by Coulton, JC
I put everything back in the drawer as it was, and go to open the door to the club’s back hallway. It’s locked. What? I’m locked in the office of Jessup’s night club after telling him his rivals took his niece and it’s his fault. This is bad. This really is starting to feel like I’m in the middle of a B-rated gangster movie. Oh my God, I wonder if I’m going to get my fingers chopped off?
I sit back down with a thump, the chair scooting back on its wheels and hitting the desk behind me. I have to calm down. No one is going to lose any fingers. This is real life. It’s probably just an automatic locking door. God I’m such a drama queen.
I remember seeing a set of keys in the office drawer, so I rummage around in there. There’s got to be an easy solution. Unfortunately they’re the wrong type of keys for the lock. There’s nothing and I can’t get out. I start to feel a little thread of panic in my throat. Instead of giving in, I turn and start fumbling through the drawers in the other desk.
It’s clear that a woman sits here, and I wonder if it’s the lady I heard on the answering machine. She’s got the same sort of stuff that I have in my drawers at work. There are no keys here. One thing she does have is a little travel-size manicure set. Inside it is a metal nail file. I figure I’ll give the lock a try with this—it could just need a little click to open it up. I think of banging on the door and yell, but no one inside Caliber is going to hear me from back here if I do.
I have no idea how to pick a lock, but I’ve seen it done lots of times in the movies. I slide the file into the key slot and start jiggling. It’s not that easy. There’s no instant click, and I have no idea if I’m even doing it the right way. All it does it annoy me and make my panic start to take hold.
Just then the door opens inwards and nearly hits me in the face. I stand back.
“Oh thank you so much. I was locked in, I’m glad you came back!”
It’s not Jessup’s face that peers around the side of the heavy door. It’s the bouncer from before.
“Mr. Lee wants you to wait in here, Miss James.”
His tone is way too firm to be speaking to a guest, and I start to feel my throat close up with fear.
“So I can’t come out and see him myself?”
My voice seems really little as I look up into the security guard’s face. He doesn’t look impressed at all.
“Please wait here for him, I don’t want to have to fix that lock, so stop playing with it.”
With that, he shuts the door abruptly, and I’m left staring at the stub of the tiny nail file still lodged in the lock.
Oh my God. Fuck! I really am locked in. I’m being held against my will. Oh my God, oh my God. I need to call Blake. I rip open the office drawer again and pick up Jessup’s phone. I dump the contents of my make shift purse out onto the desktop but his card isn’t in there yet. Fuck! I left it at the hotel. Fuck! I look around wildly.
Breathe, Carrie. Breathe. There are two other ways out of here. There’s a small door in the ceiling. It looks like it’s been painted over. I’ll never get up there, even if it’s open. There’s also a fire exit in the corner. It must lead somewhere behind the building, but it looks even more secure than the door to the hallway. I push on it and nothing happens.
“Fuck!” Now I’m talking to myself. I need to calm down. If I’m getting out of here, it’s my brain that will help, not my muscles. I think of my sensei and what he says about actions and reactions, and then I look at the sign on the door. Emergency only, keep clear.
My eyes flick up to the ceiling again. Nestled beside to the light socket is a smoke detector. Progress! If I light a fire, then the alarms will go off, and that door will fucking open! Yesss! I nearly cough with surprise that I’ve worked it out.
My eyes go wide remembering the lighter that’s sitting in Jessup’s office drawer. It’s one of those flashy ones, with an inscription to commemorate something. In less than a second, it’s in my hand. The flint sparks a couple of times and the wick lights. I nearly jump up and down with hope. I’m close to freedom.
I take a moment to listen at the door. I don’t think anyone will be outside at this time, but I need to keep it down. That bouncer in the hall could be in here in no time, and my plan would be ruined.
I lift up the small metal garbage can under the female worker’s desk. She doesn’t clean this thing out regularly, and that’s perfect. It’s filled with papers and apple cores. It’ll make a nice little fire. I place it directly under the smoke detector. I try to be quiet, but the rim of the bin scrapes on the ground and I freeze for a second, positive I’m going to be caught.
No one comes. I flick on the lighter and ignite the corner of two sheets or paper sticking out of the bin. It catches quickly and there’s way too much smoke. I grab my purse and Jessup’s phone. There’s no way I’m not showing this to Blake. I just have to pray that the smoke alarm has enough battery power to detect the small blaze before it goes out.
It happens. The chaos is sudden, the squeal of the fire alarm fills my ears, the automatic door clicks, and at the same time the sprinkler system kicks in—completely soaking me as I slam myself into the door and bolt out the door. I’m now in the alleyway beside the club and into the cold night air.
Chapter Sixteen
Blake
It may be Monday night, but the cabs are clogging up the street, and traffic is frustratingly slowly. I feel like honking the horn to get people out of the way as I make my way towards Times Square.
Part of me wants to call for backup too, but I wait. Carrie could simply be out for a walk, clearing her mind, or retracing her steps. It’s just the sort of thing a reporter would do to try and relive the event.
I take a lap around the block where she was attacked. No one is there. Caliber is the only other place she could be, so I floor it the final three blocks. The club entrance has a bunch of guests waiting for the door staff to let them inside. It must be after eleven at night by now. I can hear the music seeping out the front door, as the bouncers make people wait for seemingly no reason.
Just then, I see everyone outside turn and face the door. It’s the shriek of fire alarms. There’s a fire inside. Jesus Christ! Not only is Carrie constantly seeking out danger, she’s got the worst luck ever! With a screech, I swing the car into the same alleyway I parked in this morning. I had no idea I’d be back at Jessup’s door this quickly.
People are making their way up the stairs and out the door of the club. I can’t see smoke coming from anywhere. I watch their faces. No one looks panicked. I’m guessing it’s either a drill or some prankster has pulled the alarm to disrupt business. It’s quite a common thing for competing venues to do to each other, so I’m not surprised. Usually it would happen on a busy Friday night, though.
I ponder this while I sit and wait for a second. The car is unmarked. I’m blocking the footpath, and people walk around the car. Ladies are giggling and high heels are clicking on the sidewalk. They step daintily into the gutter behind my taillights and then back up on to the footpath. They’re all making their way to other venues.
This could be nothing, but it’s too much of a coincidence. And when it comes to Jessup Lee, there’s no such thing. Pulling the alarm would be the perfect way to distract his security team. Distract them from what, though? Another kidnapping, a robbery? Whatever it is, I’m not going to find out by sitting here. I get out of the car, lock it and start to make my way down the back alley behind Caliber for the second time today.
It’s dark and I can feel the temperature dropping. What looked like a functional, well-lit rear access point this morning, now seems dark and threatening. I draw my weapon as a precautionary measure. My instincts are telling me that something more than an alarm is going on here. When I see Carrie James bolt around the corner, I see I’m right.
“Carrie!” I hiss at her to stay quiet as she starts to babble incoherently, saying something about Jessup that I can’t understand.
My harsh tone stops her just in front of the dum
pster. Her eyes are wide and she stands perfectly still while I check the corners and clear the area. My cop’s instincts are still going at it, but apart from the wailing alarm, nothing is out of place. The doors to the back of the club are shut, the boxes are still neatly stacked, and there’s nothing around that’s of any interest—except in Carrie’s shaking hands.
“What’s that?”
My voice is still harsh. I’m pissed to see her here. She’s asking for fucking trouble. My job’s hard enough without this shit.
“It’s Jessup’s phone.” She looks up at me with imploring eyes. “Just listen!”
I grab her and start walking her back towards the car. Her high heels slow us down but I can’t help noticing she looks amazing.
“Blake, listen. I’m sorry. I went to the club to talk to Jessup. Don’t be angry, I just had to know.”
“Know what Carrie?—Know what!” I don’t care that I’m yelling at her now. I’m sick of hearing this shit from her.
“I had to tell him April was missing, Blake—he didn’t even know! What is that about? You don’t notify her only family member, and you’re asking me to believe that she isn’t just a piece of meat in a Jessup trap? You’re the one lying to me! I wouldn’t need to do this if you just told me the truth.”
In a way, she’s right. There are events happening that I can’t tell her about, and stuff that even I don’t know. I have no idea what Jacob is really up to. Jacob herself may not know what’s going on, if it’s above her pay grade. Carrie has a point.
“I know it’s confusing, Carrie, but you just have to have faith. For once in your life, just trust me.”
I look down at her beautiful face, and wish that she were capable of trust. Right now, she’s in a world of shit, and there’s nothing I can do to protect her from it unless she backs off.
“Carrie, you’re putting yourself in danger right now. You have to know this.”
“Blake, please just listen to me!”
She shouts at me, banging her fist on my chest for emphasis. The contact isn’t harsh but it snaps me into silence.
“Jessup just locked me in his office. He wouldn’t let me out, so I pulled the alarm. And I found this.” She holds up the phone again. “This is his phone. I looked through it, Blake—he was the one who took that photo of us dancing on Saturday!”
She’s breathless with the effort of getting the words out. As they sink in, I’m acutely aware of where we’re standing. I hurry and get her into the passenger seat of the car. I close the door and am tempted to lock it. She’ll freak out if I do, so I leave it alone. She was just held captive by Jessup, and she’s liable to go ape-shit if she feels trapped.
“Ok. Start at the beginning. And tell me everything.”
She takes a breath. “I just went there to talk to him, I swear. Then the bouncer took me back to his office, and Jessup said he didn’t know April had been taken. He was acting weird, Blake—all innocent, as if nothing was wrong. He said April would call him if she needed him.”
I take the phone from her hands and scan through the photos. She and the tech staff are right. The photo was taken on this phone. From the messages and emails, there’s no denying it’s Jessup’s phone. I quickly check to make sure there are no messages left in his inbox from me. I breathe a sigh of relief. He’s deleted them all. Carrie does not need to have any more suspicion about me.
“It’s strange. And you’re not wrong. The police haven’t approached him with the news about April. But it’s not for the reason you think. April’s safety is paramount. Jessup has been under investigation on another issue for months. We’ve been watching this club and his home. This is something solid, Carrie, something that could actually stick.”
She looks at me, shaking her head. “How can my best friend’s safety be paramount when you haven’t even notified her family?”
“Carrie,” I snap, “he’s fucking with you. He does know. I know for sure that he knows! He either wants you on side, or he believes you know something you shouldn’t. He’s playing dumb to turn you against the people who are trying to help you.”
This shuts her up for a second. Her voice sounds unsure afterward.
“So you know that he knows…”
I nod. “I told him myself, Carrie.”
The car is quiet now, except for the sound of our breathing and the faint street sounds of a Monday night. She looks me in the eye and asks, “So you can’t tell me what he’s under investigation for—even to prove once and for all that I should trust you?”
“You know I can’t jeopardize an open investigation, Carrie. I just can’t. No matter how much I care about you.”
Damn it! There I go again, and of course she decides to bite her bottom lip. God, the woman is irresistible, especially when she’s angry.
“This is the situation right now. For whatever reason, you got locked in his office, pulled an alarm to escape, and you stole his phone. Doing that costs him money and customers, Carrie. He’s not going to be happy about it. And he’ll notice this missing phone for sure. Now he knows it can only be you.”
“I didn’t mean for things to go this way.”
“Well, now I need to mend fences. This can spiral out of control, and we’ll lose everything. I know you don’t believe me, but Jessup knows about April. If we do this right, you’ll get your friend back and we’ll have our evidence. You just need to stay calm, in spite of your worry. Stop searching for evidence, stop contacting Jessup, and start letting me take care of this. Let me do my job and take care of you.”
For a moment she seems to hear me but then something in her eyes changes.
“I have to look after myself Blake, the only way I learned how. I just got myself out of there. I’m not stupid. I can tell when I’m in danger. I’m more concerned about that phone. You’re telling me the new evidence I found is not only irrelevant, but it’s going to ruin your case?”
“No, I’m not saying what you thought was wrong. I’m saying, you’re not looking at the bigger picture. Open your eyes, Carrie. You can’t be so naive to simply think this is only about you sneaking around to save your best friend. This is life or death. A lot of women are suffering at the hands of this man. The more you meddle, the less chance we have of helping everyone, including April. I’m taking this phone, returning it to Jessup and getting back to work. You need to pull it together and stop this self-destructive behavior. If you don’t realize how much danger you’re in, it might be too late the next time.”
With that, she throws the phone at my face and opens the passenger door. She turns, swings her legs out and doesn’t look back before slamming it again and stomping off. She makes the whole thing look elegant. I’m reminded of a deer bolting. When I realize she’s left a little purse sitting on the dash. I get out.
“Carrie, wait. You left this behind.”
She stalks back up to me, grabs it from my hand, and turns again, hair flying with indignation. I grab her arm.
“Before you run off, please think about it. Think about everything I’ve said, and everything you’ve seen. Do I look like I’m lying?”
Her hands go to her hair, pulling at her long dark locks. “I don’t know, Blake. I don’t know you. I thought I did once, but I don’t.”
She looks close to tears. When I put my hands on her shoulders to calm her down, she shakes me off.
“Don’t touch me!”
I hear a murmur of chatter from the sidewalk. People are watching us argue. She either doesn’t see them or she doesn’t care, because her gaze locks onto mine fiercely.
“You’ve hurt me. Every time you lie, it cuts me. And you’re lying to me, Blake. Don’t deny it.”
She’s furious. I’ve never seen her so angry.
“You’re a fool, Blake Anderson. I could love you, we could really be something, but all you do is lie. You would do exactly what I’m doing now if it were your best friend, or your sister. Or George. You’d find out the truth—you would.”
She’s ne
arly choking on those last few words. She’s hurting.
“Carrie, wait!”
She grabs her little purse and takes off, stalking her way up the street, while simultaneously hailing a taxi. She’s finished with me. I can feel it. Her scorn was unmistakable. I know from experience that there’s no coming back from contempt like that. I don’t watch her walk away.
I want to smash Jessup’s phone on the ground, but instead I pull the rage inside. I pull it close to my chest and remind myself why I’m here. I’ve got a job to do. Whether she likes me or not, I need to protect her. The first step is to get this phone back to him. I jog casually down the stairs of the club. Jessup’s staff are busy wiping tables that were full of patrons just moments before. Abandoned drinks lay scattered down the bar. I’m betting a number of patrons used the evacuation as a chance to leave their bills unpaid. Jessup will not be happy.
I ask the barman to let him know I’m here. I notice the glass shards from this morning’s tray accident have been meticulously swept away. The guy with his neck under Jessup’s foot was probably not as lucky, but that’s not my business, and it’s not why I’m here now. Jessup needs to know that I’m still holding up my end of our agreement. Returning his phone is the first step.
I get further inside and can’t help but notice the difference a little lighting makes to the place. It looks nothing like it did earlier in the day. I’m reminded of the mirrors and mood lighting that line the facades and entryways of so many bars and clubs. If any of the upscale patrons had seen the place this morning, they’d be horrified.
Bars are like that. They provide the background, the atmosphere and the permission for out of control behavior, but with the alcohol and the music, you feel like you’re part of something fun and unique. In the heat of the club at night, anything goes. Maybe that’s why I loved being a barman. The polarity. The excitement, constant change. You never knew what was going to happen.