He rose and crept into the semi-darkness of the living room. The onset of morning allowed enough light to find his backpack, and he retrieved the small yellow container from its side pouch.
His body tingled with anticipation at the rattle of the last two pills.
If I break it in half, or even quarter it, I’ll have more when…if I need it. This is so damn ridiculous. How could I think it was a good idea to quit cold turkey?
With a twist, he pressed on the child-proof cap and stared into the vial. Neither a quarter nor a half would be enough to get him through this rough patch. He needed to take the pill whole.
He trembled as he dropped the tiny disk into his sweating palm. The touch of the white dot swaddled him in a comforting sense of release. He opened his mouth and lifted his hand when January stirred in the bedroom.
Stopped by the gentle rustling, he gazed at the tablet and remembered the reason for ending his relationship with the drug. January had to be his one, and only, addiction.
Dothan returned the pill to the bottle and closed it. A loud knock at the door startled him. He dropped the container to the floor and scrambled to the edge of the window.
What the fuck could anyone want at six o’clock in the morning?
His stomach tightened as wild scenarios shot through his mind. It could be another break-in of his apartment or someone out to get January.
He peered through the mini-blinds. Bekkii stood on the landing, her ear to his door, holding a bag and a white cup.
Oh, no, no, no. What is she doing here?
January stepped out from the bedroom wearing only his t-shirt. “Who is it?” she whispered.
“Bekkii,” he replied. “It looks like she’s stopped by to bring me breakfast. Remember I told you that everyone believes I’m going to a funeral?”
“So, answer it,” she said.
“No, just ignore her. She’ll go in a minute if she thinks I’ve left.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said January, pulling open the door. “Hello. You must be Bekkii. I’ve heard so much about you. Come in, please. Happy birthday, by the way.”
He grit his teeth as he watched the pink dreadlocks enter the apartment.
“Happy birthday?” asked Bekkii, her face pale. “What are you talking about? Who are you? Where’s Dothan?”
“I guess he’s not been straight with you either,” said January, pointing to where he cringed by the window. “He’s right over there. Someone here to see you, honey.” She turned to Bekkii and extended her hand. “Listen, I’d love to stay, but I just got out of bed and I’ve got to get in the shower. Let’s get together for lunch soon.”
“Dothan?” asked Bekkii, ignoring January.
He crossed his arms and lowered his gaze as January turned and shut the bedroom door.
“Who was that?”
“I…I,” he stuttered. “Who was it? Well, it’s—” His face burned with anger. “Don’t you think you should have called first?”
“I thought you said you were going to a funeral this morning, and I figured you’d want to eat along the way. If I’d known you already had something to snack on, I wouldn’t have bothered.”
Dothan clenched his jaw. “At least she won’t leave an aftertaste.”
Bekkii screamed and threw the cup toward him.
He ducked, but the edge of it hit his back, spilling the hot coffee.
“How could you? I believed in you! I…I loved you. How could you do this to me?”
“Do what to you?” Dothan threw his hands in the air. “And who said anything about love? I thought you understood this whole thing between us was nothing but a fuck fest.”
Bekkii shook her head as tears streamed down her cheeks. “I never cared that you didn’t feel the same as me,” she said, “but I figured you were, at least, legit. Turns out you’re just another fucking loser who couldn’t see the truth if it came up and bit your wormy little dick.”
Wiping her eyes, Bekkii turned and tripped against the couch. Her knees buckled, but caught herself as she fell. She ran through the open door, her heels echoing sharp clacks against the metal treads.
Drenched and clammy by the shower of coffee, Dothan pulled off his shirt and opened the blinds to watch Bekkii stumble to her car.
Her tires screeched from the parking lot, and as she turned onto the driveway, a strange, empty ache squeezed at his guts.
Dothan slammed the door and scowled. “I don’t need that kind of shit in my life anymore,” he whispered.
January stepped from the bedroom wrapped in a towel. She dropped it to the floor and stepped naked into the filtered sunlight streaming through the narrow blinds.
“It appears someone has been naughty,” she said.
He grinned. Why have sushi when there’s caviar?
His arms stretched out to embrace her, but January shoved him away.
“I don’t handle it well when someone lies,” she whispered.
Dothan scowled. “So, you’re going to believe what she says over me?”
January’s long fingers beckoned. He reached for her, but she slapped away his forearm.
“Don’t you dare touch me,” she said.
“What the fuck?” Dothan rubbed the stinging red imprint.
January smiled and opened her arms. He took a few tentative steps and placed his hand on her waist. She moved aside and grabbed his hair with her hands. As she yanked back his head, he stared into her cold, empty eyes.
“I’ve made myself crystal clear,” she said. “Don’t touch me. Don’t even come near me. If you try again, I’ll rake my nails across your face.”
Dothan pulled away from her grasp. He paced back and forth, trying to still his growing anger.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked.
“Because sometimes little boys need to be taught a lesson.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say. Yeah, I had a thing with Bekkii before you came along. We were fuck buddies, totally fluid. Nothing else. She made the rest up in her head.” Dothan drew closer to her. “We haven’t been near each other in weeks. You’re the only woman I want. No one else.”
He opened his hand to caress her face, but January caught it, and squeezed the tips of her pointed nails into his palm. As the sharp edges cut deeper into his hand, he winced in pain. “I’m telling the truth. I only want you.”
January released him. He rubbed the deep indentations left upon his palm.
“Then get on your knees and ask me to believe you,” she said.
“What?”
“You heard me. Kneel in front of me and beg. Now.”
“I…I’m not a dog you can order around. You can’t be serious.”
January’s lips parted in a snarl. “If you mean what you say, you’ll prove it.”
Dothan groaned and dropped to his knees. “I haven’t done anything wrong, but, yeah, okay, I’m sorry.”
“Not good enough.” January scowled and pressed her palm in his face, shoving him backward. As he tumbled to the floor, she twisted her damp curls into a messy bun and returned to the bedroom, locking the door.
“For fuck’s sake,” he shouted, rising to his feet. “I’m sorry for everything I’ve fucking done in my life.” He pounded on the door. “January! I’ll say whatever you want. Forgive me. Please.”
There was only silence from the bedroom.
Damn you, Bekkii.
His chest tightened and his breathing grew shallow while the world spun out of control. If he took the last two pills, he could pull himself together and fix this mess. It was stupid thinking any woman was worth this torture.
Dothan searched the floor, but the container had vanished.
Where are they? Pills don’t just disappear.
He dug through his backpack and pushed the couch away from the wall. D
esperate, he threw the cushions aside, digging through the dusty crevices of the sofa.
Oh shit.
Bekkii fell where the bottle had landed. There had been plenty of time for her to grab it before she ran.
Dothan pressed his palms against the side of his head.
How could I be so stupid? I can’t have a meltdown now. I have to calm down and figure out what to do.
He could message his dealer and score enough pills to carry him through until he resolved everything. It might cost more for a quick availability, but rent and utilities could always wait.
No, I can’t do this. She already thinks I’m a lying asshole. How would it help anything if she came across a shitload of drugs?
As he leaned his head against the back of the sofa, a loud buzz filled his ears. He pressed his palms against his aching eyes. “I don’t know what to do,” he whispered. “She can’t leave. She can’t leave me.”
January wanted the truth. Maybe if he was honest about everything, including the software, she would understand why he kept it from her and change her mind.
He could start by downloading Detective Barclay’s emails. When she saw the witness statements and the suspect list, he could explain how he was only trying to protect her. It might not be enough to make her stay, but it could distract her, giving him time to plead his case.
Dothan grabbed his laptop and opened the detective’s account. He copied and expanded each document, but stopped as he came upon a handwritten notation that caught his eye.
Holy shit.
***
The hours passed and shadows drifted across the floor, unnoticed by Dothan as he immersed himself within his discovery. Oblivious to the click of the bedroom lock, it surprised him when January emerged from the room carrying her suitcase.
She made her way to the door, passing him without a word. Dothan threw aside his laptop and jumped from the couch.
“Please don’t,” he said, taking hold of her arm.
She twisted away. “Let go of me.”
“If you’d only listen to me.”
“Why? So you can humiliate me again when someone else shows up at the front door with breakfast?”
“I swear I felt nothing for Bekkii!”
He stood in front of her with his hands clutching her arms. Her dark eyes flashed. “I have a car waiting for me. Let go. Now.”
“Please don’t leave,” he said. “You’re everything that matters to me.” Dothan fell to his knees and kissed her hand. “I’m begging, just like you wanted. I’ll do whatever you want, even if I have to ask permission just to speak to you. Give me one more chance. That’s all I ask. If I fuck up, I won’t stand in your way if you want to leave.”
The driver knocked. January stood in silence for a moment, watching Dothan, and responded with a slow nod.
He threw open the door and dismissed the driver. After shutting it and turning the lock, he ran to January and embraced her as he choked on his sobs.
“If you lie or hide anything from me again, it’s over,” she said, as her fingers stretched across the back of his neck.
“Never.” He wiped his eyes with wonder. He could not remember any other time in his life he had cried. “Forgive me?” He lifted her chin.
January sighed. “You know I do.”
“Thank you.” He pressed his lips to her hand. “I won’t screw up again. I won’t.”
Dothan led her to the sofa. After wiping his face with a paper napkin, he opened his laptop. “While you were in the bedroom, I worked on a few things. Have a look at what I found.”
He turned the screen toward her. It displayed two Arizona mugshots, full-face and profile, of a young woman. Her face might have been beautiful if not for the smeared mascara and the drying blood from a gash on her cheek.
January gazed at him with surprise. “Who is this?”
Dothan pulled up a society page from the local papers in Medina, Washington, and enlarged a grainy black-and-white photograph, placing it side by side with the prison image.
“This is Sylvia Tyndale of Glendale, Arizona,” he said, “a.k.a., Trudy Barnsworth of Kansas City, Missouri, a.k.a., eight million other names from a billion places, but who you might know as Althea Harrington.”
January’s eyes grew wide. “Althea has a prison record?”
“Records. She has a rap sheet longer than the interstate. Prostitution, drugs, gun-running, you name it, Joseph’s wife has done it all. I’m pretty sure even the Mexican cartels were afraid of her.”
“Well, so what? She married rich and escaped her past. What makes you think any of this has to do with Sibella?”
“See, that’s what I wondered, and then I dug deeper. It turns out Althea hadn’t finished with her madam days and was grooming Sibella to take on a higher class clientele than just a few geeks with hot code.”
January twitched. “What? That’s ridiculous.”
“Did you know the cops picked Sibella up for solicitation a year before she disappeared?” He pulled up a saved image, showing the charge sheet for Sibella Gale in October 2015.
“Why would she do that? She never needed the money, and she didn’t lack attention.”
Dothan caressed her cheek. “It’s possible Sibella had no other choice, or maybe she was too embarrassed to tell you, but that’s not the reason I showed it to you. There’s more, if you’ll hear me out.”
She nodded and Dothan returned to Sibella’s charge sheet, scrolling to the section entitled Bail Provider. Within the text box was the name of A. Harrington.
January frowned and shook her head. “It can’t be,” she whispered. She stood and walked to the window.
Dothan followed her and placed his hand on her shoulder.
“I had no idea Sibella even knew Althea,” said January. She turned toward him, her face taut with emotion. “We only saw her when we had to attend company functions at their house in Medina.”
“I don’t have any proof, but it looks like Althea swept in when Sibella was at her lowest point and promised her the world if she banged a few billionaires. We need to find out more about Mrs. Harrington because she’s a major suspect in my book.”
She paced the small room. “I don’t even know how to contact that woman. She’s a complete recluse and has been for at least five years. Their house is like a fortress and the chance of getting inside to speak to her is nil.”
January glared at him. “Where did you get that information?”
Tell her, he thought.
What if she walked out after learning he had been hiding this information from her? He could not take that risk. It was best to leave things alone, at least until he and the detective found the table.
Dothan forced a smile. “I told you I had some irons in the fire. I got it from a hacker friend who has ties to law enforcement data. I hoped he’d help me find something about Sibella’s murder, but he found this instead.”
She crossed her arms and stared at the floor.
“Does it really matter how I got it? It’s our first solid lead. How do we know Althea Harrington didn’t kill Sibella for not showing up at a client’s house? Or maybe one of the clients killed her. Whatever the case, I think we should start looking at Althea Harrington, don’t you?”
January nodded. “I suppose I could try to question Joseph tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“The building guard is going escort me to my condo so I can arrange cleaning and repairs. I’ve also made an appointment with a new security company for the same time. When that’s done, I’ll head into work and catch up with the backlog and meet with Joseph. He texted he needs to see me.”
“He wants to meet on a Sunday?”
“There are several major deals he needs me to go over with him. While I’ve got him there, I could ask indirect questions about Althea, but I’m not sure
how much I’ll get out of him.”
“Okay, I’ll just hang here then,” he said, “wading through the dark, scary web in search of Madam Harrington’s lurid past.”
***
January teetered into the living room on stiletto heels and straightened her black jacket. After a quick check of her makeup in the confines of a small compact mirror, she peeked into her briefcase. A loud honk summoned her to the parking lot, and with a kiss from Dothan, she dashed from the apartment.
He peered through the blinds. The same stretch limousine from the restaurant was waiting in front of the staircase, next to the line of dented and rusty economy cars owned by the residents. The limo seemed excessive to him, even for a company the size of Conscentiam, and it seemed strange they kept a fleet of vehicles and drivers ready for a sales manager.
He turned from the window. I wouldn’t complain if I got ushered to work in a stretch.
January planned to be away most of the day. It was a perfect opportunity to find and confront Agnes. He could grill her on Althea Harrington’s past and ask the old bag about the break-in at his place. There was no point in telling January until he returned. He would achieve nothing if she insisted on joining him. The two women would only stare at each other in silence.
After arranging a rental car, he checked the balance in his bank account. The cost cleared out most of his available money until the next installment of his student loan, but with limited bus service on the weekend, he needed a reliable form of transportation.
Unless Agnes was still missing, she should be at home. She had told him she spent her Sundays cleaning after returning from church. As she had lived at the same place for decades, it took only a quick search of public records to find her address. He copied the information to his navigation app and prepared to leave.
While waiting for his courtesy ride from the rental agency, Dothan threw a few things into his backpack. His phone buzzed, and he opened the front door expecting the rental flunky, but the parking lot was empty.
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