There had been a few wild days and nights—one in particular where Trent, Evan, and I managed all kinds of trouble we couldn’t quite remember by morning. The mess had taken days to clean up, and the following week, the blonde who Evan had been seeing decided to return his missing boxers—not that he ever noticed they were gone.
Probably twenty minutes went by before either I or Katie spoke again.
“I have to get to work,” Katie said. “Evan dropped Jack off with the babysitter on his way to make sure you could get some sleep.”
“I don’t mean to put you two out.” Any more guilt and I was certain the scar on my side would collapse from the weight on my chest and let everything spill out. Even my hands tingled with the uneasy feeling that something was about to escape.
Two parts of myself waged a war within my skin—the problem was, I wasn’t sure if the two parts were even distinct. No longer able to separate needs, desires, guilt, truth, or facades, I didn’t know which side I wanted to win.
Or if they both actually existed.
What if I didn’t really exist anymore?
Just the leftover shadow conscious, still trying to control a body that no longer belonged to me.
Katie stood, squeezing my shoulder as she passed. My already tense muscles reacted in sharp protest against the intrusion, but she paused, then moved behind me to squeeze both shoulders.
My head rolled forward, as she pressed the muscles beneath her small fingers. “She’ll come around,” she promised again.
“You said that last night. I’m still not sure if I take comfort in that possibility.” I jerked as she hit a particularly sore muscle.
“I’ve known you for years, hun. I was there for the pranks, when you stood up as Evan’s best man at our wedding, when you and Trent made detective, when you were making rush preparations to go under cover. And I know the story behind that damn snake.”
My eyes flickered to the tattoo. The black ink stretched around my arm, a coil of tribal markings. As kids, my sister and I spent a lot of time at our grandpa’s house—for me that usually consisted of hiking through the woods. He had a fond appreciation for his slithering neighbors and taught us how to identify them—especially how to tell if one was poisonous. We found a few snake skins over the years, and he explained how a snake shed off its outer layer when it grew too big to fit inside. He also told us that if a snake couldn’t shed for some reason, it’d be suffocated by its own dead skin.
I never really wanted to see if it was true. After losing my sister and then my parents, I got the tattoo as a reminder to keep going forward. That if I didn’t let change happen, I too would suffocate in my own skin.
At the moment, that’s exactly how I felt—itchy, irritable, and too big for my own skin.
Katie found another sore muscle and I grunted. My body was just as unhappy with the violent workout I’d imposed as it was with the alcohol.
“And if I thought you were capable of ever hurting her, I sure as hell wouldn’t let you around my son.”
“You don’t know what I did, Kate.”
She leaned around to see my face. “I don’t need to. I do know everything I need to know—and deep down, so do you.”
With a pat to the back of my head, I heard her footsteps heading toward the front of the house. “Your phone is on the charger—you left it in the car last night—and your car is in the drive. Make sure you eat something.”
“Thanks, mom.”
My headache significantly lessened, I thought about checking out the classifieds for my own place, though I hesitated to admit, I wasn’t sure what I’d do with myself in an empty apartment.
I’d been around so many people for so long, I thought I’d relish quiet solitude when I had it again, but it only made me stir-crazy—just like everything else.
I fixed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich—the only thing I had the patience for—before settling down in the living room and turning on the television.
By afternoon I had dozed off, sleeping off the remaining grog of the hangover. When the doorbell rang, I jumped off the couch, nearly crashing into the coffee table before I caught my balance.
“Fuck,” I muttered. My fingers rubbed against my stubble covered chin. It was no wonder Rose had kicked me out—though my unkempt appearance was probably the least of her worries.
Pushing aside the crème colored curtains that lined the window next to the door, I saw Trent standing on the porch, in full detective attire.
“Did I miss something?” I asked glancing at my quiet phone laying on the charging station.
“I figured this news I had better give in person.”
My stomach twisted so hard I grabbed the doorframe.
Trent put his steadying hands on my shoulders. “Rose really is absolutely fine. She went home this morning. We found Alley.”
I reached for my phone and keys. She couldn’t be in great shape after everything that happened with Rose, but I was determined to find out what on earth she’d been thinking.
“Easy, James. Captain Richards wants you to stand down for a few days.”
“Stand down? Why? I’m perfectly capable—”
“And you need to let me finish. She was found this morning after she overdosed on heroin.”
Heroin. The world slowed to an agonizingly slow pace again, creeping around me and stealing my thoughts like burglars in the middle of the night. “What—she didn’t make it?”
“No, dead on arrival. They don’t think there was ever a chance of resuscitating her.”
Oh God, I leaned against the stair railing, searching for any smidgen of equilibrium. “I need to tell Miles.”
“The feds will flip if he backs out of everything.”
That was the least of my worries. “We can’t just lie to him, Trent. I won’t. I don’t think he’ll back out.”
“If you’re wrong—”
“Then you plead ignorance and I’ll take the blame. Does Rose know yet?”
“No, I’m going over there to tell her next.”
I turned to the door, just to keep from facing him. I didn’t know what I was capable of—or even thinking at the moment. I wanted nothing more than to be there for her, but it was the last thing she wanted, obviously. “I’m going to talk to Miles.”
Giving Trent no choice, I stepped out and waited for him to follow so I could lock up the house.
I sat in the parking lot for nearly thirty minutes before I had the guts to even climb out and head up to the facility where Miles was being held. In between every two steps I considered turning back. Wished I had better news. Pleaded for alternative or a mistake.
But I knew there wasn’t a mistake. Rose was probably getting the news right now. My fingers pressed into my palms until even my short nails dug into skin. I had to wait another twenty minutes while I got checked in and they moved Miles to a room where we could talk.
Pacing through the hallway did nothing to calm my nerves—and it probably didn’t ease the concerns of any of the guards or staff either, so I finally dropped into one of the plastic chairs.
“Detective Carter,” a guard stepped around the corner and waved for me to follow. He opened the large door at the end of the hall, and I stepped inside.
“I was beginning to wonder if you’d forgotten,” Miles said.
“No. I’m back to work, so we’ve been working on it all day, every day for the last week.” I slid into the chair across from him, flattening my palms against the table. I couldn’t even make eye contact—it was the first time I’d ever been in one of these rooms and not been able to face the person sitting across from me.
“You found her,” Miles said. His voice was thick with the realization of what I was about to say.
“Friday night, she broke into Rose’s house—”
Miles grunted and twisted in his seat, the sound of the metal legs against the concrete floor rang through the room.
“She shot Rose, through the shoulder—” I motioned to my own a
rm since I didn’t have the words to adequately describe anything. “Rose is going to be okay, but Alley was found this morning. She’d overdosed on heroin.”
I finally lifted my eyes off the table to examine Miles expression since he wasn’t talking and seemed to have frozen into a statue in his seat.
“Why?” He finally said after minutes of silence. “Why would she come after Rose?”
“Rose said she was upset... about losing you. She blamed me, took it out on Rose. I’d assume that Alley was already using, probably high when she—”
“Stop,” Miles said, jerking back in his seat.
“I’m sorry.”
He shook his head, picking at his fingernails, the chain around his wrist, and then pieces of his clothing before looking up again. “It’s not your damn fault.”
“I wanted to be the one to find her. I wanted her—”
“I know, James.”
My own name sounded foreign coming out of his mouth and the way his name twisted after saying it told me he felt the same.
“You’re a damn good actor,” he said. “But not that good. I always knew you weren’t like everyone else. I pulled you to the top, not because I wanted to see the place fall, but because I wanted more control over what the place became. And I knew you could make it happen. I was sick of seeing scum like Gabe get everything they wanted.”
“Why work at a sex retreat at all?”
“Never told you that one, did I?” He eyed me for a moment, then looked away, turning so he sat sideways facing the brick wall beside us. “I was recruited by Milo—when I was eight and he killed my mom.”
Eight. Miles was older than me by a few years, but that meant that he’d been with Milo for nearly thirty years.
“My mom was one of his first,” Miles continued. “I saw this shit for as long as I can remember, but he never fully trusted me—and for good reason I reckon. I was usually left with the slaves. There weren’t exactly many people my age around. I was fourteen when he invited me to my first ‘business dinner’.”
He stared down at the shackle on his arm. “Always knew eventually I’d end up here. Figured this would be a fitting end—although it’s slightly poetic that I’m sitting here talking to the enemy.”
“I don’t like being your enemy.”
“Nah.” He sat back, straightening his legs. “I don’t much like it either, but at the moment it is what it is. I’m a felon, you’re a cop.”
With his hand clasped over his mouth, he stared off—his eyes distant and glassy. “Didn’t think I was genuinely capable of caring for someone until Alley. Considering everything I continued to put her through, I’m still not sure.”
My chest buzzed as if I’d inhaled a swarm of bees.
Miles turned back to me. “When you see your girl, take her some chocolate,” he said, with a glint in his eye. He’d been the one to bring her chocolate cake after Gabe attacked her. He said that Alley informed him that it fixed everything—but it didn’t and it certainly couldn’t fix this.
“She told me to stay away.”
“I’m sure she did.” He shook his head, twisting to face me again. “Do you love her?”
“We don’t even know each other.”
“That’s not true—you know each other better than anyone can. Most people see the good, the façade people want them to see. But you’ve seen each other at your worst. Stripped of ego, in a place where nearly anything goes.” He leaned over the table, clasping his hands together. “When did she find out who you really are?”
“Gabe,” I whispered, “Gabe figured it out—told her when they attacked her.”
Miles stiffened, searching my eyes until his own widened in understanding. “She killed for you.”
The realization I didn’t want to hear aloud from someone else’s mouth. I picked at a fraying patch on the leg of my jeans. “She killed for us. She did what I couldn’t.”
“Promise to buy her some chocolate, and our deal is still on. It’s still for Alley,” he clarified after a moment. “I’ll testify that it was Milo, give you all of the information you want—although, now that I’m locked up here, I don’t have much on current affairs. Not that I’m complaining—the food here is a smidge better,” he winked.
“Guess I can keep my job, then.”
Miles snorted. “Once again they don’t know you’re here. Do you ever do anything you’re told?”
I scratched the back of my head. “Often as I stay in trouble, I’d say no.”
From my car, I reported the conversation back to Trent—who also informed me that Richards was serious about me taking time off and if I showed my face at the station before my three days were up, he’d suspend me rather than forcing me to take even more time off with pay.
I laid in bed, unable to sleep. After ruling out another night of heavy drinking—I did have a couple of beers with Evan, but long after everyone went to sleep, I was still trying to work everything out.
I wanted a solid answer—why Alley had gone after Rose, how she’d known where to find her, and who the hell was supplying her with heroin.
Ticking off each question and possible turn in the investigation I kept myself up well past midnight, until my phone jerked me out of my mental prison and into tense reality.
It wasn’t a number I had programmed into my phone.
“Hello.” I may have been awake, but it was the middle of the night and my body felt like sludge.
A strangled sob came through the phone and I bolted upright. “Hello? Are you okay?”
“No.” The voice was female, quivering, light, and stripped raw. I would have known it anywhere, and I wasn’t sure if it was a positive sign that I’d immediately know her voice in its worst state.
My chest pulsed until the twinging sensation filled my body, pushing out all of the rational and methodical thought I’d held onto earlier. “Rose?”
“I’m sorry.” I heard her choke back her cries.
I turned on the bedside light and stared at it until the burn in my eyes faded. “What can I do for you?” I didn’t know what to say. What she wanted. What the hell the middle of the night call was supposed to mean. And I was afraid to read too much into it.
“Talk.... Say anything... Just... She’s dead.”
Rustled sounds filled the phone as I leaned forward against my knees. “I know,” I whispered. “Take a breath, Rose.”
Her audible gasps slowed, but only slightly. “I’m sorry for what I said to you.”
“I get it. You needed to speak your mind. I’m glad you did and I’m glad you called.”
Aside from her sniffles and muffled sobs, the phone went quiet. My chest ached with how bad I wanted to be with her. The need to erase the tears, take away the bad emotions. I’d arranged for her meeting with Alley.
Alley could win nearly anyone over, and I figured if anyone could help Rose find a way to make it through, Alley could do it. She wasn’t like the other girls—not conniving, she was obedient to Miles, but not broken either. Miles had seen to that.
Whether we wanted it or not, those days were permanently etched within us. The heartbreak continued long after we saw our last days within the walls of the Retreat. Dr. Combs was right—healing wasn’t so much about cutting it off and letting it die. We could do that, but the phantom of it would always be there.
We had another option—more difficult and possibly more haunting—to rectify the jumbled messes inside of us. To work with what we had, and try to find a way to build something positive out of it.
“Are you okay?” I asked. I knew her answer, but it was the only thing I could think of to say to get her talking again.
“No,” she said without pause or explanation.
“Will you be okay long enough for me to get dressed and drive there?” It was a long shot, but I threw it all out there, giving her the opportunity to shoot me down and tell me where to shove my need for her. I waited for it.
“I—”
My chest seized. Second
s drew out until I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
“I can be.”
The vice grip around my chest loosened and I nearly fell back on the bed in relief.
Within fifteen minutes, her house was in sight. I took a breath steadying myself, my nerves were far worse than they’d ever been on any first date—or even a stakeout. I considered sitting in my car to give myself a moment to catch the thoughts weaving in an endless race through my mind.
I noticed movement in the dark house, and by the time I climbed out of the car and made it to the porch, she had the front door open. Her eyes were puffy, bloodshot and circled in pink—like a miscolored raccoon costume gone terribly wrong. She hugged her right arm against herself, her eyes jumped, darting past me, and taking in the dark street.
“Easy, honey,” I whispered, pressing my palms against her cheeks. Her gaze fell on me, and in a single breath she went from a tiny frightened animal back to the green-eyed wonder woman I’d stared down so many times. I kissed her forehead and we moved inside, locking ourselves away from the world.
I glanced around the small house and pressed her toward the living room couch. Innocuous enough, but still plenty of room for us both to get comfortable—and to demand our own space if necessary. I took a seat and she sat against me, her back to my chest, head tucked under my chin, and my arms locked around her waist.
Over time, her muscles relaxed and her breathing slowed. I thought for a moment that she’d fallen asleep until she wiggled her fingers and readjusted her injured arm.
“I do have a question,” I whispered. “How’d you get my number?”
“Um...” Her hand tightened into a fist then she splayed her fingers against my arm.
“Trent?” I asked.
She nodded. “When he came to tell me about—”
A series of thuds sounded from the hall, and I prepared to jump up, until I saw a grey tabby cat stretching in the foyer before continuing on down the hallway.
Bend, Don't Break Page 11
