by B. B. Hamel
But a person that does the work for money, they’re easier. If difficulties arise, you just give them more money. I’ve always treated Ryan very well, and I figured he’d never turn on me.
Maybe I’m wrong. I’ve been wrong before. Fuck, lately it’s felt like one wrong decision after another.
I nod as I approach and then crouch down next to him. He looks at me with a slight frown.
“Sheer is gone,” he says.
“Good,” I answer.
“Did you find the place?”
“I found it.”
He nods, looks away. “Good.”
I take a small, folded envelope from my pocket and slip it into his lap. He glances at it, leafs through it quickly, and then tucks it away.
“There’s more than normal,” he says.
“You did more work than normal.”
He shrugs. “Wasn’t bad.”
I hate this stupid fucking game we’re playing. I’ve never known him to be anything but straightforward with me.
“What’s the matter?” I finally ask him.
He looks at me. “Nothing.”
“You’re lying. We’ve been working together long enough now that you shouldn’t be afraid to speak your mind. So speak.”
He pauses then looks down at his hands. “I know what you do with them,” he says softly.
I watch him, a little surprised, but I don’t say anything. I let him speak. I get the sense that he needs to say it out loud, to say the words.
“They disappear and I don’t say a word,” he continues. “Why would I? They’re bad fucking men. This last guy, he was real bad, one of the worst. A fucking child rapist? Sick guy, man.” Ryan shakes his head.
“My problem isn’t that these guys go away. It’s that you apparently got someone new working with you.” He looks at me, a little confused. “Some young girl. Is that true?”
I’m completely taken off guard. When Ryan met Amelia, he didn’t seem bothered by her at all, but now suddenly he cares. It’s strange, and something must have happened.
“Why does that bother you now?” I ask him.
“Someone saw her, man,” he says. “Bashed the guy in the head with a brick.”
Terror pulses through me. “What?”
“Cops were all over the place yesterday,” he goes on. “Some local heard the guy yelling right up until your girl smashed him in the head with a brick.” Ryan shakes his head. “I don’t know what you have her doing, man, but that’s messed up. She seemed like a nice girl.”
I have to stand up because I feel like I might pass out. Ryan just said that the cops had been called and that someone witnessed her smash Sheer with a brick.
That means they probably saw me and the van and saw the two of us load Sheer into the back. They probably told the cops the whole fucking outrageous story, and the cops might actually be looking for me.
Fucking hell. This is bad, extremely bad. In all my time killing, this is the closest the cops have come to finding me. I’m sure that I’m in their files somewhere, some phantom guy that keeps making bad men disappear, but they’ve never gotten close to finding me before. I don’t know how much information they have, or if they even have anything useful. For all I know, the witness didn’t really make anything out and can’t identify me or the van.
“How do you know all this?” I ask him.”
“I saw the cops there. Plus, I got my ways.”
“How much do they know?”
“I can’t say.” He shrugs. “I’m not really sure. That’s all I know.”
“Look into it for me. Find out what they know.”
“All right.” He nods. “But man, what are you doing with that girl?”
“She’s . . . “ I trail off, not sure how to describe her. “She’s a part of this,” I say finally.
“Okay, man. Just, don’t become like the guys you make disappear.”
I stare at him then nod, surprised at the insight. “I won’t.”
“Fine. I’ll see what the cops know.”
“And put someone on watching that whorehouse.” I tell him the address and he writes it down on a small piece of scrap paper.
“Got it,” he says.
I stand up. “Thanks.”
He grins at me. “You keep paying me like this and I won’t be on the streets much longer.”
“Good,” I say softly, and then turn and walk away.
My mind is reeling as I head back toward my car. The cops know about Amelia, or at least to some small degree. They probably have a general description of her and they for sure know that she took Sheer away.
I have to get rid of all the clothes we wore that night. Plus I’ll have to ditch the van and get a different one. None of that is a big deal, but just the fact that I need to do it is worrying.
Good things came from last night, but I’m reminded that Amelia wasn’t ready. She still has a long way to go before I can really trust her to come out on these missions with me. I know it’s going to be disappointing for her, but I have to tell her that she can’t help with this whorehouse thing.
If I’m even going after it anymore. They could have moved locations if the cops were all over the place last night and this morning. It might have spooked them off. That would be pretty fucking bad, but I won’t tell Amelia until I confirm. I don’t need her blaming herself any more than she already will.
Troubled, I head back home to warn Amelia and to burn our clothes.
20
Amelia
I run my palm through the tall grass as I walk toward the trees that ring Noah’s property. He left about an hour ago, and he’ll probably be home pretty soon, but it feels too good being out in the open. I don’t want to head back inside just yet.
I reflect that it’s the first time I’m truly free, possibly in my entire life. I could easily go get the keys to the van and leave this place. I believe him when he says that he won’t follow me and that I’m free to do as I please now. So far, he hasn’t lied to me at all, and he follows through with everything he promises.
Even when I was locked in his basement, he still treated me well. He gave me that bathroom, even though it was risky for him, and he gave me stuff to read. He gave me the mattress, more blankets, and he fed me well. Even when he clearly didn’t know what to do with me, he still treated me like a person.
That’s more than I can say my father ever did. Back when I was a prisoner in my father’s house, he didn’t treat me like a human at all. My father treated me like a piece of garbage that he could use and abuse, even when I was a child.
It was harder living with my father than it is living with Noah. That’s maybe a little crazy, since Noah is a serial killer and my kidnapper, but it’s the truth. Every step of the way, Noah has been honest with me. Of course, it helps that I’m so attracted to him.
I smile to myself as I reach the tree line. I press my calm against the closest trunk, feeling its smooth roughness. I trace the lines between the pieces of bark with my fingers tips and remember the way Noah took my body after I killed Sheer.
It was rough and it was passionate. It was like we were both transported somewhere else. I felt like a completely different person, powerful and in charge but also filled with an overwhelming desire that I’ve never experienced before.
I thought that desire would go away in the morning, but it hasn’t. I can still feel an ache inside of me, a hunger for Noah. I want his touch so badly that I can barely control myself. It’s absurd and silly, but it’s seriously a part of me now, driven deep into my very core.
I walk into the tree line, something that had been forbidden to me before, and I smile. No alarms go off. Nothing bad happens. I know that if I keep walking, I’ll eventually find a road or a house or some sign of civilization outside of Noah’s property. I can keep going as far as I want from there, because I’m free. Noah gave me my freedom.
That’s more than my father ever gave me. Rick only ever gave me bruises and heartache.
&nbs
p; I lean up against a tree, smiling to myself. I look up and notice Noah’s car coming up the long dirt driveway, sending dust up into the air behind it. I watch as he parks, climbs out, and walks into the house. I smile to myself, and I know that he’s probably looking for me. I don’t know if he’ll be worried when he doesn’t find me, but it also doesn’t matter.
He won’t be angry. He can’t be. I’m free now.
I push up off the tree and start walking back toward the house. It’s a beautiful day and I feel good, better than I have in a long, long time.
He comes out the back door as I’m halfway back toward the house. I can’t help but smile as he approaches me, a shiver running down my spine. Noah is gorgeous, tall, and muscular, the kind of man I never thought I’d have. He’s powerfully built and intense as he walks through the grass toward me.
As I get closer, I realize that his face is very serious. I slow down and stop as his eyes meet mine and I realize that something is troubling him.
“Amelia,” he says as he gets close enough. “I need your clothes.”
I cock my head to the side, eyes wide, a small smile playing at my lips.
“Right here, out in the open?” I ask. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”
I go to take my shirt off but he holds up a hand. “Wait,” he says. “It’s not like that.”
I let the hem of my shirt drop. “What’s it like, then?”
“I went into the city to talk with Ryan earlier.”
“I know.”
He sighs. “Apparently, somebody saw what you did to Sheer. The cops are looking for you.”
Fear jolts me. I take a step away from him, my eyes wide. “The cops are looking for me?”
“I don’t know if they have a good description of you yet. But we need to ditch my van and burn the clothes we wore last night. It might help to cut our hair and dye it, too.”
I stare at him, but the words barely sink in. I can’t believe what he’s saying to me.
I thought we got away. Nobody said anything at the time and he seemed confident that we were fine. The idea of the police finding me never once crossed my mind, but clearly that was a mistake. They’re coming after me, and they’re going to take this freedom away.
All because of him. I’m going to get thrown into another cage. My whole life is one cage after another.
I start to suck in deep breaths as I turn away from him. I stumble away and he says something to me, but I barely hear him. All I can see is myself in a cage for the rest of my life. All I want is to be free to do what I wish, but the police will take that away from me. If it isn’t my father, it’s Noah, or it’s the cops. Someone is always trying to shove me into a cage.
“Amelia!” I stumble forward as Noah catches up with me. “Hey, are you okay?”
I try to shove him away, but he’s a brick wall. He grabs me, pulling me against him, and I just start to fight. I can’t be restrained, not right now, not like this.
I won’t lose my fucking freedom again. I won’t rot in a cage. I won’t live my life between concrete walls waiting for the day that I finally die.
“Amelia,” he says and I suddenly realize that his arms are wrapped firmly around me. I’m struggling against him, trying to get away, but he just holds me, saying my name over and over.
I suddenly come back to myself. I feel so foolish and stupid. I can’t help it as I break down and tears flood my eyes.
“It’s okay,” he says. “It’s okay, Amelia. I have you. It’s okay.”
“They’re going to shove me in a box to rot and die,” I say to him.
He shakes his head. “No. Never. I told you, you’re free now. I won’t ever let them take you.”
“I’ll always be a captive. Always. Somehow.”
He holds me tightly, stroking my hair as I sob. It feels good to cry, even though I feel so stupid. Slowly I calm down and come back to myself.
I don’t know what the hell that was. I just started freaking out and panicking. The only thing I could think about was getting away, running away. I know Noah isn’t going to hurt me or let the cops have me, but in that moment I wanted to get the hell away from him. It scared me, frankly, the way I so violently reacted to everything.
“I’m sorry,” I say finally. “I don’t know what happened. I . . . I just freaked out.”
“I understand,” he says softly, letting me go. “This is hard.”
“It’s all just happening so fast.”
“I know. I’m sorry about that.” He takes my shoulders and looks into my eyes. “But believe me when I say that I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“Okay,” I say, nodding. “I believe you.”
“Good.” He watches me for a second, almost like he’s afraid I’m going to try to run away again. “Come on. I need your clothes. We can change back at the house.”
I nod again and let him lead me back. I hold his hand loosely, staring down at my feet and feeling like a stupid child. I’ve never freaked out like that before, and it makes me worried.
What if I really am going insane?
I let him take me upstairs and undress me. Once I’m naked, I get into the shower. He leans up against the sink and looks at the floor for a minute.
“I’ll be back soon,” he says. “I’m going to burn this stuff then ditch the van.”
“Okay.”
“You’ll be fine here alone?”
“I’ll be fine.”
He nods and looks away. The concern is obvious. Maybe he thinks I’m going crazy, too.
Eventually Noah leaves, and I’m alone in the shower. I let the water wash over me and eventually I sit down on the shower floor, knees to my chest.
The police are looking for me because I’m a murderer. I murdered a man. And now I live in the house of another murderer, a serial killer with a lot of experience.
How did I end up here?
All of that is bad, But the worst part is, I’m not done killing. I know it deep down inside of me. I’m not done hurting the people that prey on the weak. People like my father. I saw his face when I killed Sheer, and I know I’ll see his face many, many more times if I keep killing.
I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop. There is too much at stake, and it makes me feel too good.
I don’t know if I can risk my freedom, though. The idea of getting thrown into another cage makes me want to tear my hair out and scream. Noah is good to me, but even he can’t protect me if something truly horrible goes wrong. He’s been doing this for too long to let some idiot girl ruin it for him.
I’m just a liability. I don’t want to be, but it’s true. I have no experience and apparently I’m impulsive. I smashed that Sheer guy over the head and chased him when I should have stayed back and waited for Noah. He says it’s his fault for bringing me along when I wasn’t ready and for being the one to leave to get the van, but it’s not his fault. We both know it’s my own.
I’m going to get him caught one day. He can try his hardest to teach me how to do everything perfect and right, but maybe I’m just not cut out for this. I’m not learning fast enough and I already nearly got him caught once. We’ll be lucky to get through this.
I finish showering and step out onto the mat. I wrap a towel around my body and wipe the fog from the mirror. My long brown hair hangs wet over my shoulder and I fold it in half, wondering what I’ll look like with a shorter hair cut.
I can’t be sure. But it’s the least I can do for him. If it helps correct my stupid mistake, I’ll cut my hair. My hair doesn’t matter to me.
The problem is, I’m not sure what really does matter to me. On the one hand, I’m obsessed with my freedom.
But on the other, I need what Noah has to offer me. It’s the chance to be something, to matter to someone. If I stay with Noah, I know I won’t really be free. I’ll be a slave to the need inside of me, to my own blossoming darkness.
And I’ll be his. I can’t decide if that’s good or bad, but I know it’ll be true. I can se
e myself getting more and more addicted to him until I can’t see anything else.
As I stand there staring at myself in the mirror, I know I have to decide, and soon.
21
Noah
I drive an hour before I find a decent spot to dump the van. I pull over into a bramble thicket, climb out, and leave it there. Eventually it’ll run out of gas and sit there until someone finds it. Or it’ll sit there forever.
I get out my phone and call an Uber. The guy that comes to pick me up isn’t happy about how far I want to go, but he feels better when I offer to pay him double, once through the app and again in cash. We drive in silence, and that’s how I like it.
It gives me time to reflect on my problems.
I don’t want to think of Amelia as a problem, but I think it’s fair to say that she’s at least a liability. She’s not trained and used to this, and I threw her right into the deep end. I’m as much to blame as she is, and I can’t hold it entirely against her.
But the cops looking for her is very, very bad. She’s not going to like it, but she’s going to have to lay low for a while if she wants to stay with me.
That brings up another issue. She freaked out earlier when I told her about the cops. I expected her to be worried, but not to have a minor meltdown. It took me a few minutes to realize that she’s afraid of going to jail, probably more afraid of that than she is of getting caught or getting killed.
She’d rather die than become a prisoner again. She’s so obsessed with her freedom, since she’s never had any. I don’t want to take that away from her, and so she’s going to be very unhappy when I tell her that she needs to stay indoors.
It’s going to feel like a prison again. I don’t know how well she’ll take it or how long she’ll last.
Maybe it’ll be okay. Maybe since it’s her choice to stay and lay low it’ll be fine. It is her choice, too. I won’t force her to do anything she doesn’t want to do, not anymore. Not after what I saw.
To be honest, that scared me. I didn’t expect her to react that way, and it makes me question her ability to hold it together through all this. I know she’s strong and tough, but she has her darkness and her demons to deal with, just like I do. Her demons might make her a liability, though, because this job takes serious dedication and steadiness.
