Cuffing him he’s motionless, quiet and cooperating. The heat pulsing, filling the car with sickening silence. I’m back on the phone, instructing the agent to send a car, Godfrey was under arrest. I slip out of the car, instructing the several officers who remain of my plan, as I make my way back to my car with one thing on my mind. Grace.
I found myself on Flynn’s front porch knowing I won’t find him home. I was here for Grace. I knock on the door a few times and then ring the doorbell. I wait, a chance to digest it all, I had to think, I needed air, and not the stuffy air in this old house. Grace opens the door, she cocks her head to one side. “Agent Lancaster.”
“Call me Nick.” I understand her confusion. “Let’s take a walk.” I felt a moment of trepidation, but I know I’m doing the right thing. She grabs her jacket and we jog down the steps towards the city. With every second that passes I can feel her silent plea. The cars passing in the distance leaving fumes in their wake, she patiently waits.
“Grace, something terrible has happened.”
“Elijah?”
“He’s been injured.” My eyes drift over to hers. “We don’t have word on his condition yet.” My heart beating itself to death looking into her sad clouded eyes.
“What happened?” With a heavy sigh, I skim over scattered details. “But he’ll be okay?”
“That depends, for now all we can do is hope for the best.”
“I see.” As she swipes the tear from her face, I knew I needed to tell her everything.
“Dr, Hawthorne Vane has died.” Grace skids to a halt.
“Died?” she asks, her eyes wide as the gentle cool breeze whips at her hair. “That’s impossible, no one can touch him.”
“Yes, Grace he’s gone. And Flynn was shot in the cross fire.” The initial comfort quickly turns, gone is the FBI agent, and left before her is a woman who wants to carry all the pain and sorrow that has been inflicted on her, carry it all on my own.
“I used to create an imaginary place to hide my memories.” she says quietly. “I used to think power was an illusion, but I was wrong power was real, the threat real.”
“You’ve seen the worst of mankind, Grace. The unique way you’ve overcome atrocities inflicted on you, proves how strong you really are.”
Far off in the distance the mountains snow peeked tops still visible. Although the landscape here felt dead and ghostbarren as the white noise of the city drowns out my thoughts, trying to make sense of her words.
“Maybe that’s true. I’ve never considered myself as strong.”
“You are a force to be reckoned with.”
I heard a slight huff. “When can I see Elijah?”
“Tomorrow.”
We walk the strip in rhythm, silence drifts between us. The neon signs burn bright as strangers pass by, darting through the busy sidewalk on foot. Tourist fall in with the traffic, the faintest chill whipping my hair, as tunnel vision gnaws in my gut. I knew it wouldn’t go away until my questions were answered. Feeling emotionally drained we make our way back toward the old white house with black shutters, careful not to say too much. A delicate balance of truth and hope concerning Flynn and his recovery. I force the fog away and clear my head. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow, Grace.”
“Thank you, Nick.” Standing alone on the shoulder of the road, I watch her safely enter knowing I only gave her bits and pieces of the truth. She will know the full extent tomorrow.
But will I?
I replayed the last hour, the loud knock was loud heard throughout the house, I was alone. Bravely I made my way across the hall, I was thankful Elijah installed the new peep hole. Pushing on my tiptoes to peer upon the stoop, a friendly face came into view, Nichole, Agent Lancaster.
And now I was faced with the unknown. Elijah clinging to life. Nick’s evasiveness speaking louder than words. He’s a hawk, his grand wing span first circling, then swooping me up from high altitudes. Clutching me in his curved talons back to the safety of his nest. Not once did I ever consider he would let me fall. I was afraid and with every second that passed without knowing, without him to comfort me was pure torture. I felt him drifting away from me, and every scenario conjured up was worse than the last.
Sleep may come. Were my memories real or had I conjured them up? Was my mind playing tricks on me? Vane, Dead? Misguided logic. It didn’t feel real; the endless scatter of voices and unknown sounds blend into a quiet white noise. Yes, the ghosts of my pasts were real.
The Past
Descending down the back staircase, I pause hearing an angry voice, sorting through the conversation my worst fears had been realized as a familiar shape appeared. Hiding in the stairwell afraid he could see me, even though I knew the distance between us was considerable, I waited suspiciously.
“I told you brother, I got this. No one suspects our involvement. Trust me for once, no one will ever find her, she will disappear just like the one before.”
My skin begins to prickle, as I witness the words I was never meant to hear, but now I know what had happened, and what was planned for me. Proof of what I have always suspected, always known. The truth twisted, the darkness circled as the room began to spin. The emptiness, the fury living inside him for far too long, exposed right before my very eyes.
“Please tell me that you’ve got things covered on your end.” A pause. “No, stay where you are, that would only look suspicious.”
Already, planning my next move. I slowly turn, crawling up the stairs one by one. But their betrayal came quick as the old floor boards gave under my weight. The sound bounced off the tiny space and he turned and our gaze locked.
“I have to go.” Colds eyes stared right through me, it did nothing to calm my churning stomach. Never wavering his intense focus. “I have a problem.” Clutching the phone in his one hand then he rests it on the table. And deliberately approaches but I was too intimidated to say a word, frozen in place, muted into silence, his glare looked reckless dangerous and unhinged at the seams.
“Grace, where do you think you’re going?” His hypnotic voice attempts to assure me, to persuade me to change my mind, change the words I heard. I wanted to scream but I knew I didn’t stand a chance. “I’ll have you know, you won’t be sharing that with anyone.”
My chest constricts and I can’t breathe. “I overheard what you said.” My voice is filled with fear, the walls are closing in, and now being forced down the stairs, his fingers dig deep gripping my bicep, yanking me down to the kitchen. Sensing the violence, I jerk from his hold but his reflexes are quick and his fingers twist in my hair, halting each step, dragging me back. I search his face focusing in on his dark eyes growing impatient.
“Please, please…”
“Shut the hell up.”
I hesitated for a second before my body tensed, ready for the impending blow. A fist crashes into me causing my vision to blur. I hurtled forward stunned by the explosion of pain. A cry escapes my lips as I try to still the panic, but the agony was too great. My head shattering into a million pieces.
“You’re still nothing more than a plaything.” His voice explodes at the exact moment the second blow came, landing by my eye, thrown to the ground. Could I gather my strength, defend myself? I wasn’t sure.
My hand softly touches the skin around my left eye. Pain so sharp, everything fades away as IStrong iron barely focus in on the gray shadow falling over me, it wasn’t human. Bile rose from my stomach. I felt myself beginning to fade my entire body crying out in agony, the darkness was coming, disappearing into the obscurity. I was his prisoner, I’m too weak to fight it any longer, giving in to the black. Confusion slithered up my spine.
“Why?” I plead as agony burns from the inside out. “Why?”
“You’re just like her, just like the others with your smart mouth.”
Swiping at the tears running down my cheeks, the angry bump above my eye throbbing, as hazy images flood my mind. Enduring the pain that spills over I felt so helpless, twisted, cracked and bro
ke inside. Turning I squinted through my swollen eye. Trying to regulate my breathing, what others? “Oh God please stop.” Frantically fighting the blackness fading in and out.
“Beg all you like, it won’t free you.”
Pain radiates as the room spun around. Someone help, please God. Help me. And as if I was heard, an answer came. I found myself trapped in the corner, wedged by the wall and refrigerator, and there lodged between the crack rests a hammer. A weapon, it was then the wonder drug, adrenaline propels me into action going ballistic striking his knee with great force the sound was sickening, the crash landing hard. I felt his fury radiating off him. “Fuck, you little bitch. Wait till I get my hands on you.”
I’m not going out this way and in spite of my terror, survival mindset kicks in, the only way out is through him. With trembling legs, each step sent my pulse rising, my heart hammering. Make a run for it and bolt for the door, and by the time he recovers I’m outside running, running faster than I ever thought possible. The air on my face felt like freedom and I set out across the fenced acres smelling of pine, the forest thick with fallen branches every twig breaking I imagined him closing in. The last of the adrenaline firing off rounds of clouded energy.
Strong iron will propelling me deeper into the unknown, hours passed. Night turned to day as I walked then ran, rested on sharp pine needles. Pale and worn and simply broken it happened. I didn’t know exactly when my mind shut down, only that it did. Something snapped, something buried deep inside me took over. My entire existence lost in silent pain it came and went, sounds, smells, memories gone in an instant.
Cold, and lost, voices echoed within reach, was I hallucinating? I fall to my knees. But he appeared wrapping his heavy coat around me. Delusions, in a blur. I willed myself to follow even though my gut told me to run, but I was drowning in despair. My heart splintered, ripped to shreds. But his voice was warm and soft and God knows I needed help.
The lifeless sky, and clouds float still above as I wait patiently sitting on the stoop for Nichole. Nerves jump and my thoughts scatter, will I share this memory? Flynn would be my rock, but it was time for me to be his. My arms fold around me as the void in my heart grows. In the distance the blur of the red mustang appears coming to a halt by the curb, the window rolls down, and I’m greeted with her friendly smile.
I ease into the passenger’s seat, reminding myself that Nichole has her own demons to wrestle with. Steel’s involvement and secrets all leading to Flynn’s condition, and her sense of betrayal. My mind going in circles a swallow hard.
“Any reports on?”
She cut me off before I could finish. “No, nothing.” Her voice laced with the slightest of agitation, she was keyed up. The past twenty-four hours has been life changing for all of us. I understood the risk is very real. Flynn clinging to life, and his best friend sitting in jail. Her man behind bars, accused of the unthinkable and she was helpless to assist in clearing his name. After all, what did I know of these things, maybe she had a plan.
“How are you feeling Grace?” She asks “I mean about Vane.”
“I’ve learned how to cope a long time ago.”
“I see.”
“And you?”
“Same.”
Nichole showing the first sign of emotion, even if it felt as if she was fighting against the current. All in pursuit of justice, her relentless strength never wavering. We arrive at the hospital and once inside, Nichole leads me to the nurse’s station where she reaches into her pocket exposing the silver badge marked FBI, we had the room number in seconds. We cross the lobby towards intensive care. Then she cuts a sharp left into the long hall as I follow close behind. Sensing my reluctance, she glances over her shoulder with a glib smile.
I come to a stop at room four eleven afraid to breathe, I gaze over at Nichole who schools her expression. “What should I say?” Wiping my clammy palms on my jeans. With startling tenderness, she leans into me and whispers.
“Tell him how you feel.”
I take several steps in, crossing the floor until he’s in view. I stare at him for several long minutes, getting over the initial shock of his condition, tubes and monitors beeping, his bandages covering most of his now shaven hair. I quietly sit on the edge of his bed and cradle his cheek and do the only thing that comes to mind. “Hush little baby don’t say a word. Mama’s gonna’ buy you a mocking bird.” I finish the song and gaze back at Nichole to maintain my sanity. This time her genuine smile lit up the room.
“Take all the time you need, I’ll be outside until the Dr. arrives.” I nod, and tenderly touch his face with the back of my hand.
“One way or another, you’ll come back to me Elijah.” As burning tears run down my cheeks. Thriving on more than fate, more than a chance meeting, this man helped me, saved me, now I wanted to be here to save him. God, please let me save him.
Hearing the echo of footsteps, the man in the white coat and graying hair steps in, Nichole soon follows. Introductions are made quickly. My voice thick with emotion, as I wait for the prognosis.
“Although he may have beaten the bullet, it’s the damage it has left in its wake that we need to worry about. Very few people with a gunshot wound to the head, live through the ordeal. Fortunately, in this situation it appears the bullet stayed on one side of the brain or grazed the surface instead of going through the brain itself.”
“And why the coma, how does that help? Nichole asks.
“A medically induced coma is similar to anesthesia.” he explains. “We don’t want the brain to be active. If there’s brain activity, that means there’s blood flow going to the brain and we run the risk of more swelling.”
“Can he hear me?” I ask.
“It’s better to assume he can, talk to him normally, even though the conversation is only one-sided.” His warm manner and all-knowing smile, revealing this particular question is asked often.
“How long will he be in the coma?” Sounding more like an FBI agent, than a friend.
“Normally seventy-two hours. We’re not out of the woods yet, only time will tell. Spend as much time as you like with him, we’ll have more answers in the days to come.”
“Thank you.” I watch Nichole leave with him, as her phone vibrates, allowing me a few private moments alone.
“Listen to me Elijah, our future depends on you getting better.” I say. Nichole appears thirty minutes later, still clutching her phone.
“Grace, I have to be somewhere but I’ve arranged for you to see Theo.” Her soft approach guarded as she calmly suggests the session. “After everything that’s happened, it’s best to be on the safe side, and I think it’s smart to share your feelings, get some clarity.”
I rise to my feet lost in my thoughts and agree “Of course, you’re right.” She had enough on her mind, I didn’t want to add to her burden. I wanted to ask when I could return but left that open ended. Elijah will recover, he has to. I just have to believe it. One thing at a time, meeting with Theo is my next step. The memory, my escape. I was not about to divulge every detail, not yet. I couldn’t summon the words, or could I? I had to decide and come to a decision fast.
We pull up to the curb, where a silver SUV sat idling. Dr. Theodore Grant. “Looks like he’s arrived Grace.” Our conversation had been pleasant enough on the short ride home, but the air was thick and the silence filled with tension, we were both fighting our own battles.
Both Theo and Nichole climb out the car, where I lag behind. “I hope we didn’t keep you waiting.” She offers.
“I heard from Steel.”
“Problem?”
“That depends.”
“Something on your mind, Dr.?”
“He wants to see you, Nick.”
“Yeah, me too. I just had to take care of a few things first.”
Suddenly the air shifts and the intense conversation felt heavy, uncomfortable. My heart skips a beat as both sets of eyes land on mine.
“Ready?” Dr. Grant asks. I nod as I walk up
the stoop.
Looking back over my shoulder. “Thanks Nicole.” She smiles in return. Once in her car turning the key and revving the engine, then she was gone.
His face is wary as he follows close behind me. “Can I ask you something Dr. Grant.” Bending into the refrigerator grabbing two bottles of water.
“Try me.”
“Does client patient confidentiality, apply in our case.”
“And why are you asking today? We’ve met on numerous occasions?”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Yes, Grace it does.”
I had come to terms with the fact that Vane was gone, and I can feel myself being pulled into hell. The memories flooding me. I stole a quick glance at Dr. Grant. “My truth is an ugly story.”
“You’re afraid of the past and the truth that lies buried within you?” Theo asks.
“I should be.”
“Drop the “should have’s” from your vocabulary. You will make decisions that turn out to be wrong, it’s human, don’t beat yourself up because of them.”
“Dr., my ghosts chase in unrelenting terror.” I breathed in, trying to remember it all. “He kissed the pain away, as if he could erase it.”
“And did it Grace, erase the hurt?
“Yes.” I close my eyes feeling the flash of a memory. “All because I craved him, or at least I was conditioned to.”
“It’s ok to be angry Grace, you do realize what he did was wrong. More than just wrong. Any form of abuse in an intimate relationship, from physical to psychological, constitutes abuse.”
Theo’s technique was covered in words of kindness, but the truth still lies buried, clawing to rise above the ashes and be heard. “He wasn’t capable of love, he was only capable of accepting love, which he demanded. He often displayed tender affection but especially after.”
Hard as Steel: Book four ( Surviving Series ) Page 18