Like Glass We Break (Glass #2)

by Kari Fisher

  At the overturned car, the firemen place a jack underneath it to turn it upright, and it lands on the ground with a loud crash. The paramedics open the driver’s side door and immediately place a neck brace around Scott’s neck. They cut his belt and slide him out of the vehicle, carefully laying him on a stretcher on the ground.

  “He’s not breathing,” one of the medics says. Quickly, she pulls a tube out of a package and performs a tracheal intubation. A bag is attached and breaths of air are pumped into Scott’s lungs. He gasps and opens his eyes. The paramedic quickly pushes 5mg of morphine and Scott closes his eyes again. He’s out. They hook him up to a cardiac monitor and transport him to the local hospital.

  The police keep the highway closed while they complete their investigation.

  ***

  “Hi, miss,” a young woman nurse says softly to Amrita as she opens her eyes.

  Amrita groans and stretches, realizing her ribs and chest are unbearably sore.

  “Do you need pain medication? I can get the doctor,” the nurse asked urgently.

  “No, I’m okay,” Amrita winces. “How long have I slept?”

  “Almost six hours,” the nurse answers, pointing to the clock. It is still dark outside.

  “My daughter,” Amrita manages to squeak out.

  “She’s fine. They couldn’t find any relatives of yours so she was picked up by Children's’ Services. They’ve got her with a volunteer for the night. She’s actually allowed to come and visit you once you’re up for it,” the nurse explains.

  “Can she come now?” Amrita asks.

  The nurse nods and leaves the room to make a phone call.

  Watching the hall carefully, Amrita is upset when Scott is wheeled by on a stretcher.

  “Why is he here?” she yells. “Why here?”

  Another nurse runs into the room, followed closely by the doctor.

  “What seems to be the matter?” the doctor asks.

  “He kidnapped me. He was probably going to rape me. Why is he at this hospital?” she hisses.

  “He’s under arrest, Miss Daou. There are two officers with him and he’s chained to the stretcher. He won’t be going anywhere; he’s not even conscious,” the doctor whispers, knowing he shouldn’t be giving out personal medical information. “You’re going to be fine, but he has a right to medical attention too.”

  Amrita nods and rolls over onto her side, making sure that she still has a view of the door to the hallway. She watches for Scott to go by again, and this time she hopes he’ll have a blanket covering his head.

  She closes her eyes and begins to fall asleep. She has the strangest dreams—someone had been following her around for months, and finally decided to make a move and kidnap her, bringing her across the state line to fool police. She shivers and shrugs off the dream. Her eyes closed, she drifts off once again, until she hears footprints running in the hall.

  The footprints sound tiny and clumsy as they stumble toward the door, but they are followed closely by the footprints of an adult too. The door to the room is pushed open all the way and Amrita’s small daughter barges through it.

  “Mommy,” she cries out. She runs toward her mom’s bed and stands up as tall as possible at the side. “Mommy.”

  “Oh, baby girl, I missed you so much,” Amrita cries, reaching down with her arms. It hurts to move and stretch so she yelps. The woman with her daughter helps lift her up onto the bed. She crawls into her mom’s arms.

  “Mommy, I missed you too.”

  “Thank you so much,” Amrita whispers to the woman who stands at the end of the bed. Presumably, she is the volunteer at Children’s Services that the nurse mentioned, and Amrita was so thankful that this woman cared for her daughter while she could not.

  “Not a problem.” The volunteer nods. “I’m going to go sit right outside the room while you talk to your daughter, but then I’m going to bring her home with me tonight, is that okay? She can’t stay here in a hospital.”

  This is too much for Amrita and she breaks down, crying and holding her daughter close. She nods, through her tears, and makes eye contact with the woman although her vision is blurry. “You’re going to go home with this nice lady while Mommy sleeps here tonight, okay, baby girl?”

  Her daughter nods.

  “That’s good. Mommy is just a little bit sick right now but she’s going to get better soon, she just needs to rest, okay?”

  Another nod. Her daughter squirms closer to Amrita and curls up in her arms. Amrita kisses the back of her head, and then nods to the volunteer.

  “Okay, go with this nice lady. Everything is going to be okay,” Amrita assures her. As they both disappear down the hallway, Amrita cries until the morphine that she finally asked for kicks in and she drifts off to a broken, disturbed sleep, hearing the sounds of breaking glass. She sees Scott’s face in her dreams and feels him squeeze her knee over and over.

  ***

  The doctor walks into the room and asks Amrita how she is feeling.

  “I’m feeling much better, thank you,” Amrita replies. She sounds weak and she’s pale, but she appears much better than she did, although it might be mostly because of the higher dose of morphine she requested. Her fingers are tingling and she wonders if this is a side effect of the medication or if it’s caused by the car accident. “Where is Scott?”

  “Unfortunately, Scott fled police custody,” the doctor explains. “I will send an officer in to speak with you, if you’re feeling up to it.”

  “I am.”

  The doctor nods and leaves the room. Moments later, a male officer walks into the room.

  “Miss Daou?” the officer asks.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Officer Hagar. I’m here to ask you a few questions about what happened today. Is that okay?” he asks politely.

  “Yes.”

  “Had you ever met this man before today?” the officer asks, holding up a picture of Scott.

  “No. Today was the first time,” Amrita states.

  “Did he tell you what his name was?”

  “No, I saw his passport.”

  “We have reason to believe there is a warrant out for his arrest under a different name. Did he, at any point, refer to himself as Oliver Fallon?”

  “No, he didn’t call himself anything, actually. He did call me Cora, though.”

  “We believe Cora was his first murder victim,” the officer explains. “We’re going to keep an officer posted outside of your hospital room until you’re discharged. Your daughter and a temporary guardian are in the waiting area of the hospital. I also have an officer there with them.”

  “Thank you, Officer,” Amrita says gratefully.

  Chapter Ten

  Renae

  Renae is glad to be waking up in her own bed. The conference this past week has left her feeling confused, both about work and about her life. She doesn’t understand anything she learned in the meetings and isn’t sure how she’s going to apply this to her work. She feels as though she’s just bullshitting her way through at the office—like no one else knows she doesn’t know what she’s doing. She feels like a complete failure.

  To make matters even worse, she has no idea what’s going on with Scott. She hasn’t spoken to him since he left her at the airport and ran off. If he was going to drive back home, why didn’t he offer her a ride too? They could have driven back together and kept each other company. Besides, they’d gone way past the point of a work relationship when they had decided to sleep together several times at the hotel. It seemed like he wanted nothing to do with her unless they were naked, though, which wasn’t at all like his relationship with Sophie—he had bought her flowers, and talked about how happy he was with her. Thinking about this made Renae’s heart ache with jealousy.

  What did Sophie have that Renae did not? Sure, she frequented the gym far more often than Renae. Renae blamed this on her lack of time; she had more work hours and a stronger love for sleep than Sophie. This doesn’t mean anythi
ng, though. Personality wise, Sophie is the party girl. She always has been, while Renae has always been the quieter, more reserved type. She focused on school and getting good grades while all Sophie cared about was the boys. Renae was beginning to doubt these decisions, though, as she sauntered through her apartment alone, wearing a bathrobe and purple fluffy slippers, toward her kitchen so that she could make herself a coffee to sip while she reads the newspaper. Sophie, on the other hand, is probably waking up to her new flavor of the week asleep in boxers beside her, the satin sheet softly draped over his otherwise naked body.

  Sitting on her kitchen table is her cell phone. It’s been a few days since she’s heard from Sophie. She knows that Sophie and Scott had broken up, but she still doesn’t know the story behind it. Perhaps by now, Sophie is aware of what went on between Renae and Scott at the conference and isn’t talking to her now former best friend.

  Renae toys with the idea of sending her a quick text message to see if she’d like to get together for coffee this afternoon, but then she decides against it. If Sophie wants to talk, she can make the first move. Renae has always been the one to text first and she’s not going to do it this time. She has the rest of the day to unwind now before work tomorrow, when she’ll have to face Scott once again, so she’s going to take this opportunity to do just that.

  She starts off by making herself a salted caramel latte, blending salted butter with a fresh cup of coffee and adding honey, vanilla, and a sprinkle of salt. She pulls yesterday’s paper out of its plastic bag and reads the headline—A Search for a Murdered Woman’s Killer. She wonders if this is the same murder she read about last week, or if this is a new one. What kind of people do these kinds of things? Sick people, that’s who.

  She continues flipping through the paper. There’s nothing interesting in it. Sports. Classifieds. Nothing she wants to read about. What does she want to read about, anyway? Nothing can take her mind off of the sex she and Scott had while in Philadelphia. The way he touched her and breathed on her neck. The way it felt when he was inside of her. The way he left her confused, but wanting more, in the washroom of the hotel lobby during the conference. Her body still ached for him to let her finish too.

  Another sip of coffee. She lays the newspaper down and puts her feet up on the chair across from her. She leans back. Sitting here seems like the perfect waste of the day, but she wants to do something more—something that will actually keep her mind off of Scott. Shopping for a new outfit, and then out for a drink. What better way to spend a Saturday night?

  ***

  “What are you doing here?” The man chuckles over the loud music.

  “I have to find my Zen. It’s hiding at the bottom of a wine bottle,” Renae laughs.

  One drink had turned into eight beers, two glasses of wine, and four shots of tequila, bought for her by some guy who was standing by the bar all night, watching her dance all by herself on the dance floor. Undeniably, he expected more to happen between the two of them than the quick kiss on the cheek he got at the end of the night as she said goodbye, but she had no intention of complicating her life any further by taking anyone else home right now.

  Thankfully, her apartment is a short walk from the bar.

  Renae fumbles with the keys to her apartment door, trying not to make too much noise since it’s almost two o’clock in the morning, though it feels like the keys are like mini-cymbals clanging around the key chain in the hollowness of the hallway. She manages to find the right key and get inside without causing too much of a hassle.

  Throwing her small purse and keys onto the end table inside the doorway, she leans against the wall to reach down to take off the heels she wore to the bar. The coolness of the wall feels nice against her throbbing forehead; she definitely had a few more than she meant to tonight. But it was all she could do to try and dull the conflicting emotions of pain and anger she’s having over Scott.

  I mean, why would he just leave? The flight was only delayed a few hours—would it really have been that bad to wait? To spend time together? Maybe grab a bite to eat and talk about the conference, or their day, or maybe even their future?

  As these thoughts are running through her head, she hears her cell phone ringing that familiar tone—it’s Scott calling.

  Looking over to the table, which seems like it’s a football field away, she tries hard to focus on the picture of his smiling face illuminating from the phone onto the wall.

  “Oh, so now you decide to call, huh?” she mutters toward the phone, as if she’s speaking to his face. “Make me wait all weekend to worry about you and if you’re safe or not? Well, guess what, Scott. Now it’s your turn.”

  Making her way toward the bathroom, she starts undressing herself, dropping the clothing wherever it falls. Flipping on the light—which is way too bright in her given condition—she squints as she draws the shower curtain closed, and reaches in to turn on the water. Peeling off the rest of her stuff, she sits down on the toilet to gain her bearings.

  “Fuck him. I deserve to be treated better than this. He doesn’t deserve me. If he wants that other bitch, she can have him.”

  Feeling empowered, she stands up with confidence and flings back the shower curtain to step inside. She steps forward to immerse herself under the cascade of this magical waterfall running down her naked body. Renae lets out a giant sigh of relief at just how good this feels.

  As she brings her head out from under the shower head, she faintly hears her phone ringing with Scott’s ring tone again. She quickly pushes her head back under to drown out the sound. Her mind wanders back to the feelings of pain eating at her insides with how much she’s been missing him. Bracing herself against the wall in front of her, her emotions get the best of her, and she starts to cry; her tears mix with the droplets of water running from her eyes, and swirl down the drain as she watches them fall. The phone goes quiet.

  Renae grabs hold of her loofah, pours a little bit of her favorite scented soap into it, and rubs it across her body. The familiar smell is enough to clear her thoughts as she scrubs away the day, but as she glides it across her chest, her nipples react to the texture, slightly arousing her. She moves it back, this time a little slower. She’s so sensitive right now. She can feel every ridge caressing her. Looking down her soapy body, she’s a little surprised to see just how aroused she is—her nipples are poking out from the suds.

  She presses the sponge against her breasts, while cupping herself with the other hand, and playfully squeezes her breasts against her body.

  “Mmmmm,” she moans under her breath. “I bet Scott would love to play with these right now.”

  These thoughts arouse her further as she slides the loofah down her body toward her stomach and between her legs. Her eyes roll back slightly as she glides between her legs, pressing against herself. Her hips start grinding against her hand as she moves back and forth, thinking of the night Scott’s hand was between her legs, teasing her.

  Renae quivers slightly as she feels the warm gush of an orgasm flow through her body. It felt amazing with the soap and the water running along her, and makes a mental note that she’ll have to remember this little combination for future showers.

  Rinsing off the rest of the soap and one final swish of her dark hair under the water, she reaches down and shuts off the faucets. She draws back the curtain to the shower, steps onto the fluffy mat, and grabs the nearest towel to dry off.

  Looking toward the steamy mirror, she wipes it off with a towel first in order to see herself. She pats the water from her face and looks up. Her wet hair is dangling down one side, across the front of her between her breasts. Her body is glistening from the lights of the vanity, and she takes a moment to check herself out; turning slightly to the side, pushing her shoulder back a little, giving one of those pouty looks to the mirror—like she’s a supermodel posing. She grabs the hair dryer and starts blowing it through her hair, bending over at the waist. She flings her head back as her hair is now all teased up, and thr
ows a couple more sexy poses to the mirror, putting her hands in her hair like she’s seen in all those magazine covers.

  She breaks her composure with a giggle and shake of the head, but feels much better than she did before. Opening the door, she gives herself one final look in the mirror before strutting out of the bathroom.

  Renae approaches the living room to look out onto the lights of the city through the curtains, almost as if she wants to expose her sexiness to anyone lucky enough to be looking.

  “Damn,” a deep male voice comes from the darkness, startling her. “You’re so sexy.”

  “Wh-what the—” Renae stutters, clamoring for the nearest light switch against the wall. As she flicks on the light, she sees Scott sitting on the couch in a dress shirt and tie, with his jacket unzipped.

  “What the hell? How did you—what are you doing here, Scott?” she asks, exasperated.

  Scott stands up, moving toward her. “Well, I’ve been trying to call you tonight to see if you wanted some company, but you weren’t answering your phone. So I came over to see you and slipped into the building while someone else was leaving. I knocked lightly on the door, but heard the shower running, and when I tried the door, it was open. So, I let myself in.”

  “You think you can just walk in here after leaving me at the airport and not calling me all day? Ever think there was a reason I didn’t answer your calls? Did you even consider that maybe I had company tonight?” she tells him, her voice increasing with volume and despair.

  “Has anyone ever told you how cute you are when you’re angry with me?”

  Renae gives him a death glare, not impressed with his feeble attempt at humor in the moment, then turns to walk away from him, covering herself in the towel.

  Scott reaches out to scoop her back toward him, pulling her close against him.

  “I’m sorry,” he says softly against her ear. “I know I’m a jerk. I should have called you sooner.”