by W Winters
It’s hard to ignore the splinter of pain that tears through me.
Why else would she not have responded? He’d killed her and shoved her in a cabinet for me to find. I thought it was merely her body falling and that she was already dead.
“Does she know about Jenny?” Seth’s question brings me back to the present. To her running away from me.
“That he has her?” I clarify and breathe in deep, staring at the picket fence in front of me. “She doesn’t know anything. I didn’t tell her about the note.”
She’ll live her life with unanswered questions unless I can give them to her, and right now, I wouldn’t be so cruel.
Even if she’d been fine. Even if she’d spilled out of that cabinet and ran to me like I wanted her to, I wouldn’t tell her. She’s barely holding on as it is. It’s not pity I feel for her, it’s worry.
“I’m not telling her that her sister’s alive until I know we can bring her back.” It’s one mess after the other. “False hope can kill what’s left of a person.” That’s the only explanation I give him. He knows about the note from Marcus. He knows Marcus has Jenny.
I’d rather she continue thinking Jenny’s dead. Just in case that’s how this all ends.
“We’ll discuss everything moving forward tonight.” Even as I give him the command, I hear the fatigue in my voice. The day has taken its toll. More than its fair share. “Has my brother gotten in touch with you?”
“About the men we sent out?” he asks to clarify.
“Yes.”
“We have men trailing the man seen with Jenny. His name’s Luke Stevens. He’s driving out west. We don’t know where to but he’s definitely taken orders from Marcus. He’s mentioned him twice on the calls taken from his car.”
“Don’t let him get far; I don’t give a shit if we blow our cover. Have our men grab him and bring him back here.”
“Consider it done.”
“Good. I want him brought in and questioned. I want to know everything about Marcus. About Jenny. Everything that bastard knows… I’ll get it from him.” There are enemies everywhere and everything is moving quickly. “Bethany needs to stay put tonight. Let her run it off. But stay on her and don’t lose her. I want an update every five minutes.”
“Of course,” he answers me.
Glancing at the clock, I change my mind. “Every three minutes. An update every three minutes.” I give him the order as I make a U-turn and head back to Bethany’s home, preparing myself for the evidence of what happened. “Briefing is tonight, war starts tomorrow.”
Bethany
I shouldn’t call Laura. I keep thinking it over and over again even as I stare at the bright white screen of my phone with her contact info staring back at me.
I’m so fucking alone. After driving to nowhere in silence for an hour, that’s what I’ve realized more than anything. I’m so fucking alone.
It’s sad when you realize there’s only one person left, and you can’t reach out to them, because God forbid if what happened to me affects her. I’d never forgive myself.
The darkness outside drifts in as I sit listless in the driver’s seat. There’s not a star in the black sky and the moon is merely a sliver. Not even the lingering snow reflects the light. It’s no longer white and bright, it’s dulled and nearly vanished as well.
My teeth scrape against my bottom lip as I pull it into my mouth and look out of my window, still strapped in to the driver’s seat. From the outside of my house, no one would ever know what happened.
Closed doors hide a variety of crimes.
Wiping under my tired, burning eyes, I then press the button to exit my contacts to prevent myself from giving in and being weak. I won’t call her.
But that only leaves Jase.
CROSS. I can’t think of him without being reminded of the book, the underlined hidden message inside it, followed by the break-in, and then Jenny. Every thought, question, and mournful memory assault me one after the other just from thinking his name. I’m so confused and lost… and alone.
I stare down at the white plastic bag on the passenger seat. The logo of Martin Hardware stares back at me in a bold red font and beneath it I know there are three packs of light bulbs, each containing four apiece. It took me a while to feel safe enough to go in. Shit, it took me a while to stop looking in my rearview mirror and keeping track of cars who could be following me. There was no one there for all the hours I’ve been away from my home.
There’s no one here now either. It’s just me and the aftermath.
All I have to do is get out of my car and replace the bulbs so I can at least turn on a light.
I have to know what happened. I have to search my place and see what they took. The puzzle keeps me from breaking down. It keeps me from remembering Jenny and the fact that she’s gone. As well as Jase, and the fact that he may be to blame if the message in the book is about him.
Why did they take the book and my bills? I think back to the living room. Everything turned over, but systematically. Everything was done with the purpose of making it look like a robbery… but they didn’t steal what a random burglar would take.
A long exhale and I’m able to pretend like it isn’t devastating. Like I don’t feel violated. Like there’s no reason for me to be terrified.
My bills and mail, plus whatever other papers were in the coffee table, although I can’t even imagine what else I had stored there. And my laptop.
But not my phone or my wallet.
They stole information.
Resting my elbow against the window frame of my car, I press my thumbnail between my teeth and bite down gently, mindlessly. All I can do is stare at my front door and see a man. He had to have been tall, wearing faded, broken-in blue jeans and white sneakers with a red stripe along the sides of each. My mind plays the scene for me. Him quietly picking the lock, pressing his shoulder against the door and opening it as silently as he could. Did he know I was in the living room before he stepped in? Did he peek into the curtains in the bay window beforehand?
Again the series of thoughts plays out. The break-in will always lead to Jenny.
Did he hurt Jenny? Did he know her? I can barely stand to look at the stark white door as the realization hits me.
The men I’ve been after, the ones I’ve demanded be served justice were only feet from me today. And I cowered.
My breathing comes in staggered pants as I look at my front door again and instead of seeing him, I see my sister sitting on the front step. Just as she was the last time I saw her. Bloodshot eyes full of fear staring back at me. It was the day she gave me the gun.
The image washes away as my eyes turn glossy, but the emotions are short lived.
Bright lights from a passing car distract me and the fear I can’t deny takes over. It lasts only for a second as the car continues on its way, never even turning down this street.
The sliver of strength I had pulling into the driveway is long gone.
The adrenaline doesn’t wane though. And I know there’s no way I can go back inside.
I can’t sleep here.
I’ll never feel safe in this house again.
My thoughts aren’t cohesive when I call him. I don’t even realize what I’ve done until Jase’s phone is ringing with my cell pressed to my ear. He doesn’t make me wait long to answer. Which is a damn good thing, because I nearly hang up on the second ring.
“Bethany.” He says my name with a quiet emotion I can’t quite place. Longing is evident though and somehow that makes me feel like it’s all going to be okay. But how could it ever be okay at this point?
Time goes by and words evade me. Jase doesn’t speak either.
“Are you angry?” I eventually ask him and I can’t fathom why. It shouldn’t matter if he’s angry at me or not. My life does not revolve around this dark knight. I won’t allow it. I don’t want this life.
“I’m disappointed.”
“You sound like my mother,” I answer with feign
ed sarcasm and not really meaning it. It just seems like something someone would say in response to, I’m disappointed.
All I can hear is a huff on the end of the line followed by a resigned sigh. “I keep having to remind myself that you’re going through a lot, but that doesn’t mean you can do this shit, Bethany.”
Shame heats my cheeks and my throat dries, keeping me from being able to swallow as I look back to the house. With every passing second, I’m sinking deeper into the dark pit of emotions that’s expanding around me.
“You don’t know what I’m going through,” I tell him simply. And all the voices I’ve heard before at the hospital echo in my mind. So many people think no one else feels the way they do when they’re mourning, when they’re sick. When life has got them by the throat and they have nowhere else to turn to but a mental hospital.
“I know people have it worse, people have more pain and more tragedy… but that doesn’t mean I’m not handling things the best way that I can.” Dignity is slow to greet me and I strengthen my voice to tell him, “I’m trying to just hold on right now.” As I finish, my words crack and it’s then that I feel as crazy as my patients. I’m losing it. I’m losing everything, watching it all slip through my fingers like the sand of an hourglass.
“Why did you run?” he asks me, not commenting on a word I’ve just spoken. Somehow, I’m grateful for that.
“I wasn’t in the right mindset to be bossed around and whisked away.” It’s semi-honest. At the very least, it’s not a lie.
“And now?”
“I don’t know what to do,” I admit, feeling the insecurity and the weight of what’s happened push against my chest. “And I’m scared,” I add. The confession barely leaves me; I don’t know if he heard me or not. Another car passes down the street that crosses mine, forming a T-shaped intersection. This time I’m not as scared, but I’m conscious of it. I’m conscious of everything around me.
“Do you want to stay with me?” he asks.
“No,” I say, and it hurts to answer him honestly. Physically hurts and drains me of what little strength I have left. I should add that I don’t trust him after what I read in the book. But without the book, I can’t be certain that I shouldn’t trust him. Which makes everything all the more complicated.
“Why is that?” There’s no hint of what he’s feeling in his question; it’s only a string of words asked for clarity. And that makes it easier, but not easy enough to tell the truth. How could I tell him I saw his last name in a coded message in The Coverless Book? I already feel like I’ve gone insane. I don’t need someone else to confirm it.
“I’m just confused and I want to be alone.” Nodding to myself although he can’t see me, I repeat the sentiment, “I’m not sure exactly what I want right now, but I think I’d really like to be alone.”
“I’d prefer you weren’t alone right now… And you still owe me time.” He adds the second statement when I don’t respond to the first.
“I can always say no.”
“I never should have put that in the contract.”
His response forces a weak smile to my face. It’s just as tired and sad as I am. “Your contract is bullshit.” Our quips are a quick tit for tat. The rough chuckle from the other end of the line eases a small piece of me. As if slowly melting a large sheet of ice that encases and presses against me constantly.
“You’re not going to be happy.” He pauses after his statement and I simply wait for what’s next, not responding until I know what he’s getting at.
“Seth is behind you. He’s parked a few houses down. I’ll have him flash his lights for you.” Thump, my heart squeezes tight, so tight it hurts and I actually reach up to place a hand over my chest as bright white lights shine behind me and then disappear.
“How long?”
“The entire time. Did you think I’d risk anything happening to you?”
Gratitude is a strange thing. Sometimes it feels warm and hugs every inch of you. Sometimes it strangles you and makes you feel rotten and unworthy. The latter is what I struggle with as Jase continues to tell me what to do.
Follow Seth to a hotel.
Stay there tonight.
Meet Jase tomorrow for dinner.
He ends the rattled-off list of things I’m required to do with, “We need to have a conversation.”
The pit of my stomach sinks as I take in my current reality.
“I was a fool to think I’d outrun you, wasn’t I?” My words are whispered and as they leave me, Seth’s car comes to life. As he pulls up in front of my house, his eyes meet mine in the faint darkness. I rip my gaze away.
“You’re far from a fool, but running from me … it won’t be tolerated, Miss Fawn.”
Bethany
There’s a saying about life and how it can be anything you want it to be. I forget how it goes exactly. Not that it matters, because the saying is a fucking lie. You can’t just decide one day you’re going to change and everything will change with you. That’s not how it works. That’s not life. It’s more complicated than that.
Life is a tangled mess of other people’s bullshit and other people’s decisions. Even decisions they make on a whim.
Sometimes, you get to decide whether or not you care about them and their issues. If you do, you’re fucked. Their problems become yours and sometimes that means you fall down a black hole and there’s no easy escape. “Today I choose to be happy,” is a joke. You can’t be happy when there’s a rope around your neck and another around your feet. You can’t step forward, and even if you could, you’d just hang yourself.
Sometimes you don’t get to decide a damn thing at all. There’s not a choice you could have made that would have prevented what’s to come. My sorry ass has been thinking about that all day. Whether I had a choice or not. And if what I choose is what I deserve.
Because right now it feels like that rope is pulled snug under my chin with another wrapped tight around my ankles, scratching against my skin with every step I take.
As I stare at the slip of paper I’ve kept in my wallet that says, in a life where you can be anything, be kind, I don’t think twice about balling it up to toss the crumpled scrap in the trash can outside the restaurant.
I miss on the first try. Figures. It mocks me as it falls to the ground, daring me to pick it up and really discard it. Which I do, albeit spitefully.
A strong gust of wind blows the hair from out of my face, and without the scarf I left in my car, the chill sweeps down my collarbone and seeps into my jacket. The weather is just as bitter as I am.
I don’t know how long I’ve been standing outside of Crescent Inn, one of the nicer restaurants in this town. I’ve always wanted to come here, but I could never justify it because of the price. Pulling my coat collar tighter around myself I peek in through the large floor-to-ceiling windows, past the wooden blinds that only cover the top third of the windows and search for Jase.
He’s not hard to find. In the center of the room, filled with bright white tablecloths amid a sea of small cobalt blue vases, each housing an array of fresh flowers next to tea lights for ambience, he stands out.
Just seeing him does something to me. Even as a couple passes around me, giving me a disconcerted look for blocking the door and staring inside the place, I can’t bring myself to go to him. I couldn’t sleep without dreaming about him.
I can’t think without wanting to know what he thinks about it all.
It’s only when he brings his gaze to meet mine, as if he could feel my stare, that I dare consider taking the necessary steps toward him.
How did I get in this deep? How did I let the ropes of his life and my sister’s death wrap so tightly around my every waking moment?
More importantly, how the hell do I get out of this?
I tell myself the only reason I came is because he said he found my things they stole when he called this morning. They were all thrown in a trash can a few blocks down from my place. There’s no way it was a break-i
n. Jase is on my side; it was staged to disguise something else.
It’s easier to enter though, knowing I’ll get my book back.
“Good evening, Miss Fawn.” The host greets me the moment I walk in. Without another word, he graciously takes my coat from me, ignoring the shock and apprehension that must show on my expression. With my jaw dropped, and the air absent from my lungs, I don’t have a chance to ask him how he knew my name, as if the answer isn’t obvious.
“Mr. Cross is right this way. Follow me, please.” The skin around the man’s light blue eyes crinkles when he offers me a gentle smile. His suit is perfectly fitted to his proportions; his shoes are shined so well the chandeliers in the foyer of the restaurant sparkle against the black leather.
He’s professional and kind. Still, I don’t move. I stay where I am, knowing with every step I take that Jase Cross tells me to take, those ropes get tighter and tighter. Holding me right where he wants me.
The only saving grace is that if I don’t think about it, if I just surrender to him… it will feel weightless, easy and deliciously thrilling while it lasts. If only I could think of anything but the demise of what my life once was.
The polite smile falters on the gentleman’s face, emphasizing the lines around his eyes even more. The chatter of the crowded restaurant is what breaks me in this moment. There are plenty of people here, witnesses if anything were to happen. And I do need The Coverless Book. I need to know what Jenny said.
With her in mind, one imaginary rope around my ankle loosens. I’m all too aware that it belongs to her.
With every step I take, I think back to what’s led me here:
Jenny’s disappearance and how I couldn’t let it go.
Jase’s bar and how I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.
Jenny’s death and how I need to have justice.
The gun Jenny gave me and how I shot at Jase rather than playing dumb.
The contract I signed giving away my time and body in exchange for a debt.