Parker Security Complete Series

by Camilla Blake

  I tried to make myself as flat as I could against the wall, as if that might somehow render me invisible. Holden went over to Junior and hauled him up. “Good God, man!” he said. “I mean, I knew it would be fast, but that’s like a new record.” He slung Junior’s arm around his shoulders. “Come on. That was kind of a fail, there, man. Looks like she got you good. Abe, why don’t you finish up?” Holden glanced at me. “Didn’t think you’d get off that easy, now, did you? Here’s the thing, though: Abe, he’s not as interested in sex. Violence, now, that’s more his thing. You probably would’ve been better off if you just let Junior have his two minutes of bliss. Now, you’re really gonna get it. Have fun, you two.”

  He half-dragged Junior from the room, and I realized that I had made a mistake. It had been foolish to think that I could stop any of this, that disabling Junior would mean I was somehow spared of something. Abe looked Nordic, maybe—tall, solidly built, a cool detachment in his ice-blue eyes. Even if I was, by some miracle, able to do something to disable him, too, I knew now that wouldn’t matter. There would be someone else. Holden would have an endless supply of people who were available to do whatever it was they felt like to me.

  Abe said nothing, just took three big strides across the room, grabbed me by the shoulders, even as I put my hands up to try to protect myself, and flung me down with such force the wind was immediately knocked out of me. I lay there, gasping, trying to draw in a breath as he came over and started kicking me, everywhere. I curled up and tried to protect my head. When he grew tired of that, he dropped to his knees and used his fists, and I knew enough now not to fight back, to just let him do what he was going to do.

  He finally stopped. I was still conscious, but barely, though I kept my eyes closed and didn’t move once he stopped hitting me. My entire body felt as if it had been put through a meat grinder and then pummeled with a steel mallet. I heard his footsteps move away, the door open. I heard Holden’s voice, and then I could sense that the two of them were standing there, above me, though I didn’t dare move or open my eyes.

  “That’s much more satisfying than what Junior was going to do,” Holden said. “I’d rather beat this bitch than fuck her any day of the week.”

  “Guess it’ll be your turn next time.”

  Holden snorted. “Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

  Finally, they left. The door closed; there was quiet. I gingerly rolled over onto my back, stared up at the bare light bulb. My whole body throbbed, an angry, incessant pulsating. I was in agony, but I knew it wasn’t just from the physical pain—there was mental anguish in there, too, the knowledge that if you didn’t do something, you were going to die, yet also knowing there wasn’t much you could do to help yourself. I closed my eyes. Saw those images from that nature documentary, and knew that if I could see my face now, it would probably have the same expression that buffalo had.

  ***

  I wasn’t sure how long I slept for. It was, in a way, like being in a deprivation tank. Not that I’d ever been in one before, but I had read an article once, waiting in the dentist’s office, about someone who had gone into a deprivation tank and how they’d had a near-spiritual experience. I wasn’t floating in lukewarm saltwater, but I was having some sort of experience, not quite out-of-body, but close. I felt lightheaded, dizzy, weak with hunger. My whole body ached, particularly my left side, which must have sustained the brunt of the kicks. Not that I wanted to let on to any of that, but I could feel my resolve starting to falter. My palms were sweaty, my skin felt cool, clammy. I lay there on the floor on my side, the aches from not moving subsiding as the hunger pangs grew larger and more ferocious. Yet there was a part of all this that felt very remote, almost as if it were happening to someone else; I was just also able to feel every sensation this person was experiencing.

  Was he going to leave me here to die? Not open the door for a week, two weeks? Until he could be sure that I was dead? That would be the only true insurance he’d have that Shep and I would never get back together. I felt foolish for thinking earlier that he wasn’t going to kill me. That I had just gone along with it, believing that he would eventually let me go. I should’ve been fighting every step of the way; now I didn’t have the strength, even if I wanted to. I didn’t even have the energy to cry, which seemed like the only possible reaction to my situation. Instead, I let my eyes close. I felt myself start to drift. It wasn’t sleep, exactly; it was more like allowing my consciousness to flee. Images floated through my mind: Shep, the guys from work, my sister. My nieces and nephew that I’d probably never see again. My house. Drinking a cup of coffee. Taking a bubble bath at the end of a long work week. All these things that I hadn’t really ever truly appreciated, because I had stupidly assumed I’d just always be able to do them. Riding on the 2 Clement! It was the thought of never again stepping on a noisy, rumbling Muni bus that did it—I felt a few tears slide out from underneath my closed eyelids. Then my nose began to run and my shoulders shook. In a way, the crying felt good. Because it reminded me that I was still very much alive, and so long as I was alive, I could do something. Giving up was not an option.

  But before I could begin to even try to break down my list of possible options, I heard a noise outside the door. I tensed, expecting Holden to come bursting in at any second with some ridiculous demand, some other call to make. That didn’t happen, though.

  The door opened an inch. Then another, until it finally opened wide enough to reveal the person standing there.

  I struggled to lift my head, my neck muscles aching. The pain continued to rage throughout my body. If it was Holden, here to give me another beating, I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to take it. But it wasn’t Holden who stepped into the room; it was a woman. It took me a second to realize that it was his mother.

  “You stay right there,” she said. She was carrying something. A foil-wrapped plate. The smell hit my nose and I sat up. It was something fried; I wasn’t sure what. It smelled delicious. She leaned over and set the plate gingerly on the hard floor, then straightened up again and squinted at me. “How long he had you in here for?” she asked softly, more to herself than anything else. “What did they do to you?” She nudged the plate toward me with her foot. “It isn’t much. But I doubted he was bringing you anything. Don’t want to know anything about this, but I heard him talking. Figured it out soon enough.”

  “Will you let me go?” I asked. “I won’t tell anyone.”

  She smiled faintly. “I think that would be obvious enough. This isn’t my thing. None of this is really my thing, you want to know the truth, but it’s just the way that things have worked out in my life. Just along for the ride most of the time, it seems like. But I’m not going to let someone get starved to death, ’specially cause I know that you didn’t really do anything wrong. There are some people out there who might deserve it, but you don’t.”

  “Thank you,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. I was so hungry that my hands were shaking as I started to crawl for the plate of food. I knew Shep’s mom was watching me this whole time, but I didn’t care. It didn’t matter how she saw me; all I was aware of was the smell of the food and the kindness she had shown.

  “You eat up,” she said. “Make it quick. The men are down at Buck’s right now but I’m not sure when they’ll be back. Sometimes they don’t stay too long. Also don’t want Jeannie nosing around or seeing something she might later bring up. She’s not the sharpest tool in the shed, if you didn’t guess that already yourself.”

  I barely heard what she was saying, I was so focused on the food. I peeled the aluminum foil back, revealing fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans from a can. One bite of the potatoes and I could tell they were the kind from a box, but they tasted like heaven. I didn’t think anything had tasted better.

  I tried not to stuff my face, I tried to eat slowly, but all I could think of was getting rid of this awful feeling that had descended upon me. And the only way to do that was with food.

 
I sat back when I was finished eating, let out a sigh. I felt as if I could eat another five platefuls of food, but I also knew that this had been the perfect amount; I wasn’t so overstuffed that I was going to puke, and because I’d gone two days without eating, my stomach had definitely shrunk and was not capable of holding as much as it normally would have. Having food in my stomach seemed to dull the other pain, gave my body something else to focus on.

  “Thank you,” I said, looking up at Shep’s mom. “I know you didn’t have to do that.”

  She slipped a small plastic water bottle from the pocket of her loose-fitting jeans and reached an arm out. I took the bottle from her and finished it in three long sips. I let out another, deeper breath. I felt almost normal again.

  Shep’s mom collected the plate and the water bottle, inspected the floor for any crumbs or tell-tale signs that she had been there. She looked down at me.

  “You ever do Girl Scouts or anything like that?”

  I shook my head.

  “But you seem like the capable type. Sort of person who knows how to do things—right?”

  “I used to think so,” I said. “Now I’m not so sure.”

  “I always wanted to do Girl Scouts. Never had the money for it. Even if we did, my father never would have allowed it. He didn’t think that women needed to know how to do anything other than take care of the home. But I always thought I’d have the sort of aptitude for that sort of thing, if only someone would just show me how. You know, starting a fire, building a shelter. Surviving.” As she spoke, she reached up and touched her hair with her free hand, pulling something out and letting it drop to the floor. She watched as my eyes went to it, and when I looked back up at her, she held my gaze. “I don’t know what they’ve got planned for you,” she said, “and even if I did, nothing I could say or do would change their minds. I can’t call the police on my own family. I can’t even betray them by letting you walk out of here. But if you can manage to get out on your own, well… the way I see it is, if anyone could, it’d be someone like you. And they’re all heading down to Stockton on Friday afternoon. Today’s Wednesday. So you’ve got about a day and a half till then. You understand what I’m telling you?”

  I nodded. “Yes,” I said. “And thank you. But… why are you helping me? I thought you hated me.”

  “I don’t hate you. I think a part of it was I was envious of you. A little bit, anyway. And no, you don’t seem like someone who can fit in with our family, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. I’m not always proud of the way that I act, and I’ve been thinking about it and I’ve realized that I didn’t treat you right, didn’t really give you a chance. I felt more threatened by you, if you want to know the truth. Didn’t really have a good reason for that, though. Nothing but plain old insecurity. I can admit it when I’m wrong, at least. Not everyone can do that.”

  “No,” I said. “They can’t.”

  She looked at me once more and then turned and left, pulling the door shut behind her. I got up and picked up the bobby pin she had dropped on the floor. Two would’ve been better, of course. But I would make do with what she’d provided.

  Thank you, I thought, holding the bobby pin in my hand. I would guard this thing with my life, if I had to. I thought of what Shep’s mom had said, how she had wanted to do Girl Scouts, how she thought she’d be good at that sort of thing—surviving—but was never given the chance.

  She was, though, and maybe she didn’t realize it because it might not seem like just surviving when you’ve got food in the cupboards and a roof over your head. But I knew, out here, in Parkington country, as Holden had put it, she was surviving the best she could.

  Chapter 20

  Shep

  With the fight fast approaching, I was supposed to be going to the gym to train every day. I had even taken the time off from work so I could really focus on this, but that was the last thing I really felt like I could do. Even sleeping was proving to be difficult, because I kept dreaming about Lena, kept replaying that last phone conversation. There would be slight variations: in my dreams, she’d call and say that I had betrayed her, that she couldn’t be with someone who was as incapable as I was, how I couldn’t protect her. I would wake up in a cold sweat, heart racing, and it would be a long time before I finally fell asleep again.

  I knew what I needed to do. I needed to man up and get over it, not let it nag on me like this. I had to get on with my life, and I certainly had plenty to keep me occupied. But all that my mind seemed interested in focusing on was replaying that last conversation, so many times that I basically had everything she said memorized.

  I had tried calling her a few times. She hadn’t picked up. I left a message each time, with dwindling hope that she would actually listen to them. I tried to act like everything was fine, like this wasn’t eating me up inside. Holden would call or text, each time chiding me when I said I wasn’t interested in going out with him and meeting some new girls.

  “I’ve got this fight I really need to be focusing on,” I told him each time. “And don’t even think about asking me to do anything for you like last time. I’m not messing this opportunity up.”

  “Sheesh. You act like I’m trying to hold you back or something. I want you to be a success in the world, Shep. I want the world to know your name. If for no other reason than people might mix the two of us up!” He laughed and I held the phone away from my ear. “I’m joking,” he said. “I mean, mostly. We’re all glad that you’re focusing on this fight. I think we’re going to go.”

  “That’s really not necessary.”

  That was kind of the last thing I wanted. I didn’t want to happen to glance out and see any of their faces, didn’t want to feel like they were critiquing my every move. Just because Lena had broken up with me didn’t necessarily mean I was going to go running back to my family. Having this time away from them had made me realize how much stress they inflicted on my life, how so much of that wasn’t needed at all.

  “What do you mean?” Holden said. “Not necessary? You don’t want us there? I was going to make a sign. Get a poster board, some Sharpies, make a real nice sign to hold up.”

  “Sure, if you want to embarrass the shit out of yourself, go right ahead and do that. Look, I’ve got to go. You can reiterate to the family there’s no need for you guys to go to the fight. I would appreciate it. Thanks.” I didn’t wait for him to respond; I hung up and threw the phone down onto the bed. I lay down, too, and closed my eyes, instantly hearing Lena’s voice in my head, telling me she was breaking it off. How I had been so sure at first it was a joke, but that sinking feeling as I’d realized it wasn’t. That feeling that had not abated, showed no signs of letting up. It was like it had been tattooed onto me, no way to get rid of it. Was I doomed to replay this conversation in my head, over and over again?

  But there was still a part that confused me, and that was at the very end. I had heard something. It had been so brief that I couldn’t even be totally sure I’d heard it, and I couldn’t even recall exactly what it was. It was like trying to remember a dream when you wake up. If you try too hard to recall it, it’ll slip through your fingertips like water. It was just a blip, had been less than two seconds. But it had been something. As I lay there in the dark, I let the conversation play itself back in my head, not trying too hard to recall any one specific thing.

  And then I realized what that sound had been that I’d heard, right before the call got disconnected: that obnoxious rap song that Holden used as a ringtone.

  Chapter 21

  Lena

  Since I didn’t have two bobby pins, I broke the one I had in half, bending it until it snapped. I used the piece with the curve as the tension wrench and slid it into the top of the keyhole. Once it was in, I folded it to the side. Then I took the other piece and put it in the bottom of the keyhole. I pushed it, gently, until there was a slight bend in that piece. I took a deep breath. It felt as if my fingers weren’t working correctly, and I dropped both pie
ces several times.

  Get it together, I thought, gritting my teeth as I picked up the pieces. I took several deep breaths. It had taken me a while to pick the lock at my house when I’d been locked out, which had annoyed me a little, but I knew that I could always call a locksmith if need be. If I hadn’t been able to pick the lock myself, it was no big deal; there was no real pressure. But now it felt as if the pressure were this unbearable weight on my shoulders, crushing me, because I knew this was my one and only chance. And even if I did manage to get the door unlocked, there were still a whole lot of unknowns on the other side of the door

  But it was the only chance I had.

  I collected the two pieces of bobby pin off the ground. I slid the tension wrench into the bottom of the keyhole and turned it slightly in the same direction I would turn the key, if I had it. I took the other piece, the pick, and slid it in the top of the keyhole, feeling for the pins. I felt the first one and pushed up slightly, straining to hear the click that meant the key pin was flush with the shear line, meaning that the pin was out of the way of the lock.

  Four to go.

  I got the first three pins, but then my hand slipped on the tension wrench and the three pins dropped back down below the shear line, meaning I had to start the whole process over again.

  But trying to pick the lock had given me something to focus on, something to channel my energy into, and that was good. I’d gotten the first three pins, and I knew that if my hand hadn’t slipped, I probably would’ve had the other two by now, also.

  I readjusted the tension wrench and got back to work. For the first time since I’d been here, my mind was clear; nothing else in this moment mattered, other than listening for that click so I could move on to the next pin.