by K. M. Hodge
The hard point of his hips ground her thin frame against the wood door, painfully pinning her in place, making it difficult for her to breathe.
A rustling from her bedroom got her attention. She glanced over his shoulder at two armed men walking out of the bedroom.
They shared an amused look, and left the living area to do a check of the small galley kitchen.
She could hear the men rifling through drawers and cabinets, but they weren’t going to find anything.
Charles’ lips grazed her neck. “God, you smell good.”
Despite her efforts to remain calm, she trembled.
This only encouraged him.
His teeth and lips assaulted her neck while his heavy hand molded itself to her attenuated flesh. Fingers pinched and tugged at her breast, making her gorge rise and forcing her to swallow back the coffee and croissant she had eaten earlier. When his eager mouth sought hers in earnest, she clamped shut her lips and turned away from him.
“You are still my wife,” he said through gritted teeth. He made sure to punctuate his words with a hard thrust of his body against hers. “It’s been far too long.”
Her eyes met his with whatever defiance she had left. “If you are here to kill me, then just do it.”
Charles pulled back from her, letting air return to her grateful lungs, and she slumped in relief.
“You think I want to kill you?”
“Don’t you?” She looked down at the gun he still held in his hand.
He sighed and placed the gun on the table beside him, then took her into his arms. “Red, honey, I’m here to protect you. If I can find you, so can they.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “They, who?”
He took her hand in his and tugged her reluctant body over to the rattan sofa. “Men like Alex and The Syndicate.”
She sat still and listened as he began to weave an elaborate work of fiction.
Like most of his stories, he always came out looking like the hero. He claimed to be on a mission to save her from some men high up in The Syndicate, who wanted to stop her from taking the data to the FBI or CIA.
He doesn’t know they already have it.
She knew too much about his own involvement in the group to believe most of what he said, until he started to talk about Alex. He showed her paperwork, from a private dick, to back up his story.
A lie is most convincingly placed between two truths. In the back of her mind, though, a kernel of doubt had begun to grow. What did she really know of Alex? Not much, but her instincts told her to trust Alex, and her instincts were almost never wrong.
Charles reached out and held her limp hand in his, making her skin crawl in disgust. She leaned as far away from him as she could. I need to play along, placate him.
One of his goons brought her a teacup and, after taking a sip, she sat it onto the coffee table in front of her. She opened her mouth to tell Charles she believed him, but nothing came out. All of a sudden her eyelids were too heavy to remain open, and darkness assaulted her against her will.
***
Washington, D.C.
June 1, 2008
2:00 PM
~~~
Alex sat in his car trying to talk himself out of breaking his cover. With everything at stake, he couldn’t afford to make a false step. He wanted to jump on a plane and fly to Texas, but he had to stay put and do his job. He couldn’t afford to end up being taken in by the CIA and held for God-only-knows how long.
On the seat beside him, his phone rang its familiar ring tone. He snatched it up and answered it immediately. “Bailey speaking.”
“Agent Bailey, we have some reports in from our team members on the ground,” Magellan said.
“Is Katherine okay? Did the US Marshal get her to the Corpus Christi safe house?”
The silence on the other line was deafening.
“Is Katherine safe?” he asked again.
“Bailey, someone paid off the marshal. He made up some bullshit excuse about going to a funeral but we can’t seem to corroborate his story.”
Alex’s voice came out as a plea. “Sir, what happened?”
“They got to her before we could.” His boss’s voice was laced with contrition. “Someone from command will call you as soon as we get some more information. It seems like a neighbor or someone might have seen something. We are looking into it now. Okay?”
A sudden tightening in his chest made it hard for Alex to breath. “Yes, sir, thank you.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and sucked in a deep breath, then ended the call and tossed the phone on the passenger’s seat.
He fished out his cigarettes from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and tapped the bottom of the pack in an effort to jar loose a cigarette. It was empty—Sara must have smoked the last one.
In frustration, he threw his empty pack at the windshield. “Fuck!”
He took out his pent-up anger and frustration on his steering wheel, punching it with his fist.
Chapter 6
Brian Williams’ Home Residence
Hinsdale, Illinois
June 2, 2008
1:00 PM
~~~
Brian sat in his home office thinking about the call from Special Agent Bailey. Two hours later, he’d gotten ahold of the officer assigned to Katherine’s detail. The man had broken protocol, traveling three hours away to attend the funeral of his deceased mother.
Brian had promised to leave and go to Katherine. In the meantime, he alerted the island’s law enforcement, but all they could do was patrol her street and try her door. There was no answer.
She wasn’t answering her emergency cell phone either. He couldn’t help but think of her father and all the years they had worked together. She’s not going to die on my watch. She can’t.
His ringing phone startled him. The screen displayed a Texas number. “Williams speaking.”
“Marshal Williams, this is Sergeant Peters with the Port Aransas Pass Police Department. I’m sorry to tell you that Ms. Mitchel appears to have been taken from her home residence. We were able to talk to one of her neighbors, who witnessed Ms. Mitchel being held at gunpoint when she arrived at her residence this morning. The neighbor also stated that she saw three men taking her unconscious body from the home and driving off with her in a black unmarked SUV. The neighbor, Ms. Miller, is working with our sketch artist, and we’ll put out an APB and some composite sketches tonight. We’ll have the report faxed to your office this afternoon. I still haven’t seen your marshal yet,” the Sergeant concluded.
Brian rubbed his forehead. “All right, thank you for the update, Sergeant. Please call me if you find out anything else.” He hung up and buried his face in his hands.
***
Unknown Location
June 2, 2008
Unknown Time
~~~
The sudden jarring of the SUV running over the rumble strip on the side of the highway brought her back to consciousness. She had been slipping in and out of awareness for hours. The binding on her wrists and ankles dug into her skin, and a thick strip of cloth kept her blind to what was going on around her.
During one of her moments of awareness, she’d felt a thick calloused hand slide up her thigh and underneath her shorts. As if from far away, she heard shouting, then felt a smattering of liquid hit the side of her body. It smelled like blood.
The car door opened, causing a rush of air to blast her tender skin. Now she only heard two men instead of three.
What did they give me? Where are they taking me? She felt a prick, a pinch, and then darkness came again.
As she slipped back into unconsciousness, her mind wandered back to Alex. She welcomed it, imagining that he had been with her at the beach house, that instead of suffering alone, they were together—them against the rest of the world.
In her mind’s eye, they spent their days working side-by-side and their nights wrapped up in each other’s arms. She imagined all these things and more... in the darkness.
/> ***
Danville Press
Danville, Virginia
June 2, 2008
3:00 PM
~~~
Jason sat in his darkened office and fingered the unread stack of articles sitting on his desk. Even with the deadline looming, he just couldn’t bring himself to care enough to start on his work.
A knock on his door startled him. “What?”
Why can’t they just leave me alone?
The door creaked open just enough for Sara to peak her head into the office. “Sorry to interrupt. Just noticed that nothing has gone out yet, and wondered if you need some help.”
Jason sighed. “Sure, sit down.”
Sara smiled back at him as she scooted into his office, closing the door behind her. She picked up the untouched articles in front of him and began to scan them, pen in hand.
He admitted to himself that he was growing more and more fond of her, but for all the wrong reasons. The loneliness of his life had begun to wear thin and she was an attentive and beautiful woman. She had been insinuating herself into his field of space more and more often, and he was finding it harder and harder to push her away, to keep up the wall.
The wall—his defense against the rest of the world—was beginning to crumble. What would be the harm...?
***
Chinatown
Washington, D.C.
June 3, 2008
11:30 PM
~~~
Sara flipped through her contacts on her phone while stopped at the light by her apartment. Thumb-swiping her way through to the C’s, she finally pulled up Charles’ number and clicked call.
He answered on the third ring. “Why are you calling me, Sara?” The loud rumbling noise in the background made it hard for her to hear him.
Is he in a car? “I went through his apartment a little bit when he was asleep, and I think he might have the information we’re looking for on his computer. I’m going to try and extract it next time. I think I have his trust, but I’m going to need a little medical help to ensure he stays asleep this time. He’s a light sleeper.” She hated the anxious tone in her voice. He always had that effect on her.
He sighed. “All right, call me when you have something.” A click signaled he had hung up.
While she was afraid of crossing him, she was even more afraid of the other one. The other one saw through her attempts to charm him. He didn’t want sex, he wanted power.
She didn’t even want to think about what Alex would do when he realized she was the one responsible for giving up his girl’s location.
Her position in this game was tenuous—a pawn who could be sacrificed at any time.
***
Joe Coffee
Grosse Pointe Woods, MI
June 3, 2008
7:00 AM
~~~
It was a brisk June morning even by Michigan standards. Locals grumbled as they entered the shop in search of hot coffee to help them through another long summer day. After a brutal winter, cold temps in the summer provided a hard slap in the face.
Tim had already set up shop in the corner, where he could see everyone who came in or left. At sixty-nine, he felt the cold down deep in his bones, especially in his knees. He’d blown them both out playing football when he was in high school, and forty years of law enforcement had only served to damage them further, making old age a bitch on his body.
He ran a hand over his thinning white hair that spiked up on top. His working man’s gray dress pants and short-sleeve button up shirt made him look like an undercover cop, but he’d worn these same clothes for years as a detective and US Marshal, and he didn’t feel comfortable dressed any other way. He even still wore loafers and dress socks. He had tried to wear tennis shoes, but they just didn’t feel right. Halfway through his crossword puzzle, he was interrupted.
“Tim!” the man said.
He looked up from his paper at one of the men he had worked a few jobs with. “Jimmy.”
Jimmy held out a bag to Tim. “Want a bagel?”
He shook his head and motioned to the chair in front of him. “Is your old man still keeping you busy?”
Jimmy nodded. “You know it.”
***
While the two men exchanged small talk, a man in jeans and t-shirt stood several yards away, putting the lid on his coffee. Neither noticed when the man took out his phone and snapped several pictures of them.
***
The Washington Memorial
Washington, D.C.
June 3, 2008
10:00 AM
~~~
It was only 10:00 AM and already Alex had deep sweat stains on his blue oxford dress shirt. It promised to be a record-breaking hot and humid day, so he rolled the sleeves up to the elbows in an effort to cool off. It was too hot even to smoke, so he sat there grumbling to himself.
As each minute passed, he grew more and more impatient—checking his watch impulsively. The informant was late. Only the iced coffee made the waiting bearable. He stretched his arms out on the park bench and fantasized about taking an ice cold shower and sleeping naked under his ceiling fan.
Fuck the world. Fuck everything.
Just as he was going to give up and leave, a man in running shorts and a soaking wet sleeveless shirt jogged his way. He slowed to a stop and began to stretch his quads.
In mid-stretch, the man straightened, walked over to Alex, and handed him a piece of paper. “I think you dropped this.”
Alex pocketed the note and smiled. “Thanks, man, it’s my shopping list. I can’t lose it. You never know what I’ll forget.”
The man chuckled and resumed his jog.
Alex slung his suit coat over his shoulder and walked with purpose back his air-conditioned car.
***
Unknown Location
Unknown Date
Unknown Time
~~~
Katherine had lost track of time. She thought maybe they had been on the road two days, but she couldn’t be sure. They had been drugging her steadily since they first started. The recovering addict in her noticed that she was beginning to show signs of dependency on whatever drug they’d used to keep her sedated.
To add insult to injury, her unwashed skin had begun to itch, but the drugs and the restraints prevented her from doing anything about the persistent itching. It was maddening.
Each time they shot her full of drugs, she welcomed the hard pull of darkness, where she dreamed of him. The darkness was her safe place.
Chapter 7
Unknown Place
Unknown Time
~~~
So cold. Katherine’s teeth chattered and her body shook. The tank top and urine-soaked shorts she’d been wearing for days clung to her clammy body like a second skin, but that wasn’t the worst of it. The itch that had started off as a nuisance had long since transitioned into torturous insanity. They had started to space out the sedative, causing her to experience the familiar symptoms of withdrawal—twitch and ache. The tear-stained cloth that covered her eyes—a blessing—allowed her to further dissociate herself from her situation.
In a rare moment of lucidity, she overheard a conversation Charles had with the driver of the SUV. “When we get to the cabin, I’m going to need to go into town and meet with George to get the methadone,” Charles said.
“All right, boss. I can handle her. She’s so strung out, she won’t be any trouble,” the goon replied.
Charles exhaled. “No, she won’t be any trouble.”
Charles doesn’t trust him. Katherine’s skin prickled with fear at the realization, and her heart thundered in her chest as she slipped back into unconsciousness.
***
Unknown Location
Underground
June 5, 2008
9:00 AM
~~~
He leaned against the tunnel wall and pulled up his newest text message.
I should have the information soon. I have the falsified files ready to hand off
to him.
After deleting the message, he let out a slow agonizing breath. He wanted to trust her, but was beginning to think she might be playing both sides. He couldn’t help but wonder if Blondie was the reason The Syndicate couldn’t find her. No one seemed to know where Charles was, either, which was concerning to say the least.
“Any news?” a voice called out in a hushed whisper.
He put away his phone and looked up at the familiar older man. “No, we still don’t know her whereabouts, and we still don’t have the documents.”
“Once we get the data, she will need to be taken care of,” the man said.
“She might not be the only one we have to deal with.”
***
Jason’s Apartment
Danville, Virginia
June 5, 2008
9:00 AM
~~~
Jason groaned in bed, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. He must have drunk too much the night before. He and Sara had gone out to one of the hip new bars by the paper, and then had come back to his place, though he didn’t remember much about what happened after that. Actually, he couldn’t remember how he got back to his apartment.
Everything was fuzzy. He remembered snatches of moments, but the whole of it remained a mystery to him.
Geez, everything hurts. He had the mother of all hangovers—pounding head and nausea. I’m gonna be sick!
He scrambled to his feet and stumbled into the bathroom just in time to throw up the entire contents of his stomach into the toilet.
Jason laid his sweaty body down on the cool tile.
I’m too old for this shit. What was I thinking? He wasn’t in his twenties anymore.
In the back of his mind, he thought he heard something in the kitchen. Did Sara stay the night? Why can’t I remember anything?
He felt himself slip into unconsciousness.
***
FBI Headquarters: Hoover Building
Washington, D.C.
June 5, 2008
10:00 AM
~~~
Alex leaned against the cool concrete of the FBI headquarters, smoking his second cigarette, when Richards walked up to him.
“Bailey, bum a smoke?”
He straightened and looked at his boss in surprise. “Didn’t know you smoked, sir.”