The Subjugate

by Amanda Bridgeman

  “Come on,” he said. “I’ll take you home.”

  Salvi looked up at him. “I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Mitch–”

  “Detective,” he said firmly, pulling rank. “I’m taking you home.”

  People at the next booth looked over at them. Not wanting to create a scene, Salvi stood, snatching the bottle of vodka and stumbling slightly out of the booth. Mitch took hold of her upper arm and steered her toward the door.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Salvation

  “I’ll take an autocab,” Salvi said as they stepped out into the cold night air.

  “You’re drunk and we’ve got a goddamn killer on the loose who might be watching us,” Mitch said. “No. I’ll take you.”

  She pulled her arm out of his grasp. “Drunk? You mean like you were the other night when I had to take you home.”

  “Yeah,” he said, looking back at her with a plain face. “So, I owe you one. Get in.”

  The Raider was parked close by. She watched him walk over to it and pop the doors. He looked back at her. A moment passed.

  “I didn’t kill my girlfriend, Salvi. I didn’t kill any of them.”

  “Yeah, that’s what they all say,” she slurred slightly.

  “Get in,” he said, sliding behind the driver’s wheel.

  She looked around again, sighed, then stumbled over to the passenger door. Had she been sober she probably wouldn’t have taken his ride, but drunk Salvi was a self-loathing risk-taker. And that’s exactly why she didn’t drink any more.

  As soon as she was strapped in, he set the Raider in motion. They sat in silence and she looked out the window, letting the cool night air blow in her face. After a while, she realized he was heading in the right direction for Sky Tower 4.

  “How do you know where I live?” she asked him. “I never told you.”

  He looked over at her. “When I couldn’t find you the other night, I got your home address and tried you there.”

  “Riverton gave my address? You’ve been to my apartment?” She screwed her face up in anger.

  “Yeah, I have,” he said nonchalantly, glancing at her. “Sky Tower 4. Nice. You’re just full of secrets aren’t you, Salvi? I mean, Salvation.”

  “Fuck you!” she said.

  “No, fuck you, Salvi! You said you’d tell me if I told you about the prostitute. I told you, now you tell me.”

  “You haven’t finished telling me about the prostitute. What information did she give you?”

  He exhaled heavily. “She’d been approached by some of the locals. She said she had all the names of her clients in a book, along with dates and times, that was kept somewhere safe, with a friend, for insurance. She said she’d get a list to me, but she never got the chance because someone killed her.”

  “But she must’ve told you some of the names when you talked?”

  “Let’s talk about your name first,” he said, pulling over to the curb out the front of her apartment.

  “No, let’s talk about clearing yours first,” she shot back.

  “So, you don’t think I did it?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  He exhaled heavily again and turned the Raider off. “I showed her holos for positive identification, focusing on faces from the Solme Complex and the town. She ID’d Dr Remmell, James Stackwell and Sheriff Holt. The book will tell us how often and when they last visited her.”

  Salvi stared at him, thinking over the names. “OK, Remmell and Stackwell I can see. But Holt?”

  Mitch nodded. “She said he just sought her out for the occasional blowjob. They never actually had full-blown sex. For some reason he refused to do that with her.”

  “Anything kinky with the others?”

  “With Stackwell she said they just had straight sex, with Remmell he liked to be dominated,” Mitch shrugged. “I guess he does enough dominating in his real life and likes to turn the tables on his time off.”

  “Remmell, Stackwell and Holt,” Salvi repeated, thinking aloud with her drunken mind. “No one from the church?”

  Mitch stared at her. “No. And I asked her about the preacher too. It would seem he really is a good boy after all.”

  “Or he just doesn’t like paying for it, so he takes it instead.”

  “Salvi,” Mitch stared at her. “His DNA was cleared from Sharon Gleamer’s murder. What is it with you and the church?”

  She looked at him. “Don’t start.” She unbuckled and opened the door of the Raider. By the time she got out and walked around the car, Mitch was waiting for her by the door.

  “I got it from here,” she said.

  “No, I’m going up with you.”

  “Detective Grenville,” she said formally. “Do you remember my gun in your crotch the other night? I’m quite capable.”

  Mitch put his hands in his pockets and stared back at her. “It’s my duty as your partner to ensure your apartment is safe.”

  Salvi looked at him. “Oh, please. Give me a break. This is a Sky Tower. We got security, trust me.”

  “Yeah. I overheard the tail end of your conversation with your security company earlier.”

  Salvi put her hands on her hips and stared back.

  “Goddamn it, Salvi,” he said. “Would you let me in? We haven’t finished talking here.”

  She stared at him a moment, wobbling a little. Uncomfortable about inviting someone into her secret world. She’d never done that before. But he knew where she lived now. Her secret was out. What did it matter if he saw the inside too? Besides, she knew he wasn’t going to give up. She glanced around then looked back at him. She didn’t see a killer before her. She just saw Mitch.

  She sighed and swiped her key card. The grand glass doors slid back allowing them entrance into Sky Tower 4’s reception. The auto-concierge came to life, greeting them. Mitch watched it curiously, but she ignored it as they walked to the elevators. No one else was around, their shoes clipping the polished tiled floors the only sound.

  They rode the elevator in silence. She kept her eyes on the seamless control panel, while he kept his eyes on the floor numbers, clearly curious as to how high they were going to go. The elevator came to a stop at the seventy-seventh floor. Mitch looked at her.

  “Penthouse, huh?”

  “Not quite,” she said, stepping out of the opened doors. She shared this floor with one other apartment. She moved over to her front door and swiped her pass again. The door unlocked, and they went inside.

  Mitch stopped just inside the door and scanned the surrounds. He gave a whistle.

  “Who’d you rob to get a place like this?” he asked. “That why you changed your name? You in Interpol or something?”

  She flashed him a humorless look, walked over to the kitchen bench and placed the bottle of vodka from McClusky’s down on it. She fished for glasses, poured the vodka and handed him one. He took it, eyeing her curiously, then raised his glass to hers.

  “To me not being the killer.”

  “I haven’t decided that yet,” she said, refusing to raise her glass.

  A smile curled Mitch’s mouth. “Even drunk, Salvi, you’re too smart to invite a killer up to your apartment.”

  “I didn’t invite you. You insisted,” she said, moving over to her couch and sitting down. Mitch followed, sitting in the chair opposite.

  She watched as he sat forward, holding the glass in both hands, staring at it as his mind ticked over.

  “You’re not drinking,” she commented. “There’s definitely something wrong with you.”

  He looked up at her, face serious. “I’ve been through a rough patch, Salvi. I admit it. The other night, when you came and got me… it was like a wake. It was the anniversary of her death.” He sighed and rolled the glass and its contents around. “Four years she’s been gone… and for four years, I haven’t moved on. I’ve been stuck on this awful carousel, carrying guilt for not being there, hatred for her killer … and frustration
that I may never find who did it.” He knocked back the drink, then leant forward and put the glass on the coffee table between them. “I should’ve been home,” he said, his throat sounding tight with emotion, his jaw clenching. “I was working on a case, was close to nailing the perp. I’d been working back a lot. She’d had enough, and it was causing tension in our relationship. I’d promised her that I’d be home on time that night. But we got a break and I…” Mitch’s mouth twitched with emotion. “I was home three hours late that night… When I got there, she’d been dead for two.” Mitch looked up at her, his eyes shining. “If I’d been home when I said I would, I would’ve been there to protect her. But I wasn’t.” His brow furrowed and he pressed his lips together, fighting the emotion. “I’ve had to live with that, Salvi,” he said quietly. “The past four years. That I was a selfish asshole who not only drove her into another man’s arms, but also let her die… It’s been tough. And it’s been no secret that I’ve struggled. That’s why they shipped me out here.” He nodded to himself. “I made a mess of things,” he said reaching for the bottle and pouring another drink. “But you were right,” he told her. “I feel too much. I felt too much, and it was killing me. So, the other night, on the anniversary… that was me saying goodbye. That was me accepting that she’s dead, that she’s not coming back… That I may never find her killer… But that I gotta let it go before it kills me too. It was one last purge.”

  Salvi felt a heavy sensation in her chest, like her ribcage had been stuffed with wet towels. She swallowed, noticing her throat was tight.

  “Mitch,” she started, but he held his hand up to stop her.

  “I’m not looking back any more,” he said. “I’m moving forward. I’m not going to drink so much. I’m going to be focused…” He locked eyes with her. “And we’re going to catch this killer, Salv. And I’m gonna clear my name from this.”

  “Mitch, when I said…” Salvi closed her eyes and ran her hand over her face, feeling like a lump of lead sat in her belly. A lump of guilt. “Don’t listen to me. It’s OK to feel something. She was your girlfriend.”

  “It’s done,” he said firmly. “It’s over. I’m finally putting her to rest… I gotta focus on the present. I gotta focus on this killer, and make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone else. I need to make sure no one I care about ever gets hurt again.”

  Salvi stared at him. “Is there someone you care about?”

  Mitch glanced at her, an uncomfortable look washing over his face. He downed his drink, put the glass back on the table. “I’m just trying to explain, Salvi. To apologize. You’re my partner, right? When I tried to call you the other night and you didn’t answer, I panicked. That’s why I traced your iPort to the club.” He sighed, ran his hand through his hair. “I overreacted. I’m sorry, alright. I’m not a stalker. I’m just a cop who doesn’t trust a lot of people. I just wanted you to know; I wanted to explain things.” He stood from the couch and smiled sadly. “I do wear my heart on my sleeve. I feel things too much. I care too much. Maybe a little too much for this job… I crossed the line and I’m sorry.”

  He began to head for the door. Salvi felt a flood of regret wash over her. For doubting him. For contemplating that he could be the killer. For her ice-cold heart. She stood from the couch and followed him.

  “Mitch. Stop.”

  He looked around at her.

  “You don’t have to apologize,” she said. “I should. There’s nothing wrong with feeling something. She was your girlfriend. Who the hell am I to tell you not to feel something?”

  He stared back at her, a sadness to his face. A loneliness she suddenly understood. An emptiness.

  She felt the lump in her throat swell. “I… I know what it’s like to feel something,” she said quietly, her eyes beginning to sting. “To feel something so much it tears you up inside… I know how much it hurts. I know how hard that is to move on from.”

  He turned his body to face her and she squeezed her eyes shut, rubbed her hand over her forehead.

  “I used to feel something, Mitch. I used to feel a lot. But it hurt so much I had to shut it away.” She opened her eyes again and a tear escaped down her cheek. She quickly brushed it away. “I envy you,” she said. “I envy your passion. Your emotion. That you can let it run so freely… I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?” he asked.

  “I just can’t.” She shook her head, and pressed her lips together as another tear ran down her cheek. She brushed that one away too.

  “Why not, Salvi?” he asked again.

  “Because it will kill me,” she whispered.

  “Why?” he asked, brow furrowed. “Why will it kill you to feel something?”

  She shook her head again and turned away from him, damning herself for having all that vodka and losing her control. For weakening her foundations and allowing her façade to crack. She raised her hands to her face and wiped her cheeks.

  “Salvi,” Mitch said, closer this time. “What happened to you?”

  “No,” she said, still shaking her head and sniffing. “I can’t.”

  A moment of silence passed before he spoke.

  “What happened?” he asked softly. “To Salvation. What happened to her?”

  At the sound of him saying her real name, the floodgates opened. She hunched her shoulders, covered her mouth, and began sobbing as tears streamed down her face.

  She felt Mitch’s hands touch her shoulders, holding them firmly. “It’s alright, Salvi. Let it out. Whatever it is, just let it out.”

  “I can’t. I can’t,” she managed.

  “You can.”

  “No, it will kill me,” she said, as another wave of gut-wrenching sobs escaped her lips.

  “Salvi,” he said, trying to pull her closer. She tried to fight against the movement, but she couldn’t do both – fight the emotion and him. He turned her around and pulled her into a hug. “Hey. Hey, it’s alright, Salvi. It’s alright,” he said softly.

  She resisted his embrace, the intimacy, but he didn’t relent. Finally, she dropped her fight and just let him hold her; felt the warmth of his body, the touch of her forehead against his chin and neck; felt the structure of his arms holding her. Mitch was just as fucked up as she was, so who would he be to judge her for it? Maybe she could really let go?

  God, how she wanted to let it go…

  She didn’t know how long they stood there, but it was long enough. Eventually he gently led her back to the couch and they sat down. She thought about reaching for bottle of vodka again but decided against it. That was what had gotten her into this weeping mess.

  She wiped her face again, saw the mascara on her fingers. She calmed herself down, while Mitch sat patiently, close beside her in support. She glanced at him, saw he was waiting to hear more.

  She turned away and looked out her floor to ceiling windows at the city lights in the distance, felt the darkness beyond the glass like a cloak of anonymity.

  “My parents were religious,” she said softly, feeling as though she were in a confessional booth. Feeling as though she owed him an explanation after what he’d told her about his girlfriend. She knew she didn’t have to, but she actually felt she wanted to. Felt like she’d carried it long enough. She just wanted it out now. To use Mitch’s words, she wanted to purge.

  It felt strange talking about it. Rough. Like a set of old rusted kitchen pipes that were finally running again. Brought back to life.

  “We were raised religious. Me and my sister. Our parents were very strict. They…” she swallowed, wiped her face again, sniffed away her tears, “…they were evangelists. They were famous among their kind; had their own show on cable TV. Pillars of their community, they were. Good citizens. And me and my sister were their good little girls. Such brilliant examples of what young ladies should be.” She glanced around her apartment. “Then we grew up. And like any other girls, we started noticing boys. But we were good girls. My parents knew they could trust us… Faith. That was my sister’s name. F
aith and Salvation,” she gave a tired laugh, “you can’t get any more religious than that, huh? Faith was older by two years. She was pretty. Athletic. We had the same dark hair, same dark eyes. But she was stunning.” Salvi gave a sad smile.

  “She met Brad not long after her fifteenth birthday. They both did track and field together, but he was older and from a different school. His family weren’t religious, but they grew close. They both made the state championships. Faith was happy, always walking around with this smile on her face. She fell in love,” Salvi said, as a tear escaped and slid down her cheek. She wiped it away. “She knew our parents wouldn’t approve, but she loved him. She kept him a secret from them, but she would tell me all about him. She started to loosen up a little. He showed her there was a world outside of the one our parents had raised us in. Then one night they went to a party, had a few drinks, and one thing led to another. They slept together. There was nothing untoward about it. It was innocent. They were both consenting… But this guy from Brad’s track and field team, Steven, he saw them go into the bedroom, and he thought it would be a laugh to record them through the bedroom window.” Salvi felt her face fall. “He thought it was hilarious. He showed everyone, posted the video online with some obscene title like Evangelist’s Devil Daughter… It went viral.” She heard Mitch exhale sympathy beside her.

  “Within hours it was everywhere,” Salvi continued, eyes glazed as she stared at nothing in particular. “It was everywhere and my sister was tainted a slut, while Brad was painted the stud.” She looked down at her hands. “My parents found out… You can imagine the gossip it provided for our town. The holier-than-thou evangelists and their whore of a daughter!” She shook her head. “My parents had Brad charged with statutory rape. He was older than her. She was legally underage. My sister pleaded with them to drop the charges, but they wouldn’t. She tried to tell them that she loved him, that it was her decision, that if she had the chance she would do it again.” Salvi paused, as her eyes glazed over again with the memories. “They had this huge argument. My mother slapped her. Told Faith she was so disappointed in her. Said ‘may God forgive you’…”