INK: Abstraction

by Roccaforte, Bella

  “The shed was completely empty, and clean.”

  “Empty?”

  “Yeah, empty. And locked.” I remain silent, letting him process what I said.

  “What do you mean?” he asks. It would seem I’ve rekindled his interest.

  “There was a padlock on the shed. Who padlocks an empty shed?” I ask. “And the window was clean, the floors were spotless and it smelled of industrial cleaners.”

  “Holy Christ, this is bad.” Jason breathes into the phone.

  “Yeah, I know it’s bad. They’ve put Filson on the case, but we all know he’s dirty.” Past experience with him as an ADA has shown me how willing he is to bend the truth to wrap things up neatly. He’s dirty, and I never liked him.

  “Dirtier than a two dollar whore,” Jason inhales a breath. “Okay, we need to come up with a game plan. When are you going to be able to come into the office?”

  “I’ll probably be able to get some time away tomorrow, but Shay’s pretty fragile and I want to be easy with her.” The sorrow hitches in my voice.

  “How is she doing?” he asks cautiously.

  “I don’t know. As well as can be expected, she’s trying to put on a good front part of the time.” I search for the right words to describe her state. “She needs a gentle approach, I’m always afraid that the smallest thing could set her off.” But then again, that could be more my issue than hers.

  “They send the shrink up yet?” He sounds a little preoccupied again.

  “Today, then they’ll get a treatment plan in place.”

  “Well, she’s going to need some therapy. You should look into one of the victim’s groups we recommend to our clients. I’ll have Genie email you a list,” he offers.

  “That would be helpful, if she’ll go.” It remains to be seen what this has done for her stubbornness.

  “Let’s try to meet tomorrow; I’ll have Genie set up some time in the afternoon.” I can hear his keyboard clicking. “I gotta go, I have a meeting in five.”

  “Talk to you tomorrow.” I push the button on the display and blow out a breath. There’s so much to consider and worry about. How are we going to get her better? How am I going to convince her that she needs to come home with me? Now that I actually think Glass was involved in this, she’s in so much more danger than we originally thought.

  How do I protect her from all of this? The murder charges are the least of our worries. Now we have to worry about a crazy cop coming after her again. I run my fingers through my hair and think how easy it would be to stop somewhere and have a quick drink. Maybe it’s just because I’m passing the Cold Keg right now. Just keep driving, Eli.

  “No one would ever know.” A whisper fills the car along with a foul stench.

  “What the fuck?” I look around, concerned that there’s someone in the backseat.

  “You can have a drink. Who would know?” The voice sparks the memory of the time at the house when everything was chaotic; it’s the same voice.

  “I would know.” I say it out loud more to reaffirm it to myself.

  “Yes, but you are the only one.”

  I swerve into the left lane and do a U-turn and pull into the parking lot of the bar. I sit in the car gripping the steering wheel for what feels like hours. I want more than anything to feel the burn of whiskey down my throat.

  “Yes, it would burn so nicely going down.” The voice tempts me. “It would wash away all of the pain and worry.”

  My knuckles clutching the steering wheel are white. I bellow, “Get out of my head.”

  “I’ll leave when you’re good and drunk.”

  His voice, his words echo in my mind. “Good and drunk.”

  “No, not today, not right now.” She needs me. She needs to know that I can be here for her one hundred percent. I look at the sign in the rearview mirror and lament as it gets smaller and smaller until it disappears in the distance.

  When I get to the hospital, I sit in the car for a good long while contemplating what I’m going to tell her about the shed. I know how careful I need to be with her. She’s so fragile she could break at the smallest thing. Hell, I feel like I’m about to break. There’s movement in the rearview mirror that catches my eye. Some guy is just standing at the back of my car. This seems off.

  “Hey, how are you?” He won’t make eye contact, which raises even more red flags.

  “I’m good, you?” He just stands there staring at me.

  “I’m okay.” For minute I feel like he’s going to fuck with my car. “Can I help you with something?”

  “No, just waiting,” he answers with his hands in pockets.

  “What are you waiting for?”

  “A call,” he says and starts to whistle.

  “Okay, well I hope it comes soon.” I’m going to have to let the security cameras do their job. If he fucks with my car then so be it. I push the button on the key and the car chirps, indicating the alarm is set.

  In the hospital lobby the elevator door is closing as I approach it. “Hold the elevator please.” But it closes anyway. Asshole. I push the button and wait.

  “Hey Eli.” Harry’s voice comes from behind.

  “Harry, I’m glad you’re here.”

  “What’s up?” he asks.

  “I went to Glass’ house.”

  “And?”

  I look around and lead him to the seating area. This is going to take a minute. We each take a seat, and I lean closer to him. “Harry, I think Glass was involved in her abduction.” I can’t believe I’m saying this out loud. It doesn’t matter how insane this sounds, I have to tell him.

  Harry looks at me, loaded with disappointment, like how could I have drunk the Kool-Aid. “Eli, that’s a very serious allegation.” He presses his lips together in a thin line. Now I have a front row seat of how Shay feels, with people always questioning her.

  “Harry, there’s a shed on Glass’ property. It looks just like the one she drew.” I pull out the drawing and hand it to him.

  “Well, that doesn’t really prove anything. I mean, how many people have that very same metal manufactured shed in their back yard?” he asks, handing me back the picture.

  It strikes me as odd that Harry knew it was a manufactured shed. That wasn’t my first thought when I saw Shay’s drawing. I had to see it before I could tell it was one of those prefabs from the builder’s supply store. I look him hard in the eye for an indication of what’s going on. He returns the look.

  “You went there, didn’t you?” I ask him point blank.

  “Yes I did. Just because there’s a shed doesn’t mean that Glass was involved. Like I said, there are thousands of those prefab sheds.” He stands with purpose and moves toward the elevator.

  “Harry, did you look inside?” He pauses with his back to me.

  “Yes.”

  “What did you see?” There is something seriously wrong here.

  He turns around, impatient with me. “Nothing.”

  How is it possible he didn’t come to the same conclusion I did? That Glass cleaned it to get rid of the evidence. “And you didn’t find that strange?”

  “Eli, Glass couldn’t have been involved. He already has an alibi and he’s a cop for Christ’s sake.” His face twists with anger and his temple throbs.

  “What’s gotten into you? You were once a good detective. I don’t see how you could possibly be missing the obvious. He cleaned it; you could smell the cleaning solution and bleach in the air. That right there is enough for me to believe her.” I stand, meeting Harry’s eyes.

  He steps closer to me and in a low threatening tone says, “Eli, you need to back off from this.”

  I stand there stunned as he walks toward the elevator. What the fuck was that?

  He gets on and doesn’t hold it for me. Just as well, I’m completely blown away by his warning. How could he not want to nail Glass for doing this to her?

  I catch the next elevator and ponder how I’m going to handle things when I get up there. Obvio
usly talking to her about it with him there isn’t a good idea. He’s just going to make her even crazier with his doubt. She can’t handle that right now. I contemplate not going in, just spending some time in the office for a few hours and calling before I come back. I’m going to have to face him some time, and now is as good a time as any.

  The guards at her door nod at me as I enter the room. Shay and Carl are laughing at something. Hysterically. I’m concerned that she’s becoming manic.

  Her face lights up even brighter when she sees me come through the door. “Eli, you’re back.”

  My insides warm knowing that smile is for me. “Yeah, it’s nice to hear you laughing.” I look at Carl for an indication that she’s had some sort of mental break. He glances at me and sniggers.

  “It’s nice to be laughing.” The corners of her mouth slightly upturn while she tugs on my tie playfully.

  The restroom door is open and Harry is nowhere in the room. “Where’s your dad?”

  “Not sure. I haven’t seen him since this morning,” she answers.

  That’s weird. “Really? I saw him down in the lobby and assumed that he was coming up here.”

  “Nope, maybe he had something else to take care of.” She settles deeper into the bed.

  “Maybe.” This is all very odd. First the weird standoff with Glass, then the argument with Harry; this day is just getting stranger by the minute.

  Shay’s expression darkens. “What are we going to do about Glass?”

  “I honestly don’t know. It’s going to be a tough sell, and I’m afraid that he’s obliterated all evidence that you were ever there.” It’s best to omit Glass’ thinly veiled threat to shoot me.

  “There was no evidence?” She seems offended by my words.

  “There was nothing, it was completely empty.” I want to hold her, wrap my arms around her and protect her from the truth of what I just said.

  “So you don’t believe me.” She shifts back in the bed, defeated.

  “On the contrary, I absolutely believe you.” I pick up her hand.

  “Really?” Her brow wrinkles with hope.

  “Absolutely, seeing the shed convinced me. Seeing the shed empty made me sure,” I tell her, feeling ashamed that I ever doubted her.

  She throws her arms around my neck. “Thank you for going, Eli. Thank you. Now we can nail that fucker.”

  Carl steals a glance in my direction. He seems to know where this is heading and that she’s going to be disappointed. I relish in the feeling of her arms around me and her breath on my neck. To have her this close is bliss. But I’m risking it all coming crashing down. She needs to hear the truth. “It’s not that simple.”

  Her body tenses. “What do you mean?”

  “He’s cleaned the entire scene, I doubt there is any evidence left behind. He was using some serious industrial cleaners. My eyes were burning while I was standing outside the shed.”

  “So he’s gonna get away with this?” Outrage is carried in her volume. She shifts her gaze back and forth between Carl and me.

  “I hope not. But your father’s right, it’s going to be difficult to get him without solid evidence,” I explain. “Simply having cleaned the shed doesn’t make him guilty.”

  “Well, what about the fact that he’s apparently got an empty shed that’s been scrubbed with industrial cleaners and what about my drawings?” she demands.

  “For all the same reasons we couldn’t convict you with the drawings, we won’t be able to convict him.” I hang my head with the impotence of this whole situation. I feel so powerless to protect or help her.

  “So that’s it. That motherfucker can get away with this? He can do this to me and just keep walking the streets?” She motions to the cuts on her skin. “He’s had it in for me since the word ‘go,’ and now that he can’t get me legally, he’s kidnapped me, tortured me and tried to kill me. That’s really fucking nice, Eli, really nice.” I can see the veins in her neck pulsing. I need to calm her down.

  “No, we’re going to get him.” I pull her head into my chest.

  “Fuck you, Eli. You’re spouting words you don’t even believe. How are you going to get him?” she demands, tugging away from me.

  “Shay, honey, this isn’t over. We just have to figure out how we’re going to make it happen.” I try to reassure her, but she can see through my doubt.

  “Don’t you dare ‘Shay, honey’ me.” She sucks in a deep breath, looking away. “What about my eyewitness account? I saw him, he was there.”

  “Yes, I know you saw him. I believe that you did. I know he’s the one who kidnapped you. The problem is you are a suspect in crimes he’s been investigating, so you are the one with the strongest motive in this case, not Glass.” I pace across the room. “I’m going to figure this out, we just need to be careful.”

  “Careful.” The word falls from her mouth heavy with disgust. “I wish someone could have told that to Nigel.”

  Her words ring in my head, leaving me feeling woozy. “What about Nigel?”

  Carl’s expression clouds with worry. “What do you mean, Shay?”

  “I had a nightmare while I was there, blindfolded.” Her words trail off with her attention. She gets lost in the memory.

  To close the gap between us I sit on the bed. “What happened in the dream?”

  Her attention snaps back to me, and her eyes widen when she begins to speak while she's flipping through her sketchbook. “It was Nigel, he was in the shed. But I didn’t know it then, hadn’t seen it yet.” She inhales a deep breath to fortify herself, fighting back tears or fear, maybe both. She hands me the pad. “He was…” She stops and buries her head in my chest to hide her tears.

  “It’s okay babe, it’s going to be okay.” I stroke her hair and look down at her battered body, the cuts on her arms, legs and neck. I’m immediately incensed and want to kill Glass with my bare hands for doing this to her. “Shhh.”

  “It’s not okay, he left me. He died and I heard his last breath.” Shay's voice is so quiet I can barely hear her.

  “You don’t know it was Nigel.” Carl moves closer to the bed.

  “I do know, but it doesn’t matter who it was, because for a brief time we were companions. Two lambs for the slaughter slated to die and for some reason I survived. He wasn’t so lucky.” She looks from me to Carl. “Or was he?”

  “Don’t talk like that.” I gently put my hands on her shoulders and look her in the eye. “I need you, we need you. Without you nobody can stop what’s happening.”

  “Darlin’, your work here isn’t done yet. You’ve got a long road ahead of things you need to do. There are a lot of people who need you,” Carl reassures her.

  “I’m not feeling very useful right now. I was right there and I couldn’t save him.” The culpability looks like it has taken up residence in her soul. She feels responsible for this, all of this, and somehow we have to convince her that it isn’t her fault.

  “You would have if you could.” I pull her into me again. I’m not sure if it’s to comfort her or to hide the haunted look in her eyes that rips a hole through me. For the first time I glance at the sketch pad, and Jesus this is disturbing. Little wonder Glass used enough bleach to whiten the concrete in that shed.

  She peeks out from my embrace to Carl. “Carl, I want you to help me. I want you to make me stronger. I want to make it stop. Please help me.”

  “You got it, darlin’.” He nods with strong affirmation.

  “When do we start?” she asks eagerly.

  “We already have.” He puts his hand on her shoulder and they exchange a knowing look.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Garbage In...

  Harry

  Eli damn well better back off of Glass; the mere suggestion that he’s involved in this will bring down one hell of a fiery shit storm that will be impossible for us to navigate. The question is how do I get Eli off of this? How do I convince Shayleigh that she’s wrong? Damn it this gets worse every minute.
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  I stand outside the morgue on the basement level of the hospital waiting for Miranda. McNab says I shouldn’t trust her. I don’t trust anyone. If there’s one thing I’ve learned being a cop it’s that everyone has something to hide. I’ve also learned how to ferret out what it is.

  “Harry, thank you so much for meeting me down here.” Miranda’s voice travels down the quiet hallway. She walks past me and through the doors to the morgue like she’s been here a hundred times.

  “No problem, what did you find?” I hesitate as I walk through the double doors, like I always do. You’d think after twenty years I wouldn’t have such a problem with this place.

  “Another victim.” She looks back at me with her eyebrows arched.

  That’s what I was afraid of. “What do we know?”

  “Caucasian male, late twenties.” Miranda stops and turns to look at me. “This report reads like a step by step for Shay’s handiwork.”

  “What?” If I didn’t convey disbelief in my voice, I’m certain I have with my expression.

  “You know, like the drawings.” She turns dismissively and continues toward the inner doors. “Gutted and drained. This one is a much closer match to the Manning murder. The cuts were quick and sloppy, not surgical like some of the others.”

  “Are you thinking copy cat?” That’s exactly what we don’t need.

  “Possible, but these killings feel so much more personal. There’s a lot more bruising on this one than the Manning case.” She stops and thinks a moment after picking up the chart on a table. “Oh, and he still has his eyes. Although, his eyelids were removed.” She taps her pen on her chin thoughtfully. “Curious.”

  I cringe at the thought and find myself rubbing my eyes. “Wow, I can think of a few reasons the killer would have done it. But normally in this sort of pathos with an ocular obsession, the eyes are somehow rendered useless or obscured. It’s like the killer wanted the victim to see what he was doing.”

  “Very good Harry, but what is it the killer wanted him to see?” She puts on a pair of gloves and pulls the drawer out to reveal a mangled body.

  The horror of it sinks in. It takes a moment, but familiarity dawns on me. “Nigel.”