Impressions of You (The Impressions Series Book 1)

by Christopher Harlan

  I don’t know what to do.

  “WHAT DID HE SAY?” I ask Kane.

  “It took a little arm twisting. And by ‘arm-twisting’ I mean I threatened to expose him to the authorities if this led down the road he said it might.” Kane’s ever-present smirk is fleeting.

  “What road? What are you talking about?”

  Kane shakes his head as he states, “I can hardly believe this myself, but it looks like the men who kidnapped Annabelle have been located, apparently due to some idea that Wesley had about the case.”

  “Kane, that’s great, that’s what he’s always wanted! Now all of this can end.” But the look on Kane’s face isn’t communicating happiness, or even satisfaction; he looks more concerned than he did a few minutes ago. “What is it?” I ask.

  “There’s a little more to it than that, Mia.”

  “Like what?”

  “Phil said that he met with my brother a little while ago, and that he gave Wesley a photo and address of the men. They still live in the area where the crime took place.”

  “Wait,” I say, wanting to get this all straight in my mind. “Why would Wesley need all of that? Wouldn’t the police just go get the guys once they were found?” Kane looks me dead in the eyes, and I realize what’s going on. Wesley doesn’t want to call the police, he wants to go find them himself. “Oh my God,” I say, still trying to process the whole thing. “You don’t think Wesley would . . .”

  “I’d like to think not,” Kane says. “But there’s one more detail about their meeting that Phil shared.”

  “What?”

  “Phil brought him an unregistered gun.”

  “What!” This has escalated faster than I could have ever imagined. Wesley may be obsessed, he may be angry, but he’s no killer, and I know that he’s just caught up in moment. “I need to talk to him. I’ve been texting him on and off but he won’t answer. Kane, you need to call him for me.”

  “And say what? He’s obviously not answering his phone.” We need to think of a way to get him to stop; some way we can track him down before he makes a big mistake. I rack my brain and come up with an idea.

  “Text him that you spoke to Phil. Tell him that you know what he’s doing and that it isn’t fair for him to go alone; that you should be there with him to get revenge for your sister.” It’s all I can think of off the top of my head, but I think it might work.

  “Interesting,” Kane says as he reaches for his phone. “Done—I just hit send.” We all just sit there for what feels like an hour, when in reality it’s only been about a minute, each of us desperately wanting to hear the ring of Kane’s phone. At first there’s just our silence as we listen, and then we hear it. Kane looks down at his phone, “It’s him.”

  “Give me the phone,” I say, reaching my arm out. He gives me the phone and I don’t have time to think about what I’m going to say, I just swipe my finger across the screen to answer. Before I can say anything Wesley speaks.

  “I’m sorry, Kane, but I couldn’t involve you in what I was doing.” He sounds frantic. “It was for your own protection.”

  “Could you involve me?” I ask. There’s a momentary pause before I hear his shocked response.

  “Mia?” He exhales

  “Yes, you wouldn’t return my texts so this was the only way to get in touch with you.”

  “Then you know . . .”

  “That you’re sitting in a car with a gun right now, yes I know.” I’m trying to stay calm as I speak, but knowing how this could end makes it almost impossible. I take a deep breath. “You need to come back here to me, right now.”

  “You don’t understand, Mia. You have no idea how much I hate these men.”

  “You’re right,” I tell him, “I don’t know.” I lower my voice, “But what I do know is that you’re not a killer, Wesley. You’re a good man, the best I’ve ever met, and this isn’t the way to get justice for your sister.” I hesitate to mention Anna because I don’t want to upset him anymore, or make him think about what happened to her, but he needs to hear what I’m saying. “I’ve never met her, I was hoping that one day you’d introduce her to me so we can get to know one another.” I’m doing my best to keep my emotions at bay while I plead, “But I can’t do that if you’re in jail, Wesley. I understand that you think this is the right thing to do, but it isn’t.”

  “Then what is? To call the police? To let them hire lawyers with money they’ve probably stolen, so that they can get a reduced sentence, or maybe even go free? Is that what Anna deserves?” The anger in his voice is palpable.

  “No, it isn’t what she deserves. She deserves to not have to lose anything else, Wesley. She deserves to not have to live with the pain of her older brother having hurt someone in her name. She deserves to just lead a normal life surrounded by what family she has left. If you take that from her you’ll be hurting her too.” What I’m saying is risky, I could just as easily make him angry and have him hang up on me, but the only thing he needs now is the truth.

  “But . . .”

  “No,” I say, hearing the emotion in his voice. “Listen to me. You did something no one else could have done. You found them. That’s an incredible thing. And now you need to take the last step and give that information to the authorities so that they can let these guys know that they didn’t get away with anything. That’s more than most people get. Imagine the look on their faces when the police knock on their doors. And you know they’ve committed other crimes, they’ll probably spend the rest of their miserable lives in prison.”

  “Mia, I . . . I’ve got to go now,” he says, the hesitation in his voice evidence of his emotional state.

  “Wesley, no! Please don’t go! I love you.” Of all the scenarios I could have imagined telling him that for the first time, this would never have even been a consideration. Maybe it’s a desperate thing to blurt out, but it’s the truth, and he needs to know how I truly feel before he decides to do something stupid. I hear silence for too long on the other end of the phone, and say his name again, but there’s nothing. He hung up. I start crying uncontrollably, and Dacia holds on to me for support. I can’t believe that any of this is happening, and I feel like a fool for even trying now. He just hung up on me!

  We all just sit there without saying anything, the sadness of the moment overtaking all of us in different ways. Once I get control of myself I decide that it’s time to leave, there’s nothing else for me here. “Can you drive home?” I ask Dacia.

  “Of course.”

  “I really hope he’s not so overcome with madness as to actually go through with this,” Kane says sounding somber. “He’s always been so hard on himself—I hope that your words were able to get through to him, Mia, for all of our sakes.”

  “Apparently they aren’t.” I’m exhausted, and I can feel the puffiness of my face from crying. How did this night turn so dark so fast? And now the only man I’ve ever truly loved is about to throw his entire life away. “He hung up.”

  “I never thought that he would go this far, but maybe I just didn’t want to see it. I should have, the signs were all there, and I was too caught up in my own life to recognize them.”

  “Jesus, would everyone stop blaming themselves for everything!” I yell at Kane. “Wesley’s a grown man, and sure, maybe you should have seen how obsessive he was being about the case, but he’s responsible for his own actions; we all are.” Kane nods at me, and I can see that he’s still taking his brother’s actions to heart. We’re about as different as two people can be, but Kane and I each love Wesley, and I know we’re each hoping that he doesn’t go through with this insanity. “Good night, Kane.”

  “I hope that it is, Mia. And good night to the both of you.” Dacia and I turn and leave. I get in the passenger side of my own car and hand my keys to her like a zombie; I’m too emotionally drained to think about anything except staring out the window. Dacia puts my address into the GPS, and my British lady guides us home.

  Don’t do it, Wesley
is all I can think as Dacia puts Marsden Manor farther behind us with her lead foot to the gas pedal . . . don’t do it.

  I DON’T EVEN REMEMBER getting into bed. I must have fallen asleep for a few hours, but I’m so messed up right now that all I remember is Dacia driving me home while I cried a lot. What the hell time is it anyway? 1:00 a.m.! I’m still groggy but the first thing I think to do is check my phone to see if I have any texts from him. Nothing. Why hasn’t he called or texted me back? He knows how upset I am, and I know deep down that he knows that this is a really bad idea. I keep thinking about his words, and what he might be doing to those men, right now as I lie in bed. Jesus, what if he’s already done it. What if he’s sitting in a jail cell, arrested for a double homicide? I can’t imagine that the next time that I would see him he would be behind a thick pane of glass during visiting hours. It’s a disturbing thought, and I’m trying to get it out of my mind.

  I feel so powerless, and my head feels like I went the distance with Mike Tyson and lost. With my phone in hand there’s only one thing I can think to do. It’s stupid and desperate, but it’s all I have. I can’t just sit here and be sad all night, so I send him one more text, knowing that he won’t return it, but hoping he’ll see it.

  Mia: Don’t do this. I’m sitting here in bed thinking of you. Come home to me.

  After I hit send I lie back down on the bed and turn the TV on. There’s no way that I’m going to sleep right now, and the only thing I can handle is mindlessly staring at the screen. Celebrity gossip shows will do perfectly. About an hour goes by as I see still framed shots of movie star babies and catch up on all the latest high profile break-ups going on in Hollywood. It’s mind numbing enough to keep my attention off of everything and eventually my eyes start to close and I drift off. I startle awake suddenly when Gizmo starts to bark, and I realize that it’s two fifteen and my doorbell is ringing.

  I jump out of bed and displace Gizmo who looks pissed that his sleep is disrupted. It’s times like these I wish I had a peep-hole on my door, because it’s the middle of the night and whoever’s standing on the other side is going to get a nice view of me half naked and puffy-faced from all the crying. I slowly open the door and there he is, standing in front of me, looking worse than I do. “Wesley!” I shout, totally shocked to see him. I know I should be mad, but I’m flooded with relief. I jump on him and feel him wrap his arms around me. I feel something wet on my shoulder and look up, realizing that there are tears running down his face that match my own; the release of all the emotions that have surrounded this day. “Wesley, come sit down, tell me what happened. Did you . . .?” I can’t even say the words.

  “Kill those men? No. I didn’t kill anyone.”

  “Thank God,” I say, and throw my arms around him as hard as I can. “I thought I had lost you.”

  “You’ll never loose me, Mia. Haven’t you realized that yet?” I start to cry again, only this time they’re tears of happiness. “I wanted to, you know.”

  “Wanted to what?”

  “Kill them. I had it all planned out in my head. Since the second I found out they were alive and free my mind has been filled with all the violent things that I want to do to them.” I can still hear the frantic anger in his voice, but I can tell that he’s trying to keep it controlled in front of me.

  “Of course you feel that way. I think anyone would. But you’re not a bad man. They are, and you sure as hell aren’t a murderer. Their fate is for a court to decide, not for you to take into your own hands, even if you feel like you should.”

  “I get all that, and I’m not going anywhere,” he says. “But I have to be honest with you, Mia. If you hadn’t called me, I really don’t know if I could have stopped myself.” I can see in his eyes that he means it, and that somewhere inside he still feels regret for not following through with what he set out to do.

  “Remember what you told me about the decisions that affect our lives?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well then it doesn’t matter what would have happened. I called. I texted. You came back to me. The end. There are a thousand ‘what-ifs’ and a thousand different roads we could go down, but we only choose one. The rest is theoretical.” I pull him in and lean his head against me. I could say a thousand more words, but he doesn’t need a therapy session right now, he needs the warmth of my skin against him. I take his hand and lead him to my bedroom. We lay in bed in silence for a while, and before Wesley falls asleep in my arms he turns to me and whispers in my ear.

  “I love you too, more than anything in the world.” No matter how terrible the day’s been, that one sentence, spoken so beautifully, makes it the best day of my life so far. I shoot Dacia and Kane a quick text letting them know Wesley is okay before shutting my phone off. It’s been a long day, and we both close our eyes contently, drifting off into a much needed sleep.

  The next morning starts out surprisingly normal considering the night we had. I reach across my side of the bed, and instead of grabbing a hold of Wesley I get a little too comfy with Gizmo. Once I realize that I’m molesting man’s best friend I open my eyes and see that Wesley’s not there. I get up to find him and see that he’s standing in the kitchen. The place smells incredible, with a great combination of breakfast smells that include toast, bacon, and eggs all mixed together in a giant yummy cloud that fills the air. There I go with the word yummy again. I wipe my eyes clear, and once I do the sight of him in nothing but his boxer briefs, cooking me breakfast is enough to make me melt. He’s not even flexing, but I can see the definition of his muscles from across the room. His tattooed arms look good throwing my spatula around like a pro, and my whole house smells like a diner. “Good morning,” I say, as I walk up behind him and wrap my arms around his delicious naked chest. He leans in and kisses me gently.

  “Good morning. I hope you like French toast.” He reaches down and opens up the oven, and I get a whiff of intense cinnamon and nutmeg. I can still feel the heat of the oven when he puts the tray of French toast next to the stove, and it’s about the best looking breakfast I’ve ever seen.

  “You sure you never did this for a living?” I ask playfully. “Because if the whole brooding, millionaire-eccentric thing doesn’t pay off for you, I know a lady who’ll give you a job in her kitchen.” I’m talking about Sally, and for years her place has been the only spot in town I’ll go if I’m craving breakfast food, but nothing that’s come out of Sally’s kitchen has ever smelled like this.

  “I think I’d be a good line cook,” he says back, taking the pieces of hissing bacon out of the pan, one at a time, and putting them on some paper towels. “From what I’ve read they’re kind of dark—the outcasts of the food industry. I’d fit right in. And if not I can always rent a van and travel the country solving crimes. I seem to have a talent for it.” He’s trying to be lighthearted, but I’m still a little messed up from the events of last night. Everything ended well, but getting to that happy ending was traumatic, and I wasn’t in a place to joke around about it yet. He sees it in my face. “I’m sorry,” he says without me having to explain. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “No, it’s okay.” I decide to let him off the hook. I’ve been so caught up in how yesterday affected me that I forget what it must have done to him. Even though he had acted irresponsibly, and handled everything about as poorly as you can handle something, I can only imagine the flood of emotions he must have felt to have even considered what he was going to do. Wesley isn’t aggressive or violent, and besides yesterday he’s always put my feelings ahead of his own. He must have felt completely overwhelmed with guilt and anger to have even gotten into that emotional state. “What ever happened with . . . with everything?”

  “I’ve been up for a while, I couldn’t sleep.” He’s not really answering me but I decide to just go with it. “I woke up in the middle of the night,” he explains. “I was so caught up in making things right with you that I forgot that those fuckers are still out there. I started getting angry aga
in, and I couldn’t go back to sleep.”

  “I’m so sorry, I have no idea what you’re going through, but that must be a terrible feeling.”

  “It was,” he says. “And for a moment that impulse was still there. I wanted to get of bed, get in my car, and go find them. I wanted that more than anything else at that moment.”

  “So what stopped you?” I ask, not loving what I’m hearing.

  “I looked over at you, asleep on the bed, and you looked so peaceful. I sat there, staring at you for a while and I started to calm down. I felt my heartbeat slow down, and I started thinking like a rational person again. All I kept thinking was how I could ruin everything we’ve built together, and I forced myself to go back to sleep.”

  “Wesley,” I say, giving him a hug, “I’m glad you made the right decision.”

  “So am I, Mia.”

  “So what about those men? Are they still out there?”

  “Before I started all of this,” he says, motioning to the feast that’s sitting on my kitchen table, “I made a phone call to Phil. I had him take the copies of all the evidence he gathered for me, and I made him turn it over to the authorities. Soon those bastards will be rotting in a jail cell.” I’m so happy to hear his words that I leap into his arms and give him the biggest squeeze ever. Not only am I happy that he’s finally gotten justice for his sister, but I’m also excited knowing that we won’t experience another night like last night.

  “That’s great news.”

  “I suppose,” he says somberly.

  “What’s wrong? Aren’t you happy?”

  “I’m happy that this whole thing is going to be over, of course. But you have to understand that you’re the only thing that pulled me back from doing what I was going to do, Mia. I still want revenge for my sister.”