Incredible You

by Lili Valente

  She winces, clearly in pain, but she immediately pushes up into a seated position. “Help. We have to get help!”

  “Careful,” I say, steadying her with gentle hands on her shoulders. “What happened, Adeline? Who hurt you?”

  “I don’t know,” she says, blinking fast. “I came out to make tea and there was this woman I’ve never seen before. She had a gun. She told me to be quiet and do what she said and I wouldn’t get hurt. I tried to run back into the bedroom to warn Shane, but—”

  “Shane was here?” I ask, through a throat squeezed tight.

  Adeline’s face goes completely white. “She was. She’s not anymore?”

  “She’s not.” I’m doing my best to hold my shit together and get as much information as I can. Anything that might help me figure out where Shane is right now. “Can you remember anything else?”

  “There wasn’t much else. The woman hit me and I guess I blacked out.”

  Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  A woman with a gun. A fucking woman with a gun was here, and now Shane is gone. I tug my phone from my pocket. “What did the woman look like? Can you remember?”

  “Dark hair, dark eyes,” Adeline says, squinting. “Petite, pretty. Not the kind of person you expect to break into someone’s apartment or rush you with a gun.”

  I curse aloud this time. It was Keri. It had to be. “Was this the woman?” I pull up an old picture of Keri on my phone, the one I saved to show to Bash the day I went to hire help getting my ex-girlfriend off my back.

  “Yes,” Adeline says, confirming that I’m the asshole responsible for the blood on her head and whatever is happening to Shane right now.

  Keri was here with a gun, and she knocked Adeline out, and now Shane is gone, maybe forever. Keri could be hurting the woman I love and it’s all my fucking fault.

  “That’s her,” Addie continues, voice trembling. “Do you think she did something to Shane? God, we have to find her, Jake! We have to make sure she’s okay.”

  “I will,” I promise. “I’ll find her and I’ll make sure the woman who broke in here never hurts either of you again. But first, I’m calling an ambulance. You need to get your head checked out.”

  Adeline insists she’s fine, but I’m not taking any chances. I call 911 and escort her down to the front desk to wait for the paramedics. Once there, I ask Aaron if he remembers seeing Shane leave the building.

  “I do,” he says, nodding seriously. “She left with that woman who delivered the envelope for her the other day, the pretty one with the brown hair. Seemed a little strange to me, since Miss Willoughby didn’t look too happy about the package. She didn’t look too happy walking out the door, either, but—”

  “How long ago?” I fight the urge to rush straight out to the street and start screaming Shane’s name.

  “An hour?” Aaron scratches his end-of day stubble. “Maybe a little less. I can check the time on the security footage if you need to know for sure.”

  “That’s okay,” I say, already backing toward the door. “But save it. The authorities might need it later.”

  But I know that later will be too late. Whatever Keri has decided to do, she’s not the kind to hesitate. She’s taken Shane, and I can only think of one reason that my ex-girlfriend would kidnap my current girlfriend. She’s planning to eliminate the competition in a place where she won’t be filmed or caught or interrupted until she’s finished what she started.

  It’s one of the ways my ex and I are alike—we’re both stubborn as fucking hell and determined to see things through.

  Now I just have to figure out where Keri would go to feel safe and secure, before she kills the only woman I’ve ever loved.

  Out on the sidewalk, I break into a run, sprinting toward the subway, mapping out the fastest route to Keri’s studio in Dumbo—Down under Brooklyn Bridge—in my head. It’s right under the train tracks, in an area where the noise from the subway cars rattling by is so loud you can barely hear yourself think, let alone notice the pop of a gunshot or the sound of a woman screaming.

  I would bet my right hand that’s where Keri’s headed.

  You’re betting more than that. You’re betting Shane’s life.

  The thought makes me run faster. And pray.

  I haven’t been to church in years, but Shane is a spiritual person. If there’s something out there listening, maybe it will take pity on me for her sake.

  Or at least be convinced to take me in her place.

  Keri is my nightmare. I invited her into my life. If anyone is going to pay for that mistake, it should be me.

  Please let it be me, please let it be me…

  I repeat the words again and again as I shove into the packed train headed south, praying with everything in me that I won’t be too late.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Shane

  We walk arm-in-arm out of the subway station in Brooklyn.

  To the casual observer, we probably look like two good girlfriends, huddled together to stay warm as the wind off the East River gusts through the office buildings and loft spaces, transforming the streets into wind tunnels. The cool breeze tugs at sock caps and make eyes stream. It’s quitting time and people are hurrying to make the train, to catch a cab, to snag a seat at the bar before it fills up for happy hour and there’s no chance of getting a half-priced mojito.

  No one is paying close enough attention to see the sweat beaded on my upper lip, or the way Keri’s fingers dig tight into my wrist, let alone to notice the strange way her right hand disappears beneath her brown jacket, the better to keep her gun pressed tight against my ribs.

  I clench my jaw and force my feet to keep moving, one after the other, even though everything in me is screaming that I should run. Better to take a chance with a bullet now on the crowded street where I have a chance at getting away. Keri promised that if I came quietly and did what she told me to do, she wouldn’t hurt me. But my gut says that if I let her take me off the street, away from the crush of commuters to a place where we can be alone, just her, me, and that gun, I won’t be walking anywhere ever again.

  I almost make a break for it five separate times between the subway station and the entrance to the crumbling brick building beneath the Brooklyn Bridge, but then I think of those two pink lines. I think of the baby and the chance of losing her and the risk grows too big. One life and maybe I would run. But there are two of us now.

  Two lives, both depending on me keeping my body in working order, and so I plod along beside my kidnapper, praying that I’m not making a fatal mistake.

  Praying that Addie will come to and call the police. Praying that Aaron will think it’s strange that I left with the woman who’s been loitering around the building and leaving me mysterious envelopes, and call the management.

  Praying that a window of opportunity will open and I’ll be able to jump through it to safety.

  This kidnapping has already gone off book—Keri didn’t plan on Addie coming into the apartment seconds after she’d broken in, or anyone else being able to ID her as the person who forced me from my home. She’s rattled, anxious, and even more high-strung than the last time we had words. If I’m lucky, that will lead to her making a mistake I can use to my advantage.

  And if you’re unlucky, it means she shoots you sooner than planned so she can run before she’s caught.

  I press my lips together, fighting a wave of nausea as Keri shoves me through a rusted door and toward a trash-littered stairway. I freeze, throat seizing as the door slams closed and the hallway is plunged into shadow. Overhead, the train roars past, the rumble of the cars and the squeal of the wheels over the rails so loud it feels like I’m lying under the tracks.

  It’s so loud no one will hear the gun when it fires.

  No one will hear me scream.

  No one will hear me gasp for my last breath.

  “Get moving. Up the stairs.” Keri shoves me between the shoulders just as my fear crescendos, making the world spin and my
already unhappy stomach twist in a violent knot. I stumble forward and double over, bending to the right just in time to avoid vomiting on my shoes.

  I’m sick until there is nothing left in me and I’m retching bile in thin, liquid streams onto the filthy floor. I stare down at the dirt-streaked tile, seeing rat droppings, a crushed popsicle wrapper, green shattered glass, and my own sickness, and I wonder if this is the last thing I’ll ever see. Will Keri put the gun to my head and shoot me now, saving herself the trouble of climbing the stairs to whatever destination she originally had in mind?

  I squeeze my eyes shut as I swipe my sleeve across my mouth, fighting to regain control, to calm down and think of something good, something beautiful. I don’t want to die like this, terrified and hopeless, facing down the evidence of how ugly life can be.

  So I think of my parents, of Aunt Tansy, of Wesley, and of all the friends who have lifted me up and made me believe in good things and good people. I think of Cat and Penny and Addie and Fifi, and of my kitties roaming wild on the farm. But mostly I think of Jake. I think of his face and his smell and his warm arms and his eyes that look at me like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. I’ve never felt more special or irreplaceable than when I’m with him.

  I focus on memories of our last night together, of his smile and his touch and how right it felt to go to sleep in his arms, and eventually the sickness passes. I stop vomiting and the train passes by overhead. The world goes quiet once more, and I’m still alive.

  For now.

  “Upstairs,” Keri says in a gentler voice. “I’ve got soda and crackers and ginger tea. I heard those help with morning sickness.”

  I stand, glancing down at her with a small nod. “Thank you.”

  “I’ve got a toothbrush and toiletries, too,” she says, lifting her chin higher. “I told you, I’m not going to hurt you. I would never hurt a pregnant woman. That’s why I’m doing this myself. I saw how rough the guys were with you on Halloween. If I’d known you were pregnant, I never would have hired them. I promise. That’s not who I am.”

  “You hired them,” I say, wondering if I’ll have the chance to tell Jake I told you so. “What were they supposed to do?”

  “Rough you up a little,” Keri says. “And then ask you for money to cover Jake’s gambling debts. I thought that would be enough to scare you away.”

  “But Jake would have told me that there were no debts, Keri. That plan wouldn’t have worked.”

  She shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. You’re pregnant and the plan has changed.”

  “How? What are you going to do with me?” I ask, swallowing hard.

  “Just get up the stairs.” The softness in her eyes fades, replaced by panic and a stubborn determination that reminds me of a crazy version of Jake. Good thing they didn’t stay together. If they had, they probably would have killed each other sooner or later.

  “Now,” she barks. “We don’t have as much time as I thought we would.”

  I start up the stairs, thoughts racing, trying to figure out what she has planned and how to talk her out of it. “I know this must have been hard for you. Hearing that Jake and I are pregnant.”

  “Save your breath,” she says. “I’m not interested in girl bonding time.”

  I walk quietly up to the first landing, pausing until she motions for me to keep going. I start up another flight, skipping a step to avoid treading on a used condom lying squishy and gross in the center of the stair. “Nice place you’ve got here. Rent controlled?”

  “It’s going to be torn down next summer,” she says. “Until then it’s the cheapest place in Dumbo. And the most deserted. Everyone else took the landlord’s move-out deal and hit the road.”

  “But you enjoy the ghetto chic and smell of rat droppings?”

  “I enjoy privacy while I’m painting.” She motions for me to keep going up a third flight of stairs. “I don’t sleep here. And we won’t be here long. Just long enough to pick up supplies.”

  “Supplies for…”

  She shoves me between the shoulders again. “I can gag you if you’re having a hard time keeping your mouth shut.”

  “I do have a hard time with that.” I know I’m pushing my luck, but talking is making this less scary, and less scary is something I desperately need right now. “It’s my worst flaw. I never know when to shut up. What’s your worst flaw? Aside from being fixated on a man who has no interest in living happily ever after with you?”

  The next shove—much harder this time—isn’t a surprise, but it still makes me lose my balance. I trip, banging my shin on the stairs. I hiss in pain as I find my feet again and curse my way up to the final landing.

  “You’ve got a mouth on you for a rich bitch.”

  “Thanks,” I say. “Catholic School.”

  “Down the hall, last door on the right.” Keri presses the barrel of the gun against the small of my back. “Go quickly and quietly. When we get inside, I want you to cross the room, sit at the table, and put your arms behind your back. Got it? Don’t answer, just move. Now.”

  I move, sensing Keri is losing patience with me and that I won’t enjoy her much once her patience is gone.

  As we walk, my eyes dart back and forth to either side of the hall. There are other doors, and maybe people behind some of them, but another train is passing by and I can’t hear anything but the rumbling of the subway and the rattle of the floorboards beneath my feet. The structure seems on the verge of crumbling on in its own—no demo crew required. I can’t believe people are legally allowed to live here, but I’ve been to friends’ apartments that aren’t in much better shape. That wasn’t my first used condom on a staircase, but feeling the floor rattle is something new.

  By the time I step inside Keri’s studio, I’m so grateful to see tile and rugs that I practically dash to the table on the other side of the room. Keri moves behind me, tying my wrists together through the slats of the chair, and I let my eyes wander, taking in the giant portraits of haunted-looking children on the walls of the loft, and the blank canvases leaning against the far wall. The space is open except for a doorway in the far corner, which I’m guessing leads to the bathroom. There aren’t any doors aside from the main entrance, but there are lots of windows, one of them with a fire escape visible through the hazy glass.

  The fire escape. It’s the first place I’m headed the moment Keri gives me the chance. I have to believe there will be one, an opportunity to rewrite the script and regain my freedom.

  “You’ll stay here while I carry the bags down to the car.” Keri tucks the gun into the back of her black pants then hitches a giant duffle bag over one shoulder and grabs several overflowing reusable grocery bags. “Hazard of the neighborhood—you can’t even leave groceries in your car for more than a few minutes unless you want your window busted. Scream if you want; there’s no one close enough to hear you. The only woman still living on this floor went deaf two years ago.”

  “I won’t scream, I promise.” I bite my lip until my eyes start to water, sensing I’ll get more out of her with tears than sarcasm. “But will you please tell me where we’re going? Please. I’m scared for the baby, and if I knew where we were going…”

  Her expression softens again, but she doesn’t put down the bags. “We’re going to my cabin upstate. My grandparents’ old place. It’s off the grid, but we’ll have everything we need to make it through the winter.”

  I blink, the answer so completely not what I was expecting that I forget to look pitiful as I echo, “The winter?”

  “The winter and the spring.” An amused smile curves her lips, but she’s the only one getting the joke. “And part of the summer, too. You should deliver in July or August, right? Somewhere around there, unless you go early?”

  My jaw drops, but for once in my life I have no words. She has shocked me speechless.

  “Once the baby is born, you’ll be free to go. I mean that,” she says firmly. “I’ll turn you loose to find your way back to civ
ilization, and baby Jake and I will go somewhere no one will find us, and be happy.”

  I shake my head, still so completely at a loss that all I can do is stare and wait for her to say that she’s kidding. She has to be kidding.

  “If I can’t have Jake, I can at least have his son.” She stands up straighter, a sheen creeping into her eyes. “And I’ll be a good mother. I’ll be such a good mother that someday Jake will see that I’m the one he should have picked.”

  “Keri…” Her name is a plea for her to stop the insanity and realize this plan is so full of holes it makes my lucky underwear look good as new.

  “Love of a child is a powerful thing, and I know Jake is going to love his son so much. He’ll be a wonderful father.”

  “He won’t have the chance to be a father if you take our baby away,” I say. “He’ll never know his child, and he will never forgive you for that. If you go through with this, the only thing Jake is going to feel for you is rage and resentment.”

  “You don’t know anything about what it’s like between me and Jake. I should have been the mother of his baby, and now I will be.” Her tone hardens, and her jaw clenches until I swear I can hear her teeth squeak as they grind together. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Then you’ll have the chance to brush your teeth and use the restroom before we go. And if you’re good in the car on the way out of the city, you can have crackers and soda once we hit the highway headed upstate.”

  “Please, Keri,” I beg as she turns to go. “Please don’t do this!”

  But she doesn’t slow. She crosses the room without a backward glance and kicks the door closed behind her.

  I force myself to wait until I hear her moving away down the hall before I begin frantically twisting at my wrists. I tug and pull at the rope, but the knots are tight and the slats of the chair solidly constructed. The chair itself is solid, too, but so am I.

  I stand, hefting the chair along with me, my head spinning with hope. “Not as smart as you think you are, Keri.” I’m up and on the move. Now I just need to get the hell out of here.