Little Lies

by Elena M. Reyes

  And I let it, standing there until the water turned lukewarm. It’s only then that I wash up, quickly lathering my body with my cherry vanilla shower gel. The fragrant scent fills the room and I breathe in deeply, allowing the calming smell to further relax me.

  Tiny paws scratch at my door to get my attention and I smile; the little shit has no patience in him. “Almost out, Mr. Pickles.” Another scratch and then a bump with his body to the wooden structure. “I’ll take you out now. Two minutes.”

  Not that he understands, but I do hear his grunt and then the sounds of the tinkling bell on his collar as he walks away.

  Rinsing off the rest of the suds, I step out and grab a towel, wrapping it around my wet body. I’m a little more alert now, a little less shaky, and take a moment to look at my reflection in the mirror.

  The glass is a bit foggy, but I run my hand across the cool glass and stare at my reflection. The girl standing there is sad, but beneath the hurt is a tough heart. She’s overcome a lot. Has made a name for herself and even when at the orphanage, she worked toward her dreams relentlessly.

  But who left me this home? The money to start out?

  “Why would my uncle make me his heir if my parents abandoned me?” There are a few possible answers to that question, yet the only one that makes a lick of sense is guilt. “Worrying about this doesn’t change anything,” I mutter to myself while closing my eyes and taking in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. Being this tense and rushing through possibilities is counterproductive, I know, and I’ll talk to Theodore about what I found out. I’m sure he can help me find a private investigator to look them up and get the real story. “For my own peace of mind, I need to find out. To face them if they’re still alive and ask them whose last name I’m carrying and why.”

  Vowing to let this go until I talk to Theo, I hurry and exit the bathroom after brushing my teeth. I’m not going out today, not after yesterday’s fiasco, and plan to spend the day inside my studio working on one of the seven paintings.

  The beast I choose today is the caiman, this large creature that packs a punch and doesn’t hide from his prey. This family member of the gator is aggressive and can reach up to sixteen feet in length, making him a dominant hunter in the many lakes and rivers within the Amazon basin.

  “I hope Theo likes it.” Not Theodore, but Theo, and I also can’t get his reaction to me calling him that out of my mind. He liked it as much as I enjoyed the way it rolled off my tongue as if I’ve said it a million times with the familiarity of a lover. “He’s the only thing that makes sense in my life anymore, and it’s also the one that shouldn’t. We barely know each other.”

  I’m going to make myself crazy one day.

  Shaking everything off, I focus on getting dressed in a pair of joggers and a tight black T-shirt sans bra before rushing down the stairs, putting my hair in a high ponytail. Mr. Pickles is sitting on the last step when I descend and his eyes are showing mild annoyance, a look I’m all too familiar with when he’s hungry or needs to potty.

  “Want to go out?” Magical words as these set him off, and I have an excited pupper on my hands rushing toward the kitchen, scratching at the wooden door until I reach him. He seems too impatient today, and I decide to just let him roam the backyard instead of a walk for now. We can do that later. “Sit.”

  At my command, he does as asked and after a few seconds of eye contact, I open the door and let him out. But fuck me I wish I didn’t. I wish that my life was different, and reality wasn’t merging with my dreams.

  Because thumb-tacked to my door is a picture I’ll never forget. Can’t unsee.

  It’s the body of a man, bloodied and without eyes, lying on a concrete floor with the words, taken care of written in red sharpie. At least I chose to believe so for my sanity, because the color has a muted tone that looks a bit darker in spots as if it were blood.

  The bile that rushes up my throat feels like liquid fire as I bend over, emptying the yellowish substance onto the floor a few steps from where the picture remains. I’m not touching it. I can’t see that again, and after the last bit of bile leaves me, the scream comes.

  It’s loud and I’m shaky and I have no idea how I make it up the stairs to grab my phone, but I do. Mr. Pickles follows me, watching me after seeing my duress, and doesn’t leave my side while I grab the detective’s card from my nightstand.

  I’d placed it there after his visit to the hospital, never thinking I’d have to use it.

  With shaky limbs and tears in my eyes, I dial his number and after the third ring, there’s the sound of traffic in the background and loud breathing. “Detective Consuelos speaking.” My throat feels tight, and I try to speak but nothing comes out. Instead, there’s a sob from me and a bark from my dog. “Hello? Hello? Who’s calling?”

  “Help.”

  “Who’s this?” he asks, the noise level dropping a bit and the sound of a car door closing follows shortly after. “I can’t help you if I don’t—”

  “Gabriella Moore...” I’m choking, chest burning as the sensation of a million ants crawling under my skin takes over “... murder. Please.”

  “Miss Moore, it seems you’re free to go. Someone has come to your rescue,” a female cop says hours later, her expression angry and full of disgust. But then again, that’s how everyone here’s been looking at me. From the prisoners to the officers and anyone else who’s in this building and has been in my presence.

  They see me and eyes narrow. Whispers begin.

  No one has asked me about the photo.

  No one has asked the why or whom I think would do such a thing.

  No one has looked at my video cameras or asked me if I knew the victim.

  Nothing. I’m being made guilty without due process.

  Moreover, the moment Detective Consuelos walked up to my door I knew something was very wrong.

  The pounding of my front door is loud, the person on the other side inpatient. “This is the Seattle Police Department, open the door.” After saying this, the banging didn’t cease nor was I given a moment to walk over from the front sitting room. Instead, it was kicked open as four Seattle P.D. officers stormed inside with their guns drawn. I scream and all four turn my way being led by the detective working my case, his service weapon pointing at my head. “Hands up, Gabriella!”

  “Detective, what is going on?” I ask, complying with his request. I’m sitting on my couch with both arms up and fingers stretched out, so they see I have nothing in my hand. “Why did you break down my door?”

  “Where’s the body?” A woman asks me, and I turn my attention to her. Take in the judgement in her icy glare while also noticing she’s not wearing a badge.

  “I’m the one that called in the photo. I’m the one being harassed.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Stop with the lies,” Consuelos and the woman say in unison, the latter backing down but not before sneering in my direction. What’s her problem?

  “What the hell is going on?” I’m angry and scared and the tears haven’t stopped since I found the picture. My body feels beaten and used; my soul heavy while my heart is full of fear. “Detective Consuelos, please answer me.”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Moore, but I’ll need you to stand and turn around.”

  “What?”

  “Please stand and put your hands behind your back, don’t make me use force.”

  “Why are you doing this? I called you for help.” As I ask this, the two other males with them leave and start going from room to room, calling back empty as they stomp around. I can hear things falling and a few glass items meeting their demise on my floor, but what kills me is the yelp of my dog as one of them grabs him. “Detective, I demand an answer.”

  Said man gives me a look that makes me shrink back. So much coldness. “Gabriella Moore, you’re under arrest as an accomplice to murder.”

  “Who came?” I haven’t used my one phone call yet. There’s no one to come and help me, and I’d rathe
r sit here for a year than talk to Elise after our last encounter. Theo? But he has no way of knowing, especially, since he’ll be in L.A. for another day. “There’s no one that I—”

  “Hurry up, the person is waiting up front.”

  “Okay.” The other women in the holding cell give me wide berth, moving away from the now open metal door. No one moves until I step through and I feel like a monster, so uncomfortable, that I put my head down and follow without another word. I can feel everyone’s eyes on me, though. Can feel the judgment and hate but continue walking until we’re out and I hear the one voice that makes this nightmare better.

  “Oh, sweet girl. What have they done to you?” Theodore’s words cause my head to snap up and tears to fall. Moreover, I don’t hesitate and throw myself into his arms. He catches me, cradling me against his chest while I let go.

  The woman who walked me out scoffs, but then quiets down. Theo’s head snaps to the side, his body slightly shaking. “Who the fuck are you? I want your name and badge number.”

  “Sir, you need to watch your tone. I’m a—”

  “It’s you who doesn’t comprehend the severity of your actions, but I’m sure your boss will be here soon enough to explain.”

  “That’s laughable. Captain Bron wouldn’t dignify himself by...” she trails off then and the temperature inside the room seems to drop. I try to lift my head to see what’s going on, but Theo’s warm hand scratches my scalp lightly while keeping me in place.

  Something is happening.

  Then steps come closer. Heavy and loud, stopping close but not speaking.

  I’m scared. Tired. Angry.

  So full of ire for how unjust I’ve been treated, but more than that, I can’t take anymore.

  My nervous system has taken a few hard lashes since my birthday, one after another, and mentally I’m cracking. Can feel each open wound grow and morph into hate. Into dark thoughts that I’d never voice out loud.

  For the first time in my life, I want retribution. To not be a weak link.

  “As your lawyer, I ask that you let me handle this, Theodore. I assure you; they’ll feel your wrath.”

  “Deal with it,” Theodore hisses out after a minute, a deep rumble building in his chest with each syllable. His voice is deeper. The command is full of ire. “What they did was—”

  “Mr. Astor, can I have a word please?” At the sound of Detective Consuelos’s voice, I pull closer to Theo and he responds by tightening his arms around me. I’m not afraid of the detective, but rather the fire that seems to course through my veins at the mere sound of his voice.

  I want to hurt him. I want to scream.

  But instead, I let Theo be my wall at the moment, a human shield from the bad, and I couldn’t be more thankful for meeting this man. He’s the only person who’s never judged me. Who cares and actually sees me.

  “You’ll be speaking to my lawyer, Consuelos. And mark my words, this is just the beginning.” My brows furrow at Theodore’s words. What does that mean?

  “Sir, the department wants to apologize to you both. We misunderstood the situation and reacted instead of thinking logically as we are trained to do.”

  “No, you didn’t,” I say with my head still buried in Theo’s chest, but he nudges me back a little and then tips my face to meet his. His eyes are warm and full of so much understanding. Of care.

  “Speak up, sweetheart. You have every right to be upset.”

  “Gabriella, I understand you’re angry—”

  “It’s Miss Moore to you, Detective.” Standing up straight, I take in a deep breath and let it out slowly. I give myself a minute to gather the right words because being emotional won’t get my point across. “What you did was crucify me without a chance to defend myself, especially from a charge that should’ve never been attached to my name. I did the right thing, Consuelos. I called you, a detective for the SPD, to come to my aid when that picture was left on my door. You never questioned me, but instead arrested and then closed the file. No phone call. No court appearance to see a judge for bail. You never upheld my rights to due process, and right now I’m disgusted by the sight of you—I see you the same way everyone in there looked at me.”

  My words caused two reactions from him: anger and shame. His hands clench, the papers in his hold scrunching up. “Miss Moore, it was an honest mistake. After the body was found at the Astor Gallery, we called Mr. Astor and—”

  “The body was found where?” So that’s how he found out.

  “At my gallery, along with security footage left behind that showed a man driving an old Toyota Corolla dumping the body.”

  Man driving a Toyota Corolla. “I don’t know anyone that owns that kind of car.”

  “We know,” Consuelos says, his eyes shifting toward the other people I’m now noticing in the room. The woman is still here, yet she’s looking at the floor and posture stiff. Then, there’s the other two men that I don’t know: one in a suit and one in a blue uniform. Both look at me with serious expressions, but not menacing. “Miss Moore, we believe that you have a stalker—”

  “What?” Because I couldn’t have heard that right. “Please repeat that.”

  “What the detective is trying to say, Miss Moore...” The man gives his officers a hard look and each takes a respected step back, while I’m busy reading his name tag. This man is the captain, and he looks mad, but then softens his demeanor. “We apologize for the egregious mistake made by this department. We were wrong, and instead of doing our jobs, we arrested someone innocent and who seems to have someone following her.” Captain Bron gives me a moment to gather myself after my knees give out and Theo grabs me, pulling me against him with a secure arm around my waist. “I’m sorry, Miss, but these acts of violence are not random but to get your attention. Do you have any ex-boyfriend, or have you dated anyone recently that has shown any level of aggression or unstable behavior?”

  “I have no current boyfriend or ex. I’m not someone who dates.” The shakiness in my voice is unmistakable and when Theo kisses the crown of my head, a few tears fall. Why am I being targeted? Why me? “I’m a recluse most of the time and keep to myself.”

  28

  Theodore

  “We’re here, Sir,” Tero says from the front, pulling into my parking spot while the woman in my arms continues to rest. Gabriella fell asleep a few minutes after we left, her head on my shoulder, and I didn’t hesitate to place her on my lap and cuddle her close. She’s been through so much in the last eight hours, my little fighter, but I know she’ll be okay. She deserves better than the world has given, my perfect girl, and I’ll help her every step of the way. “By the way, I’ve already taken care of her door, and any other damages incurred within the home. I’m missing two knickknacks but have located the replacements on eBay.”

  She’s no longer alone.

  I’ll be her protector, lover, and friend. Her everything.

  “Thank you. Is Meera on the way?” I ask while looking down at my girl’s perfect face, from her long lashes to her small nose with a sprinkling of freckles and down to the perfect cupid’s bow that I want to bite. She’s so beautiful and sweet—too trusting—and it’s cost her a lot over the years. Something that ends now that I’m in her life. “Has Gabriella’s appointment with my lawyer been moved back? I’ll be taking care of that personally now.”

  No more friends like Elise.

  No more men getting close.

  No overzealous cops preying on her defenselessness.

  “Yes, to both.” Tero turns his head, his eyes shifting toward the beauty in my arms. So many emotions flash through his eyes, but the leading one is anger. He’s blaming himself for not being in town when I’d given him the day off to spend with his wife for their anniversary. Neither of us could have foreseen this level of idiocy happening. It took me an hour to get everything squared away after finding out, and I have no clue how long she’d already been detained beforehand. They’re going to pay for this. “She has Miss Moore’s
dog and is now back to begging for a pet. She’s been hinting/demanding that we get a rescue pit-bull.”

  “And what do you think?” I ask, shifting a little so I can turn my body and get us out without waking her. Not that she realizes as exhaustion hit her hard. “Are you ready for that kind of commitment?”

  “I am. We never had kids, and this would be the next best thing.”

  “Then I am happy for you.”

  “Thank you, my friend.” Tero opens his door and gets out, rushing to mine and doing the same. We don’t talk anymore as we head toward the elevator and then ascend, entering my penthouse through the private entrance. I’m not in the mood to talk, and he knows this. I’m trying to control my anger, and right now the only thing that will calm me is laying down with her.

  So while Tero waits for his wife to get here with Gabriella’s dog, I disappear into the master bedroom and lay her down after kicking the door closed with the back of my foot. And while she quickly settles in, turning to her side while gripping a pillow with her small fingers, I grab a spare blanket and throw it over her.

  Seeing her so defenseless today renewed my vow to break her free.

  To give her back the power to not let anyone hurt her.

  Slipping in beside her, I spoon her body with mine and settle my face against the back of her neck. Her scent surrounds me with that soft vanilla with cherry fragrance that is both soothing and mouthwatering. It envelops me in comfort, and I close my eyes, letting her soft breathing lull me.

  “I’m going to make this up to you, Gabriella.” I lay a tiny kiss at the base of her neck. “For not being here when you needed me the most.”

  “I’m really not in the mood to go anywhere, Theo. Please take me back home.” The silly girl looks at me from the corner of her eye, glaring a bit. It’s been this way since she woke up in my bed two days ago after sleeping through the night, screaming at the top of her lungs and scaring everybody in the kitchen.