Unfinished Sentence (The Charlie Davies Mysteries Book 2)

by Clare Kauter

  “Not sure, really,” said Harry, following Panther in. “Just keep an eye out for anything unusual.”

  How Harry could be so damn relaxed about this whole situation, I did not understand.

  “Os, have you seen or heard anything weird while you’ve been working here?”

  “Not really,” he said. “Lonny doesn’t show up all that much. Mostly I just sit here by myself, trying to make sense of the last guy’s notes.”

  “You just sit in here alone all day?”

  “Yeah, pretty much.”

  I sighed.

  “Perhaps we should head to the other site,” Harry suggested. “Maybe we’ll find something there.”

  I nodded and followed Harry and Panther out. “Come on, Os. You don’t want to be here when Lonny shows up next. He’s making a habit of kidnapping people these days.”

  Os stood, throwing his hands in the air. “I knew,” he said, “I knew I shouldn’t have befriended one of Stacey’s weirdo boyfriends.”

  In general, that’s a good tip to live your life by. Anybody Stacey was attracted to was inherently evil. At least Lionel was upfront about it – the last guy used to make up complaints at restaurants to try and get a free meal. Pure scum.

  We wandered over to the other site, not bothering to drive since it was only a few hundred metres away, slipping under the crime scene tape (which had mostly blown down anyway) and each picked our way across the plot, hoping to stumble across some clue – although preferably not a dead body this time.

  I shuddered at the thought. Celia had been gone for nearly twelve hours now – I wasn’t an idiot. (Shush, you.) I knew this didn’t look good. Unless Volkov was planning on using her as a hostage or for a ransom or something, he would probably have tortured and disposed of her by now. At least the death would have been fast, I thought. A single shot to the head. Well, unless he’d decided to tie her to a pier somewhere, but it wasn’t like –

  Oh.

  Shit.

  I took off at a run for the jetty, not even caring that my feet were being cut open on jagged rocks as I ran. I made it to the spot where I’d slipped through the fence last time and found that it had been repaired.

  “Charlie!” Harry called out. “What is it?”

  The splashing footsteps of the others told me that they were running my way. I gripped the bottom of the chain link fence and bent it up, managing to create a small gap. I scooped out some mud from underneath it with my hands, eventually making a space just big enough for me to squeeze through.

  “Jetty!” I yelled back, before lying down on my stomach and wriggling through the gap. Once I came out the other side I slid on my belly down the bank like a seal, stopping just short of the water, which was much higher than it had been the other day. The rain, combined with the water flowing in from other areas experiencing the same downpour, had turned our little river into rapids.

  I stood and looked around frantically, hoping desperately that we weren’t too late. Down the end of the jetty I thought I saw something tied to one of the posts, but I couldn’t tell from here what it was.

  “Celia?” I screamed out, trying to call over the roaring of the river.

  I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I heard a small voice call out in return. I ran to the ladder and climbed, sprinting the length of the pier, kneeling down to look at the beams holding it up. Yep, there was Celia – miraculously still alive.

  But the water was already up to her neck.

  “We’re going to get you out,” I said, not entirely convincing myself. Looking back at the yard, I could see that the men were struggling to make a hole in the fence big enough for any of them to climb through. OK, so we were on our own. Celia wasn’t going to be much help, really, with her arms and legs tied to a pole. Underwater.

  Down to you, Charlie.

  The trouble was, the water was rushing really fast. As you might remember from the previous night’s pool incident, swimming wasn’t really my strong suit. Like, really, really not at all. Swimming was about the worst form of exercise I could imagine. Sure, jogging sucked, but at least if you got tired you weren’t going to sink and die.

  Looking down at this river, which had churned up so much mud and foam it looked like hot chocolate, I was even less confident than normal in my physical capability. I needed to pull myself together, though, because if I didn’t do something – soon – I would have come all this way just to stand on a pier and watch my friend die. Good one, Charlie.

  “This is the worst thing ever!” I yelled at Celia. “Next time someone tries to murder you, can you make it slightly less shit for me when I come to your rescue?”

  “My head’s about to go under!” she screamed/spluttered back at me. Her voice was several octaves higher than normal. She was terrified. Watching a huge log sail past her at about 100 kilometres and hour, I can’t say I blamed her.

  “OK,” I said. “I’m coming in.”

  I moved to the edge of the jetty and turned, stepping down into the water but maintaining a firm grip on the wood. Now that I was in the water, it seemed to be moving even faster. It was a wonder Celia could breathe at all, even with her head above the water, considering how much pressure the river must have been exerting on her chest. I edged towards her, clinging to the boards of the pier like I was hanging from a cliff. If my hand slipped, I had no doubt that this current would carry me away.

  Reaching Celia, I stopped. What now? I was hanging next to her helplessly, too scared to let go for fear I’d be washed downstream to the next state. How exactly was I meant to help? Celia looked into my eyes, terrified, and I realised that hanging here contemplating tactics was not an option. I was just going to have to go in gung-ho and hope for the best.

  I took a deep breath and extended my arm, wrapping around the beam to which Celia was strapped. So far, so good. Channelling my inner ninja warrior, I swung my body around and clung to the pole with my other arm and legs. In the process, I also ended up kind of clinging to Celia, but I doubted she would care if I managed to get her out of this.

  “Charlie, hurry!” said Celia, coughing through a mouthful of muddy river water. I decided not to tell her about the condom I saw floating past us at that point. We could go and get treated for diseases later. Now we just had to keep breathing.

  I sighed. Breathing. I did so love my oxygen. Inhaling deeply, I plunged below the surface and kind of walked myself down the pole (much harder than it sounds – the water kept trying to throw me back up to the surface, which was odd since it never seemed inclined to do that when I was trying to float), using Celia’s arms like hand holds to help push my weight down.

  Obviously, opening my eyes would have been not only pointless but downright dangerous in this disease-riddled water, so I had to rely on my touch to figure out how Celia was tied. I could feel two separate ropes – one around the feet, the other around the torso and also binding the hands.

  I decided to start with the foot one, seeing as it was the less complicated. The thugs had used big, thick rope to tie her up, which I was very glad about – if they’d used something thin, they would have been able to tie the knots a whole lot tighter. As it was, I was able to find the knot and free her legs easily, all in one breathe. When I resurfaced, I turned to say something to Celia, and realised that her face wasn’t just going underwater in waves now, but was completely submerged.

  I dived back down.

  This one was trickier. I found the knot quickly, but I was panicked and fumbling and my lungs were screaming for air and if mine were screaming for air then Celia –

  I gulped in a huge lungful as I resurfaced, kind of freaking out. She couldn’t breathe. Jesus Christ, she couldn’t die now. Not after all this. Unless I could get her untied in the next couple of minutes – at most – that was exactly what was going to happen, though. There was no way for me to get oxygen to her underwater.

  Then it hit me – there kind of was.

  Sure, it wasn’t ideal, but it was worth a shot. />
  I scooted around the pole, so I was clinging to the front of Celia, and took a huge breath before resubmerging. I felt around underwater for her face. I lent in –

  And she flinched and pulled away.

  Oh my god, Celia. I’m trying to help you fucking breathe, not hit on you. Take the damn air.

  I went in again, and since she still seemed reluctant, I blew bubbles against her face to try and communicate my idea with her. If she hadn’t pulled away it would have been fine, but now she was making this weird. I didn’t want to be the underwater creep who ignored her rejecting my advances.

  Luckily, she caught on and exhaled, and I breathed my air into her. OK, so it was second-hand air, but it was better than nothing, right?

  I took another breath and went back to try her hands again. This time, I was less panicked, more angry. (Seriously? She’d rejected me? I was saving her life and she rejected me? Yes, OK, so I sounded like one of those creepy fedora-wearing ‘but I’m a nice guy why am I in the friend zone you owe me love for behaving like a human towards you’ guys, but it was giving me the energy and focus I needed to get the knot undone. We could address my internalised misogyny at a later date.)

  I got the knot undone and the rope slipped away from her hands. I loosened the tie around her torso and she kicked, pushing herself up to the surface. I bobbed up beside her, still gripping the pier. She was already hauling herself up, and when she was atop the jetty she reached a hand down to help me. Once we were both safe, we lay down on our backs in the rain, puffing and exhausted, but glad to be alive.

  And I was definitely not bitter about the flinching thing.

  “I thought you were, like, making out with me to say goodbye or something,” she said, apparently sensing my annoyance. “But when you started blowing in my mouth I caught on.”

  “Of course, you got ‘helping you breathe’ confused with the classic move ‘you’re about to die, let’s have an underwater make-out session’.”

  “You don’t need to be so offended about it. It’s just that I’m seeing someone and I wanted to remain loyal to them.”

  “I’m not offended,” I snapped.

  “Of course you’re not. Just know that I love you, but in a totally platonic way.”

  “I get it. It’s fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Please stop bringing it up.”

  The others had finally managed to break through the fence, using a bolt cutter they’d found somewhere on site, and came to our aid just a little too late.

  “Are you OK?” Harry called as soon as he was in earshot.

  I lifted my head up a little and looked at him, giving him a thumbs-up before plonking back down and closing my eyes, tired from the exertion. The water had given me a real pounding, and not in a fun way. (Not that ‘pounding’ sounds all that fun in any context, to be honest.) Sleeping would be the best way to spend the next few days.

  Of course, that was a luxury I could not afford, seeing as we had only rescued a third of all known abductees.

  Groan. Good one, Adam and James. Next time how about you be less shit at defending yourselves? This was exhausting.

  Oswald ran over to me and gave me a big hug. What a cutie.

  “I thought you were going to die,” he whispered, sounding genuinely upset. “The second you went into that water, I was sure you were going to bang your head and drown. That is exactly the kind of thing you would do.”

  I take back my earlier statement about him being a cutie.

  Celia stood, looking kind of shaky on her legs, but apart from that pretty good, considering the night she must have had. Her skin looked a little weird (I guess from all the river water it must have drunk in) but I decided not to say anything. She didn’t need that right now.

  Standing up looked like way too much effort to me, so I rolled over and faced my back to the group, wanting to have a little nap. Instead, I felt Panther’s massive arms grab my torso and hoick me over his shoulder. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but it required minimal effort from me so I went with it.

  The five of us crammed into Panther’s car – Panther driving, Harry in the front, and the rest of us in the back. Panther had found a towel in the boot of his car and laid it across the back seat in the hopes of protecting it from the festering river water that Celia and I were dripping everywhere (even after our rinse-off in the rain), but it was a lost cause. This car was never going to be the same again.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “What now?” I asked as we drove away.

  Now that Celia was safe, I was beginning to worry more about the other two. Her disappearance had given me focus. Without that, I was worried I might start to lose it. (Not that I wasn’t glad she was alive – I just had less to panic about now, so my stress wasn’t as spread out. That meant my panic was more sort of amplified in one direction.)

  I couldn’t imagine what threat Volkov had thought Celia posed to him, and yet he’d tried to kill her. And in kind of a shitty way. (I mean, sure, it allowed us time to save her, but that didn’t make it nice.) Adam and James had conspired against him to uncover the truth about his identity and send him back to prison. He was going to make them pay. Big time.

  If he hadn’t started already.

  Looking at the readout on the car dashboard, they’d been gone for a bit over two hours. They could definitely still be alive. On the other hand, though, they could definitely already be dead. I guess it depended on how Volkov was feeling today.

  “We’re going to drop you three off somewhere safe where you can get all cleaned up and rest,” said Harry. “We’ve already got people looking for Adam and James, but we’ll be heading back to the offices to help out with that.”

  “That was a very polite way of telling me that you wanted us out of your way,” I answered.

  Harry smiled at me in the rear view mirror. “Your friends have no training in this area and they look exhausted.”

  “So what, you think they need me to look after them?” I asked incredulously.

  He sighed. “One day I have every confidence you will be more than capable of helping us in the field, but today is not that day. You were hospitalised two nights ago, you are not at a high enough level of self-defence to help us, and you’re not even wearing any shoes.”

  “Can’t fight crime in bare feet,” I conceded.

  “You rest up. We’ll do our thing.”

  “And when I’m a big girl you’ll let me come along?”

  He smirked. “Something like that.”

  We drove a while more before Panther pulled into a secure parking lot beneath an apartment building, opening the gate to the underground garage with a remote. He stopped the car by an elevator and let the other four of us out before driving off to find a parking space where he could wait for Harry. Harry keyed us up to the top floor of the building and led us into a penthouse apartment.

  When we stepped inside, I raised my eyebrows in surprise. Judging by the furniture and other items placed around the room, this apartment appeared to be occupied. Judging by the perfect placement of every single object – remotes lined up neatly on the coffee table, three each of apples, bananas, and oranges grouped together in the fruit bowl, not a single thread out of place anywhere – it was occupied by someone who was way too enthusiastic about cleanliness. I was acutely aware of the muddy track I was leaving on the tiles.

  “Whoa,” I said, making my way through the apartment, careful to avoid any rugs or carpeted areas.

  “Make yourselves comfortable,” said Harry. “I’m afraid I can’t stay here to show you around, but please, treat it like this is your home. Don’t worry about making a mess.”

  At the door to what appeared to be the master bedroom, I stopped, not wanting to track my dirty feet over the carpet. The bed was, of course, perfectly made, and there was a single pair of shoes peeking out from under the end of it. A single pair of black converse sneakers.

  “Harry,” I called out. “Is this Adam�
��s place?”

  “Anyway, I’d better be off,” was all the reply I got. I heard him opening the door, and ran back out into the main living area.

  “Did you bring us here so we’d trash the place to get back at Adam for not telling you about Volkov?”

  “Bye!” he called, shutting the door behind him.

  The sneaky blighter.

  “Look at this place. Does Adam have some sort of disorder?” Celia asked me.

  “Really? You’re looking around this place and thinking it’s disorderly?”

  Celia took a shower in the main bathroom while I used Adam’s en suite, which was not at all strange and confusing considering my current feelings towards him. I definitely didn’t have a miniature breakdown in the shower and cry floods of tears, panicking about whether James and Adam were still alive and what would happen in Volkov found me/Celia/Oswald and what was going to happen to Stacey –

  Anyway, like I said. That didn’t happen.

  Cough.

  Seeing as I’d lent Celia the clothes from my Hello Kitty bag (I kind of owed her, I guess, what with totally ruining her pyjamas and all), I raided Adam’s cupboard for an oversized T-shirt and some boxers to wear. Then I had a weird flashback to waking up wearing James McKenzie’s clothes, after which I fought back another panic attack.

  Celia and I emerged at the same time (I guess she needed a long shower after the night she’d had, um, submerged in water), and Oswald went to bathe, leaving C and I alone to talk. We sat side by side on the lounge.

  “So, this place belongs to your boss?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” I said, not really sure where the conversation was going.

  “He’s the hot guy, right?”

  “Um, yes?”

  She nodded. “So what’s going on there?”

  Celia didn’t beat around the bush.

  “With Adam?”

  “Yeah.”

  “There’s nothing going on there.”

  She gave me a look of disbelief. “Right.”

  “No, really.” More incredulous looks. “Adam’s kind of, well… Look at this place! He’s a ‘look but don’t touch’ kind of guy, you know? I don’t really like him as a person, and I’m pretty sure he’d file a restraining order if I tried to crack onto him.”