by Shyla Colt
“You stole my heart somewhere along the way growing up. I could never give it to another. Who could be a better match for me, Savannah? We finished each other’s sentences. Didn’t hide a thing from one another. It was a rarity that I took for granted. I just… I didn’t want to risk losing what we had.”
“I felt the same.” Her admission lifted the heavy boulder off her chest.
“Felt?”
The wounded expression that crossed his face cracked open a door inside she’d chained shut. She clossed the inches of space that divided them and cupped his cool face in her hand. “I will always love you, Clark. You and I were soul-deep. When you were gone I became a piece of driftwood lost in the ocean of life. I had to rebuild myself from the ground up. I hurt a lot of people that way but it was what I had to do to survive. Now you’re back and I can’t help but wonder what I’m going to do when you’re leave.” Her voice cracked. Her bottom lip quivered.
“How can we miss out on a second opportunity because of fear? That’s what robbed us in the first place.”
She pulled away. “What do you want me to do?” It seemed wrong to say “when you’re dead”. Yet the words spun around in her head.
Her phone rang out like the ding of a bell ending the round of a prizefight.
“I have to get that.”
“Yeah.” Clark stepped back and released a deep breath. As he paced the length of the room, his nervous energy set her on edge.
She picked up the phone. “Speak.”
“Jeez. You need sleep more than I thought.”
“Carey?”
“I just wanted to make sure you got home okay.”
Her anger melted away. “I’m fine. It’s like a ten-minute drive.”
“I know, but you didn’t seem right tonight.”
“Nothing sleep won’t cure.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
“Then I’ll let you go.”
“Thank you, Carey.”
“Any time, Vannah Banana.”
He hung up before she could scold him, and she smiled.
“Carey?” Clark asked.
“Yeah. He wanted to make sure I got home okay.”
“How nice of him.”
There was an edge to his words. “Clark?”
“I have to go—” He disappeared before she could say more.
“Fuck.” She placed her head in her hands. Carey saved her from making a horrible mistake. A few seconds longer and I would be making out with a ghost. What the hell was I thinking? There was no future for them. No silver lining, or happily-ever-after. This whole thing was a mind-screw.I have to stay composed. She removed the rest of her clothes, slipped on an oversized shirt, and sank n to the edge of her bed, unable to sleep yet. Thoughts chased each other. The emotional overload endangered all the hard work she’d put in over the years. She had a system that worked. Her heart was protected, and her life ran smoothly. Clark threatened her life like a wrecking ball. Frustrated, she turned to the solace she could always count on, work.
So much for an early night. With sleep no longer an option, she got to her feet and zombie-shuffled to her desk. Taking out a sheet of loose-leaf and a pencil, she began an old-school bubble map of thoughts. She put main points in circles and branched out with lines and more encircled thoughts. The page began to fill with random threads of concepts. None felt right.
“You are slippery sons of bitches, aren’t you?” she mumbled. They were smart. She had to give them that. It made her apprehensive. People like this always had a trick up their sleeves, booby traps, or diversions. It wasn’t your average case.
She didn’t want any more people hurt. The devil’s in the details. The phrase always helped her dig deep beneath the obvious. The Tarot was the key, but she only had one card to work with. They’d tracked down the specific set of cards, scanned each one for differences, and came up empty-handed. A search for bodies found with carvings etched into them had been started. But they were still sifting through the piles. To make matters worse she knew the killers were watching, circling the area like buzzards waiting for an animal to drop.
She pushed the ages aside, and pulled out the Tarot Cards she’d purchased to study at home. It was breaking her rules, bringing her work home, never coming up for air. Yet, there was a sense of urgency she couldn’t ignore. As she studied The Lover’s card, the morgue report rushed back. The interlocked female and male symbols were the key. They were on the Tarot.
Excited, she snatched up the card. The symbols were in direct correlation. It would still take some time to go over the cards, pick out key symbols, one by one, but it had narrowed the choices significantly. It felt good to make progress on this case. The fact that it distracted her from the mess with Clark was an added bonus.
***
That was stupid. Clark blew out a breath as he paced the length of Carey’s apartment. What had he hoped to accomplish? He thought knowing how she felt would make him feel better in some way, give him closure.
He was wrong. Now he was jealous of Carey over nothing. The lock sounded in the door. He tensed. Speak of the devil, or think in this case. The door swung open and Carey paused.
“Hi. You look upset,” Carey said.
“I am.”
“Okay.” Carey stepped in, shut the door and locked it behind him. “What’s up?” He let his bag fall to the door and shed his utility belt, carrying it with him to the couch. He set it on the cushion beside him. “I’m all ears.”
“I went to see Vannah.”
Carey cringed. “Didn’t go well?”
“No. Sort of.” He shook his head.” Hell, I don’t even know.” He snickered at his absurdity.
“What?” Carey laughed. “Why don’t you tell me the whole story?”
He relayed the events as Carey listened without commenting. It felt good to share again with his twin. Carey was the only person he’d never felt judgment from. Even when they butted heads, eventually they hashed things out.
“You guys are so ass backward.” Carey shook his head.” I’m not surprised she felt the same way about you. It’s why I didn’t go that night.”
“You knew?” He turned to his brother, shocked.
“She didn’t tell me, if that’s what you mean. I suspected. It was written all over her face every time she looked at you when you weren’t watching.”
“What? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Carey shrugged. “I didn’t think it was my place to say. I mean, if she wanted to keep it to herself, who was I to blow her cover?”
Clark sighed. “I should’ve kept my mouth shut.”
“I don’t think so. It seems like your being back is all about unfinished business. If you hadn’t told her, you’d still feel there were things left unsaid wouldn’t you.”
Clark blinked. “I never thought of it that way.”
“That’s why you have me.” Carey wagged his eyebrows and tapped the side of his head. “Other half of your brain and all that.”
The revelation his words brought was a light in the darkness. It all made sense. He was sent heer to tie all the loose ends keeping him bound to Earth. Despite all the other side had to offer.
“You’re absolutely right. Even when I was… there I couldn’t let go of this life completely. That’s why they did this.”
“Is that abnormal?” Carey’s eyes were full of interest.
“Very. But it does happen. Especially instances of true evil.”
“So the powers that be do even things out.”
Clark remained silent, unsure if answering would be breaking the rules.
“Yeah, I know you can’t go into details.” He rolled his eyes.
“Exactly. What do I do next?” He walked over and sat on the opposite side of the couch, facing Carey.
“I don’t know. The two of you will have to figure that one out together.” Carey shook his head.
“Come on, Carey! That’s a copout answer, and you know it.”
He understood the message. Let her go. He wasn’t sure he could. Too much time spent thinking about her made him selfish. “Okay, fair enough. Tell me this, what would you do if you were me?”
“I don’t know. I’m shit with relationships, and we both know Vannah isn’t just some girl.”
“She’s so different. It’s hard to read her.”
Carey nodded in agreement. “Turning into an ice maiden was how she coped, I think.”
“We have to make her remember who she was. I refuse to let her stay like this. ”
“Exactly how do you expect to accomplish that? I’m curious because I tried to have a meaningful conversation with her and she pretty much bit my head off.”
“With your help.”
“Hey.” Carey held his hands up. “Don’t drag me into this too deep. I have to work with the woman on the daily. ”
“Come on, man, consider it my dying wish.”
“That’s a low blow.”
“It’s true.”
Carey growled. “What do you want me to do?”
“Get to know her. Underneath the front she puts up is the girl we grew up with. I see her when she lets her guard down.” I need to take a knee, accept the runner-up prize. Her being with Carey is as close to being with her as I can get.
“You would see that. You were always the one she turned to. I’m grasping at straws.”
“And now that I can’t be that person you have to. She’s missing out on what life’s all about, Carey. There’s so much pain locked away inside her. If she can just let go, I think she’d begin to heal.”
“Clark , I’m not some sort of emotion whisperer.”
“I know.” He looked Carey in the eyes. “But you can do this.”
“Damn you, Clark.” Carey sighed. “Fine.”
Clark’s tense muscles relaxed. “If I know you two will be taking care of one another when my time comes again, I’ll be able to go.”
The look of discomfort that crossed Carey’s face made Clark feel like shit. It was a lot to ask but he needed some hope to help ease the pain that came with the thought of leaving them behind once more.
Chapter Five
The sound of her phone jerked her from the heavy sleep she was loathe to leave behind. Savannah pried open her scratchy eyes and stuck her hand out of the blanket. She felt around for the device she’d set on her dresser. Finding it, she pulled it inside her cocoon.
“Hello.” Her throat felt raw, and her eyes burned.
“Vannah?”
“Carey?”
“Yeah. I hate to wake you like this when I’m the one who told you to get some rest, but this can’t wait.”
“What happened?” She swallowed, focusing on his voice as she struggled against the stranglehold of sleep.
“You got another package.”
The words made her gasp. “They know I’m here.” And I thought this case couldn’t get any more personal. Murphy’s law strikes again.
“It looks that way.”
“They’re watching me. This isn’t good. They are actively hunting.”
“How can you sound so calm?”
“Because panicking isn’t an option right now. I need a squad car monitoring my house. I have to tell my parents about this. Their safety is compromised.” She made a mental list and began to run down each item.
“You think they’d come to your house?”
“If they thought it was necessary, yes. I put nothing past these people. It bothers me I don’t know how long they’ve been observing. I’d wager not too long. Their letter suggested my occupation was a recent discovery.”
“I’ll talk to the Chief and get it started.”
“Thank you. I’m getting up and coming in now. Have you opened the package?”
“Only to have the bomb experts examine it.”
“Good, keep the vultures in the office away from it.”
He chuckled. “You got it, Sherieff.”
“Don—” The dial tone was her only response. “That little shit hung up on me!” A smirk twitched her lips upward. She pushed the covers off her body and escaped her warm nest. The wood floor was cool on her bare feet. She hissed.
The sun was just beginning to rise, so it couldn’t be much more than seven. The hushed whispers of her parents and clanks of pots and pans being moved around told her she’d caught them before they started their day. She made her way down the stairs and into the kitchen where they stood at the counter drinking coffee.
“Morning, Mom, Dad.”
“Good morning, Savannah. You’re up early.” Her mother smiled.
“I know. I just received a phone call… A case I’m working on has gotten … dangerous. They’re going to start driving by the house and keeping an eye out. I’d like you to be wary of any suspicious-looking people, cars, et cetera. ”
“What’s going on?” Her mother frowned.
“I’m not at liberty to say. This is more of a precautionary measure than anything else.”
“We’ll keep our eyes peeled. You stay safe out there.” Her Father always knew how to smooth ruffled feathers when it came to Mom.
“I will. I’m going to go get dressed. I need to be in the office.”She turned and headed for the stairs.
“What about breakfast?” Her mother called after her.
“I’ll grab bagels on the way out, I promise.”
A quick shower later and she was dressed in a pair of khaki pants, a light pink shirt, and a pair of brown boots. Her hair was slicked back from her face. She’d applied a light coat of make-up to hide her sleep-weary face. With her badge tucked into her belt and her gun on her hip, concealed by a blazer, she stomped down the stairs and rushed into the kitchen.
“See, Mom, I’m getting breakfast like I promised.” She cut a bagel in two, slathered it with strawberry cream cheese from the fridge, and poured a glass of orange juice into her travel cup.
“Mmhmm.” Her mother quirked an eyebrow but continued eating.
“I’ll see you guys later. Call me if you need anything.” She exchanged a meaningful look with her father. He’d be on the lookout for anything out of the normal, and his gun was in a safe by the bed. He wouldn’t hesitate to use it, if need be. The knowledge filled her with a sense of relief. He might be retired, but her father was still sharp as a tack, and a crack shot.
He kept up a relaxed, but steady workout regime accompanied with a biweekly trip to the shooting range. She knew her Mother was worried, though she’d never admit it. It was a part of having family members in a dangerous profession. You put on a good front to keep the worry from them so they could act with a clear mind. It took a toll. It was the price paid by those who loved someone with a calling to protect and serve.
She hooked the travel mug onto her satchel and took a bite of the round circle of bread. After snatching her keys from the counter, she exited the house. Ten minutes later she was in front of the police station finishing off her cup of orange juice. With one last gulp she grabbed her mug and exited the car. Long strides took her inside the building. Time seemed to slow as she waved to the receptionist and walked to the office she shared with Carey.
Everyone’s gaze followed her. This case had been the one that got away. They were all eager to solve it and avenge one of their own. She opened the door to her office. Carey sat at his desk, doing his best not to stare at the small, manila envelope.
“Thank God! I’ve been itching to open this thing all morning!” He pushed his chair back and swiveled to face her.
“What happened with that exactly?”
“They brought in the dogs to test if for explosives or hazardous items. It came out clean.”
“So I have the go-ahead?”
“Yep.”
“Good, let’s go get suited up.”
>
“Music to my ears!”
She laughed as she placed her bag onto the desk and removed a set of gloves to handle the package with.
***
After all the anticipation, the tiny, fur-covered object Vannah pulled from its yellow prison was anti-climatic. He wrinkled his brow.
“What the hell is that?” he asked with a snort. Greeted with quiet, he turned to look down at Vannah and his heart sank. Something was very wrong. The tongs shook where she held the tiny, brown, plush bear holding a heart. Her breathing was ragged, and her eyes were wide with dilated pupils.
“Vannah?”
“I won this for him … at the carnival.” Her voice was empty and monotone.
Fuck. She seemed glued to the spot, unable to move, as she clenched the tongs hard enough to turn her knuckles white. Her eyes glazed over, and he knew her mind was no longer in the present. Every time she turns around she’s forced to relive bit and pieces of her ordeal. But somehow to have an actual bit of history from that night was the cruelest twist the wheel of fate had delivered.
She took a deep breath, and her face crumpled like a wadded piece of paper. He wanted to look away, pretend he hadn’t seen the wounded woman beneath the hardnosed agent persona she embodied. Yet, he promised Clark. Old habits died hard.
He placed his hands over hers, helping her lower the bear to the counter before he removed the tongs from her hand. Chest heaving and shoulders shaking, she balled her fists and bowed her head.
“It’s okay, Vannah.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his body. He could hear the hiccups she swallowed and knew she was tittering on the edge of a meltdown.
“Shh.” He placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head. “Let’s take a break.”
Leading her to the stools across the room, he helped her sit. She clenched her jaw. Seeing the silent fight to contain her anguish made him feel like a voyeur. Words escaped him. Everything that popped into his head sounded too contrived or ignorant. So he held his tongue, rubbed her back, and waited for a cue. A few minutes later she cleared her throat.
“I’m okay.” Her back stiffened. She pulled away from his hand.
