SANCTUARY: Beards & Bondage

by Rebekah Weatherspoon

  Okay, maybe he does understand, but that's only part of the problem.

  “Can you hang for a few hours?” he asks.

  “For what?”

  “I have some place where you can hide out for a little while. Outside of the city. Murrell can’t fire you for taking some time. Your caseload has been nuts and you’re one of the best associates they have. You can take a little time.”

  “Where’s this place?”

  Scott straightens up a bit and I see a weird red creep up his neck. “Uh, I have a place upstate. Outside of Ghent. I have people who could look out for you.”

  “Uh, I don't know. I don’t even know where the fuck Ghent is.”

  “Trust me. No one, and I mean no one, is going to look for you there. You go up there for a little while. Tell Murrell you’ll be out of the office dealing with this shit and you’ll take your work with you. You’ll be reachable. He won't like it, but he can't fire you for getting your shit together after something like this. Meanwhile I'll get in touch with Tillery. And I’ll track down Kelsey.”

  “Tillery. The guy you used on the Bachelder case?”

  “You know Tillery,” he says with a devious smirk.

  “I do know Tillery,” I say, turning this idea over in my head. “Tillery is good.”

  “If anyone can find out what the fuck Dorrit is up to, it’s Tillery, and then maybe we get him to chill the fuck out. He sent his message. He scared you. Fine. He doesn’t need to take this any further.”

  “I don’t want to drag you into this.”

  He shrugs. “Eh, I was in this the moment you used me as your emergency contact. Use my place. Please.”

  I consider his offer for a moment, then shake my head. “No. I can't. Let me get back to work. I have ton of shit to do and I feel like Murrell is having my desk surveyed.”

  “Well at least stay with me until things cool down a bit. At least until the cops are finished with their investigation.”

  “That could be weeks.”

  “Then let me get you home tonight. I'll come back to your place with you and if you don't feel comfortable there you can crash with me for a few days.”

  “Fine.”

  “I know, I know. I'm a terrible friend.”

  “Ya fucking garbage, McInroy,” I say instead of thanking him. Instead of breaking down and crying on him in the middle of the office.

  It takes a few hours to find my focus. I take two breaks. One for takeout and one when Brooklyn calls me after she's finished in court. She's hysterical. Not crying. Yelling. For not telling her what happened sooner, for not tracking her down immediately, for not calling her the second after everything happen. I talk her down and I tell her the whole truth. And finally she understands, but she's scared too. I tell her to promise me that she’ll stay put until I get a little more clarity on the situation. I am definitely not trying to push her away. I’m trying to keep her safe. I’m trying to be smart.

  She relents, eventually, after so much cursing, and makes me promise that I will be in touch with her constantly. I can give her that. I promise I’ll call the minute I leave the office. She says she doesn’t care that she needs to be back in court in the morning, she’ll answer no matter how late. We’re sisters. We don’t go it alone. I tell her I love her and then I put my mask back on and get back to work.

  Around nine-thirty Scott pokes his head in my office. I realize I’ve been staring at the same piece of paper for at least twenty minutes. I gather up my things and follow Scott and two of the paralegals down to the ground floor in the elevator. Scott gets us a cab. I don’t know how I manage to fall asleep, but the second after I give the driver my address, I’m out cold. The next thing I know, Scott is nudging me awake. We step out into another hot night and my building seems eerily quiet from the outside. I don't know if it's me. If I'm suddenly on alert, listening for things on the dark street that I've never listened for before, but something feels off.

  I look over when Scott’s hand lands on my lower back. “You ready? Let's just go check it out. We can leave or stay as long as you want. Cool?”

  “Yeah, let's go.”

  I lead Scott up the stairs and open the front door. The marble foyer with its gold inlay has always been beautiful to me. It was one of the reasons I chose the building. Now it feels cold. I don't stop at the mailboxes like I usually do, I just keep moving toward the elevator.

  “This is a nice spot,” Scott says quietly, just after the door clangs shut. I just nod. It is a nice building.

  Mr. Guerra must have been waiting by his peephole for me because he springs out of his own door the moment we walk by it.

  “Lizabeta! Oh my dear.”

  “I’m okay,” tell him.

  “The police left not too long ago. They told me to give you this. Hold on.” He ducks back into his apartment and is back a second later. He hands me a piece of yellow card stock. It’s a flyer for BIOCLEANNYC. They offer on the spot crime scene clean up, 24/7/365. My insurance may even cover it.

  “They were here all day?” I ask. I glance down the hall and see the crime scene tape plastered across my door. So much for the info I left with Detective Cohill. Guess it's too much to ask for the cops to give you a ring when they finish tearing your life apart.

  “Yes. I tried to listen. They called it a smash and stab. I am so glad you are okay, my dear.”

  “Thanks. I’m just gonna…” I nod down the hall. He nods back in understanding before he eyes Scott. There’s no need to introduce them.

  We head down to my door and Scott rips the tape off the walls. There's fingerprint dust everywhere. I try the knob and my door opens. A small part of my brain asks the question. Did I leave my apartment unlocked the day before? Did I unknowingly let that man in?

  Scott stops me before I walk in. “Where's the light switch?”

  “Just there on the left.” He reaches around me and the lights come on. Then he steps inside. After a few moments, he turns back and waves me in. “Come on.”

  I walk into my apartment and there's two things I notice immediately. It's only been twenty-four hours, and it feels like I've been gone too long. There's an emptiness, that feeling when you come back from vacation and your place is too cold and stale, but this is different. There's proof of a police presence everywhere. And there's blood.

  “I’m gonna—you want me to take some pictures? Like of everything. I smell a half ass job.”

  “Yeah sure. I can't stay here tonight. Not until they clean up.”

  “Let me see that card.”

  I hand him the BIOCLEANNYC card. “Yeah, go grab some of your clothes and we’ll get out of here. We’ll call these people in the morning and you can stay at my place until they finish up.

  “Okay,” I say. My voice sounds hollow.

  I step around the other side of the counter and pick up my purse and all of my stuff that’s still on the floor. I head into my bedroom. The second I get in there I freeze. My brain just stops working. I don’t know how long I’m standing there before I hear Scott say my name. And I don’t know how long I go on ignoring him before he steps into my bedroom behind me.

  “Hey. Everything okay in here?”

  “No.” I turn to him. I can’t really see his whole face, just the side of it, illuminated by the light coming from my kitchen. “I take back what I said.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Please. Get me the fuck out of here.”

  “Let's go. Come on. We’ll go to my apartment.”

  “No, I mean like I need to get out of the city. I need to be away from all of this.”

  “Okay,” he says. “Let's go.”

  It takes Scott several tries to get me to hand over my spare keys, but he assures me that he’ll get someone to take care of the clean up. It’s New York after all. If you can get anything and everything delivered twenty-four hours a day, he can hire someone to hand my keys off to the folks at BIOCLEANNYC and make sure they get them back into my hands. No one else will get into my
place. It’ll be okay. What finally convinces me is the reminder that when the BIOCLEANNYC team is done, I can change my locks. I give him my spare set of keys. I pack some things. Actually I grab as many articles of clothing as I can shove into my large leather duffle bag, while Scott grabs what I tell him to get out of my bathroom and then we go.

  We catch a cab to the garage where he keeps a Mercedes SUV that I didn’t know he had and an hour later we’re on the FDR making our way out of the city. I call Brooklyn. She answers right away even though it’s close to midnight and she is serious about her sleep during trial. I tell her I'm safe. I tell her that I'm not leaving the state, that’ll be safe and I’ll let her know more when I can. She tells me she'll message the girls. Tell them not to ask me any questions. I tell her I love her. She says she loves me too.

  After I hang up, Scott doesn't even bother with small talk. He turns up the radio and focuses on the road. His classic rock is blasting so loud I'm sure there's no way I'll be able to sleep, but eventually, my eyes close.

  Four

  The slamming of a car door wakes me up, but when my eyes open Scott is still sitting in the SUV beside me. I look around. We’re at an old gas station that’s closed. At first glance it looks like it’s in the middle of nowhere on a dusty, tree shrouded corner. The two storey orange sign that I’m sure is visible for miles around—when it’s on—is dimmed. Only a single bright fluorescent street light illuminates the parking lot. The confusion only lasts a second before my stomach sinks. This is the kind of gas station where people go to die.

  “Where are we?” I ask Scott. There’s no way. There is no fucking way Scott is setting me up.

  “We’re meeting my brother. Just hang here for a second.” He opens the door and calmly steps out of the car, and when I look over my shoulder, the very large man charging toward us is anything but calm. Scott closes me inside alone. I can still hear his brother’s voice through the windows.

  “You got a lot of fucking nerve showing up here!” the brother says. I can’t hear Scott’s response, but I see his hands moving. He’s trying to get his brother to calm down.

  “Shit,” I whisper to myself. I turn in my seat so I can watch them. Scott is going on and on. I wish I could hear him. The brother is listening, and every so often he shakes his head. Whatever Scott is telling him is not going over well.

  “No! Fuck you! Are you out of your fucking mind?” the brother says. I still can’t hear when Scott responds. I see him gesture toward the car, toward me. His brother’s hands go to his hips and then up to his head. He pulls off his baseball cap and runs his fingers through his messy, dark hair. He shakes his head before he slams his hat back into place.

  Scott is still talking, still gesturing. His brother seems like he’s starting to really take in what he’s saying, and his posture hasn’t eased at all. And even though his skin is deeply tanned, even darker than Scott’s, I can see a hint of red flashing up and down his arms and the bit of his neck that’s not in shadow. I don’t know what is happening here, but I know this is a mistake. I get out of the car. My legs are stiff and sore, and I carefully step toward them over the dirt and broken asphalt.

  “I didn’t say you owe me anything,” I hear Scott say before he stops himself. His brother isn’t looking at him anymore. He’s looking at me. As I get closer I can’t stop looking at him. Scott never told me he had a twin. I vaguely remember him mentioning a brother and him saying something about his parents and a second honeymoon. If, in the back of my mind, I ever thought about actually meeting any members of Scott’s family, this man is not what I would have expected.

  His brother is just as tall as Scott, and he is fucking built. Where Scott is slender and a little soft around the middle, I can't help but notice the way this man’s New York Jets t-shirt is straining across his chest and around his biceps. Scott’s been clean shaven as long as I’ve know him, baby smooth. His brother has a full goatee and mustache, and he’s working what looks like three days worth of stubble along his jaw. He stares at me for a moment and then his eyes narrow. He looks back at Scott.

  “You know what? Fine. Whatever will get you out my face for another ten years. Did you both cook up this awesome plan or did you leave her in the dark too?”

  “Jesus, Si, there’s no fucking conspiracy against you here, and no I haven’t told her yet. We left the city in a rush,” Scott says. Something in his voice is off. Like he's afraid of his brother. All of my alarm bells are going off.

  “Tell me what?” I say. They both ignore me.

  “So you thought you could stash her with me. Of all people,” the brother, Si?, says.

  “Because no one knows you're here,” Scott replies.

  “How about this? Scott and I get back in the car,” I say, sidestepping between them, not too close. If things turn physical, I’m not breaking that shit up. I may be tall, but I’m not crazy. They both turn and look at me. “We leave you alone and don’t come back.”

  “No,” Scott says. “This is the perfect place for you.” He turns back to his brother. “Just give me some time. I’m not sticking you with a kid, fuck. She’s a grown ass woman. Plus she brought work with her. She’ll be out of your hair.”

  “You didn’t tell him I was coming at all?” I ask Scott. “I thought this was your place.”

  I almost step back at the noise that comes out of his brother. Halfway between a laugh and a strangled, choking sound of disgust. “His place? What the fuck are you telling people down there?”

  More alarms bells. I grab Scott’s arm. “Let’s go.”

  “No, it’s fine,” he says as he shakes me off. “This isn’t about us. She is in real danger—”

  “Did someone really try to kill you?” he asks me.

  That pain comes back to my chest and spikes up my throat. I’m so fucking sick of people acting like this is something I would even consider making up. “Yes.”

  “Great. Do you have any bags in the car?” Si says, stalking off toward Scott’s Mercedes without waiting for me to answer. They may have their issues, but Scott hits the remote locks a second before his brother opens the trunk in a way that makes me think this is a kind of coordinated move they’ve practiced together before.

  I’m so in awe watching Si move, I don’t realize until a moment later that he’s hoisted my leather duffle out of Scott’s trunk and has hauled it over his shoulder.

  “Well,” Scott says to me, with a fucking attitude.

  “Well what?” I shoot back.

  He rethinks his tone when he hears mine. “Look, our relationship is complicated,” he says, nodding toward his brother who’s stomping back across the parking lot, ignoring both Scott and me. I watch him as he puts my painfully expensive bag in the flatbed of his dirt and dust covered pick-up.

  “This isn’t about you at all. The house is half mine and I’m telling you that you are more than welcome to stay there. And even if he and I aren’t the best of friends at the moment, he’s the best person to look after you. You are safe with him.”

  I turn back and look Scott directly in the face. “I don’t like being lied to. Especially with the week I’m having.”

  “I know, but you’ll be safe here. I promise.”

  I look over at Si again. He’s leaning against the driver’s side of his truck with his back to us. His arms are folded over his chest, his shirt is straining across his muscular back. He does seem more pissed at Scott than anything, and I did ask for this. Not the whole of this, but I did ask for his help and some place to go. Under the roof of the brother almost no one knows Scott has is as good a place as any. And Si is pretty big and, unlike Scott, he looks like he could handle himself in a six-on-one bar fight. I can’t imagine wanting to tangle with him, even if you are skilled at breaking, entering and battery.

  “I want to think that you don’t owe me after this, but I sort of do. You should have told me,” I say.

  “I’ll never lie to you again, Lewis. How about that?” he says with that little sl
y smile of his. “Go ahead with him. First thing in the morning, I’m calling Tillery. I’m gonna get to the bottom of this. Okay?”

  “Yeah, okay. I have to grab the rest of my stuff.”

  He turns and slips his hand around my lower back. “Come on.”

  I sigh and follow him back to the car and grab my purse and my phone. Scott offers me a gentle one-armed hug around the shoulders and then climbs back behind the wheel. I turn and watch him drive away before I can even make my way back across the small lot to his brother’s truck.

  Si doesn’t say anything to me. He just jumps in and reaches across the seat to shove the passenger door open for me. I climb in and we both sit there for a moment not saying anything. He smells like sweat, but not in a bad way. I swallow and fold my hands over my bag in my lap.

  “I don’t like this.”

  I look over at him. “You think I’m having a good time?”

  “Sorry.” He shakes his head and then stares out the window. He’s silent for almost a solid minute before he glances over at me. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he says. This time his voice is much more calm.

  “Look. I had no idea where Scott was bringing me. I definitely didn’t know that you and Scott were—whatever. I didn’t you two were estranged. Or had a strained relationship. If he’d told me you guys were having issues, I never would have come up here.”

  “Are you and Scott sleeping together?”

  I whip my head in his direction. “No.”

  He doesn’t respond for a moment. He takes off his baseball cap and inspects it, checking out the rounding of the brim instead of making eye contact. “He must really like you then.”

  That shocks me more than the sex question. I shake my head, realizing how the thought of Scott having any type of feelings for me does not sit well. “No. I don’t think that’s true. He’s had plenty of chances to say something and I don’t think I’m his type.” Scott seems exclusively attracted to White women, which is one of the reasons I knew a friendship between him and I would work. There was no chance he would ever try to open that door with me. I’m not his type.