Marked. Part I: The missing Link

by J. M. Sevilla

  I remember when my parents divorced and they told me that sometimes the only reason a person enters our life is to pass along a valuable lesson, to help us heal or grow. That's what Jay was for me. Yes, it hurt the way it ended, but I'm going to try and hold on to all the good he did me. For the first time in two years I can feel again. I'm alive, I cry, I yell, I punch fuckers (I curse!) who attacked me and violated me. Yes, Jay broke my heart and I truly don't think I can ever feel that way for someone else. At least I'm alive and feeling the pain, the rage, the hurt, every little emotion that goes with a broken heart. I feel it and I welcome it. I was Will's perfect robot girlfriend who blinked and smiled on demand, so hell yes I welcome every emotion I feel right now. I'm me again, even if it means I spend the next two months doing nothing but crying, eating chocolate, and watching Netflix.

  Chapter 19

  Saturday, January 18

  6:36 pm

  “Omigod Lily, turn on the evening news!” Stevie cries into the phone.

  “I'm busy,” I barely get out from my mouth full of chocolate, a movie paused on the television in my room.

  “Seriously, you aren't going to want to miss this!”

  “Why don't you fill me in. You'll probably tell it better.”

  “Omigod, omigod! Will has been arrested for a string of murder charges!”

  “WHAT?!” I cry, chocolate spraying everywhere as I throw off my covers and catapult to the living room.

  I have no time for remotes and I use the foreign concept of turning on the TV and channel surfing via the television.

  I watch with wide eyed astonishment at Will being handcuffed and thrown into a police car. The screen shows the four men and five women he is being charged with murdering. I sink to the floor when I immediately recognize the four men as the ones who attacked me. The women I have never seen, but they were last seen close to areas near The Recovery Room and have gone missing over a span of three years. I have a sinking suspicion they were the unlucky ones who didn't have Jay to save them.

  Did Jay do this?

  Oh shit.

  Jay did this.

  I know it.

  There is no doubt in my mind he killed those men and set Will up to spend the rest of his life in prison. I'm a mixture of emotions: should I feel grateful? Scared? Happy that Will and those men can never hurt anyone again? I don't know. All I can do is stare at the screen, open mouthed and speechless.

  “Lily, are you there?”

  I make a grunting noise and I'm surprised I can manage that.

  “I knew Will was an ass, but shit! Thank God you're okay...” she starts rambling about what she has seen and heard, but my brain tunes her out as I watch the screen, soaking in every word the newscaster speaks.

  My brothers come in at some point but I don't register a word they say. Soon after, my mother's there holding me, trying to comfort me, but I never acknowledge her as I absorb everything they splash across the screen. My Dad even shows up, but he doesn't try to get me to talk. He sits next to Seth on the couch and we all silently watch replay after replay of the day's events.

  Jay did this. He did this for me. I know he partly did it to give himself peace of mind and closure once he left.

  He set Will up to spend the rest of his life in jail to suffer for me, so he could never hurt me again and live out his life in a punishment worse than death.

  I have no clue what to feel.

  Chapter 20

  Sunday, January 19

  7:27am

  The sound of the doorbell wakes me. I sleepily rub my eyes and stretch. Why do morning stretches in bed feel so amazing?

  One hard knock on my bedroom door and it's opening with my mom peeping her head around, “Oh good, you're awake. There's two policemen at the door asking to speak with you.”

  Not what I want to hear before I've had my morning coffee. I know exactly why they're here.

  Will.

  Obviously they've found out I was his girlfriend for the past two years. Maybe Jay's only made my life more complicated.

  Brokenhearted and now part of a murder trial.

  Awesome.

  I throw on my bra, underwear, jeans, a white tank-top, and an old sweater. I quickly brush my teeth, put my hair into a french braid, and greet the officers in my living room.

  “Good morning, Miss Evans. Sorry to have woken you, but our visit couldn't be held off any longer,” the dark haired, grave looking man says. They didn't look like policemen. No uniform. Instead, very expensive looking suits.

  I plaster on a fake smile, hoping they can't tell how on edge I am, “It's fine.”

  Bless my mom, who comes in and hands us each a cup of hot coffee.

  “I'm sure you know why we are here.”

  “Will?”

  They share a brief moment that has me speculating their true motive for being here.

  “Yes, Will, but we also are wondering about your connection to Jay Lincoln.”

  That had my adrenaline spiking, and when I take a sip of my coffee my hands are shaking.

  “Oh, so you're familiar with him.”

  Shit.

  “Only enough to know he's a scary SOB.” Didn't have to lie there.

  “That he is. We've been tracking him for some time, and we think he's been in business with your ex-boyfriend.”

  Bullshit, I want to say, but I keep my mouth shut.

  “Yeah?” I squeak out instead, and I'm glad it can be written off as fear and not worry over Jay's safety. Why I even still care has me a little pissed at myself.

  “He's a bad man, Miss Evans. He's wanted for numerous murders in more than one state and we believe he's a certain serial killer we've been looking for.”

  Mom gasps, and so does Seth who's hiding behind the wall listening in. My face pales and I feel sick.

  “We've interviewed others who he worked with and the group he meets with at the racetracks. You're the last interview. They all informed us the two of you were close.” I didn't like the way he looked at me when he said close. It felt like he was undressing me with his eyes, and they flashed a look of hunger as if he was imagining what we did together, closely. Is that normal behavior for a cop? I'm thinking no.

  “Lily, is this true?” My mom asks, astounded.

  “Kinda,” I reply honestly as my stomach churns, trying to wrap my head around what I was told. No way is Jay a murderer. Well okay, he is, but a serial killer? I just can't believe that. “I mean, he was teaching me some self-defense moves, and he let me watch him drift, but that's about as close as we got.” I can't believe I lied to law enforcement. I'm starting to get all sweaty.

  “Are you sure there wasn't more going on, Miss Evans? We need to know what you were to him.”

  “Why?”

  “It's important for the case?”

  “And which case is that?”

  “The one we are building against Jay.”

  “And you're local police tracking him?” Why are local police tracking a killer from other states?

  “Sorry Miss Evans, I guess I never introduced myself. I'm Ed Quake and this is my partner, Lee Sharp. We're with the FBI.”

  Oh shit. That would explain the suits.

  “I...uh...I'm not sure what I was to him,” I respond to his question that I had tried avoiding, “Honestly, I think I may have been someone to pass the time with. I really don't know.”

  My mom's staring wide-eyed at me, unaware of the amount of time I spent over there.

  “Did he tell you where he was going?” The man's partner asks.

  “No, he told me he was leaving and three days later he was gone.”

  “Did he ever mention anything about his past to you?”

  I think I might faint from being interrogated by the FBI and the fact that the man I was sleeping with and love is a serial killer. I can't believe that last one, but didn't Dexter have a wife he was good to and sweetly took care of? I shake my head, stop thinking like that.

  “Miss Evans?”


  “Sorry. This is a lot to take in. Are you sure Jay is the man you’re looking for?”

  “Yes, but he's an extremely hard man to track,” he smirks and so does his partner, as if they are sharing an inside joke. “It's very important that we know what you do.”

  “Um...he talked about his dad a few times, his mom, um...that...” I swallow hard, darting my eyes to my mom before continuing, “he was leaving because he was hunting or something.”

  This causes them both to scoot to the edge of the couch, leaning closer to me, “Did he mention how he got the scars on his face?”

  I shake my head, “No, but he gave me the impression that they happened separately.”

  My mom speaks up, looking pale and a little green, “Is my daughter going to need protection in case he comes back to kill her?”

  “He's not going to kill me, mom. If he was, he had plenty of chances when we were sleeping together,” shit, my lips snap shut.

  Okay, now my heart is at such a pace I’m afraid it may cause me to go into cardiac arrest.

  The men exchange another glance I can't read.

  “I think it's best if we bring you to the local station for more in-depth questioning.”

  “Does she need a lawyer?” My moms asks, forgetting her fear and turning on protective-mom mode.

  “No, she's not in any trouble. We need to get an official statement on record. It's out of character for this man to get close to anyone and we need to figure out if perhaps he admitted anything to her that might be of importance.”

  They get up, “Please come with us, Miss Evans. You could be the answer we've been looking for to get this guy.”

  No, I do not want to go. I don't want them to find Jay, but I'm not exactly the best judge of character.

  I stand up, “I honestly don't know much, but I’ll tell you what I can.”

  Once inside their black Chrysler, I stare out the blackened windows at my mom, who looks like she is going to cry her eyes out any second, and my brother, who looks scared and wide-eyed. I realize I don't have my purse.

  “I need to get my purse,” I try opening the door but it won't budge.

  The car starts to drive off, “Not necessary.”

  “Why won't my door open?”

  “It's always set that way. Safety.” Oh right.

  During the car ride they start grilling me on what I know and I answer any questions they might have.

  “Shouldn't I be waiting until you can get this down?”

  “Let us worry about that,” the man who insisted I call him Quake says.

  Forty-five minutes later we continue to drive northeast and they have asked me more questions than I have answers.

  “Where exactly are we going?”

  “It's not much further.”

  Sharp turns to look at me, and then looks at Quake. “She's not his usual looking fuck-buddy. Makes me wonder what makes her pussy so special.”

  “Excuse me?” I ask, adrenaline spiking. Is this appropriate conversation?

  “Was wondering that myself. Too bad we can't find out.”

  What the?

  “Maybe he won't care if we have her, and we can have some fun.”

  “Shut your fucking trap. This better work. I'm not going back to Laz without him.”

  I start to panic. Nothing these men are saying is making any sense, and I have a very bad feeling they aren't who they say they are.

  “You guys aren't FBI, are you?”

  “No kitten, we're not. We've been needing a favor from your boyfriend for a long time, we just never had the leverage to get him to agree. Now we have you.”

  “Sorry to burst your bubble, but Jay doesn't give a shit about me.” I shouldn't have told them that; I'm not sure if it's better they think he does or not.

  “That's a chance we're willing to take. We need the kid. You better pray your life’s worth saving and he'll help us.”

  “What if I'm not worth saving?” I hoarsely whisper.

  Sharp licks his lips, “I'll have my fun with you and then I'll kill you.”

  I think I'm going to be sick.

  “What do you want from him?”

  “We have a job for him,” Quake answers.

  “What kind of job?” I ask; curiosity has always been a weakness of mine.

  “He tell you what he does?”

  I shake my head no. My heart is aching and throbbing in my chest from overexertion and I can't find words to talk. I need to figure out how I’m going to get out of this mess alive. Jay shouldn't have let me in, he was absolutely right.

  “That daddy of his was one of the best contract killers ever known. Taught that son of his everything he knew, even helped him out a few times. The kid's a natural. The only problem is he doesn't want that life, he has other plans driving him. We're hoping your life is enough reason for him to help us out. Why the money we offered him isn't enough is fucking crazy, but Jay's never been like the rest of 'em. He lets his plan for revenge control his life.”

  “Is that like a hitman for the mafia?”

  They both start laughing as if I had just said the funniest thing they had ever heard.

  “The men he's grown up with make the mafia look like saints,” Quake rubs his chin, “Try and remember that when you're around him. Raised by a lethal killer and living his whole life trying to find revenge for his mother's death. He's about as fucked up as they come. You're safer with Sharp here than your boy-toy, and that's not saying much. Sharp's a sick motherfucker.”

  Every single inch of me is covered in skin-prickling fear and I want to curl up and hide, but I can't stop myself from wanting to know more, wanting to unlock the mysterious Jay Lincoln. “Who does he want revenge on?”

  “That's something you're going to have to ask him. The Marker's not someone you freely talk about; only the insane few deal with him.”

  The Marker? What kind of name is that?

  “And Jay is one of the insane?” I insinuate, hoping to finally get some answers.

  “Only men with three marks are,” Quake deadpans vacantly.

  I decide to further investigate, hoping my persistence doesn't come across too pushy. “The three marks being the scars on his face?”

  The car is filled with an eerie silence and I wish I had kept my prying mouth shut.

  “I think it's time you shut up and let us do the questioning, or have you forgotten you're our captive?” Quake scrapes out, like a blade sharpening on a rock.

  I hover in fear, waiting for them to take the lead in a dance I prefer to call the hustle.

  Neither one speaks again and I'm left to linger on a world I know nothing about.

  Chapter 21

  4:28pm

  “Wake-up,” a coarse voice with raunchy breath breathes onto me, hand massaging my breast over my sweater. “I've waited too long to subside my hunger.”

  The suggestive, crude words whip my lashes open, bringing my body to a vigilant state of alertness.

  “Get your fucking hands off me,” I seethe, hands forming fists. That's when I notice the zip-ties cuffed to my wrists, binding them together.

  Shit. That's not good.

  I'm ripped from the car seat, stumbling behind Sharp, disoriented and trying to regain perception of my surroundings through my foggy haze from dozing off. What is it about naps that leave you discombobulated? I should have never let myself fall asleep. A moment in time I'm sure to regret.

  Finally my eyes focus on my surroundings, which to my shuddering dread is a motel. Not just any motel, a hole-in-the-wall, pay-by-the-hour, shit-hole of a room.

  Right about now I despise Jay with every fiber of my being for letting me into his life. My love for him has been pushed deep into a box that I have locked away and buried under six feet of dirt, in a land far, far away.

  The door opens to a room and I'm shoved inside, door locking behind us.

  Double shit.

  My eyes scan the dark room, trying to scout out an escape plan, but I'm zip-tied in a f
ucking motel room. I doubt an escape is likely to happen. The lights turn on and Sharp is circling in on me. He pulls my cheeks together, presses his lips to mine, and rams his tongue down my throat.

  I firmly grab hold of his shirt and snap kick his knee. Sharp yells and tumbles backwards in pain. I spit, trying to get the disgusting taste out of my mouth of cigarettes, stale coffee, and five day old morning breath.

  I hear Quake chuckle behind me.

  “Serves you right. I told you we're not allowed to touch her unless you want to deal with Laz and Link. I sure as hell don't, so quit fucking around.” Quake throws Chinese take-out on the table next to me, and as much as I hate it, I’m happy to see food. I've only had coffee today and I'm starving.

  Quake snaps open a pocket knife and cuts off the zip-ties. I rub my sore wrists and head to the food, but Quake slaps a hand over my chest to stop me, “Uh uh uh, you get whatever we don't finish, and I'm damn hungry so I wouldn't be expecting a lot. Go sit in the corner over there.” He points to the corner between the bathroom and the TV stand, which holds a television that still uses a dial. That's how classy this place is.

  I walk over to the spot and take a hard swallow at the big round stain on the floor. I take in a deep breath and try not to let my brain conjure up what it might be from. I sit down cross-legged on the ugly green carpet.

  Quake is right there with me, “Put your hands behind your back.”

  I obey because Sharp is sitting on the edge of the bed pointing a gun at me. Quake has fresh zip-ties around my wrists, and then has me extend my legs so he can do the same to my ankles.

  “What if I have to pee?” I ask, because it seems like a high probability.

  “So pee,” Sharp sadistically grins.

  “Here?” I nod my head down to indicate where I'm sitting. His grin becomes even more perverted.

  That's disgusting. There is no way I will pee my pants. I'll hold it even if it kills me.

  “Water?” Quake offers charitably.

  “Fuck you,” I glower at the both of them and they laugh, delighted with themselves as they go to the table and start digging into the food.