Desert Heat

by A. D. Herrick

  “Hello?”

  Silence met me on the other end of the line.

  Confused I tried again. “Hello?”

  Again the line remained silent.

  Frowning I looked at the signal strength on my phone. Though I typically had perfect signal, it was not uncommon for the bars to drop. As I expected, I had perfect signal, four full bars.

  Sighing, I hung up the phone figuring whoever it was would call back.

  No sooner had I laid my head back down the phone rang again, and again I was met with silence on the other end of the line, no answer, only dead silence. This continued several more times. With each ringing of the phone my patience was tried. Clearly someone had the wrong number and was too daft to have figured it out.

  Finally, giving up on receiving an answer, I turned my phone on silent. I wasn’t on call this week so there was no reason for me to have my phone on. Laying back down I watched as the screen of my phone lit up the room, signaling another call, though this time silent. Lifting the pillow over my head I took relief in the fact I could sleep in, allowing my body to sink into the comfort of my mattress. My heavy eyes drifted close as I sank back into a deep sleep.

  Chapter eight

  Everything hurt, my head, my body, my hair, everything. Ripping the covers from my face I winced in pain at the movement as light blazed through the open curtains, blinding me. The bright light made my already pounding head begin to thump louder.

  “No more wine.” I mumbled, crawling from the bed, the pinch of my bladder making my fumbling limbs move faster toward my destination despite my body’s protest.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I had been hungover, meaning this was going to be worse than any hangover I had ever experienced. My rolling stomach competed for dominance against the pounding in my skull.

  The cool tiles of the bathroom floor had a magical calming effect as I slumped to the floor after relieving myself to absorb their healing magic. Uncaring of how pathetic I looked, I lay there, my naked body pressed firmly to the cool tiles, my hair hanging in a tangled mess around my body. Closing my eyes, I tried to remember the night before.

  Flashes of memory flickered behind my lids, Emily showing up on my doorstep, Devon coming to her rescue, meeting Anthony, waking up on Anthony’s couch after being bludgeoned by the door from Sam. Like a horror flick I was unable to make the images stop.

  “Somebody kill me now.” I begged, my weak voice echoing off the walls, reminding me of my shame.

  The growling of my stomach pulled me from the now warm floor. Standing, I noticed the empty wine bottle dancing along the cold bath water. In my haste to answer the phone last night I had forgotten to drain the tub.

  Snatching my robe from the back of the door I covered my body, securing the sash around my waist. Spying a hair tie on the counter, I pulled back the tangled mess of my hair, securing it into a sloppy bun. I had absolutely no intentions of leaving the house today, I refused to human. I would be lucky enough if I could sloth. Anything beyond being burrowed under a pile of blankets was beyond my comprehension for the day, with the exception of a greasy breakfast to absorb the remaining alcohol that sat in my stomach.

  Pulling the empty bottle from the tub, I yanked the chain on the plug, allowing the bath to drain. Bottle in hand, I made my way into the bedroom, dragging my feet the whole way. Snatching my phone off the bedside table I continued my mission for food.

  The smell of bacon frying was both nauseating and comforting at the same time. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to hurl in the sink or lick the pan clean of any remaining grease. Black coffee, bacon, eggs, and toast were the breakfast of champions and the walking dead.

  Using the last bite of toast, I soaked up the remaining grease on my plate, popping the tasty morsel into my mouth with a sigh. Already my stomach had begun to feel better; the nauseating rumbles had dulled to a light roar. Dumping my dirty dishes in the sink for later I finished off the last of my coffee. Nothing but water and Gatorade from here on out, I promised myself, reciting the same promise of every person ever having suffered from a hangover.

  Fully sated, I made my way back into my bedroom and closed the curtains, blocking out the blinding sun. Bed. That’s all I wanted, my bed.

  Pulling back the blankets I climbed in, ready to drift away into a deep slumber. The hard edge of my phone caught me in the hip, reminding me of its existence. Pulling it from the pocket of my robe I hit the display button causing the phone to light up.

  Fifteen missed calls. Jerking up in the bed I stared at my phone in surprise. I had never had fifteen missed calls in my life. Swiping the screen, I pulled up the call log. I had ten missed calls from an unknown number, one from Sam, and four from Devon.

  I felt my heart seize in my chest seeing Devon’s name on the screen. Taking a shaky breath, I swiped the screen, returning his call.

  “What the hell, Sasha? Are you okay?” Devon’s deep voice bellowed into the phone taking me by surprise.

  “Yeah, I just slept in. long night.” My voice was rough and scratchy from not being used, forcing me to clear my throat.

  “I’ve been calling you all morning.” The anger in his voice radiated through the phone.

  Pulling the phone from my ear I glanced down at the time. It was just after three in the afternoon causing me to cringe in shame. I had never slept in so late before in my life. I could sense a theme to the day, first hangover, first time sleeping all day, what was next?

  “Sam showed up after you left, I didn’t have a choice but to go out with her.”

  “Wait a minute. You mean to tell me that you called me over to take a beaten woman out of the state, making me stay up all fucking night driving, while you went out and partied with Sam?”

  I stared blankly into the phone unsure of who this person was on the other end of the line. My calm, cool headed Devon had been replaced by a seething angry man.

  “Are you hearing me?” Devon’s voice bellowed into the line pulling me back from my shocked state.

  “What?” I had missed everything he had just said and already regretted it.

  I could hear Devon sighing heavily on the other end of the line.

  “I will try this one more time.” He gritted out through clenched teeth.

  “Is Emily’s car still parked outside?”

  My brows furrowed in confusion. Emily’s car?

  “What do you mean?”

  “Big metal box on four wheels, is there one in front of your house?”

  My eyes narrowed into slits, anger simmering just below the surface.

  “Self-righteous son of a bitch.” I murmured under my breath as I climbed from the bed and trudged to the living room.

  Pulling the curtain back I peered out in front of the house.

  “No car here, why would there be?”

  “There isn’t a white SUV parked at the curb?” The anger in Devon’s voice quickly changed to concern.

  “No, there’s nothing out there.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “Sasha, you need to grab your things and get the hell out of the house.” Devon’s voice was full of panic leaving me confused and worried.

  “What’s going on Devon?”

  “Bob… he… Emily said he had a tracker on the car. She forgot about it last night when everything was going on. She was just worried about getting away. She said she looked you up in the phone book and just drove straight to your house. If Bob’s found the car, it means he knows she was there. Sasha, you have to get out of there. At least until we figure out what to do about Bob.”

  I could hear the words he was saying, even understand them, but somehow they didn’t compute in my brain. Somewhere between them spilling out of his lips and entering my brain they became tangled.

  “Bob knows where I live?” My voice sounded hollow to my own ears.

  “Are you fucking hearing me Sasha? Get. Out. Of. The. House.” He shouted, kick-starting the pounding of my heart. />
  “Sasha, Emily told me… she told me things… things I couldn’t believe… wouldn’t understand… You need to get out of there. Bob’s sick, Sash. Emily’s in with a lawyer and the police now. I need you to just listen to me. Please, for once, just listen to me… Grab a bag and get the hell out of there. Get out of Miami.” Fear rolled off of Devon and crashed through the phone.

  I could feel his fear in the back of my throat like a thick coating, nearly suffocating me.

  “Devon, I have nowhere to go.” I could feel tears of confusion welling up in my eyes.

  “Sash, go to Nevada. You have the property there with a house. Just hang out there for a few days; finally look at something you bought. I’ll have Trina send you the information and an address.”

  “I thought you said it could be a shack.” Fear and confusion clouded my brain as I filled my bags with everything within reach.

  There was no rhyme or reason to what I packed.

  “It could be a mansion or a shack, I have no fucking clue, but it’s the last place anyone will think to look for you. Worst case scenario you spend a little time on the strip.”

  “I’m scared, Devon.” My voice wavered, conveying just how truly scared I was.

  “I know you are, and I’m scared for you. I just want you safe Sash. Do that for me. Get out of Miami and stay safe. Bob doesn’t have access to your accounts like he does Emily’s, so all you need to worry about is getting out of the house. Once you get on the road you don’t stop for anything but gas. If you think someone is following you I want you to drive to the closest police station and get an officer on the phone with me immediately. Do you hear me?”

  “I hear you, Devon.”

  “I have to go in and give a statement. I’ll call you when I’m done.”

  “Okay.” Hanging up the phone, I made sure to turn the ringer back on before slipping it into my pocket.

  Pulling on the only thing I could find, a pair of old faded holey jeans and a tank top followed by a pair of sneakers, I was ready. My whole body shook as I lugged my overstuffed bags to the front door.

  I surveyed the house one last time. My heart ached with a sharp stabbing pain staring at the empty house. So many great memories were born in this house. I never imagined leaving it. I knew I wasn’t leaving forever, this was just temporary, but it felt absolute. It felt like a final goodbye.

  Tears pelted my cheeks as I pulled a ball cap over my head. I wasn’t sure what made me grab the hat or want to wear it. It was an old hat I found in the back of my closet as I was pulling everything out and loading it into bags. Somehow it just felt right grabbing it. Perhaps I had subconsciously thought it a disguise.

  With my arms loaded I hobbled out of the house, the weight of my luggage nearly crushing me. The front door closed with a click of finality, sending a new wave of tears down my cheeks. The click of the tumbler, securing the lock into place, left me feeling hollow and drained.

  “Suck it up Sash.” Using the back of my hand I wiped the free-falling tears from my face.

  This was it, time to put on my big girl panties. Vegas. Vegas. Vegas. I repeated the mantra over and over in my head, psyching myself up for the trip.

  With my luggage loaded in the back of the Prius, my Vegas mantra continued to repeat through my mind, keeping me focused on putting one foot in front of the other. I gave my childhood home one last long look before climbing behind the wheel.

  Blood. So much blood. I had no idea how I had missed it. My windshield was covered in it. The words Your Next Bitch were written, smeared in blood across the windshield. I should have been afraid. I should have got in my car and sped away right then. Hell, I should have got on my phone and called the police, a million other things should have been done. But I was too angry for rational thinking. The ignorant motherfucker couldn’t even spell right.

  “It’s Y.O.U.’.R.E. you fucking idiot” I spelled out shouting into the windshield of the car.

  Getting out of the car I pulled my phone from my pocket and snapped a picture of the blood-smeared windshield and hood of the car. A small animal lay across the hood of my baby blue car, dead, its body stiff with rigor mortis. Stashing my phone away I yanked the small body of what appeared to be a cat off the car and set for the hose. It took longer than I expected to wash the blood from my car. All the while, anger radiated through me.

  How dare this dumb motherfucker come to my house. How dare he threaten me. I continued to cast unsavory words toward the man that had caused so much trouble in my life. I was angry at Bob Davidson for busting into my life with his threats. I was angry at Emily for continuing to go back to him repeatedly after he had beaten her time and time again. I was angry at Devon for not giving me a hug and kiss goodbye, and I was angry with myself for allowing myself to be put in this situation.

  It didn’t matter that it was the right thing to do at the time. It had caused me to have to flee my home, to leave everything I had ever known, because some pussy ass man-boy couldn’t hack the fact that he wasn’t man enough to survive boot camp. Fuck Bob Davidson and the horse he rode in on. Fuck him in the ass.

  I wasn’t going to run. I couldn’t do it. Turning off the hose and raveling it back up I went to my hatch to unload my bags. My phone ringing in my pocket halted me. Devon.

  “Hello?”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a prettier sight than you screaming and crying as you pounded on the door to the club, desperate to get in. I almost had you too. Just a minute longer and you would have been mine.” Sick sinister laughter echoed through the line leaving chills down my spine.

  Dark flashes of memory flashed through my mind, coming in through the static that surrounded the memories of last night in the alley. Memories of a chilling voice calling my name, the Tink. Tink. Tink sound of a can echoing off the narrow alleyway. The same fear I felt last night in the alley began to wash through me anew.

  “When I watched you sleeping peacefully, tucked under the thin cotton towel in your bed, I knew it then you would be perfect. I tucked you in tightly under the blankets, taking care not to wake you. You looked so cute with the dribble of drool running down your chin. NOW SAY THANK YOU.” My blood turned to ice as he screamed into the phone.

  Laughter echoed through the receiver. Fumbling for the phone I quickly ended the call. Fuck Robert Davidson. Fuck him in the ass. There was no way in hell I was staying here. That motherfucker had been in my home, in my bedroom. He touched me while I was sleeping.

  My skin crawled as my stomach revolted, threatening to spill my breakfast. Fuck Miami. I wasn’t staying here. I couldn’t stay here. Dashing around the car, I jumped behind the wheel, peeling out of the driveway.

  Chapter nine

  I felt beyond dirty, if there was a word for how I felt I sure didn’t know it. A million scalding showers and a pool of bleach couldn’t wash away the feeling surrounding me. That sick bastard had been in my home. He had touched my body without my consent. A fresh wave of tears spilled from my eyes blurring my vision. Using the back of my hand I wiped them away.

  Fuck Miami. Fuck Robert Davidson, Bob, whatever the fuck he calls himself. Sick twisted bastard was a better fitting name. The sick son of a bitch needed to be taken down. I hoped Emily had the strength to finally pull the proverbial trigger and do it.

  I had done the math, there was no way in hell I had enough evidence to have Bob convicted, let alone arrested. I knew it was him, but there was no way I could prove it. Unfortunately, it wasn’t against the law to be creepy, trust me, I made enough calls to check and be sure. I had no evidence he was in my house other than him admitting it. I couldn’t even prove he said it because he didn’t identify himself and his number had been blocked. It pissed me off. I couldn’t prove a damn thing I knew to be certain. Which meant hanging around Miami would make me a sitting duck for whatever sick games Bob had planned.

  There was no way in hell I was going to make this easy for him. It had taken me a record forty-five minutes to get out of Miami
and onto the highway out of here. I still hadn’t heard from Devon which bothered me more than I cared to admit. Bob had been courteous enough to call me a record twenty times since I hung up on him. I have no idea why in the hell that man had ever thought I would answer the phone to him again. Now that I knew who the unknown caller was I felt even sicker to my stomach. Had he called from inside the house? Was he already there waiting on me to come home from the club? Did he wait for me to pass out before calling to wake me? The endless questions swarmed through my brain. I wasn’t brave enough to answer the phone to him and demand answers. I wasn’t sure if it was because I was more afraid of him or if I was more afraid of what the answers might be.

  Just as Devon had promised, Trina had sent me an address to the land in Columbus, Nevada. Two thousand seven hundred and ninety-one miles, my first time leaving the state and I somehow decided to take one of the longest road trips ever, nearly crossing the entire country. My GPS showed a forty-one-hour drive. Doing the rough math in my head it accounted for at least a four-day drive if I only drove ten hours a day and didn’t run into any issues. The longest leg of the trip was going to be along highway 10. All I needed to do was get as far away from Miami as I could and the rest would figure itself out. Thankfully I had a full tank of gas and my little Prius got amazing gas mileage. I typically got around fifty miles to the gallon, which meant I would only have to stop for gas at least four more times. Doing the math in my head I roughly estimated I would need to fill up every time I stopped to rest.

  Math made my head hurt, thinking made my head hurt, hell, the whole situation made my head hurt. I didn’t want to be calculating rough estimates of time and travel. I wanted to be surfing the net for my next land purchase while I downed a gallon of chocolate thunder ice cream, like any other twenty-five-year old woman confused about her relationship. Fuck you Bob Davidson. Fuck you in the ass.

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