Please God, just make him stop. Make him go away. Don’t let him in this room. Please if you’re listening, I beg for your mercy.
I hear the jangle of keys and my blood runs cold. Roland is going to let him in. I try to burrow deeper into the closet of my room but the wall blocks me from fleeing.
Shit!
Another person approaches, causing a crackle of electricity in the air. My hearing focuses as I push aside my growing panic. Erik’s yelling at whomever interrupted him. This person is pissing him off.
The sound of his voice filters into the dark musty motel room I’ve called home for the last seven days. It’s deep rumble vibrates every cell in my body and lulls me into a temporary relaxed state. My breathing begins to slow and my ears strain to hear him more clearly. His baritone warmth resonates deep within my body creating a round of uncontrollable shivers. It’s him, the mysterious man from next door.
Though I’ve seen him enter and exit his room at all times of the day and night, I’ve never seen him in great length or detail. He leaves alone and returns alone. He’s quiet, although I could hear his snores through the thin wall adjoining our room and the occasional baritone timbre of soft speaking. He keeps to himself. I had a sense he preferred his lonely life, which was fine by me.
This obviously wasn’t the first time I heard his voice, but it was the first time it moved me this way. It frightened me but strangely excited me too. People in general frighten me, I don’t trust anyone anymore, especially men. But his voice calls to me. I never thought it possible after everything I’ve been through. I fight the urge to throw open my door and jump into the safety of his arms. I wish I knew his name.
The volley of Erik’s voice pulls me out of my trance and back into the moment. His voice fills my body with fear and despair.
I have to get out. Now. Before he gets in.
I rack my brain trying to remember my plans. Whenever I decide to stay longer than a day or two, I make emergency exit plans. These plans are what kept me alive five months ago and allowed me to get away safely.
Erik is getting angrier by the moment, his voice grows louder and more uncontrolled. I felt sorry for my neighbor and the motel manager. Neither understood what was about to happen or the wrath they would soon face if they didn’t get out of his way.
“Move the key away from the lock,” the warm voice says, his concern clear and precise. My eyes widen in fear, my breath hitches and my heart pounds in my chest. I feel sick and struggle to keep what little food I’ve eaten down.
“What the hell,” Erik shouts morphing into the monster I know well. I cringe, yes, that was the anger I never wanted to be at the end of again. “Open the fucking door.”
“Can I see some identification?” my neighbor’s voice moves closer to my door. I hear his boots scrape on the concrete walkway, stopping just short of it.
“Who the fuck are you?” I picture Erik’s red face and piercing blue eyes with each word. A face I once called beautiful. Eyes I was so easily lost in. Now it’s a face I hardly recognize unless it’s spewing hateful and vile things at me.
“I’m a patron of this establishment trying to work on his beauty sleep but you’re making it nearly impossible to do,” my neighbor’s voice is calm, almost amused. “Do you have any I.D.?”
“Unless you’re the cops, I don’t have to show you shit.”
“I’m not the cops but I can kick your ass from here until next Sunday if you don’t cooperate,” I smirk wishing I could see someone teach Erik a lesson. That’d be the day.
“Fuck you,” I imagined Erik stepping into the man, his face blotchy and red, ready to take up his challenge. Erik didn’t like to be challenged but he wasn’t above putting a man in his place for such disrespect. I pictured him flexing his large biceps to prove prowess. Erik was always ready for a fight, even when there wasn’t a threat. He is a ‘natural born fighter’, at least that’s what he calls himself. “Are you going to let me in or not?”
“Or not,” my neighbor responds. I know the question wasn’t meant for him but he answers it anyway. I hear a lighter shoe scrap uncomfortably against the concrete, Roland the motel manager. I briefly wonder why he’s not trying to appease Erik.
“Fuck off,” Erik says. “Open the fucking door.”
“Roland, please go to the office and call the police. Our friend here needs to be removed from the property,” my neighbor’s voice is firm and unyielding. I could sense that he too is prepared for a fight. I cringe. Erik is trained in three different fighting techniques, he won’t stand a chance.
“He says this is his room...” Roland’s voice cracks in but he doesn’t get to finish his sentence because Erik cuts him off.
“It is my room. Now open the fucking door before I call the police and tell them about the scam you’re running here.”
“I’ve been here several days and haven’t once seen you enter or exit this room. Whoever is staying here is either not home or too damn afraid to answer the door with you out here causing a scene. Who could blame them really, the terror you’re raining down out here. Why don’t you leave and find someone else to harass,” I hear the drag of Roland’s feet moving away to do as he was told. I’m sure he wasn’t looking forward to the mess he’d have to clean up later if the two men come to blows outside my door. Calling the police, though also had its downside, was the better of the two choices.
“Oh, she’s in there alright and I know she’s afraid. She better be. When I get this door open,” Erik pauses a moment for a dramatic effect. Taking a deep breath, his voice growls from the depths of his dark soul. “It’s open season, bitch.”
I gasped silently knowing full well what he meant. The air crackled in the closet around me, the tension radiating into the room now. He knows I’m here. Which means he’s been watching me. For how long I don’t know but it seemed odd for him to wait before striking. I curse again.
Why did I allow myself to feel safe?
My heart picks up a notch as a new thought dawns on me. Erik’s composed mask was beginning to slip and that was something he never allowed to happen. Maybe the chase was finally beginning to wear on him. It could be a good thing but I doubt he’d give up and walk away. No, I decided then, it was a bad thing. A really bad thing.
“You need to leave right now,” my neighbors voice is menacing. Yes, he understands what Erik is about. “I don’t know who you are but I can tell you sir, there is no she in there.”
“Bullshit, she walked in less than an hour ago, after her shift at the diner down the street, cleaning tables,” venom in his words, their poison confirming my fears. I’m right. He had been watching. I shiver.
Fuck! How did I miss the signs?
A set of shuffling footsteps approaches outside, Roland returning.
“The police are on their way,” his voice is low and unsteady. He’s nervous and rightly so.
“Looks like your time is up,” the calm is creeping back into my neighbor’s voice. A moment of silence passes but the tension doesn’t lessen.
“Fuck this,” Erik spat. “I’ll be back and no one is going to fucking stop me from getting into that room. Do you hear me Ali, no one will stop me. You. Are. Mine.”
I shiver in fear. His words are ones I knew well. They’re words he used constantly to justify the abuse he put me through. I hate those words.
My hearing strains with each step he takes, carrying him farther away from me. My heartbeat slows a bit but I know I don’t have long before he comes back. I have to prepare.
“Hudson, should I cancel the call to the police?” I hear Roland ask but never hear an answer. His hobbled stride moves away from my room as well.
Hudson. My neighbor. My hero.
I never heard him walk away. In fact I didn’t realize he departed from his spot at my door until I hear the click of his door closing. It was an unsettling sound, one I felt deep inside my chest. I take a deep ragged breath and push the feelings aside.
I’m not about to allo
w another complication in my life. I can’t afford it.
Even if his name is music to my ears.
*****
Hudson
I’m not sure why I made it my mission to protect a complete stranger but there was something about the man outside, screaming like a banshee, I instantly didn’t like. Usually my gut instincts were spot on about people and over the years I’ve learned to trust it. He was on my radar from the moment he began pounding on the door.
I knew she was home but I wasn’t about to admit that to him. Something told me to deny it. He was no good for her.
She had arrived less than an hour ago and she was alone, has been since she checked in a day after me. I knew he was lying the moment the words left Roland’s mouth, not that he gave the old man a chance to finish explaining it to me.
She was a pretty girl, from what I could see but not the kind of pretty that stops you in your tracks. Her long blonde hair looks unnatural against her skin coloring which means she’s bleached it. Her clothes are at least three sizes too big and threadbare. She was definitely on the thin side but it was difficult to tell because she hides under many layers of clothing, despite the California heat.
I knew she was running from someone or something the moment I laid eyes on her. It wasn’t just her appearance, she tried to blend into the streets around her but her quirky behaviors and demeanor were telling signs something wasn’t right. She looked over her shoulder when she arrived back from wherever it was she went. She was cautious but not cautious enough. I’d seen the black sedan leaving and arriving two days ago. She hadn’t.
I didn’t know why she was running, frankly I wasn’t one to care but after his fully loaded threat towards her, there was no way I’d leave her unprotected now. Whoever they were to each other didn’t matter to me because I was sure now he was the reason she was running.
I peer out my window scanning the parking lot. I’d chosen this room specifically because I could see everything from its window. It wasn’t difficult to get the keys from the attendant, dead presidents spoke in volumes. In my line of work you expect the unexpected and plan for it.
That’s how I knew about her stalker.
At first I thought my cover had been blown. Something I couldn’t afford to happen this late in the game. This assignment was risky and these fools were ruthless. They’d shoot a man no questions asked, if they thought he wasn’t who he said he was. Not to mention the man hours alone spent working my way up their ranks. I had to make sure he wasn’t there for me.
I tailed him for half a day. It didn’t take long to discover he wasn’t there for me, to my relief. He was there for her and he followed her like a starving dog. Something was disturbingly off about it. I kept watching and waited for him to make a move.
He waited longer than I anticipated, before confronting her. I didn’t think it would so public either. Something must have triggered him because he lost his cool entirely too fast. I doubt it was something she’d done. She was a creature of habit, her routine was the same every day. It had to be an outside source.
I needed to find out who this guy was and fast. I wouldn’t be able to move past any of it unless I did. My gut was reeling over it.
I reached for the phone on the bedside table and dialed the manager’s office. Roland answers on the second ring. “Morning Glory Inn.”
“Roland, it’s Hudson,” I pause briefly, allowing the dots to connect in his addled brain. His breath hitches. He was remembering the stack of fifties I left on the counter at check in. I purposely overpaid for my room. It wasn’t just the location I wanted but the privacy as well.
“Is he back?” his weasel voice sneers across the line. If I didn’t know any better he might have actually sounded concerned but men like Roland don’t like confrontation. Fact is, he didn’t want to deal with a mess and the cops.
“Thankfully, no. I want to know who is staying in the room he was trying to access,” I say. I don’t play games, don’t believe in them. They’ll get you killed if you’re not careful. Besides, it’s best to get straight to the point with men like him.
“I can’t give you that information, “ he’s bullshitting me of course, we both know it. He’ll give me the information and anything else I ask for, if the price is right.
“How much?” I ask straight up. Whatever the fuck he wanted, I’d pay it.
“I’m insulted...”
“How much?” I interrupt him, this time putting steel into my voice.
“I can’t...”
“Roland, my patience is thin and you don’t want to know me when it runs out. Stop fucking playing games with me. We both know you’ll give me the information I want, the only question is how much will it cost me?” If there is any game left in the old man, he needed to know not to push me any further.
“I’m sure President Grant will cover it,” his voice is different now. Not quite fear but close enough.
Fucking bottom feeder, you better be scared. I’ll fucking rip out your throat.
“Done, now give me the name,” the urge to follow through with my silent thought is strong. It was a good thing he only existed through the phone line right now.
“Just a second,” he places the phone down on the counter. I can hear him rustling through some papers before coming back on the line. “Jane Doe.”
“You’re fucking kidding me?” I groan.
Jane-fucking-Doe!
“Afraid not, it’s what the card says,” he answers and I swear loudly. It’s smart she didn’t use her real name but Jane Doe? Really? “No credit card on file, paid cash daily for her stay and no other contact information.”
This shit is serious bad news, I can feel it deep. Using this name in particular worries me. Did it mean she doesn’t know who she is? Or is her use of it more psychological? Choosing a fake name and back story isn’t hard to do and I wonder why she hadn’t been more creative.
Jane Doe stood out in record keeping. It put a bigger target on her back, making it that much easier to track her. I can only hope she used it this once and if not she was at least using a different back story wherever she went.
“Anyone come in asking about her?” I didn’t have to elaborate, Roland isn’t completely addled. He knows who I mean.
“Not on my watch but I’d have to check in with Norma. She’s on tonight,” he sniffed. Norma, his wife, is one scary bitch. I doubt I’d get anything out of her. She didn’t like questions.
I hang up the phone without saying goodbye and reach for my cell. I want to call this in but it has nothing to do with the job I’m here to do. King wouldn’t appreciate the distraction I’ve found. He’d probably send one of the guys down here to check on me if he got wind of this shit.
I could call Sneak. He owes me a favor or two and he’d keep quiet about it as long as I provided him with a mountain of moon pies. I flip open the phone but stop short. I didn’t have a name to give him. Jane Doe isn’t much to go on.
Fuck!
I resist the urge to chuck the device at the wall and instead flip it closed. It lights up and begins to ring in my hand. I look down at the caller I.D. It’s the call I’ve spent the last few days waiting for. I take a breath and allow myself to slip into character.
Back to work.
“Hey Devlin,” I say into the phone after I quickly flip it open. “I’ve been waiting for your call man.
Chapter 2
Hudson
After my call ended with Devlin, I sat perched in my chair gazing out the window. It was late afternoon and I hadn’t heard any sounds coming from next door. No shower. No television, even though I knew she used it for the background noise and light. No one could watch that many infomercials and still function normally.
All was quiet. Too quiet. I don’t like silence. It unnerves me.
Maybe it’s because my mind goes to work and it isn’t good for anyone when that happens. I hear a scratch at the door, followed by a soft knock. Standing from my chair I move towards the door, my
gun in my hand, quietly cocking it. I hadn’t seen anyone approach from my spot at the window. No one has walked by in ages.
My ears strain for any sound or movement. I hear nothing.
Damn it Rivers, get it together.
I turn back to my chair but I hear the knock again, more distinct this time. Moving back to the door I look through the peephole and see nothing. Another knock, more urgent. Still no one in sight.
Quietly, I turn the lock and slowly open the door. A small figure crouched low to the ground pushes against the door. Before I can react, the figure moves quickly past me and into the small closet across the room. I follow behind thinking it’s a small animal but stop suddenly.
The figure opened and closed the door to the closet, something an animal was incapable of doing. The hoodie, I recognized it. It was her. The girl next door.
I turn back to the door and softly close it, pushing the lock back into place. I uncock my gun and place it back in the holster on the table, all the while keeping my back to the closet. I reach for the lamp at my bedside and switch it off, engulfing the room in darkness.
My gut screams, something is brewing on the horizon.
With my neighbor safely settled in the closet, I wait for whatever it is to rear its ugly head. This girl is the center of something dark and whatever it may be, there’s no going back now.
I open my mouth to assure her of her safety but my words stick in my throat. There isn’t a point vocalizing what she already knows. I close my mouth and wait in deafening silence.
I hear footsteps approach, multiple sets. They walk past my room, stopping at her door. Someone knocks on the door.
“Alice Scott?” I turn to the window and cautiously peek out. There are at least half a dozen uniformed officers standing behind a man in a gray suit. “I’m Detective Sean Edwards with the LAPD, please open the door.”
My breath catches, her name. I need to remember to call Sneak tonight with it. Meanwhile, I soaked up every detail of the scene unfolding before me.
Lost in Silence (The Lost Series Book 1) Page 2
