by Holly Hood
Well maybe I don’t want to know anymore. I cross my arms
He turns to face me, pressing his back against the rails. “You and me have a lot in common.”
I give a shake of the head to show my disagreement. “We have nothing in common. I don’t have people putting guns to my head threatening to kill me.”
“And I don’t screw my boss.” He follows my every irritated move. “Now will you shut up and listen to me?”
“I don’t want to be in on your wrongdoings.” I don’t want to go to jail and I don’t want to see Nash any worse than I already see him.
He touches his mouth pulling me right to his lips. Those god damn lips that tried so hard to make me falter. I wonder if he had a plan this whole time or if he just wanted to kiss me.
“Your mom was in love with my dad. You want to know more about her.” He crosses his arm, doing a perfect job of mocking me as I try to think of what to do.
But I’m still not sure.
“Is there someone else you know who could give you what you’re looking for?”
“What’s in it for you?” I’m not stupid, I know people don’t do things out of the kindness of their heart. “What do you get out of any of this?”
“The only thing I have wanted my entire life. To prove that my father is a better man than everyone made him out to be.” He licks his lips, turning back around.
This time I join him. “What are we looking at?”
“Underneath this concrete are seven bodies. People that the police were never able to find after they went missing.”
I grip the railing, my knuckles turning white. “Now I know why he punched you in the mouth.”
Seventeen
“Seven people…” I whisper.
Nash nods. “Seven people.”
I imagine skeletons firmly intact underneath my feet. I grab for my phone, dropping it before I can call the police. Because that’s what normal people do when they hear something like this. They want to do the right thing.
So why do I feel like the world doesn’t want that to happen?
He bends down and picks up my phone but he doesn’t hand it back. “Were you going to call the police?”
My hands are shaking so I grip the rail again and cast my eyes back down to the floor below. “I-I don’t know what I was going to do.”
I need to sit down. I’m about to pass out. So I just take a seat right there on the metal, grates digging into my ass through my jeans.
“Savy.”
I hear him calling my name but I don’t even have the strength to lift my head up. A heat crawls up the back of my neck. Everything goes black.
***
Cold water hits me in the face. I wake up choking and roll to my side. “What the hell!”
I slowly start to make sense of my surroundings and now I know I am lying in a bed—but not mine. “Where am I?”
Nash sits down next to me. “At my house.”
I force myself up and search for my phone. “How did you get me here?” I lift a blanket and then the pillows. “What did you do with my phone?”
“Relax. It’s over there on my dresser.” He stands up and lifts it from the dresser showing me. “You passed out, so I took you back here until you woke up.”
“Did you drug me?” I push my hair out of my eyes and try to wrap my brain around the idea that I was out long enough for Nash to get me all the way to his house.
He laughs at me finding the idea utterly ridiculous. “No I didn’t drug you. I didn’t think leaving you in that warehouse after what I told you was the right thing to do. So I brought you here.”
I take my phone and notice I have several missed calls from Jackson and a few voice mails. “I need to call him.”
“We need to talk.”
“What more is there to say?” He already let me in on his dirty little secret. I clutch my stomach. “I think I am going to puke.”
He shoves a wastebasket at me. “Do it in here.”
I take it and drop back down on his bed staring into it. A few tissues and some opened mail. “Did you kill them?”
“What?”
I look at him. “Did you kill them?”
“No. I didn’t kill them. Do you think I would tell you I killed seven people?” He scoffs, running a hand through his hair.
“The 8th sin. This is what you guys do. You kill anyone who goes against you and you get away with it. Now I see how.” I feel pangs going off in my chest. Maybe I am having a heart attack.
“This is not what we do.” He sighs, turning away from me. “Don’t be like everybody else.”
“What does that even mean?” I’m pretty sure I am having a heart attack.
“Don’t believe everything you hear. Some people get what is coming to them. And sometimes it takes someone other than the police to give it to them. Does that make us bad?” He drops down beside me.
I study my hands; I’m a big ball of emotions. “I guess it doesn’t.”
He sighs, relieved that I finally said one rational statement. “So can you agree this stays between us?”
“I think so. But why?”
“Because if you tell the police you’re going to put a lot of people behind bars. People that don’t deserve it, those people got what they deserved, each and every one of them believe me.”
But I don’t. “Nash. That’s asking a lot.”
He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t lie about something like this. And I wouldn’t tell you this if I didn’t think you could handle it.”
He trusts me. And I don’t understand why. I’ve done nothing to prove I am trustworthy.
“And I think you deserve whatever answers you’re searching for.” He touches my arm reminding me he isn’t all bad. “Call your boyfriend. He’s probably worried about you. And tell him I am not going to back out on the deal.”
I don’t call Jackson, I can’t take my eyes off the hand that is still gripping my forearm. I want to touch him, I want to assure him that I am trustworthy and that I will do whatever it is he needs me to do.
And that just seems stupid. “But what happens when they tear it down? Because I know that it will happen. It always happens.”
Nash pulls away. “I’ve been sitting here thinking about that every night for weeks.”
“But your dad is sick. And you weren’t thinking about that when you sold.”
He shakes his head, because right now that isn’t what he is worried about. “Just call your boyfriend, Savy. I don’t want to talk about this.”
I study my phone. “Why don’t you want to talk about it?”
He runs a hand down his face, letting out a sigh of frustration because I am probably annoying him. “Because I am not the kind of guy who is going to sit here and cry on your shoulder.” He points at my phone. “Now call your boyfriend and don’t worry about me.”
I look him over. He thinks I’m worried about him and I don’t know if I should correct him or continue to let him think that.
I let it go.
Jackson picks up on the first ring. “Where are you?”
This isn’t the way I like starting conversations and I can hear it in his voice he is upset with me. “You know where I am. What is wrong? Why do you sound so angry?”
He takes a pause and then fills me in. “I am standing in the hospital right now. Lee is bad and I have been trying to get a hold of you so you can be here.”
I close my eyes breathless. “I’ll be right there.”
Eighteen
I didn’t want to bring Nash with me to the hospital but my car was back at the warehouse and I was in a rush to get there.
“I can’t believe this,” I say more to myself than Nash as we rush to the doors of the hospital. “He’s dying and I am passed out in your house.”
“Why are you blaming yourself?”
“Well should I blame you?” I look at him, nearly tripping on the curb. He grabs me by the arm before I can. “Thank you.”
He lets me
go once I prove I can stand on my own two feet. “It’s going to be okay.”
I shake my head. “It’s not going to be okay. He’s dying. And I didn’t even get to know him.”
This bothers me—a lot. Something that never existed to me now does and it’s being taken away way too soon.
“You’re here now. That’s what matters.” I search his eyes for some sort of grin or insult but he doesn’t give one.
“Why are you here?” He didn’t have to walk me inside the hospital. He could have taken off.
“In case your boyfriend gives you any shit.” He runs a hand down the back of his neck. And I punch the elevator. “It’s the least I can do for earlier.”
I think the sight of Nash will do more harm than good but I don’t tell him that. The elevator doors open and we go inside. I tell the man already inside fifth floor and brace myself for whatever is about to happen.
It’s taking forever and finally the doors open. And Jackson is right there in the hallway. It only takes him a few seconds to realize I’ve brought company and the look on his face shows me just how unhappy he is to see this.
“What are you doing?” He asks, as soon as I am standing in front of him. He runs a hand through his hair completely exasperated with me.
“I didn’t have my car. Nash gave me a ride.”
Nash steps forward. “She came to discuss the sale. We ended up back at my place.”
I could punch him.
Jackson shakes the thought out of his mind and focuses on me. “He’s not doing good. You need to get in there.” I let him kiss me on the forehead and excuse myself into my grandfather’s room.
***
I open the door of Lee’s hospital room and look around. There are no flowers from any visitors showing how much they care about him. There aren’t even windows in his small little room.
“Now this is a surprise,” he says when he sees me come through the door.
I shut it behind me and make it to his bedside. “Hey you. I told you I would be back.”
He smooths his grey hair and takes me in, the same way my parents do when they are proud of something that I did. “Just wish it was under better circumstances.” He smirks and reaches for my hand.
“Don’t say that,” I tell him. “That’s not a good way to think.”
“I’m old. I know where I’m headed.” He sits up and tries to get out of the bed.
“I don’t think you should be doing that. Let me get a nurse or at least help you,” I tell him. I take his arm and part of his hospital gown falls open. He swipes a hand to close it but not before I see it.
I lead him to the bathroom and shut the door waiting for him to do his business.
“I can’t pee with an audience,” he grumbles. “Tell me something.”
I fumble around for something to say. “That tattoo on your back. When did you get that?” I know the 8th sin symbol when I see it and he has one.
“When I was young and stupid,” he shouts from the other side of the door. The toilet flushes and he twist the knob. I help him back to his bed and take the seat next to him.
“I can’t ever imagine you being stupid.”
He chuckles and clears his throat. “We all have been or will be stupid some time in our life.”
I nod in agreement. “Do you regret anything?”
He shakes his head. “Not a damn thing. It was all worth it at the time. It led me where I am today…here with my granddaughter, the spitting image of her mother. Did you get a chance to look at those albums and diaries?”
“A little. But I promise I will.” I had attempted to dive into my mother’s world and chickened out shoving them under my bed for safekeeping.
“Stubborn just like her.” He smiles and drops his head back against his pillows closing his eyes. It scares me because I’m not sure if that means he’s dying or just tired. But he keeps talking. “I remember the first time she held you.”
Hearing this hurts.
“She promised you that she would be the best mother she could be. She was in love with you the moment she laid eyes on you,” he explained. “Always was until the last time she saw you.”
He looks at me. “She asked her mother and I to watch you while she went out with her boyfriend. He was taking her someplace nice. That’s the last time she ever saw you.”
I can feel every beat of my heart as I imagine my mother kissing me goodbye. I can smell her and it disturbs me because I don’t feel like I ever knew her.
“Did she love him?” I imagine if she had a kid with my dad she did.
“She was upset with him for some time.” He coughs and struggles to regain composure. “He was trying to patch things up with his wife and she wanted a family.”
I listen to the rattle of carts passing by the door and finally say something. “Do you think he loved my mom?”
“I think she was new to him and he wanted to run away from the problems he had at home.” He wasn’t afraid to say the truth. “But not everything is as great as you think that it should be.”
“What about the man she was with before my father?”
“He loved her more than she was willing to understand. Sometimes she said he loved her too much.” He nods. “They had something beautiful.”
“So what changed?”
“I don’t know that anything did other than she met someone else and tried to make it work. There was a lot of complication going on for everyone.” He smiles at me. “And when they told us they found her in the lake that’s when your father came knocking on my door.”
I purse my lips. “He wanted me.”
“Suddenly we weren’t fit to raise you. And he wanted to give you a better life.” He shrugs. “We didn’t have a problem with raising you like your mother would have wanted but that just didn’t happen…”
The nurse comes in the room. “Time for you meds. And why aren’t you hooked up to the monitors, Lee?” She moves around the bed, shaking her head in annoyance. But I can tell just like me she loves this grumpy old man in the little time she has known him.
I stand up. “I’m going to get some coffee. I’ll come back and maybe we can talk more.”
“That’s great, Sara.” I step back a little taken away that he is calling me my mother’s name, just a minute ago we were having a perfectly normal conversation. “Promise me you will stay away from that guy he’s bad news.”
“What guy?” I ask, the nurse shakes her head. “Who are you talking about?”
“Lee, when’s the last time you took your medications?”
He isn’t paying attention to her. He is staring at me with fear in his eyes. “You have to be careful before he hurts you even worse. Don’t believe his promises.”
The nurse pulls the curtain shut and touches my arm. “Honey, this is the face of Alzheimer. He doesn’t mean anything by it. He’s having a moment.”
I move out of the way so some hospital staff can bring a patient past me. And I fight the tears. He knew my mother was in danger. And he warned her.
I find the coffee machine and work one of the Styrofoam cups from the holder and end up spilling the rest of them all over the floor.
“Shit.” I mutter, dropping to my knees to pick them up.
Nash drops down beside me and I’m surprised he is still here and hasn’t left. “Way to go.”
And something about those words breaks me into a million pieces. I start crying. I stand up and pull in some air and then lose it all over again. “Where did Jackson go?”
Nash is alarmed. He searches my eyes, trying to make sense of what is going on. But I shake my head, refusing to say anything about my emotional break. I can handle it. I always do. “He said he had something to do at the office that couldn’t wait. So I thought I would wait around.”
I nod, wiping at my eyes.
“In case you needed a ride home.” He tosses the cups in the trash and makes me a clean cup of coffee. “Sugar?”
I shake my head. “Blacks fine.”
“Wow, what a bad ass.” He hands it to me. “How’s your grandfather?”
I sit down in the waiting area and Nash takes the seat next to me.
“He’s his same old self. One minute he knows who I am, the next minute he thinks I’m his daughter and he is warning me to stay away from someone.” I blow on my coffee and take a sip. “I really don’t handle death well.”
Nash nods that he understands my fear of mortality. But I don’t think that is entirely true because he just told me about seven bodies buried at the warehouse his father owns.
“Do you know who he was talking about?”
I laugh. This is so obvious I can’t believe he even is questioning it. “Your father of course.”
But Nash shakes his head. “My father wasn’t even there that night.”
I make a face. “Oh. Do you have proof?” It’s a complete joke but when he nods it’s not funny anymore. “You do have proof?”
Nash stands up, reaches into his back pocket and hands over an old Polaroid. I take it and look over the photograph, a bunch of men at a table playing poker. I don’t see why this makes any difference. I hand it back.
“Why is this significant? How does a picture of your father playing poker prove anything?”
Nash leans in and points to the background. “Because there’s a clock in this picture and it clearly shows it’s after five.”
I touch the photograph and shake my head. “What if the clock was wrong?”
He shakes his head back and grabs my finger guiding it to the television in the background. “What’s that say?”
I look up at him. He raises an eyebrow at me. “Five o’clock news. And look at the story, it’s the apartment fire that happened the same day your mother died. I’ve looked it up.”
He nods. “If my father killed her at the lake he wouldn’t be gambling in this picture.”
There’s no denying the worn out date on the photograph.
Nash makes me understand something that I probably would have never figured out. And I believe him. I think someone else is responsible for my mother’s death.
I stand up, ready to go back into the room to talk to him. But before I go, I ask Nash if he wants to come with me.
