by Claire Raye
God, just the fucking idea that some people in this town might actually believe I did that, makes me feel sick.
“Finn,” Detective Greenwood says, the tone in his voice suggesting it’s not the first time he’s spoken my name.
“Yeah, sorry,” I breathe out. “What did you say?”
“I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear,” he says. “But it’s a start and the order’s been expedited, so we should be able to head over there sometime this afternoon.”
“I’m guessing I won’t be able to be there?” I ask, even knowing there’s not a chance in hell he’ll let me be involved.
“You know I can’t let you,” he says, his tone sympathetic even though he’s reminded me of this a hundred times already.
I nod, but say nothing.
“Look, I promise to keep you in the loop, okay?” he adds, as though this is some sort of peace offering.
“Thanks,” I say, scrubbing a hand down my face. “I appreciate it.”
Just before I leave work, I send Sarah a quick text to see how she’s doing and if she’s running on time today. She doesn’t respond, which isn’t entirely unusual, so after going home to get changed, I find myself back at the pub, sitting at the end of the bar.
I fill Beck in on the latest regarding the reflection of Carla in my living room window as she took the video of me and Sarah, the expedited search warrant given this new development, coupled with her accosting Sarah in front of my house and then the break-in.
While it’s not all nicely tied together just yet, it’s a start and I can only hope that it also means we’re getting closer to the end too.
Still, it all feels slightly surreal, the speed at which things are happening, the idea that this Greenwood guy might actually be starting to believe me, and that this might all be over soon.
“So what’s her excuse been in all of this?” Beck asks as he hands me another beer.
I shrug. “Dunno, apparently no one’s seen her for a few days,” I say.
“What?” he asks, surprised. “What do you mean they haven’t seen her?”
“Greenwood can’t get in touch with her,” I say, shrugging again. “Who the fuck knows.”
“Dude,” Beck says, hands on the bar as he stands in front of me. “What if she’s like hiding in your house or something? In the walls or the ceiling or whatever. I saw it on some TV show once, it was fucking crazy.”
I can’t stop the chuckle as I roll my eyes. “Jesus, Beck,” I say. “You’re as bad as Erin with all this OTT crime shit. You’ve clearly been out of the game for too long.”
Beck grins at me now, clapping a hand on my shoulder as he says, “Nah, just fucking with you.”
I shake my head. “Well, thanks for that,” I say. “And of course when I’m lying in bed tonight, all I’ll be thinking about is her in my ceiling, staring down at me through some fucking peephole or something.”
Beck laughs. “Now who’s been watching too much crime shit?”
I shake my head, pulling my phone from my pocket to check if Sarah has replied. She hasn’t, which is kinda weird, so I fire off another text asking if she’s okay. There’s no response and just as I’m about to call her, my phone starts ringing, Detective Greenwood’s name flashing on my screen.
“Hey.”
“Finn,” he says, his voice terse.
“What is it?” I ask as an uneasy feeling washes over me.
Detective Greenwood clears his throat. “So, it seems like there’s more to this than we first thought,” he says.
“What?”
He exhales and it’s hard to tell if it’s from frustration or exhaustion. “Yeah, so, I ah…I really shouldn’t be telling you this, but umm…”
“Just spit it out,” I say, my heart pounding.
“We’ve been to her house,” he says, almost sounding nervous now. “And ah, I think you might have been right about her.”
I stand quickly, my stool crashing to the floor. “What have you found?”
“It’s some sort of shrine or something,” he says. “It’s detailed to the point of obsession,” he continues. “Goes back to your high school days by the looks of it.”
“A shrine?” I ask, confused. Beck walks over, a questioning look on his face. “What do you mean?”
“There’s pictures of you,” he says. “Newspaper articles about you, tokens, mementoes, all sorts of stuff,” he continues. “I gotta say, Finn, it’s pretty crazy, seriously.”
I stop, unsure what to say. As unexpected as this has just become, it also feels like the most honest thing he’s said to me.
And the craziest.
“But that’s not all,” he continues. “There’s other stuff too, about Sarah. Dark things, Finn that quite frankly, have me worried.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I shout, glancing at my brother. He stares back at me, his face questioning but composed, as though he knows I don’t have time for anything other than what Detective Greenwood is telling me right now.
“Finn,” he says, his tone serious in a way that sends a slice of fear down my spine. “Do you know where Sarah is right now?”
“At work.” The words come out automatically, even though I have no idea if that’s where she is because she hasn’t responded to any of my texts and it’s past the time that she should have left by now.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
I swallow the bile that rises in my throat. “What are you saying?” I ask, the words catching.
“The stuff we found, Finn,” he says. “It’s not good, okay? I mean she really has it in for Sarah, it’s…”
“Fuck, I gotta go,” I say cutting him off. “Do not stop looking for Carla,” I shout, my words an order rather than a question. “And, Greenwood,” I add, not bothering with the formalities anymore. “Keep me in the loop.”
I hang up before he can say anything more, immediately scrolling through to the number I know I need to call.
“What the hell’s going on?” Beck asks.
Sarah’s number rings out and I don’t bother leaving a message, hanging up and scrolling to the next number in my contacts.
“Finn!”
I glance at my brother. “Carla,” is all I can say. “She’s…Ryan, fuck, I need your help,” I say as soon as he picks up.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“Have you heard from Sarah?” I ask, my gaze never leaving Beck’s.
“No, why?”
“Fuck,” I mutter. “It’s fucking Carla,” I tell him. “They found some shit, it’s…it’s fucking bad, Ryan and I can’t get hold of her and…”
“Where are you?” he immediately asks.
“I’m at the pub, but I’ve…”
“Wait there, I’m on my way,” he says before hanging up.
The wait for Ryan feels like forever, but in reality, it takes no more than the amount of time it takes for Beck to pour me a shot and me to down it. I know drinking right now is the last thing I should be doing, but honestly, I really fucking need it.
My nerves feel shot to shit and no amount of Beck reassuring me or me trying to convince myself to stay calm is doing anything to change that.
I call Sarah repeatedly, but every time it goes to voicemail, the endlessly unanswered ringing mocks me like a smug laugh. But the time Ryan runs in to the pub I’m on the verge of punching something and it must be obvious because he takes one look at me and says, “Let’s go,” before walking back outside.
I glance at Beck and see the nod he gives me, the quick, “Let me know,” that says so much more.
I swallow hard and walk out to Ryan’s car, my door not even closed before he’s swerving out of the parking lot.
“I’ve called Joe,” he says, fingers gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles are white. “He’s heading over to her work, says he’ll meet us there.”
I nod, even though he’s not looking at me. “Ryan
,” I start as I try to swallow the lump in my throat. “I’m, I…”
“This is not your fault, Finn,” he says quickly, cutting me off. “You are the best thing that’s happened to her,” he says, eyes staring straight ahead as he navigates us toward the freeway. “And we are going to fucking find her, okay?”
I swallow hard, forcing the emotion I can’t even begin to describe as I hope to fuck that he’s right.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Sarah
My day has literally been the best I’ve had since I started working here, and I think to myself that maybe I can keep working here, that maybe the commute isn’t so bad after all.
Without Andrew it’s not so bad. He left early yesterday, and he’s not here today, which hopefully means they’ve taken my harassment claim seriously and are looking into it.
Whatever the reason for his absence, it’s made my day phenomenal, even my clients seem happier to talk to me without Andrew listening over my shoulder.
I’ve been working like crazy, catching up on things I’ve been meaning to do, but always had Andrew barking orders at me. And I’ve even had time to work on a few marketing gigs I picked up since helping out Kelsey.
I catch a glance at the clock out of the corner of my eye and notice how late it’s gotten. Joe would kill me right now if he knew I was still sitting here in my office well after hours.
I toss everything into my bag in rush to get my ass out of here before the place empties out for good.
Luckily when I hit the elevator, there’s a group of people waiting for it too and I let out a slow breath, exhausted by the day, but also relieved I’m not the only one left.
While I don’t know these people personally, I do know that a few of them are commuters and I’ll be able slip out onto the street and down to the train station without being entirely alone.
But when the elevator reaches the lobby, I realize I forgot my phone…again. You’d think I’d know by now to check for it before I even leave my office, but clearly I’m not that organized.
Once everyone exits the elevator, I ride it back up. It’s déjà vu of yesterday, and I roll my eyes at the fact that I can’t seem to get my shit together.
I grab my phone from the exact place where I always leave it and when I pick it up I notice Finn has texted me and called a few times. I really need to make sure the sound is on, because I’m sure he’s panicking right now. And given the situation with Carla, I don’t blame him.
I press the button for the elevator and text Finn back as I wait. It’s taking exceptionally long, and I hit the button rapidly in succession like that will make the elevator come faster.
I glance around, suddenly overcome with a strange sense of anxiety. The floor is quiet and the lights are now off in every office and just when I decide I’m going to take the stairs, the elevator doors open.
My paranoia is getting a little out of hand lately. Between Carla and Andrew, I can’t seem to shake this feeling that someone is watching me. It’s ridiculous, I know that, because honestly, I’m far from interesting, but I still have this nervousness that simmers in the back of my mind.
I fall back against the elevator wall as the door closes, and I pull my phone from my pocket. I notice that I never sent the text I typed out to Finn, but when I hit send, the steel walls of the elevator make it impossible to follow through with that.
Annoyed, I stuff my phone back in my pocket, reminding myself to send it when I hit the lobby. But I change my plans and press the level for parking instead of the lobby. The garage is covered and I noticed it had started raining when I grabbed my phone off my desk.
I can walk through the garage quite a ways before I have to exit to the street, otherwise I’ll look like a drowned rat since I can’t seem to find the umbrella I usually have stashed in my bag. Again, my disorganization coming back to bite me in the ass.
I step off the elevator and into the parking garage. With each step I take, the motion sensors activate the lights, and my anxiety resurfaces full force.
I’m in the wrong fucking place, because up ahead in this empty parking garage, I see a light illuminated. One single row, one single car in an otherwise empty space and I know I need to turn around.
I recognize the car immediately and wonder why it’s here and why I’m still standing there staring at it.
I turn on my heel and hightail it out of the garage, my heart beating faster than I ever thought possible. The loud beat of it pulsing in my ears, making me deaf to everything else around me.
And that’s when I hear it; my name called, a whisper in the stillness of the garage. It floats through and echoes, making the sound of my heartbeat suddenly silent.
I turn around to run out of the garage and my body slams into a solid figure, and the scream that leaves my mouth is blood curdling. There’s not a chance that anyone within an earshot hasn’t heard me.
“Sarah, Sarah,” the voice says, shaking me a little by the shoulders.
I look up and find myself face to face with Steve, the nighttime security attendant. The relief that washes over me is immense. I feel myself slump against him, and I can feel his heartbeat, rapid and intense.
“What are you doing in here?” he demands, but there’s a shakiness to his tone. “It’s not safe in here after dark. Don’t you know…”
He doesn’t finish his sentence, but he doesn’t need to. I already know what he was going to say.
“Steve, what do you know?” I ask, pushing him to answer me. I need him to say it out loud, and right now I should be calling Joe, telling him to get his ass over here, but I need Steve to answer me. “Is this about Eliza Anderson?” I press, but Steve doesn’t answer.
He clears his throat and shakes his head as if he’s telling me not to ask any more questions. But I don’t give up that easily. I’m in so deep now that there’s no digging my way out.
“Did he pay you off too?” My voice is high and quivery as I begin to piece things together. I knew all along that she wasn’t the only person involved in this mess, but I had no idea Andrew could ruin the life of a man too.
Andrew preys on the weak, the people he knows he can pay off and Steve is exactly that. This job doesn’t pay enough; he has a family to support and the prospect of someone throwing money at him had to have been hard to turn down.
But at what expense?
He’s being eaten alive by guilt, by the lies, and by what he still knows is happening.
“You need to leave now,” Steve says, but I watch his face change. A confused look on his face, as his brows pinch together and he shakes his head slightly. When he opens his mouth to speak his words come out quiet, and he mutters, “What the hell…”
I watch him reach for the TASER on his hip, but he’s slow and the gun blast shatters the silence of the parking garage. It reverberates and echoes back, the sound multiplied in its vast emptiness.
I hear myself scream, and I watch Steve clutch his shoulder and fall to his knees.
I don’t want to turn around because I know who’s standing there; I know who fired the gun and I know what’s about to happen.
Knowing he has a gun doesn’t stop me from doing what I do next. In the quick look I caught of Steve’s injury, I know he won’t die from it, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to leave him here or let Andrew, that sleazy motherfucker, get away with it.
He’s here for me and that’s exactly what he’s going to get.
Me, and everything Ryan has taught me about defending myself.
I know not to let him take me anywhere, so my first instinct is to get the hell out of this damn parking garage. He has a car, he’s bigger than me and there’s a chance he’s got a plan.
But I’m not going down without a fight and Andrew is on me before I can move. He wraps his hand around my hair and yanks me back toward him. As much as I would’ve liked to get away from him, I knew this was what was to come and I’m prepared.
I let
him drag him me closer to him. The closer I get the more likely it is that I can injure him, and despite my racing heart and my shaking hands, I try to clear my clouded head and figure out how I’m going to get away from him.
But he’s predictable as fuck and he lets go of my hair and wraps his arm around my neck, and it’s almost too easy.
“Are you trying to ruin my life?” Andrew hisses in my ear. His breath is hot against my skin and it makes me shudder. It smells of stale coffee and bourbon, and it makes me want to gag. “You seemed like such an easy conquest in your interview. Fuck was I wrong.”
He turns me around so I’m now facing him, and I make direct eye contact. I won’t let him see my fear, and he thinks if he grips my arm tight enough I won’t be able to get away. His fingers dig into my skin, pressing hard, nearly cutting through my sweater.
I can hear Steve squirming around on the ground and I know he’s losing a lot of blood, so I need to act quickly.
Andrew pushes the gun into the waist of his pants, but his hand still holds me tightly, and that’s when I stomp hard onto his foot.
He lets out a loud groan, leaning down as if he’s going to clutch his foot, as if to check to see if it’s okay. It’s so by the book it’s almost comical. I wrap my hands around the back of his head forcing it down while I thrust my knee up into his nose.
I hear the crack of bone and see the rush of blood that covers my pants, but I don’t stop there. I shove him hard and he loses his balance, toppling over onto the concrete, hitting it hard.
I rush to Steve just as he’s getting to his feet, but he’s disoriented and slow, and I push him through the doorway and into the vestibule that houses the elevators.
Steve reaches for the button and then clasps his hand over his wounded shoulder. We have only a few more seconds before Andrew will be back on his feet and after me, so I can’t waste time waiting on the elevator.
I grab the TASER from Steve’s hip, and when the elevator doors open, I shove him in and turn for the stairs.
