by S I Taylor
“I don’t want to make our situation awkward, but our attraction is just that—attraction,” she said. “We’re in a fucked-up situation and we don’t have time to explore or entertain whatever this can’t and shouldn’t be.”
“Yeah. You’re right. I acted impulsively. I have a job to do and ultimately you do as well.”
They stared at each other, still heaving, standing in the kitchen. He broke their gaze and moved past her, grabbing the dishes and walking toward the sink.
Currently they needed one another but she knew she needed him more than he needed her. She’d known it the moment they kissed.
She left the kitchen as he continued washing dishes. In her room, she grabbed her backpack and took the boxes out. She searched the room for something sharp to open them with but nothing in the room was sharp enough or small enough to break the lock. The hangers in the closet were plastic, the curtain rod too big, the toilet roll rod small but not strong enough. Nothing worked.
She considered sneaking a knife from the kitchen but there was only one cutting knife. If she took it he’d notice and that would’ve been the end of her temporary unshackled freedom. Besides, she wanted to gain his trust and maybe that kiss sealed the deal. She liked him, but he was a cop and there was no way they could ever be together, especially since she was a killer. That was a fact she knew she could not escape from. She was going to prison.
Chapter 35
As he washed the dishes, McKinley wondered what the fuck he was thinking. What was going on with him and why? He worked around women and he had not lost self-control before. He’d liked that kiss. He’d liked how he was finally able to feel her soft lips and to have his hands travel around her body with purpose.
His wet hands raked his hair. He slammed the sponge in the sink as he leaned against it, ignoring the water splashing around him. His desire was messing with his logic.
His mind kept going to the night at the motel when she was handcuffed to the bed. He thought about her body, and how it should’ve been bare under his grasp. He shook his head, dispelling the image, but his mind drifted further into the scene when he saw her naked body and when he finally got a chance to touch her skin and feel the ridges of her scars. She had a story to tell underneath all those scars just like he had a story underneath his tattoos.
He thought about the time he got his third tattoo—an eagle on his back peering down. It was a promise that he would always look for his sister with a watchful eye. It took the artist eight hours to complete but the finished work was worth the pain. The one on his forearm, “never give up,” he got when he was sixteen and his mother came for a visit at the foster home. He was thrilled to see her somewhat sober but her drug-infused body was merely skin and bones, an image of his mother he didn’t like. He saw what drugs did to his parents and he vowed he would not succumb to that life and never give up on them, his sister, life, and love.
He dealt with the memory through enduring the pain of a needle on his skin, creating a work of art. If he could he would probably do it himself, but his only artistic talent was his habitual whistling, which he’d perfected.
“Fuck!” he said, gritting his teeth. He walked toward the table and slammed his hands on it in rage—or maybe frustration.
But her soft lips and the eagerness in that kiss told him something. They both were seeking some sort of escape.
Under normal circumstances he would’ve had her in his grasp. They would’ve had dinner, maybe a movie at his place, and then he would’ve invited her into his sexual world. He wondered if she was into that. Claire, his ex-girlfriend, had not been and wanted to keep everything strictly on the bed—missionary style. He knew she’d pretended to climax most of the time just so he could get off, but in reality, he’d used her just as much as she’d used him.
McKinley had been cooking breakfast every morning, something he’d seldomly done with Claire. She’d been into her diet and her cleansing drinks and hadn’t cared for what he cooked. They’d lived together but felt so far apart. When she’d said she was ready for a commitment to get married and have children, he hadn’t seen himself with her in that way. So he’d moved out and he hadn’t felt sad or regretted what he did. He’d felt a relief, a burden off his shoulders, and a lie that was wrapped up finally unfolded and he was set free.
He chuckled. He couldn’t believe he’d lasted three years in a relationship that went nowhere. What a waste of both their time.
But with Barbara, she sparked something within him that he couldn’t suppress.
Whatever this was needed to stop. They couldn’t be anything. She was in his custody and now that he knew she’d killed those three men he needed to subdue the admiration or whatever he was feeling. He admired her tenacity as she probably could’ve been killed if she didn’t react. She was within her rights to defend herself since she was violently assaulted and raped. However, he didn’t have proof of her assault and even though, he believed her, he had a job to do.
The phone ringing brought him back to reality. That meant that there must be some sort of update on the case. Relieved that his wandering thoughts were interrupted, McKinley hurriedly answered.
“McKinley speaking.”
“Hey, I have news on the autopsy of the naked guy,” Coolidge said.
“Yeah, what’s up with him?” he said with eagerness.
“Hold your horses, hold up.”
“Sorry, I’m just at my wits’ end.”
“It’s fine. I can sympathize, I think.”
“You just don’t know,” he mumbled.
“What did you say, McKinley?”
“Nothing. I said nothing. Now tell me what you found out.”
He was sure she probably had a suspicious look on her face. The furrowed brow—the one she always had when she knew something was not right or someone was not forthcoming with information she knew they had. Yeah, that one, he thought and smirked.
“According to Dr. Kincade his name was Marlo Smith, he was a small-time drug dealer in Huntersville. He’s been in and out of jail several times for petty theft and minor cannabis possession as a young kid. He had his gold chains, other jewelry, and brown shoes when he was found in your car. He died of a gunshot wound to the head, but he was tortured before he died. His arms and legs had bondage scars around them, as if he was hung from his arms.”
“Do you know who he worked for?”
“I’m trying to figure that out now.”
“Thanks, Coolidge. What about the blood that was found in the secret entrance of the warehouse—do we know who that belonged to?”
“Not yet, Dr. Kincade hasn’t finished with the analysis.”
“All right, keep me posted on that. But I can bet any amount of money that with the description of Smith’s wounds he was in that warehouse.”
“Yeah, it makes sense, doesn’t it. There has to be a connection between the case and Marlo Smith. Either the killer wants to get captured or they’re really insane. Now what puzzles me is how Wolf is involved in all of this. Do you think she was the girl that shot at you in the parking lot?”
He recalled the woman’s voice in his mind and compared it to Barbara’s. “I don’t think so because the girl’s voice was different from Wolf’s voice.” Even though the height and body frame were the same, the low-pitched voice of the unknown female was nothing compared to Barbara’s alto voice.
“Well then that raises more questions. Do you think you have the wrong girl?”
He wanted to believe that Barbara was not involved but he already knew the truth. Barbara Wolf was the killer but he couldn’t tell Coolidge or anyone what he knew yet. He’d already written the report and saved it. He’d give it to them once he figured this thing out. He needed more time.
“When do you think you’ll be leaving there and taking her to the sheriff’s office?”
“I’m not sure how long I’ll be lying low. I’m still waiting for her ankle to heal. I’m giving it a few more days.”
“Okay.
I read the report. Did she mention anything to you about the chase and who they might be?”
“Yeah, I spoke to Six and he confirmed that the people after my suspect are the Trivaldis. I think Trivaldi Senior thinks Barbara Wolf killed his son.”
“That’s not good and you’re smack in the middle of this war.”
“I know. I keep wrapping my head around that fact.”
“Was she dealing for him?”
“I don’t think so. But I’m not sure. She hasn’t indicated anything to that effect. She seemed surprised when I mentioned his name.” He was recalling the scene that Barbara told him about the restaurant and she didn’t seem to have known that a drug deal was about to unfold. From what she mentioned it seemed that she was a hired bodyguard who met the wrong people.
“Oh. Well, I suggest you get to headquarters fast to begin with the investigation,” she said.
“You know she will have to go to the sheriff’s office first for the reckless driving and then we can extradite her over to L.A. Otherwise, we can’t just take her without concrete evidence of her involvement, unless you have something or know something else,” he probed her.
The line was silent. His heart was racing, and the seconds ticked faster the longer he didn’t hear a response from her. Although he knew he was the only one who knew most of what occurred inside the warehouse, he was still tense about Coolidge’s response.
“Nah, I have nothing. I’ll keep you posted. Later,” she said.
He sighed in relief.
“Later.”
He ended the call and cradled the phone tightly in his palms. His heart was accepting Barbara as the woman he would like to have between his arms, but his logic was telling him that even though she acted within her rights, Wolf needed proof of her innocence or she was going to prison. He had to remind himself that there was only one Barbara Wolf and that his heart needed to stay at bay. He needed to think.
He knew he’d just lied to Coolidge, but he needed more time to get Wolf’s trust and to get her to side with them to get her to testify against Trivaldi on the drug charges.
If I can somehow convince her.
Chapter 36
Barbara woke up tangled in the sheets but with breakfast waiting for her on the nightstand as usual. She was being spoiled and she wasn’t sure if she liked it. She was not used to this new treatment. Someone who genuinely cared without expecting something in return was new to her. She knew the difference between the love she felt for her parents, the love she felt for her only friend Lori, and probably even Nixon. Nixon, she thought as she took a bite of food, she had feelings for him but now she figured it was different. She cared for him deeply but she realized that she didn’t love him.
McKinley was doing something to her and she didn’t want to like it, enjoy it, or face it. She reminded herself that he was the agent who would take her to prison and that somewhat helped her bury those feelings and face her reality.
His gift for being stealthy was uncanny. He roamed throughout the house and she never knew where he was at any given time unless he made himself known. She didn’t like that she wasn’t able to be a few steps ahead of him.
She finished her meal and then got dressed. She took the tray to the kitchen and washed the dishes that were left in the sink.
She walked toward him, where he was staring at his computer screen with scattered notes, files, and unclassified folders on the table spilled onto the floor around him. She knew this time not to pry into his work so as not to trigger another manic episode.
“By the way, Junior owned that car and those workers were employees of his,” he said.
“I thought I was only supposed to be brought in for questioning, and information about the case hasn’t been made public, nor has my identity been confirmed. How would the Trivaldis know to target me?”
“I’m not sure, but somehow Senior found out and sent them to retaliate. And if it wasn’t him then someone else knows more than they led us to believe.”
Fucking Iggy. That motherfucker was going to die before she did. Nixon and Iggy were the only ones who’d known the plan. She trusted Nixon and he wouldn’t betray her, but Iggy’s reputation for backstabbing and getting shitty jobs for his benefit made this sound like something he would do. Hell, she’d worked many jobs for him so far but the last two times she’d been negatively impacted. Iggy didn’t know the details of the plan but somehow, he pieced it together, she thought. That was the only logical explanation. He saw the pictures of the house when the contact was handing it to her and explaining the blueprints. He must have tipped Trivaldi Senior for a bigger cut of the deal.
Now how could she get away from McKinley? That was the most important thing on her mind and on her agenda.
“Well, how do we find out if he really wants to kill me?”
“You mean us, because you inadvertently got me involved in your life.”
“Actually, smartass, you’re working my case so therefore you got yourself in this mess alone. If you hadn’t arrested me then you would’ve been cleared to fuck up someone else’s existence.”
He chuckled. “I guess those are the perks of my line of work.”
“Yeah, keep believing that,” she said.
“I’m tired of watching this computer screen. Your case is stuck in my head. I need something else to do.” He rubbed his eyes and massaged his temples. She hadn’t noticed the bags forming underneath his eyes until now and although the couch was comfortable enough to sit on, squeezing his height and weight on it must be brutal on the body, not to mention hard to sleep on. He left his work on the kitchen table, got up, and walked over to the living room. He sat on the couch and turned the TV on. “Want to watch a movie?” he asked as he turned his attention toward her, still standing in the kitchen.
She said, walking toward him, “I guess. There’s nothing else to do in this solitary place. Do you have a time frame on when we’re leaving here? Being confined in here without being able to leave is unnerving.”
“You do realize that when we leave from here you will be going to Huntersville sheriff’s office and then to prison awaiting a judge sentencing, right? At least here you have a nice home-cooked meal, a comfortable and relaxing shower, and entertainment. In prison you’ll have whatever is considered a meal, springs for a mattress, two-second open bay showers, and the only form of entertainment will be called mandatory fun.”
“Either you’re trying to buy my testimony or you’re trying to get me to trust you, but guess what, I’m not testifying,” she said, diverting her attention to the screen. “Now what movie do you want to watch?”
He smiled as she sat next to him on the couch. He grabbed the remote and flipped the channels until he landed on a comedy movie. She figured that a suspenseful or thriller movie wouldn’t be the right choice and she was content that he picked something they could laugh at. She couldn’t remember the last time she had time to enjoy a movie, let alone enjoy it with someone.
Barbara gathered the few things that she had, placed them in her backpack, and walked quietly through the dark house. It was three o’clock in the morning as she slowly opened the front door and sneaked toward the truck. She needed to get out of the cabin and back to Huntersville. She needed to get her mind together, deliver these jewels, and find Iggy.
She had been joined at the hip with McKinley for three days now and she needed to get her life back. As she thought about it, she would miss him and his weird ways and wished they had met in different circumstances, but she had a job to do. She had been able to walk without the boot since the day before and had been walking on her own every night in the room to strengthen her ankle. One of the benefits of her lifestyle was knowing how to mend your broken self.
Studying McKinley wasn’t too hard for her. He was predictable in the sense that he kept his things in the same place even though his workspace was chaotic. That worked to her advantage as she knew that he kept the car keys in the left pocket of his briefcase, so she’d sneaked t
hem the night prior. Taking small shiny things without being detected was her expertise.
She knew McKinley would be asleep on the couch and decided that leaving through the kitchen back door was safer than trying the front door. She placed her body close to the wall, holding her backpack and shoes in one hand, being quiet as the pads of her feet slowly hit the cold wooden planks. Although it was dark, she peered over the couch and saw the edge of a pillow and the blanket draped over his body. She opened and closed the kitchen door and stood outside taking a deep breath. The air of freedom seeped through her lungs. She slung her backpack on her back, slipped her shoes on, and headed to the car parked out front.
Being in the middle of nowhere amplified any sound, so she carefully opened the car door, taking advantage of the howling wolves and the crickets to mask the noise as she slowly closed the door.
Finally, she was that much closer to leaving that place. She knew it wasn’t a good idea to turn the ignition on all the way, but this hunk of metal was too heavy for her to push on her own if she placed it in neutral. So she hoped that the engine roaring wasn’t too loud to get McKinley’s attention.
She said a prayer to whomever was up there listening, jabbed the keys into the ignition, and turned it on. She eased her way slowly out of the driveway. She was almost home free, or so she thought.
“Going somewhere without me?” a male voice came from the rear seat.
Her victory was short-lived. She turned around and looked to the back seat and there he was pointing his gun at her temple.
“Fuck!” she muttered and clenched her jaw. “I was going somewhere but according to you, not anymore. You can add another set of fleeing to your list of charges as well. But I need to get out of here. I need answers. Being locked up in that house isn’t solving anything and everything is getting complicated. Either you let me go or you come with me. Whatever you choose I’m not returning to that house,” she said.