by S I Taylor
He hopped out of the car and locked the door, leaving her inside as he jogged toward the lobby entrance, disappearing inside.
A few moments later, he returned with a room key and opened her door.
“If you think that you’re getting laid tonight, newsflash, I’m on my period.” This was the most sensible excuse she could come up with as she didn’t want to be the subject of yet another man trying to get inside her.
“Shut up,” he said, almost disgusted. “I’m here for business. Follow my instructions and you won’t get hurt.”
“What the fuck? I’m not going anywhere with you. You arrested me and I don’t even know why or who you are.”
“Look, I’ll explain once inside, but now I’m going to carry you, unless you want to hop on one leg up two flights of stairs.”
Damn, I curse my luck. So far nothing was going as planned and Barbara was beginning to think that she had a bad omen hanging over her.
She wanted to scream and pounce on him to try to get away, but quite frankly all her body wanted to do was get some sleep. The throbbing pain in her ankle and the aches in her body from the hard work she’d had to pretend to do, the car chase, and the foot chase were too much to bear. She had been in worse predicaments and knew that screaming would make the situation worse. She had learned that the hard way.
The steps up to the motel room to Barbara felt endless and the pouncing of her stomach on his shoulder was painful. With every step he took she felt that her insides were going to squeeze out of her mouth. This position was uncomfortable, and she wanted to get down quickly.
When he finally stopped she noticed that she was making awkward sounds from both the pain in her ankle and the squeezing of her stomach. He opened the door to the hotel room, walked inside, and placed her on the bed.
Barbara looked around to survey the room. The loud A/C vent by the window circulated the stench of cigarette smoke and damp carpet. There was no point in turning the A/C off because either they got used to the cold with the smell or got hot with an even stronger stench.
“There’s only one bed!”
“I know. I’m taking the reclining chair in front of the bed.”
“Great. I have a personal watchdog.”
“That’s not what I do. You’re under arrest and I have to be alert and hence one bed,” he retorted.
“Okay, if you think that was clever then good for you. I need to use the bathroom, so I need these things off of me.”
He looked at her and hesitated for a minute.
“I’m not going anywhere. Besides, I have a broken ankle that hurts and trying to run away would be stupid in my condition.”
He considered her words, or rather her reasoning. He looked away and seemed to be thinking about her proposition. And after a few seconds he finally said, “All right, but you have five minutes. If you try anything out of the ordinary, I won’t hesitate to shoot you.”
“Whatever. Now take these things off.” She stood from the bed and turned around facing the wall so he could uncuff her wrists. She had an inkling that he was bluffing as he had many attempts to shoot her but he didn’t. However, that was a theory she was not willing to experiment with, not now anyways, so she had no other choice but to follow orders and study him.
She grabbed her backpack and held on to furniture nearby and hopped to the bathroom. She stopped at the door at the sound of his voice.
“You know I could help you.”
She turned to face him. “I don’t need your help. No thanks to you, I can’t use both legs to walk. You’ve done enough helping.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “All right, if you say so. What’s in there anyway?” he said as he pointed at her backpack.
“I told you I have my period and my feminine hygiene products are in there. Besides, according to you, you shouldn’t be asking me any questions and I have the right not to answer them. Consider that a freebie.”
“Fair enough, five minutes starting now,” he said as he clenched his jaw, knowing that she’d used his own game against him.
She rushed inside the bathroom and locked the door, rejoicing at the small victory. The ivory-colored tiled bathroom was well lit but extremely small. Everything was within reach from the toilet seat. The white pedestal sink in front of her, the medicine cabinet above the sink, and to her right the shower.
She sat on the covered toilet seat and took her sneakers off to inspect her ankle. “Fuck, that shit hurts,” she yelped.
“Are you all right in there?”
She sensed a hint of concern in his voice. “Yeah, I’m good,” she responded quickly.
Her ankle was swollen and starting to turn different shades of blue, green, and purple. She slowly moved her ankle up, down, left, and right. Good, at least it’s not broken. She carefully placed her sneakers back on and sighed.
She reached for the sink and propped herself up, leaning against it, staying off her injured foot.
She turned the faucet on and unzipped her backpack furiously. She wanted to inspect the lock and the chain around the box but without her tools, which she’d tossed out the window, opening that metal box was impossible. She shoved it back in her backpack, upset that she couldn’t see what was inside. She removed the debris in her hair and dusted herself off. She splashed water on her dirt-covered features, used the toilet, washed her hands, and hopped back to the room.
“I almost forgot I had unpleasant company waiting for me behind these doors. Are you planning to tell me who you are at least? Since somehow the reasons for my arrest are being hidden from me.” She leaned against the wall, placed the backpack on her shoulder, and hopped toward the bed as she sat.
He grabbed the handcuffs and stood in front of her, gesturing for her to stand.
She stared up at him, stood, and faced the wall once more.
“However, I didn’t forget that you were under arrest.” He spun her around and shackled her wrists together in front of her. She was somewhat relieved that it was in front this time and not behind her. She was getting annoyed at him and the only thing she could do was roll her eyes and wait for his reply.
“To answer your question, I’m Agent Carter McKinley.”
“I thought it was Alpha-836.”
“That’s my radio call name.”
She nodded and then registered that he was an agent and not a detective as she thought. “You’re an agent?”
“Yes, I work for the Federal Crime Control Agency.”
“You work for the FCCA? I thought you only work federal crime cases.” Stealing jewels from a wealthy home doesn’t constitute a federal crime, she thought. She wasn’t sure if he knew what she carried in those boxes or if he knew what she was really doing so she asked him directly. “So why am I being arrested?”
“I’m investigating three murders which occurred several weeks ago in the downtown warehouse district,” he responded, looking at her. He looked as if he was studying her expression but she remained stoic and unamused.
“Okay, that’s nice. Congratulations, I guess. But that still doesn’t answer why I’m arrested.”
“It will make sense when I explain, but you have invoked your rights and anything you say can and will be used against you,” he reminded her.
Damn those pesky rights that loom above my head. “I understand that was a bad call on my part, but I want to know.” And I’m not a fool. I will not implicate myself.
“Okay,” he said reluctantly. He looked at Barbara and proceeded. “You were seen by witnesses leaving the area the day of the murders.”
“I don’t recall that incident. Did they identify me, or did I just happen to fit the description?” she asked, confident that her small frame and height could have been mistaken as anyone.
“Surveillance cameras around the building captured you entering with three men and leaving the following day alone and there was a partial fingerprint found in the warehouse,” he said.
“It still doesn’t prove I killed anyone. Where�
�s the footage from inside the warehouse?” She vaguely remembered the morning she walked out naked but she was sure she was alone. She didn’t see anyone around her. She was convinced that he got the wrong person and the so-called witnesses had her mistaken for someone else. Besides there was no one around when she left. She made sure to walk away from the camera.
“We couldn’t find any inside. We’re locating the owners to get more information about that, but they’ve been away and haven’t returned yet,” he said.
“You still don’t have proof that I did anything or if your witnesses saw me.”
“I was following you to get you to answer a few questions, but you took off, violating several traffic laws, and that’s what granted me the right to arrest you,” he said.
Damn. If it wasn’t for my paranoia, I could’ve gotten away from this mess from the beginning.
“I didn’t kill anyone, so I don’t have anything to hide, therefore these ‘charges’ will not be sustained in any court.”
“You’re knowledgeable about the court system,” he said.
“Someone very dear to me used to work as a correctional officer and taught me a lot, plus having a record gets you acquainted with the law really quick.” She thought about the first time she got arrested. She was inexperienced and it was her first theft. Iggy was skeptical about her but felt sorry for her when she came to him looking for a “job” that would give her extra income. He hired her for a simple job, to pick pockets, which was not too difficult, and after a few weeks she begged him to give her something bigger. Iggy agreed and introduced her to home invasion and robbery. She was a quick learner but she made one sloppy mistake—she took her gloves off and threw them in the dumpster outside of the home. In less than thirty-six hours she was having her mugshot taken at the Thomas Lee Correctional Facility for Women. She learned a lot about the law, how it was in place not to help her, and the rights she supposedly had as a prisoner those months behind bars did not help her at all.
“That’s good. They taught you well. However, I still have to take you to the sheriff’s office for the other offenses. I’m sure your dear friend also told you that reckless driving and causing several crashes in your mayhem is a felony,” he added.
Damn it, she thought, as she looked away.
“I wouldn’t have done any of those offenses if you weren’t following me in that blue car,” she finally said.
“I wasn’t following you in a blue car. I was in the same vehicle parked outside. If you were being followed by a blue car then that wasn’t me or anyone on my team,” he said. “The state police officer that you flew by had another emergency and he radioed for another unit to take his call while he was going to pursue you and I intercepted the call and took it instead. I figured it was your vehicle from the description he gave about the exterminator van and the direction you took exiting the freeway. I saw the aftermath of your driving and it wasn’t too hard to follow your trail.”
She looked ashamed for a second but then quickly was perplexed. Nothing was making sense now. She had pieces of a puzzle that she couldn’t piece together. She’d been followed by a blue car, she was sure of it. This situation was getting complicated and she didn’t like it. She liked to be in control and not knowing was unnerving.
“This is more information than I can swallow.” She squinted her eyes. “Um, you say you weren’t following me so how do you know it was me that was driving so reckless?”
“I did see you at first speeding up and changing lanes and then that’s when I lost sight of you. I wasn’t sure who you were evading but the state police confirmed your vehicle description. Besides, the van you were driving had recent dent marks and the missing side mirror seemed consistent with a recent collision. And the van was not in those conditions the first time I saw it today.”
Barbara clenched her fists but McKinley’s eyes zeroed in on her rattling handcuffs and she forced herself to relax. She didn’t want him to have any more evidence against her. “I’m going to bed,” she said. She wanted to process the situation without him studying her facial expression and her demeanor.
He stood in front of her as he reached for the keys in his front pocket.
“Okay, give me your hands.”
“Gladly.” She was finally going to be relieved from the heavy adornment around her wrist.
He smirked and removed the handcuffs.
“Lie on the center of the bed,” he said.
“What are you going to do?”
“Just lie down.”
“Why? And by the way, you still haven’t told me why we’re here and why you didn’t take me directly to the sheriff’s department or jail or wherever you’re supposed to take me.”
“I told you already, boss’s orders. And unless you want to stand up to sleep, I suggest you lay in the center of the bed.”
She reluctantly did as she was told, but she was glad that the temporary confinement was gone at least for the night.
His six-foot-three frame leaned over her. He seized her arms and placed them above her head, enclosing them within the bedframe and the cuffs. She could smell the scent of his cologne or aftershave in his black beard. His jet-black gelled hair was coiffed to perfection with each strand in place. Being chased and with the stressors of the day, she hadn’t even noticed his features until now.
“And here I thought I was going to sleep comfortably.”
“I need to sleep, and I don’t trust that you won’t try to escape in the middle of the night.”
“So your solution was to handcuff me to the bed?”
He didn’t say anything and just straightened up and moved toward the end of the bed. She raised her head slightly but was unable to see him clearly as he stood too close to the bed.
“What are you doing?” she asked suspiciously.
“Getting comfortable so I can mend your ankle,” he said. “You’re in my custody and it’s my job to take you safely and as best as I can to our final destination.”
“Whatever, you’re doing a crappy job at taking care of me so far.”
He tugged at her injured foot.
“Ouch, you’re lucky you’re on the opposite side of my good leg and my position impedes me from kicking you for that. So much for taking care of the ‘suspect.’”
“I never said I was taking care of you. I said I have to take you in safely,” he corrected her.
“Fine,” she huffed. “Obviously, the word safely is clearly taken out of context here.”
“Depends on how you want to look at it. From my point of view you’re alive and in one piece, so you’re safe.”
She had a few more things to tell him but debating with him was useless. He got up and walked outside and moments later returned with several items in his hands.
He repositioned himself next to her injured ankle and she noticed his muscles bulging from his T-shirt as he removed her right sneaker. His olive suntanned beach-glow skin complemented the starkness of his dark hair and the tan-colored T-shirt. He wrapped her ankle in bandages, being careful not to cause any further injury or pain.
“It’s not broken, so you’ll be fine in a few days. Staying off your foot would help,” he said.
“Well, being in this position will certainly help my cause,” she remarked.
He smirked and headed to the chair.
She wanted to stay awake to protect herself just in case, but every time she blinked darkness called her name. Each time she inched away from the light. Heavy, everything seemed so heavy. Her body sank deeper and melded with the firm mattress. This compromising position which she was not unfamiliar with welcomed a state of calmness that her body craved, until sleep engulfed her senses and she could no longer win the battle. She fell asleep. She was at his mercy.
Chapter 27
McKinley watched as she tried to stay awake, but the more she tried to fight it the stronger the urge to sleep became. He knew she was in pain and the fatigue of the day was wearing her out.
After she f
inally fell asleep, he waited several minutes before he stood from the recliner, grabbed the car keys as well as the room keys, and walked softly toward the door. He was careful not to make any sudden noise to wake her up, but he knew she was out cold.
Once outside he dialed Coolidge’s number. The night was warm, motionless, and dark. Nothing was visible except for the bright neon sign outside the motel which shone down on the parking lot and extended a few feet away.
“Hey, this is McKinley.”
“I know. Where are you?” she asked.
“I’m in a motel a few hours away from Huntersville. I don’t know if we have the right girl,” he told her.
“Why? You seemed sure a few hours ago,” she said.
“I know. I followed her the entire day and she was working. She got scared, which I don’t blame her for since most people here don’t trust anyone,” he said as he paced the small narrow hallway.
There was something off about the entire situation. He couldn’t put his finger on it. He had the potential suspect in custody, but he still felt like he needed more proof. To him this was circumstantial. The only true reason why she couldn’t leave was because of what he’d witnessed while she was driving. She’d committed a lot of driving violations which now were criminal due to her endangering the lives of other motorists. And not to mention the various hit and run crashes she was involved in.
However, he had no real evidence to prove that she was the person they were looking for and that troubled him. He didn’t want to pin this on an innocent person.
He stopped near the stairs and leaned against the rickety, rusty handrail.
“You can’t think that way. You made the conscious decision to arrest her so now you can’t go back. Bring her in for questioning and we’ll take it from there,” Coolidge said.
“Yeah, you’re right. I’m thinking too much. Our best bet is that we bring her in for questioning and then we can rule out any doubts. But I need a few more hours to study her. I want to be completely sure. When Chief Agent Buchanan called me he asked me if I was sure it was the right girl and I couldn’t answer. So he gave me the go ahead to observe her for a few hours before I took her in. Taking the scenic route back to Huntersville. That’s why I’m here.”