by Reid, Ruby
Hell, he didn’t even have his cellphone. No bike, no woman, and more than likely no friends, given that Jameson had come all this way just to confront him. He was back to where he had started as a punk eighteen year old, running away from a horrendous secret that had haunted him since the age of eleven.
Not knowing what else to do, Alex started walking east. He knew that he’d run into a cab or a bus stop eventually. He’d gotten one awkward conversation out of the way this morning; he might as well go ahead and knock the other one out, too.
He kept walking, his destination the hospital.
A block later, he was a bit disgusted with himself when he found himself wishing that Jameson would have died. It would have made this whole process so much easier. The hell of it was that he felt guilty for what had happened to Jameson. Perhaps that was why he felt the intense need to make it to the hospital.
A few minutes later, he saw a cab coming to a stop at the small intersection ahead. He broke into a jog and flagged it down. It waited for him, and he got into the back, giving the order to go to the hospital.
He hoped things with Jameson would go smoother than they had with Amanda.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Not too long after Alex had told her the news, Amanda had let out a sound that had terrified her. It was a wail of grief and pain that sounded more like an animal than that of a twenty-eight year old woman. It was a wail that resonated through the house like a gale force wind across a country side.
Hearing that noise escape her throat clued her in to just how badly she had been hurt. While she knew that Alex had in no way played a hand in Stephen’s death, it was his proximity to it all. Mostly, it was how obtuse he was about it. He was part of a club that killed people at the orders of those in high ranking positions, and Alex had talked about it as if it was nothing more than just another day at the office.
She hated him. Well, not really. But in the five minutes or so that passed after he had told her everything, something very close to hate had overtaken her heart. Yet, at the same time, it killed her to watch him walk out of her door.
She sat on the kitchen floor, crying. She stayed that way for half an hour after Alex had stepped out of the door. Part of her wanted to go to the cops. She wanted to turn Alex in. She wanted to tell the police that the man that had essentially been behind the death of her husband was currently in the hospital, the victim of a shooting. On the other hand, what good would that do? If it had been Marco that had killed Stephen, wasn’t he the one she wanted brought to justice?
Screw it, she thought. Let ‘em all rot in prison.
But she knew that wasn’t fair to Alex. She even had to remind herself that he had all but bailed on his club for her — after having only known her for a few hours.
Of course he did, some mean part of her said. Look at how easy you put out for him. Of course he stayed behind for you. But how long do you think he would have stayed?
It hurt to think such things, but she knew it was a petty argument. Apparently, he had meant to leave the club for good. If not, why would the leader of the club have come so far to confront him? For all she knew, Alex could be in some very bad trouble. Going to the police could put him in even more danger.
Not my problem, she thought, doing everything she could to dredge up the hate she had felt for him, but it was fading fast, and with every minute that passed, she both missed him and regretted ever having met him.
She eyed the phone again, wondering if it would even do any good to drag Stephen’s murder back into the spotlight. It had been eight years, and the officer in charge of the case had told her himself that the trail was cold and the case was closed.
Someone needs to be brought to justice, she thought, the statement echoing in her head.
Finally, she got up from the kitchen floor. She went to her computer and tried to busy herself with work, but it was pointless. Her head was too preoccupied with everything she had learned this morning. What happened with her meeting Alex was beyond coincidence; it was something deeper. They were linked together by Stephen’s murder, and she couldn’t decide if that was poetic or a sign of certain danger and a miserable relationship.
She stared out of the window, trying to get her thoughts in order and trying to decide if calling the cops would be the right thing to do.
He slept with me at least twice while he knew it, she thought. She was surprised to find that this didn’t bother her as much as it should. She had been happy to have him in her bed. And after all, he could have easily never told her about any of it. The fact that he came clean with her had to mean something, right?
She looked outside to the blustery day, stray tears rolling down her cheeks. She sat there for a long time, wondering if Alex would go after Marco again, given the way their morning had gone.
She felt more than just a little guilty when she found that she hoped to God Alex did go after him.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Alex was relieved to find that the police presence around Jameson’s room was non-existent when he arrived. In fact, the halls of the hospital were basically empty as he stepped off the elevator on the third floor. He hated hospitals with a passion, so he walked as quickly as he could to Jameson’s room, although not so fast as to seem suspicious.
When he poked his head into Jameson’s room, he saw his old friend and club leader propped up and watching a TV that was mounted into the wall. An old sci-fi flick was on, and a large monster was terrorizing a rural town. Jameson wasn’t watching it, though. He was looking absently at his hands when Alex walked in. He looked up as Alex came closer to the bed and gave him a thin and uncertain smile.
“Glad to see you, kid,” Jameson said. “I didn’t see you after you left after Marco, so I assumed the worst.”
“I came by, but there were cops everywhere, and I couldn’t risk it.” He then proceeded to tell Jameson everything that happened after he had taken off in chase of Marco — from nearly killing Marco in the back lot of the warehouse to cleverly weaving his way through a shady part of town to go unseen. He ended with his failed visit to the hospital.
“Sounds hectic,” was all that Jameson said.
“You could say that. But I’m fine. How are you?”
“All things considered, I’m peachy. The docs say that if the bullet that took me in the chest had have been an inch lower, I’d be on an embalming table right about now. I lost a lot of blood, but I’m recovering. They’re going to discharge me this afternoon. Karla is on her way right now.”
“Where’s your bike?”
Jameson shrugged. It seemed to pain him, as a grimace shot across his face. “Karla is handling all of that.”
They were silent for a moment, and Alex simply couldn’t take it. “Listen, man. I think I need to let you know—”
“Where’d you go after you left here last night?” Jameson interrupted.
Alex said nothing. He looked to the TV and watched the sci-fi carnage.
“That girl?” Jameson asked.
“Yeah,” Alex said. “And there’s something you need to know about her, too.”
“No bragging, please.”
“Nothing like that,” Alex said, realizing that he missed her already. He then went into another story, now taking a seat in the one visitor chair the room offered. He told Jameson about making the iffy connection between Stephen and the bank job in Tulsa eight years ago. He told him about his meeting with Chester Hamel and the information he had gotten. He then told Jameson about how his morning had gone.
Jameson’s eyes widened near the end. The astronomical circumstances that sat between Alex and Amanda clearly surprised him. “Bullshit,” he said softly.
“Nope,” Alex said. “It’s true. So last night when I was interrupted with Marco, I was all that more frustrated. I had another reason to kill him, you know?”
Jameson nodded and looked to the TV. “Everything’s sort of messed up, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it is. I’m sorry, man.”
/> “I don’t want your apology. I had to beat the shit out of Slim to find out where you might be. He didn’t give it up easy, if that makes you feel any better.”
“Jameson, I—”
“Shut up,” he said. “Shut up and listen to me.”
He didn’t say anything right away; he thought for a moment, his eyes going somewhat blank. He then turned to Alex and looked directly at him for the first time since he had entered the room.
“This thing with Marco has got to come to an end. The Unknowns are in Chicago to stay, and that little cockroach isn’t going to get in the way. And the other thing… I won’t lie. I was pissed off when Slim told me that you left us. I figured it might be nerves about the other night when I told you I had big plans for you, but then I find out you tossed us aside for some quick fling. I was pissed. Especially after I found out that you let Marco off easy in Chicago. But here’s the deal…”
He stopped again, as if reanalyzing what was coming next. “If you want to, that’s fine. You spoke with Chester, so there’s your proof that I’m not some tyrant. But you know a lot about us, Alex. So here’s the deal I offer you. You take care of Marco, and you have my blessing to turn and walk. But if you don’t, I have some pretty nasty evidence on you from about five bar fights. I also have the paperwork to damn near every car you’ve lifted and sold. Fuck this thing up with Marco, and that paperwork will find its way to the police. We clear?”
“Perfectly.” He hated the fact that Jameson was giving him such a deal but, at the same time, any reason to go after Marco again was more than welcome.
Alex was about to ask how much time he had to finish things with Marco when a knock sounded at the door. He turned and saw Karla coming in, dressed as if she was next in line for a shift at a cheap strip club. Still, he did his best to smile at her. The look she gave him in return made him assume that she knew everything that had happened in the course of the last five days.
“We good here?” Jameson asked him while he smiled at his wife.
“You have my phone?” Alex asked.
Jameson took great effort to reach into the bedside table to get Alex’s cellphone. When he did, Alex saw where the hospital gown sagged down in the front. He saw the patchwork and gauze that covered the bullet wound to his chest. Alex had seen far worse, but seeing it on Jameson was wrong somehow. It was like seeing Superman with a broken leg.
Jameson tossed the phone to Alex, and he caught it with a shaky hand. “Again,” Alex said, “I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing,” Jameson said. “Don’t act like this is the end. If you take care of this, the first round of celebratory drinks is on me.”
Alex nodded and turned back for the door. Before he made it out, Jameson called out to him.
“Hey, Alex?”
Alex took a step back into the room and said, “Yeah?”
“This girl… was she worth this?”
“I don’t know yet,” Alex said. “She was pretty mad. I think it might be over.” He almost added and all for nothing, but kept it quiet. He guessed the next few days would decide that.
“While you’re busy apologizing, maybe you should try it with her,” Jameson said.
“I might.”
With that, he turned away again and left Jameson and Karla to the movie on the television. As he stepped into the hallway, he heard Jameson laughing softly, happy to see Karla.
It was the polar opposite of what he had heard when he’d left Amanda’s house, and it was enough to set him on his task right away. When he stepped into the elevators and headed down, he was already thinking of how he might find Marco and, hopefully, a way to get his life back on track.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The dreams about visiting Stephen’s grave had become so common that it was almost like just another routine part of the sleep process for Amanda, but she knew, even in sleep, that this one was drastically different.
She watched herself walk among the tombstones and realized that the cemetery was bigger now. Where there was usually a large fence and a wooded area behind it, there was nothing, just row upon row of gravesites. The tombstones went on forever, like the caps of waves on an endless sea.
When she finally came to Stephen’s grave, Alex was sitting there. He was holding one of her photo albums and looking through all of the pictures of her and Stephen and the life they had shared together.
“What are you doing here?” Alex asked, looking up from the album.
“I should ask you the same thing,” Amanda said.
“I wanted to talk to you,” Alex replied. “And I knew you’d eventually come here.”
She sat down with him and took his hand. They held hands on Stephen’s grave, and she thought nothing of it.
“If you don’t want me here, I can leave,” Alex said.
“I don’t know what I want,” she said. “But I know you don’t belong here.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but she stopped him with a kiss. It was a hard kiss that was spurred by anger and passion alike. She moaned under the force of it, and within seconds his hands were in her hair. Behind them, Stephen’s grave stood out like a backdrop for their lust.
She broke the kiss and pushed herself away from him. “I can’t,” she said.
“Sure you can,” Alex said, standing up. “You just have to trust me. Trust me… and know that you can’t cling to this grave forever.”
“I know,” she said, stepping back. “But it—”
She took another step back and collided with something soft. She turned around and saw Stephen standing there, but it was not the same man that was featured in the photo album that Alex still held. This was Stephen after his murder, after some unknown time in the ground. The suit he had been buried in was dusty and molded. His skin was partially decomposed, and two empty eye sockets stared at her with blank hate.
She screamed—both in the dream and in her bed in the waking world.
The scream tore her out of sleep and she sat upright in the bed with the force of a jack-in-the-box. She looked around the darkened room for a moment before the sobs started tearing through her. She instantly got to her feet and stumbled into the bathroom where she leaned against the sink to catch her breath. That done, she splashed cold water into her face and went back into the bedroom.
She looked to the empty bed and was saddened at how quickly she had grown accustomed to Alex being there. Despite her anger and confusion towards him, she would have given anything for him to be there with her… not for companionship, but just to have another presence in the bed with her.
She tried to lie back down, but every time she closed her eyes, she saw the corpse of Stephen standing there and staring at her with pure evil on his dead face.
When she finally gave up on sleep, it was 4:16. She walked into the kitchen, got a glass of water, and plopped down on the couch. She sat in the silence of the early morning for nearly ten minutes, thinking.
“To hell with it,” she muttered after a while.
She walked back into her bedroom and picked up her phone. She scrolled through the numbers and stopped at ALEX. Her thumb hovered there for a moment, but she then backed out of her contacts. After a moment’s consideration, she opened the browser on her phone and located another number in a search engine.
She studied the number for a moment before pressing anything. Then, as five o’clock inched in and her heart remembered the burdens of the day before, she dialed the number for the police department.
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