But then something shifts, eases, and the words out of her mouth are a soft caress. “Why do you care, Nathan? Am I doing a bad job at work? Am I a bad investment after all?”
“I never said you were a bad investment, Lo. As far as doing a bad job,” I smile at a memory of her pissing off a little brunette girl, “you don’t really pull in the tips.” The air inside of me escapes in a quiet whoosh when I see her smile peek through the sadness. “And I care because I care about you. If he’s hurting you, Lo, you have to let someone help. You have to tell someone.”
“And then what, Nathan? I have nowhere to go. I’ve been living with him since I was sixteen. He’s all I have.”
It can’t be true, but I know she wouldn’t lie. Not about this. With a sigh, I rub my face and think. “You can pick up some more shifts at work, make more money. You’d be able to afford something small on your own.”
“It’s not that easy,” she counters quickly.
“It is that easy.” Taking a chance, I step forward and wrap my hands around her tiny upper arms. When she doesn’t protest, I pull her close and bend down so that our eyes are level. “What’s keeping you there?” I challenge.
“Nothing,” she says, implying that nothing can keep her anywhere. After a second, she adds, “Everything.”
Still holding her, hoping that my touch will somehow further advance my offer, I say, “I can help you, Lo. Let me help you.”
There’s this moment, when her eyes seem distant and I know she’s thinking. Her mouth moves, as if she’s biting the inside of her lip, and against my better judgment, hope explodes inside of my chest. It’s a bad idea, I know it is, but I’ll do anything for her. If it means walking away from this damn assignment, then so be it. I’ll take the consequences over losing Logan any day. She lets out a long breath, and opens her mouth, and I can just imagine the words that she’ll speak.
But then our solitude is penetrated and the world turns red with evil and hatred and desperation. A body slams into me so forcefully that my hands are ripped away from Logan. At the same time, I see Danny step into the place my body previously occupied, his fingers digging deep into Logan’s fragile face. I don’t have time to struggle against the hands pinning my arms behind my back. Can’t even think past the fact that Danny is touching her. The months of training vanish into a cloud of paralyzing fear, because around her, nothing is rational.
“What’s going on out here, Lo?” he asks, voice cold and smooth as ice. Some sense of logic comes crashing into me and I start to twist out of my captor’s hold when cold metal presses against the back of my neck. I freeze, literally cease to breathe and begin to pray that he keeps the gun pointed on me.
As if in slow motion, I watch the way Danny pulls back his arm and propels it towards Logan’s face. A guttural scream erupts from my chest, forever encasing this moment in panic and agony as I’m powerless to stop it all. Logan ducks, but it’s useless as Danny’s fist pummels into the side of her head. Before his arm is even finished with the motion, Logan’s body falls limply to the ground. Not even the gun against my skin keeps me from trying to break free. Danny turns his ice cold eyes on me, but speaks to his friend behind me.
“Give me the gun,” he demands, as calm as someone asking for a pencil in class or a napkin at a restaurant. Its unnerving, the amount of restrain and calculation he is clearly capable of.
The exchange is quick. I’m thinking this might be my chance to knock someone off balance, get the situation under my control, but then he points the gun at Logan’s still body.
“Danny, come on, man.”
The voice draws my attention. It’s Brody, standing off to the side of the ordeal and looking for all of the world like he’s uninterested in the outcome. A slight shift of his hand lets me know that it’s actually the opposite; he’s keeping his cool, trying to diffuse the heat before it consumes.
Danny swings the gun around to Brody, seeming to have lost his calm. “Back the fuck up, Brody. I swear to God I’ll fucking kill you.”
Hands in the air, Brody presses his back against the glass door. “Alright, alright, calm down. Just get her out of here.”
Shit. I was wrong. He doesn’t have anyone’s interest in mind except his own. With my arms still pinned behind me and Danny now pressing the gun against Logan as he lifts her off the ground, I am struck paralyzed with the realization that I can’t gain the upper hand. I can’t take the chance. Instead, I scream, like a crazy man about to lose everything, because it feels exactly like that. The guy behind me kicks the back of my knees and I fall hard and scream harder. People inside turn to see the commotion, the way Danny’s dragging Logan behind him and the way I’m screaming so hard it feels like my throat is on fire, but nobody moves to help. Not a fucking finger is lifted. It’s sick, wrong. So wrong. I taste the bile in the back of my throat and am tempted to let it all lose on this bastards porch, but I’m too proud. I also know that it’ll weaken me, and as soon as I get the chance to beat the shit out of this mother fucker, I am going to need my strength to take it.
That chance never comes, though. I’m led out to my car with another gun pressed against the center of my back and only freed of it once seated in my car. Hands shaking so bad, I turn the key in the ignition and try to convince myself its better this way. If I kill someone, I won’t be able to help Logan. I’ll be stuck in jail or on some probationary shit and without the power to pull the strings to get Danny locked up for good. In prison, with the men who murder the men who beat on women, he’ll get his karma. It’s the only thought I allow to play out in my head, because the alternative- Danny dragging Logan back to some unknown location- is too much to bear.
13
March 15, 2009
As soon as I leave the party, I head straight to the bar. It’s dark and empty when I get there, only the moonlight spilling through the large bay windows lighting my way. It doesn’t occur to me to turn on a light. Thumbing through the filing cabinet in the office, I finally find Logan’s folder, almost tearing it in the process of freeing it. I type her address into the GPS on my phone and run back to the car, something like optimism filling me up.
Except the address is nothing but a rundown train station. I scream and curse and kick the tire on my car before I drive home. There’s nothing I can do until someone is in the office.
The minute the sun starts to peak into the blinds in the living room of my house, I’m on my feet. First I make coffee, and then I wake up Emily. I tell her that I’m going to run errands, but I don’t know why I bother lying. She just rolls over with a grunt.
The clothes I was wearing last night are still on, smelling like stale beer and sweat, but I can’t be bothered to change, not when there are more important things to do like finding Logan. As soon as I’m on the road and headed toward the station, I realize that coffee was a bad idea, the caffeine adding to the restlessness I’ve been battling all night. My hands haven’t stopped shaking. Images of Logan, unconscious and helpless, consume my mind, make my blood pulse savagely against my eyes. With a heavy foot, I make the twenty minute commute to the office in nine, throw the truck into park and sprint towards the front doors. I tug on the handle, but they’re locked. Pound on the buzzer until a click lets me know they’re open.
“Jesus, Hawkins,” Crowley yells as I run past. I keep running. I don’t know what will happen if I stop moving.
It seems like the computer takes forever to boot up. Everything moves in slow motion; the mouse as it hovers over the icons, the folders as they open and one by one disappoints me with their useless information. Danny’s address is unknown; Brody’s is here, so I write that down on a sticky note. Danny’s brother’s, too. Logan’s name catches my eye, and next to it, the name Lena has an address. It must be her mom’s. Writing down everything I think will help, I don’t notice the sound of footsteps until they’re already on top of me. I don’t even know how long I’ve been in here.
“What are you doing, son?” a thick voice asks, exasperated. I know the
question is meant to mean so much more than asking what I’m doing at this moment. Which is why I choose not to answer, instead clicking furiously through more insignificant information.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Chief says, and then it’s nothing but the sound of his retreating steps.
But his words, they mean nothing. They don’t provide more than a moment’s pause. Once I’ve got everything I think I’ll need, I run back out to the car and head to the closest address; Danny’s brother, Miguel. The gun in the waistband of my pants digs into my back as I drive, but it’s the only thing that registers. Streets pass by in a blur. The radio in the car, horns honking, all sounds are muffled. The address runs through my mind like a chant.
It’s not even eight in the morning by the time I make it to Miguel’s, but I pound on his apartment door with such force that it echoes in the cement hall. A few seconds pass without any sound from the other side. With both fists this time, I pound again.
Finally there’s commotion, mostly a string of curse words and what sounds like Miguel telling someone to stay put. The door flings open and I’m momentarily stunned. In front of me is an older version of Danny, face schooled into a mask of anger and confusion. To pacify him, and to justify myself, I pull the badge out of my pocket and flash it at him. His demeanor shifts immediately.
“Is this about Danny?” he asks, sounding apprehensive.
“It’s about Logan,” I say, and his hands drop to his side. Everything about him shifts in that moment; his eyes draw down and his mouth pinches. His body language screams guilt and concern.
“Is she…okay?”
I shake my head. “I need to know where your brother is.”
Miguel exhales, runs a hand over the top of his head. “I have no idea where he is.”
“If you’re lying to me, Miguel…”
“I swear I’m not,” he says, eyes hard on mine. “I haven’t spoken to him since April of last year. He and Logan used to live here…” He trails off, looking down at the ground now. “It was bad. I should have done more.”
There’s a pause before I ask my next question, because I’m not sure I want to know the answer. I ask it anyway. “Would he kill her?”
He snorts, face twisted with disgust. “No. But that’s not any better.” A moment of silence and then he leans against the door jam. “Things have been hard for him, for us. You have to understand that he…he had a hard time growing up.”
I flex my fists. “Miguel, honestly, I could give two shits about Danny and his hard life right now. He dragged Logan away last night, practically by her hair, with a gun pressed against her temple. I have to find them.”
Miguel’s eyes are glassy when he finally looks up. “I should have done more,” is all he says and I know that he won’t be any help. I leave him standing at the entrance to his apartment, looking broken and full of regret.
My next stop is Brody’s, but I have to be careful. I have to figure out a way to do this without blowing my cover. Keeping myself in good graces with the police department is the only way Danny will ever get what he deserves. When I knock on Brody’s door- a small house with grey shutters- I school my face into a mask of despair rather than the fury that’s raging through me.
It’s Sam who opens the door, eyes puffy and bloodshot. She makes eye contact for a split second before searching the front yard behind me. “She’s not here,” I say. “I was hoping you could help me find her.”
Sam’s shaking her head before I’ve even finished the sentence, her short blonde hair fanning out in disarray. “I don’t- I don’t know where she is.”
“But you know where Danny lives.”
“Not really. I mean, no. I’ve never been there.” She glances behind her. “Look, I can’t help you. Brody and Danny are friends.”
The door starts to close. I shove my hand out to stop it. “Sam, please.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, a bony hand pressed against her mouth. The door closes with a soft click and I’m left staring at the chipping wood, no answers and one last hope.
~~
At first, I think I have the wrong address. I check the numbers twice and finally step out of the car; walk up to the door and knock softly because it seems it might disintegrate with the slightest touch. My heart is in my throat. There’s a fire in my stomach, whether from hunger or nerves, I can’t tell. Involuntarily, my right hand settles beneath my shirt, just on the hilt of the gun.
After a few silent moments, I press my ear against the moldy wood and hold my breath. There’s voices, soft but clear. I knock again and still no answer. In desperation, I try the doorknob and it turns easily in my hand. The door squeaks as it slides open, revealing a tiny kitchen and an even smaller living room. A body is sprawled across a run-down couch. The only light is coming from the TV, casting everything in a bluish hue. Just in case, I leave the door open and walk towards the body.
“Dave?” she questions, her voice hoarse, barely audible. The rest of her doesn’t move, and that’s the only word that spills out of her mouth. I stand in front of her, just next to the TV, and watch as her sluggish eyes finally see me. They furrow in confusion but then relax into indifference. “If you’re here to rob me, I ain’t got nothin’ for ya to take.”
“I’m looking for Logan,” I say carefully. Her eyes snap to mine with the use of her daughter’s name, but still she doesn’t move from her slouched state.
“She ain’t here,” she says.
Deep breath. “I know. I was wondering if you might know where I can find her and Danny.”
The most surprising thing happens then. Lena laughs; big, wet, heaves that spill out of her frail body and look like they might crack her in half. It lasts for a good ten seconds before, with one last rattling breath, she pulls herself together. “Ain’t seen them for years.”
I can’t help but try to see past this broken woman to the mother underneath it all; to the one who gave birth to a little girl who might have looked just like her. Maybe, beneath the pale and cracked skin, the limp hair and the lifeless eyes, there’s a woman who brought a little girl into this world. It’s almost impossible to imagine.
“She’s in trouble,” I finally tell her.
“Always was,” she replies, her eyes again glued to the TV.
I know that she won’t- can’t help me, but leaving right now would be admitting defeat. It would be giving up on Logan, just like everyone else, and I can’t bring myself to do it. “She needs help, Lena.”
“Not from me she don’t.” Lena sniffs, wipes her nose with the back of her hand. “I think I’ve done enough.”
The way she says it, it’s almost like regret, as if she’s admitting to fucking up Logan’s life. There’s a moment when her eyes shift, watching memories in her mind, but then they’re back to empty, her daughter again forgotten. It hits me then that I’ve done all I can do; that this shell of a person never cared before and can’t care now. Somewhere deep inside of me, longing for my own parents twists and turns. I wouldn’t be here if they weren’t gone, and I can’t get myself killed in this process of rescuing a girl I barely know. I’ve got Emily and Joshua to think about. They have no one left.
Without looking back, I walk out of the dying house, away from the half-dead woman, and try my hardest to convince myself that I’m doing the right thing. Logan’s made it this long with him, and I have to believe that she’ll be okay again.
14
March 17, 2009
Still no word from Logan. When I sleep, I dream that it’s me holding the gun to her head. She looks up at me, eyes full of tears and anguish, and says, “Not you too.”
I wake up covered in sweat. I don’t go back to sleep after that.
15
March 20, 2009
She’s dead. The thought is like a knife being pushed slowly into me, inching closer to my heart with every breath. Danny’s proving impossible to find. I’ve even got people helping me. But he’s like a ghost; was only ever seen by me. Brody
was our main target, and Brody is still there. No one has any other reason to dig deeper. Except for me. No one has Logan on their mind except for me.
I text Brody when I leave the morning shift at the bar, ask him if there’s a party tonight. It’s a few hours before he responds. The vibration scares the shit out of me, and I jump off the couch and dig into my pocket like it’s burning a hole through my leg.
Yep. Same house as last time.
Almost instantly, my heart starts to pound against my rib cage. The phone vibrates again.
No Danny.
It doesn’t matter. They all know him. Someone might know where he is.
But no one does. Or no one cares. Either way, it ends up being a useless search. Brody hands me a cold beer, claps me on the shoulder, and says, “She’s not yours to save, Nate.”
He’s right, but it doesn’t make it any easier to forget. Only the alcohol does, and I make it my new mission to drink my weight in it.
16
March 24, 2009
I called the station earlier but Crowley had no other news for me. Said that I should just wait until Danny resurfaces, because he definitely will. But it’s not that easy. Sitting here in this empty house, doing nothing but waiting- it’s killing me. Joshua and Emily are at school and the silence of the house is heavy, suffocating, like it was the weeks and months that followed Mom and Dad’s accident. It’s supposed to be my day off from the bar, but I jump in the car and head there anyway.
Kait looks up at me, surprised, when I walk in. “What are you doing here?” she asks.
“I can’t sit at home,” I say as I pass her, heading to the office. I hear her follow.
“Any news?”
I shake my head. I never gave her the details, but she knows something’s wrong. The other girls think Logan is sick, but it’s been ten days. Ten long, sleep deprived days. “No. Not yet.”
Tailspin (Better Than You) Page 8