, all he does is touch my shoulder. It’s incredibly comforting.
He tells me he’s finished with the first interview and will be in touch very soon. He excuses himself and leaves. I feel some relief that the pressure is off.
I finally have a long shower and get back into bed. I crawl in between the sheets in just my bra and panties. I’m tired, but I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling for a second. Jason is gone. I feel a little jolt of rejection, but overall, I feel good.