by Devon Ashley
“Can you get the sample from her today then?” Nick asked. “We don’t live in Washington anymore.”
“Yes, we can. We’ll just keep it in the evidence lockers with everything else.” She fiddled with her laptop while Nick and I gazed at each other. We were both looking weary.
“Here’s the thing I need to go over with you before you leave,” she continued, looking me directly in the eye. At least she was capable of being personable. “That man’s case in L.A. is still open because it was a suspicious death. Personally, if he was the one that kept you captive, I don’t really care if his case remains unsolved. Honest truth,” she threw in casually. But even so, my heart was cringing with fear. “But that’s not for me to discriminate against. And unfortunately, everything in that house was lost to the fire. If he was involved in trafficking, there’s nothing to connect him. The bank account we found is clean, and if he had a second to fund this type of activity, we have no way to track it. So we’re at a dead end here.
“You say there was a second man that knew about you?” Very carefully, she inquired, “Am I to assume he was no different with you than the owner of the house?”
I nodded my head. Yeah, that jerk had no problem with what his buddy was doing to me.
“I’d like for you to go through some photos in the database and see if any of them resemble that man.”
Oh, God... She saw my hesitancy, and quickly moved to test my guilt. “Megan, it’s impossible for us to put a head count on the number of girls who are stolen by traffickers in a given year right here in the U.S. The number is astounding and very few of you ever escape. We need to put names behind those faces. With your cooperation, we may be able to help a few more of those girls get back home again.”
I sighed and shook my head in defeat. I knew it was only right to help in whatever way I could, but I just couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a very bad idea. Reluctantly, I agreed, and O’Neill explained how to maneuver my way through the database and how to mark a picture as a possible suspect or push it into a category for me to review again later.
“Just keep in mind that people can change their hairstyles, hair color and eye color relatively easily. So try to really focus in on the shape of the eyes, nose and mouth.”
It took hours upon hours, and several breaks along the way to keep my mind from collapsing in on me. And poor Nick. He just had to watch the whole time, or else he fiddled with his phone. Together, the two of us couldn’t stop fidgeting in those uncomfortable hard plastic chairs. When I was finally done, Detective O’Neill came to collect her laptop and thank me for my help. In the end, I had only marked five possible suspects. It was mostly the curvature of the eyes that drew me to them, since that was really all I ever noticed in my drug-enhanced state.
“I honestly can’t say that any one of them is the guy, so please don’t put too much confidence in my choices.”
“Don’t worry. We’ve got a checklist of things we do before we consider bringing someone in for questioning. And even if we do, it doesn’t mean we’ll release any information about you being the one that fingered them. Not unless there’s evidence and we can charge them with something.”
Thank God for small favors. Nick stood, stretching his muscles out, readying himself to leave, but I remained seated. “Before I leave, please, tell me,” I told the detective firmly. “Is there anything left in that file of mine that I should know about?”
She gently stroked her chin for a moment, seemingly debating something. If there was anything of the kind, surely she would be the one to share. “Well, there is one thing we never told your family.” She paused to look up at Nick, who had frozen in place, locked hard awaiting her answer. I wondered if the two had ever met before. “We felt it in poor taste to tell because it wouldn’t have changed anything, only made the reality of the situation that much worse for the family.”
“What? Just tell me. After everything I’ve been through, I want to know.” And seriously, what could she possibly say that could make the past two and a half years even worse?
I groaned in pain, my arms still wrapped around the toilet, my forehead too exhausted to lift off my arms. My insides were still pinching and twisting madly, the nausea burning away at my stomach, but there was nothing left to come up.
It was disgusting to be on the floor of a police station’s bathroom, but what Detective O’Neill just told me minutes ago sickened me to the point that my bodily reaction required the assistance of a porcelain bowl. I actually had to run to make it to the bathroom in time. Like it could literally reject the disturbing knowledge, my body heaved so hard I pulled muscles all the way from my belly button up to my throat.
Nick cracked the door three times to call out and check on me. Before he could do it a fourth time, I managed to stand and clean myself up and bury myself into his arms. I wanted to sob right there, but I didn’t think my body had anything left to give. “Nick,” I whimpered, trying to dig even further into his chest, desperately needing to escape my horrible freaking reality.
“I know, baby,” he said soothingly. “And I don’t think we should ever tell anyone. For once I think the detectives were right. No good can come from knowing that piece of information.”
I bobbed my head slowly. “It just makes me sick.” All those poor girls…
Somehow, although I felt incredibly dizzy and tired, Nick got me back to the car. Unfortunately, we passed Farrow on the way and all that anger began to boil and rise to the surface all over again.
Thankfully, I fell asleep for the short ride, and the next thing I knew we were parked in front of my childhood home. “Here,” Nick said, grabbing a box of crackers from the backseat, part of the bag of food he brought for the trip in case we got hungry. “I want you to eat a few of these before we go in because you look like death right now.”
That made me wonder what I looked like in that basement all those months…
I took the handful of Triscuit he offered and began nibbling away. Oddly enough, the combination of wheat and salt eased the anger within my stomach, and I soon felt a little better. Well, I should say my body began feeling better, my mood however, grew angrier with each cracker that made its way into my system.
Fucking police department. Fucking Farrow and his intrusive questions. I had never been so annoyed in my life. “I’m never going back there. I don’t give a flying flip what they want in the future.”
“Sounds good to me,” he answered drearily, rubbing down his face and eyes. This day hadn’t been easy on him either. And I really wished he hadn’t seen the photo of that guy’s remains; it was bad enough he already knew what I had done. “You ready to do this? Because I’d like to get back on the road already.”
“Yeah,” I muttered, opening the passenger door and sweeping my hands together outside to remove the crumbs lingering on my hands.
“So how’d it go?” my mom asked once Nick and I let ourselves into the house and found them in the family room.
“So awesome I hope to go back, right after I shove a railroad spike through my eye socket,” I snarked. “SIX FREAKING HOURS! And I still don’t think I saw the right guy in all those pictures. But nooooo….they requested my assistance in the matter.”
Requested my ass.
I fell aimlessly backwards, praying the couch was within range like I thought. “Insensitive jerks,” I muttered, rolling my head back and crossing my arms tightly over my eyes. Nick sat beside me and dug his hand between me and the sofa, massaging the kinks in my shoulders. I had to admit, it was definitely reducing the output on my bitch-o-meter.
“That good, huh?” my mother confirmed.
“We won’t be going back,” Nick replied firmly.
I suddenly realized I just blew up like a spoiled brat on a tantrum in front of my parents, whom I just re-met not too long ago. Awkward! And I was so wrapped up in my anger I didn’t even hug them when I came in. And then I realized I wanted to hug them, something I shied away from internally the last
time I saw them. What a difference two week’s worth of phone calls could make! But I’d save those hugs for later, when I wasn’t blushing from the shame of what I’d done.
Somewhere behind me, I heard clinking, and I knew my dad was making himself a drink. I never felt so envious in my life, and I sighed heavily.
“Nick,” my dad said.
“Oh, no thank you, Tom. I’ll be the one driving back.”
“I know that, son. Now pass it to my daughter already.”
“Oh.” Nick did, and once the icy rock glass exchanged hands, my dad lightly whacked him across the back of the head for his moment of idiocy. “It’s been a long day,” he defended.
Normally, I would’ve laughed at that, but I was too mesmerized by the fact that my dad just purposely gave his twenty-year-old daughter alcohol. I gave him a strange look, and he merely said, “Try it. It’s your mother’s favorite. And it’s not like your mother and I think you’ve never had a drink before.”
“Hmm… Have I?” I asked Nick, and he gave me the funkiest look ever.
“Don’t be asking me that in front of your parents.”
My dad mumbled a knowing uh-huh and my mother cut in with, “It’s fine, honey. If anyone deserves a drink around here, it’s you.”
No shit.
I sipped at the light brown cocktail that contained a floating cherry and was pleasantly surprised by its sweet, yet tart, flavor. I wasn’t used to alcohol, so my head felt heavy in just five minutes. Nick told them about our neverending session with our pain in the ass detective, while I just leaned my head against the crook of his shoulder, his arm wrapped loosely around me. I closed my eyes, and the reverberations of his voice flowed from his body to mine, like osmosis.
Osmosis…that’s a funny word. Ozz…smoooo…siiiiiiis. Yep. Whatever was in it, that cocktail was ga-roooovy.
Their voices became distorted, taking on sound effects that resembled the way Charlie Brown’s teachers always came off. Whap-whup-whap-waaaaa…. The sounds were soothing as the numbness overtook my body, shutting down my brain’s ability to decipher the coded commentary around me.
It wasn’t until later when Nick gave me a hard shake that my eyes burst open and my attention finally snapped to. “Huh,” I immediately blurted without control.
“How are you doing over there?”
I rubbed my eyes and yawned. I was still feeling a little woozy, but clearer than before.
Chuckling, he replied, “Never mind.”
“Huh?” Seriously, I think that drink damaged my ability to speak. Note to self: check for drool.
Amused, he answered, “We were wondering if you were up for grabbing an early dinner before we headed back to Portland, but I think you’d be better off just passing out in the passenger seat and sleeping it off.”
Well, apparently, my stomach had been keeping a generator hidden from the rest of my body, because it didn’t need to coordinate with my brain to answer Nick’s question. I’d be surprised if the neighbors didn’t hear the rumble when Nick said the word dinner. “No, no,” I said quickly. “I can eat. I’m starving.”
That being settled, my parents disappeared into their bedroom to get ready, leaving Nick to stand me up and get me going again. “You’re not going to face-splat in your dinner, are you?”
“I might,” I teased.
He licked his lips and smiled wickedly. The things that boy could do with those lips. So. Freaking. Hot.
“You never could hold your liquor. I always had to limit you to two beers when we hit the parties. Otherwise you’d pass out on me. And apparently, one small cocktail with partial alcohol knocks you on your ass.”
“Then why’d you let me drink it?”
Whipping me up in a gentle squeeze, he kissed me before melding our foreheads together. “Because your parents were right. You of all people deserve a release. Even if it’s just a temporary two hour one.”
“Tell me you love me!” Thea all but shouted with a wee bit too much enthusiasm. She had called three hours ago to tell me she was running late on her sales job, and asked if she could crash with us for the night instead of driving on to Eugene. It was easier for her to get up a few hours early than to drive those extra hours at night.
Playing along (sort of), I answered with confusion. “Um. I love you?”
Standing there in the hallway with her rolling luggage propped up beside her and her hands hidden behind her back, I could only wonder what the hell she was up to. “Ta-da!” she sang, whipping her surprise between us, dangling a black garment bag.
Awesome. Laundry she needed me to do? “Wow,” I stated with fake enthusiasm. “It’s a bag.” She threw me a sour look, but hey, I had to give her a hard time because technically, her so-called surprise was still hidden. She smacked my shoulder before tilting her luggage and rolling her way past me and into the kitchen. I methodically peeked both ways in the hall before securing all the locks.
“Hey, great place. Is Nick home yet?”
“No. He rarely makes it home before twelve.”
Unzipping the bag, she excitedly pulled out the dress it was protecting.
“Gorgeous.” I reached out to touch the white dress with an empire waist. Organza. It was cut at mid-thigh, backless and had only one strap, but what really made the dress a beauty was the black lace appliqué. It covered the strap, flowed down towards the belly button area in true lace fashion, and wrapped around to the center of the back. So basically one half was all plain, white organza and the other side had the material peeking out behind the lace. Bold and beautiful. “What’s the occasion?”
“Duh!” Looking at me like I was an idiot, she said, “To wear to dinner tomorrow night! I know Nick’s taking you to his restaurant. Question is, why did I hear it from him and not you?”
Ow. She actually poked me in the chest. Hard. It figured she’d find out through Nick. Back when I went missing, the pair of them began calling each other. At first it was just to keep Nick informed of what the police was telling my family. Then it became necessity to keep the other going, to know that they weren’t alone in believing they would one day find me. As the months went by, I think they felt so disjointed, that by continuing to talk with the other, it made them actually feel like they still had a piece of me there with them, both completely jealous of the relationship the other had had with me.
Not to mention they were the same age. They should’ve been able to find some way to relate. Even today they still continued to talk at least once a week. And I couldn’t help but secretly wonder what they’re saying about me now that I’d been found.
Shrugging, I replied nonchalantly, “It’s just dinner. He just wants me to see where he works.” I honestly didn’t see what the big deal was. “And my question is why did you bring me a dress without sleeves?” Seriously. There was no way in hell I’d show up to the place where Nick worked and expose my damaged skin to everyone he knew.
“Relax. There’s a black beaded cardigan you can pair this with. Mom says she brought it over with all the other clothes. Just point me to the closet, sissy.”
I pulled her luggage into motion and beckoned her forward with a nod of my head. “They’re in the guest room.”
“Ooh. Free for all. And the best part of all, your memories are such crap you won’t even notice if I snag a few pieces.”
I silently chuckled at that, and secretly hoped she would help herself to a few of those hangers. It was way more clothing than I’d ever use, and I couldn’t believe there was even more to pick through at my parents’ house.
Thea found the beaded cardigan easily, then I reluctantly got out of my comfy pajamas to try it on for her. I had to admit, the girl had style and taste. Glancing at the clock on the wall, I noted the time. Nine-thirty. “Did you eat dinner yet, because we have some leftovers if you’re hungry.”
She eyed me warily, biting on the corner of her lower lip. “What?” I cried exasperatedly, my hands moving to my hips, my body arching forward. I probably resemb
led a deranged chicken, ready to peck out her eyes over one wrong word. “Are you going to make fun of my cooking, too?”
She laughed, and I loved the way her light brown eyes lit up as if they were a life force all of their own. “I’m sorry. It’s just, you were never a good cook. Even your Jell-o came out hard as a rock. It’s actually kismet that your soul mate ended up being a chef. Otherwise, I think you would’ve spent the rest of your life eating hamburger helper and peanut butter and jelly.”
And soup. Can’t forget the soup. “Oh, I hate you all,” I muttered playfully. “The leftovers are Nick’s, so you’re sure to avoid food poisoning before your meeting tomorrow morning.”
I pulled off the cardigan, momentarily forgetting that Thea had never seen any of my burns before. The way her eyes widened… I don’t know. I could only describe her reaction as despair. She took my right hand into hers, twisting my arm, inspecting every bump and groove with her fingertips. Only Nick had really ever touched my burns that way. It should’ve felt odd, but strangely, it didn’t bother me that she was doing that.
“God, Cl–, I mean, Megan,” she moaned dismally. “I’m so sorry.”
I pulled my arm away and sat down beside her on the edge of the bed, both our gazes locked on my arm. “It’s alright. I’m slowly adjusting to it. Nick’s helping me feel comfortable in my own skin again.”
When I looked up, Thea was shaking her head, her eyes closed tight, failing miserably at stopping the streams of tears I never even realized were flowing. “No. You don’t understand,” she sobbed. “It’s all my fault.”
I almost thought I didn’t hear her right, because there was no way there was any truth to that. “What? Why would you ever think that?” I asked with a soothing voice, reaching up to lightly rub the back of her shoulder.