by Harlow Stone
“We’re not fucking anymore Ryder, and as far as I’m concerned we’re not friends. We’re working together, that’s it. Cabe is your tech guy and I need him more than I need you right now, so if you don’t want the money, give it to him. Donate it to charity. I really don’t care what you do with it so long as I get what I offered to pay for and what you promised to help me with.”
I look back to Cabe, making a motion with my hands for him to get ready with taking notes.
“Everything that happened is in that file, in case you haven’t found it all on your computer yet. What’s missing is what Ryder still has. As for new information, write this name down, ‘Lucille Roberts’. She changed her name to ‘Lucy Greer’ about thirty years ago. She’s a bit of a street rat. She’s also the biological mother of the man that attacked me, Andrew Roberts.
“I recently got information that pretty much confirms there were two children she gave up, but it’s not concrete. I need you to look into that and figure out where the second child went and why the hell she didn’t keep them together.”
He continues scribbling before looking up at me.
“Alright, I got it. Anything else?”
“Yes. I need you to access border security and figure out if I’m going to be arrested when I use my real Canadian passport to get back into the country in a few days.”
Ryder’s head swings up, furious.
“Jesus fuck, Elle! You’re fucking pissed at me! I get it! Hell, I deserve it. But your answer is to just go running back to Canada? The one fucking place that might get you killed?”
I put my hands back down on the bar and lean forward, keeping eye contact with a soulless smirk on my face.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Callaghan. I may have left here once, but that was for fear of you blowing my cover. Now, I just don’t give a fuck.”
I turn my attention back to Cabe, noting Denny has been oddly silent throughout this whole exchange.
“Cabe, I already called my detective back home. He knows I’m coming but he doesn’t know when exactly. I need a few days on my own when I get there and I can’t do that if they know I’m in the country. Find out what you can for me please so I can get back there and tie up some loose ends. There are things I need to do, and people I need to see before I end up in an orange jumpsuit or six feet under.”
Ryder slams his hand down on the counter, running the other one through his hair.
“This is bullshit, Elle! I thought you were smart, but this is one of the dumbest fucking decisions you’ve ever made.”
I cock my head to the side. Studying him. He has no right to put his two cents in anymore.
“Well then handsome, I guess it’s a damn good thing I don’t give a fuck what other people think of me, or the decisions I make. I’m done running from the police, I’m done running from a killer and I’m pretty much done with you.”
I glance over at Denny and note the disappointment in his eyes. Oddly, it’s not at me, but directed toward Ryder. Cabe, being the only level-headed one here apparently at the moment breaks the tension a little.
“To state logic here, it’s possible that if you were to end up in jail, even for a short amount of time, you could be safe. However, I think we’d all agree it would be nicer just to sort all this shit out, prove your innocence, and be done with it. I know it’s easier said than done, but I need the facts Elle, whatever you can tell me that’s not in that file.”
I look to Cabe, appreciating his all business attitude. Perhaps the stack of twenty grand in cash helps. He’s a good man, I can tell. I also know exactly what he’s asking me in regards to what’s not in the file.
“You want to know if I killed that sick fuck in the basement?”
He nods his head, slightly caught off guard with my boldness. For once in my life I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks about my next statement. I don’t care what the outcome could be. I place my palms back on the counter and look him straight in the eyes, speaking low and firm.
“You bet your Latino ass I did, Rodriguez. But not before I made him suffer. Not before I tied him up and beat him the same way he beat me. Not before I cut his back open with the same knife he cut me with, and not before I stripped him of every last bit of dignity he had.
“Call it retribution for my mother, my father, my sweet little girl and her innocent father. And only then when he begged for his life, did I deliver the final blow for myself.”
Three sets of eyes stare back at me, and I peel my eyes from Cabe’s to take them all in, the shock evident on all of their faces.
I tip my head to the side and say, “that answer your question?”
Cabe is clearly caught off guard again, but he nods and replies, “sure does.”
“Good. Want to ask me if I’d do it again?”
I don’t wait for him to respond.
“The answer will always be yes.”
I reach across the island and pull his notepad closer to me. I scribble down my phone number and push it back across the counter.
“I leave in two days. If you could get the border security info to me first, and fast, I’d appreciate it.”
He wastes no time responding, “I’ll have it by tomorrow.”
I nod my head in thanks and look to Denny. He looks sad, though I don’t know why. Perhaps it’s guilt for not mentioning Ryder had another woman in Chicago. I don’t acknowledge him any further, or the look of despair he’s currently directing toward me. He’s smart enough to know he won’t change my mind.
I give a low whistle and Norm gets up from her dog bed. I try to see if there’s a sense of nostalgia left in me. From the first time I came over here and noticed that dog bed. The first night Ryder touched me—a first of many. I take stock of my emotions and realize there aren’t any. It’s just nothing.
Empty.
Gone.
Numb.
I walk out the door without emotion.
Miserable Jayne is back, and I’m grateful.
This cold-hearted bitch might just keep me alive.
Chapter Sixteen
“Open your eyes you dirty bitch. You want to avoid me? Maybe now you’ll learn to pay attention.”
Thump!
I crack open my left eye, the least swollen of the two, and stare down at the floor. Not because I want to, but because my neck and back are so fucking stiff I can barely lift my head.
“Noooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
A heaving sob leaves me as I stare at the lifeless body sprawled across the floor.
“THAT’S WHAT YOU GET JAYNE! THIS IS WHAT YOU FUCKING GET FOR NOT PAYING ATTENTION!”
He hauls his foot back and slams it into the back of the body on the floor.
The body doesn’t move—no grunt, no whimper.
Nothing.
He’s gone.
“W-wh-why? I-I ddddooon’t unnddeerstand?”
I shake my head, why why why??????
What the fuck did I do to deserve this? What did he do to deserve this?
Nothing!
Andrew walks slowly, circling the dead body on the floor. It seems to have given him a little more self-esteem to kill someone, because for once his head is held a little higher, he’s not quite as broken. He’s not so lost. He’s taken pleasure in what he did and he’s embracing the sick high he got from it.
“Love is a sacred thing Jayne. I loved you, and you threw it away. You threw it so fucking far that I had to do this, I had to do everything! Now you’ll know. Now, you’ll learn. You’re just as fucking selfish as that bitch you warned me of in school.”
He leaves the body and comes to stand directly in front of me. Evil eyes focus on mine, his chest heaves and hands fisted at his side. His face is inches from my own before he gives the final blow.
“He cared too much about you. Nobody should care about someone like you. So he deserved to die.”
I look down at Cory’s lifeless body, the father of my child. The man that literally gave one hundred
and ten percent of his love to his child without once expecting anything in return. He didn’t need to be told he was a good dad. He knew it. So did our little girl.
He knew we weren’t compatible, but we both held a deep amount of respect for one another and gave our best as separated parents. We focused on what was important, who was most important.
Lilly.
My sweet little Lilly who’s no longer with us, but who has now gained a parent in heaven. That’s where Cory would go, he’s a good man.
Was a good man.
Fuck!
I swing my head forward as fast and as hard as my body will let me, slamming my forehead into his.
Fuck Him!
Andrew stumbles back and trips over Cory’s lifeless body before falling onto his ass.
I take advantage of the fallen man, gathering every last bit of strength I have left in me.
For Mom,
For Dad,
For Lilly,
For Cory.
I wrap my fingers around the frayed rope and pull my legs up as far as I can. The gashes on my back re-open. I can feel the sting of the wounds as well as the fresh blood beginning to pour down my back.
I don’t care, this is it.
I’m fucking done.
Andrew jumps to his feet, holding his right hip, which took most of the impact from the fall. I don't give him a chance to get close. I’m done letting him near me.
If I die, so be it.
I don't fucking care.
This is it.
This is the end.
I use my arms to lift the majority of my weight while swinging my right leg out in front of me when he get close. He quickly moves his hips back thinking I’m going to kick him between the legs.
Wrong move for you asshole, perfect move for me.
Moving his hips back moved his head forward. I continue with my right leg and swing it up onto his right shoulder. My left foot hits him in the back of the left shoulder, forcing him closer to me. He’s taller, and at this point it works to my advantage.
He turns his body away from the hit of my foot which gives me enough room to bring my leg completely around his neck and swing it back toward me. He’s not expecting my maneuver and before I know it the tall man has my weight suspended on his shoulders which in turn loosens up the slack on the ropes.
I reach my arms above my head to grab onto the beam while simultaneously pushing my left knee into his back, tightening the hold my right leg has around his neck.
“You fucking biiiittccccccccchh,” Andrew manages to choke out of his rotten mouth while I continue to crush his windpipe.
His filthy hands grasp my legs and his fingernails dig into my thighs. Not long enough to do serious damage but enough to make scratches that’ll take a few weeks to heal.
I want to let up on the pressure enough to move my leg higher, more toward his jaw. If I could do that then I could push my knee hard and quick into his back, while pulling hard enough right with my other to snap his neck.
I can sense what that would feel like, the quick pop, and right now in this moment I’d kill to hear that sound.
Pun intended.
Pop!
It would be music to my ears. The following silence.
But I’m afraid to let up. I’m so fucking weak and the new blood rushing down my back isn’t slowing. It’s a steady and constant reminder that I may not have a lot of time before I pass out again.
His hands pull strong and I know for a fact that if I let up and attempt to kill him by snapping his neck, he’ll get the upper hand.
I can’t let him beat me. I won’t.
Now, it’s all about avenging my family and getting some justice for the lifeless and innocent man that lies on the floor in front of us.
I don't look at Andrew.
I look at Cory.
I squeeze my legs as tight as I can, ignoring the aches and pains channeling throughout my body while I try to kill the man who has taken everything from me. It feels like hours, but it only takes a minute or two until I feel it. His limp body slowly overtakes mine to the point that my arms holding onto the beam are now carrying our weight.
I don’t let go until long after his hands have fallen to his sides and my arms can’t bear the brunt of our combined weight any longer. I loosen my legs from their hold on his neck and haul myself upward at the same time.
I watch his body drop. His head thwaps against the hard concrete floor.
I have no idea if I killed him, but I know I need to move fast.
I use what little strength I have left and swing my legs up a few times, unsuccessfully, trying to get them around the beam so I can swing myself over.
After the third try, I’m almost ready to give up. The blood dripping down my legs has made the beam slippery. I give it one last go while clutching the prickly rope and manage to get one leg over.
I pull with everything I have and don't stop for one second as I allow myself to free fall ungracefully over the other side. I wail in pain when my back comes into contact half with the floor, and half with Cory’s body.
I don't have much time!
I crawl over my child’s perfect father, slipping in the blood on the floor as I reach Andrew’s unconscious body. I pull the side of his red polo up and un-sheath the knife he has kept there. He never bothered to clean it. My dried blood causes it to stick in the holder. I pull hard and it finally comes free.
My blood soaked hands fight to keep a grip on it as I saw back and forth over the frayed rope binding my wrists. I move as quick as I can, back and forth, back and forth, working tirelessly to cut them off. I place my foot on the slack and pull as I cut, finally breaking free.
I tell myself I would not be a normal person if I didn’t shed tears in this moment. I settle for the fact I’ll never again be normal, because the first thing I do is drag the slack on the blood stained rope toward Andrew.
I ignore the pain, I ignore the exhaustion. I pay no attention to my aching bones and bleeding body. I simply stare at the innocent man on the floor and wind the ropes, in the form of a figure eight around Andrew’s forearms. I weave and wind and end with a boat knot.
I crawl on hands and feet, cursing my bleeding back while I untie the rope attached to the floor. Swinging my arm back, I throw the rope over the curved portion of the beam, the same way it was. It takes a few tries, but I get it. I move as quickly as I can back to the steel loop bolted to the floor, feeding the rope back through.
Using every last ounce of energy left in my body, I pull—for my mom, for my dad, for my daughter, and for Cory.
* * *
I slap his face, once, twice, three times.
No luck.
His head hangs heavy on his shoulders, arms suspended above his head. I grab my empty piss bucket and drag myself over to the spigot on the wall. There’s no hose, so I fill the putrid bucket with water, leaving the tap on because my hands hurt too badly to try and close it. I go to pick it up off the ground, but my arms cannot carry it full. The remainder of my strength put Andrew where he currently hangs.
I push the bucket to the side, emptying half its contents, before throwing the rest at his face. He sputters, and spits, before opening his eyes. Clearly disoriented and wondering how in the fuck he ended up where he is now. Hanging and helpless. I greet him with a mocking smirk that I embrace, along with my hoarse voice.
“Welcome back.”
He thrashes his feet, pulling on his arms. It serves no purpose; it only makes the sticky rope bind tighter.
“You bitch! I’ll fucking kill you! You hear that! Kill you!”
“Tsk, Tsk, Andrew. I thought we could play a game. You like games, don’t you?”
I leave his line of sight, walking behind him. His feet continue to flop like a fish tail out of water. I grab onto the back of his sweat-soaked shirt and bring the knife to the top of it. I push down, cutting the fabric until his back is visible.
The knife pierces his skin as he thrashes, but I hav
e no remorse. Nor do I tell him to stay still. I drag the tip of the blade from his back to his front. I zero in on the lower portion of his body, repeating the same procedure to the belt on his jeans as I did with his shirt. I flick the knife toward the button. His body goes completely still.
I’ve found his weakness.
“What are you doing? You won’t fucking get away with this!”