Unstoppable: Truth is Unstoppable (Truth and Love Series)

by Bethany Hensel

  “Derek, think.”

  “Mom, please.”

  “You’re being ridiculous! You cannot do this! You—”

  “It’s not up to you!”

  My shout reverberates and bends the air around us. My breathing leaves in trembling bursts. Mom’s fingers dig into my forearm, and I have to uncurl them to make her let me go.

  “Don’t do this,” she whispers.

  I step back, never taking my eyes off her. She becomes a wavy, unclear outline as I get nearer and nearer to the door.

  “Derek.”

  Hot air hits my back as I push open the door. I look at Dad a long moment, recalling every drive we took to the rec center for baseball, every Pirates game he took me to, and every book he’s read to me at bedtime. And I look at Mom, and memories of the way she’d pour over Algebra homework with me, the way she was the first to say my braces didn’t make me look like a total dork, and the way she’d pick me up from school, light up my mind in painful flashes.

  I think of all the times they’ve been there for me. And now of all the times they can’t.

  I turn and let the door shut behind me.

  VICTORIA

  I stare at the towel at my feet.

  “Y’know, that’s quite a shiner you got there, sweetheart.” He crouches low and stares into my eyes.

  I want to vomit.

  His gaze lowers to my chest and lingers there before sliding back up.

  “How many other injuries you got? Something on your stomach, maybe? Your thighs?”

  His hand reaches out and I slap it away. He grins.

  My heart hammers in my chest. I want to burst into tears. I want to gouge his eyes out.

  “Usually one of the female officers stays with the girl prisoners when they bathe. But for you, I asked especially. I want to see you—”

  “Private Evans. Get away from her, now.”

  The corner of the ugly man’s mouth turns up. He casts one last look at my body before he stands and turns.

  “Captain,” he says, giving him a lazy, mock salute. “Funny seeing you here. Can I do anything for you?”

  “Leave.”

  The ugly man—Private Evans—strides nonchalantly to him and stops only inches away. “You’ve taken a big interest in this case. I thought you had your hands full with that Campbell woman. But you’re still finding the time to visit this whore. Wonder why that is?”

  “Careful.”

  “Oh, I’m not the one you should be saying that to. In fact, if I were you, I’d follow my own advice.” Private Evans steps past him and chuckles. Right before he leaves, he calls over his shoulder, “There’s a reason you’ve taken a shine to this case. And I’m going to find out what it is.”

  The cell door slams shut. Jace’s expression is pure granite. But for the first time, I see a flicker of movement behind his eyes, shading that wasn’t there before. For the first time, I see something close to vulnerability.

  DEREK

  “They found the bug. Soldiers were at my parent’s house.” I shift the phone from one ear to the other as I stop at the light. I wipe my eyes.

  Sabrina says, “Yikes.”

  “Yeah, I know. I had to hide in my parents’ kitchen.”

  “Jesus. Look, it’s alright. They can’t prove anything. ”

  I make a face. “You're not serious?”

  “I’m here at the house. Meet me, okay?”

  “I’ve got to stop somewhere first. The Corps report said that two devices were confiscated from Mr. King’s office the night he was killed. But a few weeks ago William took about fifteen of them from Mr. King’s house. So if they’re not mentioned in the report—”

  “That means William must still have them.”

  “My thoughts exactly. I’m going to head over and see what I can find.”

  “Be careful.”

  “I will.” I hang up and put the phone on the passenger seat and merge onto the parkway. It takes less than twenty minutes to pull up to William’s.

  <><><>

  The house has a few lights on, but I already know no one is home. Robin is out of town and William is at the office. A quick call and that was easy enough to find out. So the house is empty. As for the security I know protects the building, well, let's say it's amazing what a thousand bucks and a quick call to a friend of a friend can do.

  And all I have to do is punch in 2847 into the security keypad and I'm in.

  The carpet swallows my footsteps and I move through the house without making a sound. I quickly glance in the kitchen and living room as I hurry upstairs. Bedrooms are on either side of me, but it’s the last door on the right where I hit pay dirt: William's office.

  I hurry to his desk. It’s a massive metal and glass creature—it looks like a damn space ship—with dozens of drawers, all locked. I try the laptop. It's on hibernate, so I just have to touch the space bar and it turns on. But when I try to access any documents, a password prompt comes up. Great.

  I stand and walk to the cabinet across from me. No surprise, it's locked. I go to the second. Locked. I go to the closet. Locked. They’ve got to be in here somewhere. It’s the only place they could be.

  I retry the cabinet, hoping to maybe jimmy it open or something, when I notice the window seat. It’s so smoothly, seamlessly built into the frame that I just totally skipped right over it. I hurry to it and lift the lid.

  Bingo. The devices, even the ones that broke, are inside.

  I’m about to grab the box, but then I stop. Every inch of me. Even my breathing. Because that's when I hear it.

  Or should I say, him.

  William.

  VICTORIA

  “I spoke to the judge today.”

  “Good news?” I ask, only half-joking.

  DEREK

  I shut the lid as gently as I can, still wincing when it closes. I hurry to the door, but quickly pull back as I hear him and another person begin to ascend the stairs. I go back in the office and immediately regret it. Trapped. The footsteps are getting louder. I move to the desk but I can't hide beneath it. The bottom is open. I go to the closet, but no surprise there, the handle still doesn’t turn. I think about trying to squeeze myself into the window seat but with the box in there, there’s just no room.

  Christ.

  I look around, frantic. The windows.

  The first window is lock or stuck. It won’t budge. The second window is the same. God, are these just for decoration? I rush over to the large bay window behind William’s desk. It opens easily, thank God, and I step through. But the ledge isn’t as big as I first thought, certainly not wide enough for even the ball of my foot to rest on. My body pitches forward and I fall into nothing but darkness.

  VICTORIA

  “She reviewed the case file. She’s scheduled your trial. It’s tomorrow.”

  DEREK

  I grab the ledge just in time, but a stone slices part of my forearm and palm wide open. It’s agony to hang on with my injured hand, but the alternative is even worse. My muscles are screaming and my face is scrunched tight. Blood is racing down my arm, into my shirt. I'm about two stories off the ground, maybe even higher. I readjust my grip on the brick and try to get some traction with my feet but there's only the thinnest strip of brick. I can barely dig the front of my shoes in. Sweat pops out on my forehead.

  There's noise in the room. Footsteps. Someone setting something down. No one is coming to the window though. Or at least, I don't think so. No one gasps and screams that there’s a guy dangling from the ledge.

  “What do you have for me?”

  William's voice. Something heavy lands on his desk. Maybe another device? There's quiet, and then William says, “Is this the last of it?”

  “Yes. The office is clear.”

  Another sound: a chair rolling out on wood and then the squeak as someone sits. The blood is making my grip slip. My fingers are killing me. I adjust my hands once more and stifle a groan.

  William's voice travels down to me
, “And the case?”

  “The Corps is cooperating. They're keeping things quiet, off the radios. No one in the press is talking, either. So far, leaks are plugged.”

  “And that captain?”

  A small pause. “Occupied. That Campbell case is taking a lot of his time. Apparently, he was close to the victim. Plus, there was a scene at the Steel Tower the other day. He's, uh...he's in a bit of his own hot water.”

  “Keep an eye on him. Let our people in the department know to continue watching. I want to know his strategy, and if it changes.”

  “Understood.”

  Sweat is pouring down my back. My arms are stretched taut. Even my stomach feels like I'm on some medieval rack and I'm being pulled to the point of breaking. I grit my teeth.

  “Sir,” the other voice asks, “I followed up about the files. I have a guy in place. He's ready when you're ready.”

  A pause.

  “My sister?”

  “Coping.”

  A small stone is digging into my ring finger. I try to bend my arms and hoist myself up a little, but they’re already so taxed. They feel like rubber. I'm no weakling, but my hand is throbbing from the cut and the ledge just isn't wide enough. My fingers are slipping. I adjust my hold again.

  “And the money?”

  “Ten million was moved today. Another ten will be deposited by the end of the week.”

  “Any suspicions?”

  “None that I know of or am aware of. People seem—”

  The other guy never finishes. A bell begins to go off. No, not a bell, a sort of chime. No, not a chime, a cell phone ringing. My eyes widen. My cell phone ringing. Both men above me go silent. I hear movement though. I see a shadow begin to stretch and loom above me. I have no choice.

  I let go of the window ledge.

  VICTORIA

  I have no choice. I let go of the ledge. My head goes beneath the soapy water. I squeeze my eyes shut but they burn anyway. Rough hands pick me up. I gasp. This is not like before, the first time they washed me. I am not shocked. I struggle. My fingers curl around the edge of the tub, but the basin is slimy and slippery and I can't keep my grip. I beg.

  If I'm clean, I have to get dressed.

  If I'm clean, I go to trial.

  If I'm clean, I die.

  I struggle.

  I open my mouth.

  The water swallows my scream.

  DEREK

  I stifle a scream as I land in a tall shrub and roll to the grass. My elbow hits hard and I curl myself into a tight ball. My head feels like it's going to pop because I can't breathe or scream. My ankle is definitely twisted or sprained. I didn't hear a crunch though, so I'm hoping to God it's not broken, though I know it very well could be fractured.

  I look up. William and the man he was talking to are standing at the window and, because the light is on behind them, I can only see the silhouette of them. The other guy is about William's height, but that's about all I can tell.

  My leg and left hand are throbbing. I grab the edge of my t-shirt with my bloody hand and squeeze it in a tight ball to staunch some of the blood. I'm still not breathing right, but I force myself to keep quiet.

  The guy beside William says, “Maybe someone dropped their phone earlier? Or someone just walked by?”

  “Go outside,” he says. “Check the grounds.”

  The guy leaves without any more instruction. That's my cue. I wait until William leaves the window and I force myself up. I clamp my teeth down so hard that I can hear them grind against each other. I gingerly but quickly move out from the shrubs. I half-limp, half-run from the house, constantly looking over my shoulder for the other guy. I don't see him. I pick up the pace, jumping at this point because it's so painful to put weight on my ankle. I’m nowhere near my car, having purposely parked it far away just in case some neighbor happened to look out their window, and I curse a blue streak at myself.

  “Shit,” I mutter as a wave of pain nearly doubles me over. But then I hear a noise. As I see what it is, I swear again. The man from William’s house is at the top of the street.

  DEREK

  I crouch down fast—too fast. Black dots appear in my vision as excruciating pain shoots up my leg. I clamp my teeth together to keep a scream at bay. Quick as I can, I duck behind a pickup truck. I peer over it. The guy is closer now, looks left and right, then begins to cross the street to my side.

  Shit.

  Just as he steps from the curb, I roll myself beneath the truck. I hear his footsteps scrape the asphalt as he comes closer. And that’s when I realize my second problem. The guy is coming from the crest of the hill. He'll be able to see me lying beneath the truck.

  I grab a bar above my head and brace my feet against the body. I hoist myself up, clenching my teeth to keep from screaming. The gash in my arm seems to widen and tear with the pressure it takes to keep myself up, and my leg feels like the bones are grinding to dust as I have to push them against the truck to keep still. But I can't let go. Too late now.

  The guy is right beside me.

  I see his feet and a bit of his pants as he walks past the truck. My whole body is a live wire as I wait for him to suddenly drop to the ground and say Gotcha! I readjust my hold. My abs are on fire. I focus on breathing as softly and lightly as I can.

  A cell phone rings. Blessedly, not mine. I hear a guy say, “No, no one’s out here. I checked around the house. I’m on the street now. Uh huh. Uh huh. Yeah. Okay.”

  I hold my breath as he leans against the bed of the truck, almost causing me to lose my footing.

  Please, please, please. Walk away. Go. Walk away.

  Blood is racing, rushing, down my arm. It begins to puddle beneath me...and meander right to the curb where the guy is standing. My eyes widen as I watch it creep closer and closer to his shoes. I stop breathing. Oh shit. A thousand maybes run through my mind. Maybe the asphalt is dark enough and he won’t notice. Maybe he’ll go away now. Maybe he’ll notice, find me, beat me to a pulp, and throw me in a cell right next to Victoria. Maybe he won’t even bother. Maybe he’ll just take me back to William’s so he can throttle me to death.

  My body is on fire, shaking and shuddering. But I can't let go. If he does start walking away and for some reason looks back, I won't have time to hoist myself up again. The time or the strength. A spasm in my neck makes me want to throw up.

  An eternity passes. Finally, the guy sighs. Finally, he stands up straight. Finally, he walks away, and he doesn't look back.

  <><><>

  I take my cell phone from my pocket. My voice is a whisper. “Sabrina, it's me.”

  “Hey. I just tried to call you.”

  “I know.” I hiss and grimace and bite down a yell. Everything is killing me. “Can you pick me up? I'm in a bit of trouble.”

  “Trouble? Won’t the car start?”

  “No, it’s not car trouble. I sort of fell from a bit of a distance and, uh, anyway, can you come pick me up?”

  “Okay. Be there in twenty.”

  I nod and take a tremulous breath. I wipe the sweat from my face. “Sabrina, see if you can make it ten.”

  VICTORIA

  I don’t smell anymore. My skin is rubbed red. The women dump the water in the corner of the cell and the pile of hay flattens to the ground. They leave without looking back.

  My nails are black as I dig through the mud. A worm gets stuck to my skin. Squishing noises fill the cell.

  Finally, I find it.

  DEREK

  Sabrina is on the floor in front of me, my ankle in her hands. It's bruised and swollen and ugly—exactly what I had expected it would look like.

  “Don't worry. It's not broken, just sprained.”

  She grimaces. “Oh God. Do you need a splint?”

  “I have a brace. But I need you to help me set it.”

  “What do I do?”

  Now it’s my turn to make a face. “Take my ankle in both hands. When I count to three, pull as hard as you can.”

 
“Oh God.” Sabrina bows her head and breathes deep once, twice. “Derek, oh my God. Please don't ask me to do that.”

  “Come on. You'll be fine.” When she shakes her head, I tease, “You can break Tim Sharky’s arm but you can't help me reset my ankle?”

  “I didn't break his arm. And besides, that was different. I wanted to hurt him. I don't want to hurt you. And I know that this will.”

  “It'll hurt me more if I don't deal with it now. Come on, Sabrina. We can do this.” I brace myself and breathe out. “On three. One. Two. Wait, wait, wait!”

  “What?” she yells.

  “Just…hold on.” I shut my eyes. I breathe in deep several times, mentally bracing myself, telling the part of me that really does not want her to do this that she must do this, because it’ll be far worse and much more painful if she doesn’t. “Okay.” I open my eyes and lick my dry lips, mustering as much determination as I can. “One. Two. Three!”

  She pulls hard in one direction while I pull in another. I try to stifle a scream, but a strangled gasp comes out anyway. I shudder from the pain. But I fight through it. I put the brace on as fast as possible. When I have it tightened, I finally breathe a sigh of relief. It still hurts like hell, but the pain has lessened. It's about a thousand instead of a million watts of horror. I immediately stack ice bags all over it.

  Sabrina rises from the floor and sits across from me. “Oh my God. How bad did that hurt?”

  “On a scale of one to out-of-body-experience, take a guess.”

  “Yeah. Alright, so tell me what happened.”

  I start from the beginning, working on the cuts on my arm and hand while I talk. Sabrina listens without interruption. She doesn't take her eyes off me. My palm needs stitches, and it’s awkward and takes me a million years, but I finally sew myself up. I clean out my wounds, grimacing, gritting my teeth—there are actually times I shiver because it hurts so bad—but I get the story out. When I am done, Sabrina doesn't say a word. I lean back. We wait in, well, not comfortable silence. I’m still sore as hell. But it’s not an awkward silence.