A Matter of Time 03 - 04 (Volume 2) (MM)

by Mary Calmes

  I tipped my head away from him and maneuvered around Regina and Thomas as well to get to the side of the bed. I stood there, frozen, staring down at Sam.

  His eyelashes fluttered a second before his eyes opened to reveal the smoky blue I knew so well. My heart felt like it was going to burst.

  "Hey." I smiled down at him.

  "Oh fuck me," he groaned, reaching for me. "Come here."

  I leaned down but stopped before I hugged him. "I don't wanna hurt—"

  "Jory." His voice, his eyes, both full of pain. "Baby, please come here."

  I let out a deep breath and sank down against him. I gave him all my weight and he held me easily, stroking my hair and pressing my head to his shoulder. He felt so good, so warm, so strong, his body so hard... I felt the shiver run through me.

  "Jesus, you scared the hell outta me."

  "Me?" I trembled. "You, lying in the street bleeding... God I never wanna live through anything like that ever again."

  "Baby, what'd you do to yourself?" He eased me back to look at my face. "Who hit you?" He almost whined and I could tell how frustrated he was—at me, at himself for being stuck in bed, at everyone and everything.

  "Some guy was beating on a woman and I just—"

  "Jory, goddamnit!" His voice went out on him because he didn't have the strength to yell. "Fuck! You never get in the middle of... you call the police! You call the fuckin' police, baby, that's what they... he could've had a gun or a knife or—"

  "But the woman, Sam. She could've been hurt worse than she was."

  "Baby, you could've been killed! And Rego James.... Shit! I swear to God, when I get outta this bed I'm gonna chain you up! Nobody puts me through it like you—nobody!"

  I smiled down at him. "Maybe 'cause you love me most."

  He took my face in his hands and I closed my eyes, letting him touch my cheek, run his fingers over my eyebrow, down my throat, and across my collarbone.

  "Dane, call a doctor in here to check him out. I wanna make sure he's okay."

  "I'm okay," I assured him, wanting to put my head down so badly. I was so tired.

  "Mom, come take this coat off of him, please."

  I let Regina gently ease me out of my new old jacket and peel off the shirt underneath.

  "I smell bad," I mumbled. "I should go home and—"

  "Just lie down a minute, Jory," I heard Thomas order as he steadied me, at the same time lowering the bar on the side of Sam's bed. "Have you got him?"

  "Yeah," Sam answered, and I felt his hand in my hair as his other smoothed down my back, pressing me down against him before he enfolded me in his arms. "Lay down, baby, close your eyes."

  "But Sam, I—"

  "Baby," he soothed me, "you're killing me. Please lemme hold you just for a minute."

  My eyes drifted closed and I realized that the warmth radiating off Sam was amazing. The way he stroked my shoulder, rubbed his chin in my hair, pressed my hand down on his chest, all of it was so soothing, so comforting, my body got heavy fast. I never wanted to move.

  "Baby," he sighed heavily and I felt his lips on my forehead. "Stay here. Just rest."

  I couldn't argue, didn't want to argue, I just wanted to lie in his arms, have him hold me for the rest of my life. I didn't remember falling asleep.

  * * * *

  It was the tone that woke me.

  "Just fuckin' pray that you have this guy found by the time I can get out of this bed," he said, and his voice was full of a sort of quiet rage. It was scarier than if he'd been yelling.

  "You leave my... partner out all alone on the fuckin' street for a week 'cause you can't fuckin' find him, and now you tell me that he and he alone found the place where he was held, and the guy that all along he said he heard killed was in fact killed and the goddamn body is still there." He was seething, he was so mad. "This is what you're fuckin' telling me. Jory found the crime scene all by himself."

  "Sam, we had no idea that—"

  "But you should have! You fuckin' should have! He told you there were two guys... he told you where the car was found...

  and you guys did shit with that information! He had to bargain with a guy who runs drugs and prostitutes just to get what he needed, while you and Lange were sitting on your asses!"

  "Sam—"

  "Are you kidding? Do you know who fuckin' Rego James is?"

  "Yes, Sam, I'm very well aware who—"

  "I suppose you would've liked your wife in his place or your kids or—"

  "Sam, I fuckin' get it, all right? Jesus, I get it!"

  "Goddamn it, Jimmy, how many of his boys have we fuckin' fished out of Lake Michigan 'cause he strung 'em out and then when they weren't pretty anymore gave them over to some fuck makin' a snuff film or some bondage shit that went way wrong? How many tweakers is he responsible for?

  How many guys sell their bodies for him? And he had Jory alone in his place without anybody fuckin' knowing shit about it? He could've been raped or...." Sam trailed off, taking a breath. "And he's all beat up. Doc says the eye should've had three stitches for that cut, but as it is—nothing to do now but leave it. Where the fuck were you?"

  "Sam—"

  "Fuck you! Fuck Lange and fuck those idiots that were supposed to be watching out for Jory instead of jerking off in the car in front of the apartment when he went out the window! How fuckin' hard is it to watch one guy? He's not fuckin' Houdini."

  There was a long silence.

  "He kind of is," Detective Hefron said quietly.

  "I agree," I heard Chloe Stazzi, Sam's partner, say gently.

  "He's good, Sam. He knows people and how to play them. I mean, I personally have no idea how he got out of Rego's club in one piece. Everything we know about Rego... guy who looks like Jory goes in, he's turning tricks by the next day or worse, never seen again."

  "That's what I'm—"

  "But what I'm sayin' to you is you need to give the kid more credit. He actually takes pretty good care of himself.

  He's shitty at knowing his limits, but so are you."

  I felt him take a deep breath and clutch me tight. "I'm here at least another week. You guys gotta watch over him, especially now that we know Greg Fain had a partner that killed him."

  "God bless dental records, because that was all that was left."

  "That guy was soup," Chloe groaned. "It was disgusting."

  "Who fills an outdoor freezer with hot water and then puts a body in there?" Hefron asked.

  "A guy that hopes the body will never be found." Sam answered, rubbing his cheek against my forehead.

  "Why didn't he just bury the body?" Chloe asked.

  "Who knows, could be anything." Hefron sighed loudly.

  "This just keeps getting bigger and weirder instead of starting to make sense."

  "What'd you find on Greg Fain's body? Anything?"

  "Jory's phone was in the pocket of his jeans, but maybe when he and his partner took it off him he just kept it. I doubt it was actually placed there, like the other items we've found."

  "Did you find any other prints anywhere at the house?"

  "Nope. There are no prints anywhere but in the shed.

  There's no evidence at all that either Jory or Caleb were ever in the main house."

  "Shit. No blood, nothing?"

  "Caleb and Jory's blood in the shed but nowhere else."

  "And Greg Fain?"

  "His blood's in the shed too, but again, nowhere else."

  "How is that even possible?"

  "This guy's careful, Sam, really careful."

  "And the ME figures Fain died how?"

  "He took a bullet to the head—thirty-eight, as far as we can tell. Must've been a helluva mess."

  "Which somebody must've cleaned up really good since there's no sign of it anywhere."

  "Right."

  I shifted to move and Sam massaged the back of my neck.

  "Beat it. I wanna talk to Jory."

  But I didn't get up; I found myself too e
xhausted to move.

  I just took a deep breath and fell back to sleep.

  It worked out well, because when I woke up an hour later, Sam was asleep and everyone was gone. Major surgery being completely draining, when I moved off the bed he didn't wake up. I told the officers outside the door that I had to get something to eat from the cafeteria. Since neither of them could move, I was free to take the stairs without any interference.

  I got back in my rental car and drove off the lot, and even though I thought maybe someone would be watching me, nobody was. When I made it home, I parked around the block from my apartment. I got back in the same way I had left and was showered and changed and repacked an hour later. Back in the car, I drove back toward Oak Lawn as I called Caleb.

  "Hello?"

  "Caleb, it's me."

  "Jory, you're driving me nuts."

  "I know, I'm driving me nuts too. But listen, I need you to be on the phone with me when I go in the house. Will you do that?"

  "What are you talking about?"

  "I found the place where we were held today."

  "Jesus, Jory, who are you?"

  "Knock it off."

  "You are seriously scary. You found the place?"

  "I found it and I told the police and they got the body of one of the guys that held us."

  "Are you kidding me?"

  "No."

  "Jesus, I had no idea you fought crime on the side."

  "Shut up. I just ran down a lead."

  "Ran down a lead?"

  "What?"

  "You are seriously fucked up. Your ass should be home hiding in the dark."

  "Whatever. Listen—"

  "Who was he? The guy that held us, I mean?"

  "Some guy named Greg Fain."

  "Name's not familiar."

  "I didn't think it would be, but that's not what I wanted to ask you about."

  "What do you wanna ask?"

  "I think you and me would know better'n anybody what to look for in the house."

  "Yeah, that make sense."

  "So I'm on my way to look around in there, and when I get there I'm gonna call you and as I'm walking around you can tell me if you remember anything."

  "Maybe I should just come."

  "Are you up to doing that?"

  "Yeah, I'm up to it, but Jory, maybe we should wait, huh, and go with somebody?"

  "Why? The police have already been all over the place—it would just be you and me with our eyes, we might find something they missed, ya know?"

  "Fine. I'll play along. I want this shit over with too."

  "Good. I'll have a ticket waiting for you on—"

  "I can get my own ticket, hotshot, thank you."

  "I didn't mean anything by—"

  "I know, J—forget it. I'll call you as soon as I hit town tomorrow."

  "Perfect. Don't call Dane, all right?"

  "No, I won't."

  "I'm still gonna go now so—"

  "No, just wait for me."

  "I can't—I mean, what if there's something there? I gotta save Sam."

  "So now it's about Sam instead of Dane."

  "I don't think the guy's ever gonna hurt Dane—I think it's about making Dane suffer, not killing him. He wants to kill me and you and Aja and now Sam... how long are we gonna let this go on, C?"

  "C?"

  "That's you, asshole."

  He chuckled. "You're the only one who likes me this much."

  "Shut up, everybody's crazy about you, but listen... I'll call you in like an hour when I get inside the house, all right?"

  "You are completely deranged, you know that."

  "I know that."

  "I really think you should wait for me to get there before you go back."

  "I can't."

  "Fine. Call me in an hour."

  After I hung up with him I continued driving toward Oak Lawn. Dane's number flashed across my display a few minutes later and then the number for the hospital. I answered that call.

  "Hello?"

  "Jory, where are you?" my brother snapped at me.

  "Pretty smart, using the hospital phone. I thought you were Sam."

  "I was hoping you would."

  "Is Sam up?"

  "No, he's not up. Just all that drama this morning exhausted him. Where are you?"

  "I'm running down another lead."

  "Jory!" he barked at me. "Get your ass back here now."

  "If you were in my place and Aja was the one in the hospital, you would be doing whatever you could to keep her safe, so don't gimme shit about this."

  "Jory, it's not the same. You're—"

  "Doing spectacularly well? I know—thank you."

  "Jory, come—"

  "I am not a dog and I won't be back tonight. Just take care of Sam for me. Call me if he wakes back up."

  "Jory!"

  But I hung up so he wouldn't have an aneurysm and drove on back toward the house. I had to get in there to see.

  * * * *

  You always wonder why people go looking around creepy places at night. In every horror movie I had ever seen it had been my question as well. The fact of the matter was, though, that sometimes you had to go to scary places at night because other people would see you during the day. The cover of darkness was the best time to get the breaking and entering done. So when I parked down the block and ran to the house in the dark, armed with a flashlight and my cell phone, I figured that even though I had an irrational fear of Michael Myers being in the house waiting for me, logically I was safe—it was just dark. This was the rational thought I held on to even as my heart threatened to pound out of my chest.

  I slipped into the basement through the window and fell five feet or so to the floor. I was sure that something terrifying was waiting in the shadows to get me, even though rats were probably the only spooky things in the place. I was expecting jars of body parts but found only a washer and dryer, a sink and a counter that folded clothes were stacked up on. Even though I knew that it wasn't the room Caleb and I had been held in, I checked it over anyway, looking for anything that didn't fit. I went to the lint trap on the dryer and found it clean; I went through the small wastebasket and was really disappointed when there was just nothing at all.

  When I was satisfied that I had seen anything that it was possible to see, I went through the door, using the sleeve of my sweater to turn the knob, and into the kitchen of the house.

  It was boring. What had started out as a nightmare quickly became tedious. The house was clean. Like a maid service had been through it clean. Going from room to room yielded nothing at all. The inside didn't match the outside either. It became clear that all Greg Fain had needed was a landscaper.

  Inside, the house looked nothing like the Bateses' home and more like something that belonged in an Ikea catalogue.

  Everything was new and shiny; all the bells and whistles were there from brushed steel and wood decor to a plasma TV. The second floor was just as nice, and next to the bathroom was a steam room. As I stood in the master bedroom on the second floor, I had to wonder what in the world had prompted a guy like Greg Fain to get caught up in a kidnapping. But maybe all this stuff had cost a lot of money. Everyone needed money, so perhaps Dane forking over ten million dollars has been his primary motivation.

  The only thing weird I found in the bedroom was a frame in the wastebasket beside the armoire. The glass was broken but there was no picture in it. I had no idea what that meant but made a mental note of it anyway. Back downstairs in the den, I looked for any papers that would give me an idea of who Greg Fain was. But again there was nothing. What really was weird was the extent of the nothing. All the desk drawers were empty and along the sides as well. On CSI they always found a clue either under a drawer or on the side, taped to the bottom of something, but no such luck in Mr. Fain's office.

  Nothing inside the air conditioner or telltale drops of blood. It was simply anticlimactic, and I was disappointed. There were no clues to be found.

&n
bsp; Still, when I was back outside I felt better. It was a clear night, and not being inside calmed me. I had just watched way too many horror movies in my life to be comfortable in a dark house. I let the shiver pass through me and took a steadying breath when I was alone standing in the backyard.

  Only then did I see the shed. How I had missed it when I walked around the house the first time was beyond me, but nonetheless, it was there, white in the moonlight. I saw the dead patch of grass where I guessed the outside freezer had been, where they found Greg Fain's body, and I saw all the little flags in the ground where the police had marked it.

  When I realized that I had to roll the door open on the shed, I knew, of course, this was the place.

  Inside was as I remembered—the concrete floor, the metal walls, and the absence of windows. It wasn't necessarily a scary place, just odd to be there without being tied up. I checked over every inch of the room and came up with nothing, not even a gum wrapper or some dirt. It was pristine.

  I walked around the shed using the flashlight, looked at the grass surrounding it, and found not a thing even remotely useful or interesting. I walked down the alley on the other side of the fence trying to figure out which way, if any, the kidnapper had driven the car. But it was useless. On the way back my phone rang.

  "Hello?"

  "J."

  "Hey, you're up." I smiled into my phone. "How ya feelin'?"

  "Baby, where are you?"

  "At the house." I sighed.

  "Okay."

  "There's nothing here."

  "I could've told you that. They pulled everything outta there, J."

  I looked at the house as I went over the fence into the backyard and it was only then that I noticed the window. "Oh shit, Sam, there's an attic."

  "What?"

  "I didn't see a ladder or anything. Nothing was open on the second floor. Did they find an attic?"

  "I dunno."

  "They must've, right?"

  "Probably. Don't go back in the house. Drive here to me."

  "I'm gonna go check, Sam."

  "Love... don't. I'm gonna call Hefron right now while you drive over here."

  The idea of going back in the house made me nauseous.

  The fear was irrational but nevertheless coursing through my body. Outside I could see if something came at me. I could maneuver or run. In the confines of the house I could not.