The Mistaken

by Nancy S Thompson

  “Tyler, my friend, we have all been waiting anxiously for you to call.”

  I stopped dead in my tracks just outside the motel room door, my heart lodged high up in my throat.

  “Alexi? What the hell are you doing with Nick’s phone? Where’s my brother?”

  “Oh, why the rush? It has been longer than expected since we last spoke, has it not?” he asked, his meaning implicit.

  “Where’s Nick?”

  “Ah, not to worry. He is out with some of my boys, handling a few errands. You know how it is, do you not?”

  “No, actually, I don’t. Why do you have his phone?”

  As Alexi laughed, I pictured the same pompous grin he always wore. Hannah poked her head out from behind the window curtains and looked at me questioningly. She opened the door with the same expression. I walked through with my finger pressed to my lips, requesting silence.

  “Tyler, as you may already know, Nick has been trying quite valiantly to arbitrate our deal, the one we shook hands on weeks ago, the same one I told you could not be renegotiated.” Agitation crept into his usually calm voice. “You know Dmitri has promised the merchandise to a very important client, one who has already paid us, and rather handsomely. I was quite pleased to see Nick return, but disappointed when he said you were…delayed. You could have easily delivered the girl by now, yet you make us all wait in anticipation.” He paused and sighed impatiently. “So I feel you might need some…reinforcement, so to speak, to compel you to complete our transaction.”

  I closed my eyes, my blood running cold. “Meaning?” I asked, only too aware that Hannah was listening.

  “I think you know already, don’t you, my friend?” Alexi laughed again. “Yes, of course you do. When you are ready, we will make a trade. Nick for the girl.”

  He disconnected the call.

  I sank onto the edge of the bed, the shock settling into my already overloaded brain.

  “Well? Who was that?” Hannah asked. “Your brother?” She watched me closely, waiting for an explanation.

  I could barely muster a blank stare in return. I couldn’t let her know what had happened. She’d freak. I had to play like nothing much had changed yet. I broke away and moved to the table where I placed the bag.

  “Um…yeah. That was Nick. He’s, um… He’s…taking care of things.” I removed the six-pack, grabbed a bottle, and cracked it open, draining it in one long pull.

  Hannah shot me an uncomfortable look. “You think that’s a good idea?” she asked.

  I sighed in blessed relief then said, “Well, if you’d like me fully functioning, then yes, it’s a grand idea.”

  I pulled out another bottle, popped the cap, and held it out to her. Hannah declined with a shake of her head. I wiggled the bottle and smiled at her, knowing it would elicit some kind of response.

  “Oh come on,” I said, “it’s just one six-pack between the two of us. I insist...please.”

  Surprisingly, she accepted the bottle, returned my smile, and took a sip to appease me. I sat down at the small table and patted the chair next to me. Hannah, though somewhat reluctant, joined me. I pulled everything out of the bag, except for the vodka, and placed it on the table. I selected a deck of cards from the stash and shuffled.

  “Care for a game of poker or maybe twenty-one?” I asked. “Rummy? Go Fish? Old Maid?”

  I fanned the cards in front of her, my very best smile, however false, plastered upon my face. I wasn’t above manipulating her as I needed. I was turning over all the implications of Nick’s predicament while still trying to remain calm for Hannah’s sake.

  Hannah snorted in resignation. “Sure, how about some poker?” she said and smiled. It was pure and genuine and changed her entire face, lighting it up from the inside out. I was captivated by how lovely she looked when she appeared relaxed and happy. I found it difficult to take my eyes from her face and the sudden spark in her bright green eyes.

  “What?” she asked when I continued to stare.

  “Nothing. Let’s play.”

  Though I was distracted by Alexi’s ultimatum, I tried to concentrate on the cards and relax with Hannah for a while. We played several hands of Texas Hold’em, wagering outlandish bets with the goldfish crackers I’d bought. She was quite the card shark and hustled me out of every goldfish I possessed. We shared a sandwich and chips and washed it all down with the beer. Hannah was enchanting when she loosened up. While I hoped it was my charming company, I realized it was most likely just the alcohol.

  Much to my surprise, I enjoyed playing cards with her, even with all the worrying about Nick and what I was going to do to get him back without giving up Hannah. After three beers, I caught her staring at me. With a bashful smile, she turned away. If I didn’t know any better, I would say it almost felt like flirting, but again, it was probably just the beer. She was getting very tired. Her eyes drooped and her attention slipped away.

  “You look wiped, Hannah. You should probably get some sleep,” I said, though I hardly wanted to let her go yet. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up and hit the sack? I’ll be over on my side of the room all night, I swear.” I raised my hand and crossed my heart.

  She offered me an anemic smile then headed off to the bathroom. I cleaned up the table and spread the map out to examine. Hannah came out of the bathroom, dressed in sweats, and climbed into bed.

  “You know, the car has a GPS,” she offered.

  “Yeah, I know. I just need to get a clear idea of where we’re going in my head,” I said as I tapped my temple. “I’m kind of a Luddite, I guess.”

  She twisted her lips into a semblance of a smile. “Oh, well, goodnight then,” she added.

  “G’night,” I replied.

  She lay down and turned away from me. I sat there for a long while, staring at her back. When I thought she’d relaxed into sleep, I spoke out softly.

  “I’m very sorry, Hannah. For today. For everything.” It was no more than a whisper, spoken more for me than for her, but after a moment, I heard her respond.

  “Okay.”

  It was just one word, but it was like being pierced through the heart. One bittersweet, heartbreaking moment that underscored the differences between us. She had the ability to be compassionate, to forgive even the most unforgivable offense. As much as I needed to believe that she might actually forgive me, it nearly destroyed me that she genuinely seemed willing to do so, because I certainly was not worth forgiving.

  When I heard her even, steady breathing and knew she was asleep, I pulled out the bottle of vodka, not so much because I needed it to calm my nerves or chase away the ghosts, but more because I felt contemptible and beneath Hannah’s company. I couldn’t keep the tears from stinging the backs of my eyes as I poured glass after glass, feeling the Devil fill my soul.

  This time, the hate and rage were not directed toward someone else, but at myself, where it truly and ultimately belonged.

  ~

  I paced the floor for a couple hours, trying to come up with a plan to save both Nick and Hannah. I spent more than a small amount of time propped up against the wall watching her, studying her face, so beautiful, so peaceful in sleep. I knew I shouldn’t be watching her without her knowledge, but I missed having that kind of beauty near me. Having it so close, yet knowing it was not mine was a bitter pill, but I felt as if I’d been pulled back through time, back to when Jillian was still alive. I was unbearably lonely, and, at that moment, Hannah filled me in ways Jillian once had. It was difficult to turn away from something as alluring as that. With all the turmoil inside me, it was calming to just sit and stare at her.

  Eventually, I closed my eyes in the darkness, leaned my head back against the wall, and, for the first time in more days than I could count, I fell asleep. It seemed like only seconds later when Hannah cried out. I was on my feet and at her side in a heartbeat. I tried to wake her with a gentle tap, but she continued to thrash about in her sleep. It took a long moment for her to come fully awake, and when she
did, she screamed and pushed away from me.

  “No. Get away. Don’t touch me!” she wailed.

  I jumped back with my hands raised. “Whoa! Easy now. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  She sat up and pressed herself back against the headboard, her eyes wild and confused.

  “Hannah, it was just a dream. It’s okay. You’re safe.”

  She looked at me, mistrust pulsating with every ragged heartbeat. It took great effort for her to suppress her fear. Both hands trembled as she raised them to her mouth.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay.”

  It felt like if she said it enough times, she might actually believe it. She eventually calmed down enough to lie back in bed, turning away from me once more. It took a great deal more time before she relaxed enough to fall back to sleep. The whole time, I sat at the small table, my eyes fixed on her back. My head felt ready to explode with renewed throbbing. I was completely exhausted, running on nothing but fumes.

  When I finally heard Hannah breathing slowly and evenly again, I poured myself one more glass and pulled out the vial of OxyContin. I slipped a tiny pill into my mouth and washed it down with the vodka. I closed my eyes, laid my head in my arms on the table, and waited for the world to mercifully disappear.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Hannah

  A gentle tapping on my shoulder urged me awake. The weight of someone pushed down on the edge of the bed beside me. The fog of sleep that lingered heavily in my brain dissipated as if a strong wind had blown through. My eyes flew open and searched through the darkness.

  Tyler was sitting next to me, looking distressed with his finger pressed up to his lips, asking me to keep silent. He had the gun in his hand with the barrel raised up as he pointed toward the door. I was instantly alert and on edge.

  “Gather your things quickly and put your shoes on,” he whispered then stood and backed away.

  With my heart thumping, I slid out of bed. I tried to be soundless while the panic rose inside me. I stuffed my few belongings into my bag then searched for my shoes. From the window, I glimpsed a thin shaft of light as it knifed through the gap in the draperies. It shimmered onto a clear bottle standing empty on the table, refracting into a kaleidoscope of colors.

  My attention flew to Tyler. He stood near the door with his back pushed up against the wall. He caught me studying him, and I knew the moment he closed his eyes against me that he’d been drinking, and heavily. The hairs on my neck and limbs stood at attention, like tiny needles piercing my skin from the inside out. It was a warning, a neon sign buzzing with electricity, glowing red in the black of night. How could Tyler protect me if he was drunk? I took several calming breaths and crammed my feet into my shoes without untying them.

  The front door knob rattled. Someone was trying to enter. Ty backed away in my direction and pushed me toward the rear of the room. With a sudden blast, the door exploded inward. A man dressed in black stood silhouetted in the light pouring through splintered frame. He held a gun in his hand and lowered it in our direction. There was a quick flash and a muted thwack as dust exploded from the wall near my head.

  “Hannah, get down!” Ty screamed as he pushed me to the floor.

  Explosions of light and sound were tossed back and forth, an exchange of bullets between the gunman and Ty. Tyler fell back on top of me, his gun still raised in his hand. Then the gunfire ended, as quickly as it began. A sulphurous odor weighed heavily in the wispy cloud of gun smoke hovering in the air.

  Tyler jumped to his feet, his weapon trained on the intruder’s head. He stood over the wounded stranger who moaned and writhed on the floor. Ty kicked the gun from his hand then picked it up, holding it up to the light streaming through the open doorway. The shape was abnormally long, as if it had a silencer attached to the barrel. A sure sign this was no simple robbery. The intruder struggled to his knees, blood dribbling from his mouth as he cursed in a foreign language. Tyler took a step back and pointed the gunman’s own weapon at his head.

  “Don’t do it,” he warned, though the gun trembled in his hand.

  The man pulled a knife from his boot and surged forward in a quick blur. Ty jumped back, turned his head, and fired a single round, all in the same instant.

  A red mist sprayed onto the wall behind the intruder while a small trickle of blood oozed from his forehead. He fell over onto his side, his body convulsing in jerky spasms. Brain matter lay in globs amid the torrent of blood draining from the back of his head, staining the tattered carpet beneath him.

  I gasped at the sight of the man being killed, though I knew in all likelihood he had come looking for me. Ty, who was strangely calm, turned to face me. He met my terrified gaze and ordered me to grab my things. We both charged around the room, picking up our meager belongings. Stepping over the body of the now dead gunman, we dashed out the door and scrambled into the BMW. The tires screeched as we retreated from the motel parking lot, heading south onto the darkened highway.

  Though we were both breathing heavily as we made our escape, we remained otherwise silent. My body hummed, my muscles charged as if a current buzzed through me. I began to shake all over. I clasped my hands tight between my knees and breathed in deep through my nose and out through my mouth. Tyler was still as a starfish. For a while, the adrenaline kept him focused on the dark and winding road ahead, but as time distanced us from the ugly scene we’d left behind, his driving became erratic. He groaned in pain, wincing as he ran his hand over his right shoulder.

  “Oh my God, Ty. Are you hurt?” I asked, frightened at the possibility. “Pull over! Pull over right now!”

  “No, I’m fine. We can’t afford to slow down now.” His eyes rocked back and forth between the road and the rear view mirror. “I don’t know who else might be behind us.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, it won’t matter who’s behind us if we crash. Now pull over.” I was alarmed at the difficulty he had controlling the car, and terrified that he might be more seriously injured than he was letting on. “Tyler, please.”

  He relented and took the next turnoff, checking the mirrors for anyone who might be pursuing us. Satisfied that no one followed, he turned right and drove down an isolated roadway for several miles until I urged him to stop. Finally, he pulled over and cut the engine.

  “Do you need help getting out?” I asked as I climbed from the car and headed for the trunk.

  He didn’t answer, just climbed out on his own, though he drew in a deep breath and clenched teeth.

  “Come back here so I can take a look,” I ordered. I opened the small toolbox built into the trunk lid and pulled out a flashlight. Ty’s leather jacket was torn and stained near his shoulder. “Okay, let’s get that coat off you.”

  He grunted and grimaced as I pulled the jacket away from the injured area. When it was free, I threw it into the trunk and reached for the first-aid kit.

  I grabbed some gauze pads and alcohol. “Your shirt, too,” I added.

  He eased out of his shirt gingerly. I gasped when I saw the claw marks crisscrossing his chest and trailing over both shoulders onto his back. Swallowing hard, I ignored the damage I’d inflicted the day before and examined the new wound on his arm. I moaned in distaste, sickened by the gore. It was ugly and bleeding more than I was comfortable with, but it appeared to be only a flesh wound, the bullet tearing clean through. As I cleansed it with the alcohol, I looked hard into his eyes.

  “What were you thinking back there, drinking that entire bottle of vodka? I’m depending on you to keep me alive and out of the hands of those men, as promised,” I stressed, pulling tightly on a strip of gauze I had wrapped around his injured arm.

  He winced and reached for his shoulder. “Ouch, that hurt.”

  “I can’t count on you if you’re drunk, Tyler. You need to pull yourself together, for God’s sake.”

  He looked at me sheepishly, but his chin jutted outward. “I think I did all right back there, all things considered,�
�� he replied as he pulled his shirt back on.

  “We were lucky and you know it,” I threw his jacket back into his face.

  A small bottle fell out of one the pockets and rolled along the ground. Its contents rattled inside the plastic container. I bent down and picked it up, examining the label in the light of the trunk.

  I sucked in a large breath. “OxyContin?” I hurled the bottle at his head. “My God, pills and booze? What the hell is wrong with you?”

  He looked down and bit his lower lip. I packed everything back up and walked to the driver’s side where I turned back to Tyler.

  “Hannah, please, let me expl—”

  I cut him off with a raised hand. “Just shut the hell up, Tyler, and get back in the goddamn car.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Hannah

  I found my way back to the highway and turned south toward California. The eastern sky was just beginning to brighten as the sun started its lazy ascent. Tyler laid his head back against the seat with an exhausted sigh and turned his face away from me.

  “Hannah, I’m sorry. I know you find it hard to understand. I don’t have a good explanation for you. I can only tell you that, after Jill died, I just…couldn’t handle it. The loneliness, the grief, it overwhelmed me, and I retreated, into myself, into the darkness of my own head.”

  He paused for a long moment. I had never heard anyone sound so tired.

  “Nick understood what I was going through. Only too well. I don’t think he could stand to see me suffer, so he offered me the only thing that ever worked for him. He brought me a bag filled with bottles of alcohol, and we sat around the house, drinking, day after day. It dulled the pain enough that I could go for moments at a time without remembering why I was even drinking in the first place.”