“Okay, dear.” She’s a kind woman; I can see it in her eyes.
“Thank you,” I call out, but she’s already left the room.
Eli squeezes my hand. “This is not something you are going to get past with a few night’s sleep. This is something that is going to take time, and I’m going to be here for you however you need me.”
All I have to offer is a tight smile, and my gaze falls to our hands intertwined. “Thank you, Eli. I know you’re here for me.” Physically, I’m still beat up, but I’ll be fine. Mentally, I’m a fucking train wreck and I know that Eli’s right. It’s going to take time.
Eli takes the top off the plate, “Try to eat something.”
I pick at the eggs, but they really aren’t any more appealing than the oatmeal. Carl stands. “I’m going to go to the cafeteria to get something to eat. Did you want anything?”
“Please, I’d love some coffee and just a sandwich or something. I’m not picky.” Eli pulls a twenty dollar bill out of his pocket and Carl takes it.
“Okay, did you want anything?” Carl looks at me.
“If they have a muffin or some fruit that would be awesome,” I answer, thankful for his consideration.
Carl leaves the room and Eli takes my hand. “How did you sleep?”
“Okay, I guess.” I hesitate because I don’t feel exhausted anymore, but I don’t feel rested.
“Maybe you can come home today,” he says with a positive uptick in his tone.
“Hope so.” I’m doubtful. “I know I have to talk to the shrink.”
“He’s supposed to be coming in today. Isn’t he?”
I blow out a frustrated breath. “He was supposed to come yesterday, but I guess he got too busy.”
“In good time. You can’t rush this.” His brow furrows with worry.
Dad comes in carrying a few bags. “Hey Doodlebug.” He crosses the room and takes Carl’s seat after hugging me too tight.
“Hey Dad.” I try to smile.
“Did you rest well?” Here we go with the part where no one knows what to say. The next thing you know we’ll be talking about the weather.
“Yeah.” I think for a moment. “Hey, did you bring the art supplies?”
“I did, but I think we need to talk about it before you start drawing any of that crazy stuff you’ve been doing.” His tone is laced with worry and warning.
“Dad, I need to sketch. It helps me relax.” I pause to try to come up with the right words. “Also, I don’t want to forget one thing in Glass’ shed.”
Eli and Dad exchange a look, but neither of them says anything. The silence stretches on a tick too long. “What?”
Dad inhales a long breath. “Honey, I think that going after Glass on this is a bad idea.” He looks down at the floor.
“Dad, I saw him. He was there. He did this to me.” I choke back the tears. I know I can’t let them see me cry, as if my tears will discredit my words.
“I know what you think you saw, but I did some checking. Detective Glass was in court the day you were abducted.” His tone is disappointed. “He couldn’t have been the one who did this.”
Tunnel vision threatens at the corners of my eyes and I feel like I’m sinking through the floor. I can’t hold back the tears anymore, but I keep them quiet. Slowly I speak with my jaw clenched. “I know what I saw. He spoke to me, he tied me up, he beat me and spit on me. It was him.”
“I don’t know how it could have been, he was in court and accounted for all day.” Dad repeats it like I’ll accept his words this time.
“No, so he must have been working with someone else,” I offer as a solution.
“That is a possibility,” Eli says, and I can see the gears turning in his head. I feel some hope that maybe they really will go check.
“So tell me you’ll please go and see if Glass has a garden shed,” I plead.
“I’m up for it, I already told you I would,” Eli says.
I hand Eli the food tray, clearing space. “Dad, can you give me the pens and sketch pad, please?”
“Okay.” Dad doesn’t get it right away, but Eli does. His knowing smile shows me he’s onto what I’m doing.
The ink flows freely onto the paper, filling it up with every last detail of the shed: the window, the workbench, the lawn mower, the car ramps and that fucking chair I was tied to for days. I wish I could sketch the smell for them. It won't come off, it's still on me. The smell.
The door opens, and I assume it’s Carl, but instead a tall slender woman with a red pageboy haircut and harsh features that match her suit is staring at me. My first thought is she looks like a real ball buster; my second thought is about the same. She’s studying me, still at the door. Dad and Eli are so enthralled watching me, they don’t hear her come in. “Who are you?” I ask.
“I’m Miranda Salvo, I’m working with your dad. You must be Shayleigh.” She glides toward me, extending her leather gloved hand.
“Shay, and it’s nice to meet you.” I don’t take her hand, she’s just a little too off-putting. I also don’t like the way she’s looking at me, like she’s trying to see into me.
“Nice to meet you too,” she returns, standing directly next to my father, studying the drawing. “Is this one of your infamous drawings?”
“No, not really. It’s—”
Eli cuts me off. “She’s just trying to relax, this isn’t from her dreams or for her comic.”
Carl enters and stops short when he sees Miranda. She turns around and acknowledges him. “Carl.”
“Miranda.” He says it tight like there’s a rubberband wrapped around his balls.
Watching them is like a tennis match, my head shifts back and forth between them. They just exchange a glare until Carl notices that I’m staring at him. “Here’s your coffee and sandwich.” He turns to Dad. “I picked up an extra cup for you, Harry. I figured you’d be here by the time I got back.” He maneuvers his large body in between Dad and me, pushing Miranda further away. I find it a little odd that he seems to be moving Dad out of the chair. He sits and scoots the chair closer to my bed and hands me a fruit cup without saying a word.
“So where is your fearless leader?” Miranda asks, looking at Carl.
“Not here,” Carl answers simply. He’s so uncomfortable.
“You work with my dad?” I’m very puzzled in consideration of him being retired and all.
Dad gets wide eyed and nervous. “Yes, when I do freelance work. She works with the same group.”
I eye them both suspiciously, there’s something that doesn’t seem right about all this. “Why are you here?” I ask her point blank.
“I’m here to help your dad with the investigation of the murders,” she answers simply. This bitch is holding back.
I shoot a look to my father, instantly angry. “You are investigating the murders officially?”
“Yes, honey. I’m trying to catch the real killer so we can be done with all of this and clear you once and for all.” He says it like he’s admitting he forgot to take out the trash. The memory of all the photos and drawings marked up with sticky notes in his office comes flooding back.
I inhale a long, deep breath for the rant I’m about to go on when Carl puts his hand on my arm. “Shay, we welcome any help in catching the real killer.” The look in his eye tells me I need to stay quiet.
“Well, thank you,” I answer through a disingenuous smirk and look to Carl for approval.
Eli’s phone rings, and he looks at the screen. “I need to take this. Will you be okay while I step outside?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” I’m amused with how clingy he is, but I’m also glad he asked.
“I’ll only be a few minutes.” He looks back at me before opening the door and leaving.
“She was sent to kill you.” The Specter’s voice is a distant whisper in my mind. My hand is drawn to the pendant around my neck.
Go away, I think, giving the pendant a squeeze. Carl looks at me with concern wrinkling his b
row. I shake my head as subtly as possible.
“I’m very motivated to end this with a good clean resolution,” Miranda says, putting her hand on my dad’s shoulder. The gesture feels too familiar. Weird.
The Specter's voice persists. “She is going to kill you.”
Dad answers a knock at the door. His expression falls with disappointment. I can only imagine what’s on the other side. “Can this wait?”
“You should kill her, now.” If I don't quiet his voice I'm going to miss something important, and with everyone and everything being a threat I need to be on my toes.
“Go Away!” I didn't mean for that to be out loud.
Everyone looks at me but hardly regards my outburst. Nice, so now I'm just the crazy girl.
I hear a smooth but aggressive voice. “I just want to introduce myself and see if she remembers anything, just while it’s fresh. I won’t be long.” A tall bear of a man dressed in a cheap suit pushes past my dad. He walks with purpose to my bed, extending his hand. “Miss Baynes, I’m Detective Filson with PHPD.”
I’m leery of his approach and I don’t want to shake his hand. I do anyway because I don’t want Dad to get pissed at me for being disrespectful. “Hi,” is all I can manage.
He sits on the end of the bed and with a concerned expression says, “I’d like to ask you just a few questions. I know you must still be pretty worn out from your ordeal.”
“Um, yeah. I mean, I guess.” I’m at a loss and feeling a little put on the spot. I know it’s going to be bad if I launch right into the fact that Detective Glass is the one who took me. I have to decide here and now how I’m going do this. What will be safest.
“Can you describe your kidnapper?” he asks, taking out a small leatherbound notebook and a pen.
You bet I can describe that piece of shit. I look around the room at each person, knowing they all have an agenda of some kind. “You can trust no one in this room but me.” I hear Carl’s voice in my head. I look over at him. He blinks both eyes slowly and subtly nods. “It’s me, and I’m telling you, right now not one of these people has your best interest at heart.”
My gaze shifts to my dad and I raise my eyebrows questioningly. Carl shakes his head. “Not even him right now. He just doesn’t realize it.”
Detective Filson is looking straight at my sketch pad. I close it. “Um yeah, he was older, balding and about five ten.”
My brain erupts with a terrible pain and I wince, closing my lids. My fingers massage my temples. Dad comes closer to me. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
“My head,” is all I can squeak out.
He presses the call button then looks at Detective Filson, “Hey Justin, can we finish this another day? I think it’s too much for her right now.”
“Of course, Harry.” He closes his notebook and stands. “If you need anything, here’s my card.” He lays it on the counter.
“Thanks Justin, we’ll give you a call when she’s feeling better,” Dad says, never taking his eyes off me.
Eli opens the door and sees Filson. He's instantly pissed off and brushes hard against his shoulder. “Excuse me.” Eli meets his stare in some macho battle of the balls.
“Certainly.” Filson spreads a smarmy grin on his face.
Eli's good and pissed. He looks at Dad. “What the hell was he doing here?”
“He came to question Shayleigh about the kidnapping,” Dad answers, shifting his gaze between Eli and me.
Eli sees me holding my head and is immediately worried. “Are you okay?”
I nod. “I’m fine, I just got a wicked pain my temple.”
“Should we call the nurse?” Dad’s full of concern.
“No, it’s getting better.” I lean my head back on the bed. “I think I just need to rest.”
“Okay, honey. Miranda and I have some things we are going to be working on today. I’ll be back to check on you around dinner time.” Dad puts his hand on mine and leans down to kiss my forehead.
“Okay, Dad, sounds good.” I press out a weak smile.
“Harry, I’ll walk down with you. I’m going to be meeting a courier in the lobby,” Eli says, looking at me for permission to go. “I’ll be back in ten minutes, is that okay?”
“Sure, I have Carl.” Then it occurs to me. “Hey, actually while Carl is here, why don’t you take a ride over to Glass’ house and see if he has that garden shed.” I have to know, I just have to. I tear out the pictures I drew of the shed and hand them to Eli.
“I don’t know.” He hesitates. Dad and Miranda wait by the door for him. Dad’s eyes are full of disapproval.
“I’m just going to be closing my eyes to get a little bit of rest. I’ll be fine,” I answer, exasperated. I’ll be able to rest a lot better when Eli comes back and tells me he found the shed.
“Okay.” Eli picks up his suit jacket, plants a sweet kiss on my cheek and starts for the door. “If you need me, call me. Otherwise, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Be careful,” I say as he’s walking out the door.
He turns and offers a sweet smile over his shoulder. “I will.”
“I’ll see you later, Doodlebug,” Dad says and then nods to Carl.
“Take care, Shay. I’ll be back later.” Miranda lays it on thick, and then primed with poison, “Carl.”
“Miranda,” Carl answers without looking at her.
The door closes and it’s just Carl and me. Exactly the opportunity I was hoping for. “Carl, what the hell?”
“Which part?” he asks, not looking at me.
“First, I want to know how you did that. Or did I do it?” I ask, mixed with excitement and apprehension.
“No, darlin’, you can’t read minds.” A laugh grumbles in his chest and he loosens up a little.
“Oh thank God. I’ve got enough voices in here I can’t imagine trying deal with everyone else’s thoughts.” I breathe a sigh of relief. “But haven’t you done that before?”
He rolls his eyes at my comment. “Since I streamed to find you, it created a stronger bond between us. Now, when I want to have a private conversation, in most situations I’ll be able to get through to you.” He explains. He inhales and looks at me inquisitively. At least I hope she's not developing that yet, it's too soon.
“Well that’s kind of cool, I guess.” Carl's voice rolls through my head, strange. I’m not really sure if I heard that, but I’ve got bigger questions. “So, what exactly did you mean by ‘not everyone has my best interest?’”
“That cop is as dirty as the bottom of my shoe.” He shakes his head. “He’s coming after you for Aiden’s murder.”
“Awesome, so we’ve just traded an asshole for an asshole.” I shrug.
“No, this guy’s different. Glass actually believes you did it. This guy Filson doesn’t care if you did. He just wants to nail you because Glass couldn’t,” he warns.
“I can see the difference there.” I nod, definitely concerned about how we’re going to handle it. “What about that Miranda chick? What’s her deal?” She was just plain creepy.
“Creepy is right.” He squirms in his seat. “I’m just going to tell you that you can’t trust her. If she thinks that she can stop the murders by eliminating you as a threat, she won’t hesitate.”
I blow out a breath and the memory strikes me and his name rides out on a whisper. “The Specter.”
“What about the Specter?”
“He said something like ‘she’ll kill you’ or ‘she’s going to kill you.’” I’m amazed that maybe the Specter was trying to give me a warning.
“Well, he’s right, but his motivations will always be troubling.”
“So she would just straight up kill me?” I ask.
“Yes,” Carl answers simply.
“And my dad’s okay with this?” I can’t believe my dad would have anything to do with someone who would operate that way.
“Your Dad…” he inhales deeply as if fortifying himself, “I don’t think he knows.”
&
nbsp; “Of course he doesn’t know. Dad would never be involved in something like this knowingly, whether I was part of it or not.” I’m offended at the implications.
“Darlin’, I really don’t think he knows, but he’s in very deep.” He pulls his mouth to the side in a grimace.
“What is the ‘organization?’ Are these the people he’s been doing the freelance stuff for?” I need to know how deep in he is.
“The organization is a very rich, very powerful group of people that are on a mission to cleanse the world of any ‘otherworldly issues.’” He uses quotey fingers and his tone is frustrated.
“I really can’t believe all of this, it’s a lot to swallow.” I lay my head back on the bed. “My dad would never choose this organization over me, you’re wrong.”
“When McNab gets back from L.A. we’re going to have a talk with Harry about Miranda and the organization.” He rubs the stubble on his head. “If he doesn’t know now, he’s going to know when we finish talking to him about it.”
A pang of guilt travels through me at the mention of McNab’s name. “When will he be back?”
“McNab?” Carl asks. I nod and he sighs. “He’ll be back tomorrow or the next day.”
“When you talk to him, tell him I’m sorry.” I raise my eyebrows, hoping for some form of forgiveness from Carl.
“I will, darlin’.”
“So what about the Specter and him being able to talk to me?” I stop and think about it for a second. “Sort of like you do.”
“We need to get you protected better than you are. We also need to start working on your mental power.”
A sarcastic giggle rises up. “Good luck with that.”
“You’re far more powerful than you know.” He looks at me with serious eyes, leaving me a little unsettled.
“Well I don’t feel very powerful.” My gaze drops to my lap. “As a matter of fact I feel incredibly small and helpless.”
His lips form a tight smile. “You’re not helpless, trust me. You’re going to be—”
Carl is cut off by the nurse poking her head in the door. “Sir?”
“Yes?” Carl answers, slightly bewildered.
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