by W Winters
Her hand tightens on my forearm, too tight.
“Mom,” I gasp, trying to pry her hands off of me as she refuses to look away, refuses to react to anything at all. She’s merely a statue and the realization frightens me. I turn to look over my shoulder just as I hear the front door shut from the hall. My heartbeat races. Where’d Nurse Judy go?
“Mom,” I protest, writhing out of her grasp. “Help!” I finally call out, the fear winning.
“Everyone I loved has died,” my mother says, and her voice is ragged. Despair and loss morph her features into one of pain and her grip on me loosens.
Staring into my eyes with sincerity, she tells me, “Everyone you love will die before you do.” As if she’s talking to a stranger she only intends to bring pain, they’re the last words she speaks before her slender body relaxes into the chair. Her gaze wanders aimlessly as I stand there breathless from both fear and despair, knowing I was too late. That’s when I hear the quickened footsteps of my sister running into the room.
Running to see her mother. Who’s already gone.
Seconds pass, and I can’t look at Jenny. I brush the tears away as Nurse Judy pushes past us both, aiding my mother, whose consciousness has drifted to another place and another time.
“Mom,” my sister cries. And I don’t blame her.
That was the last time my sister cried for our mother. She didn’t even cry at her funeral nearly a year later. Jenny always held it against her that our mother didn’t wait for her. She held it against me too, knowing I at least got to hear Mom tell me she was sorry.
I never told her what else our mother said. I tried to forget it. I did everything I could to kill that memory.
It’s come back though. It refuses to die, unlike other things in my life.
Bethany
The clock doesn’t stop ticking.
It’s one of those simple round clocks. There’s nothing special about the white backing and thick black frame. Tick, tick, tick. It’s loud and unforgiving. The torture of it is all I can focus on to bring me sanity as the last hours of my life fall like dominoes in my memory.
The money in the trunk.
“You still haven’t explained where you got the three hundred thousand dollars.” Officer Walsh’s voice is hard.
The blood on Jase’s clothes and the look in his eyes when I came into his bathroom.
“Or why you were covered in blood. Whose blood is it, Miss Fawn? You need to tell us.”
Fear is what motivated me to run from him. Fear is the cause of all of this. It’s left me now, though. In its place is something more resigned.
One long, deep breath falls from me as I stare at the painted white bricks of the interrogation room’s walls and listen to the tick, tick, tick.
My piss-poor decisions have led to this point in my life.
The point of waiting. I’ve fucked it up enough; I may as well just let it all fall. When Alice fell, she landed in Wonderland. I’m thinking that’s not where I’ll land, but I’m ready to feel the weightlessness of what’s to come. I’m simply tired of fighting it.
There’s another officer in the room. He’s younger. When I first listened to their demands for me to answer their questions, I sat here hours ago with my shoulders tense and feeling the need to curl up into a ball and hide. The young cop sat across from me, his arms crossed and his gaze never wandering from me.
I don’t like him or the way he looks at me.
“We’re doing a DNA test now. You think it’s going to hit, Walsh?” The other officer, Linders, finally speaks to Walsh, even if his eyes are still pinned on me. There’s a certain level of disdain that seeps into my skin every time I meet his gaze.
“I’ll tell you what I think,” Officer Walsh answers. He’s staring at me too, even as he taps the stack of papers in his hand and continues, “I think she was in the wrong place at the wrong time and that she has names.”
Tick, tick, the clock goes on. It’s been like this for hours in this cold interrogation room. An ache in my back reminds me how uncomfortable this metal chair is.
“I don’t think so. I think she was hired for a hit or was hiring someone else and it went wrong.” Officer Linders speaks clearly, although his voice is low and rough. “A hit or drugs. There’s no other explanation. Who’d you get the cash from?” he asks me. It has to be the hundredth time they’ve asked about the cash. “Where did it all go wrong?”
“I already told you,” I start to say but don’t recognize my tired voice anymore as I lift my gaze to Officer Walsh’s and then to Linders’s. “I don’t have anything to say.”
Officer Walsh leans forward, exasperated. The metal legs grind against the floor as he repositions in his chair. “I saw how scared you were,” he says. Compassion wraps itself around every word and his gaze pleads with me to give him something. “I can help you.”
A second passes and then another.
I could let it all out. I could tell them the truth. I know I could. Maybe they’d give me a new name and send me off to some place where bad men can’t find me. Somewhere free of all these memories. A place where I didn’t have to think of my sister or my fucked up life.
Where I wouldn’t feel the presence of Jase Cross on every inch of surface I can see, smell, touch.
As I swallow, the click of the the heat switching on is all that can be heard in the room.
I don’t want to live in that world. In a world where Jase Cross doesn’t hover over me. Even if he scared the hell out of me. Recalling the sight of him sitting there on the edge of the tub, tilting his head to look me in the eyes, makes me close mine tight. I don’t know what happened, but I can’t leave him.
More than anything, the incessant ticking of the clock reminds me that every second that passes, I’m not with him. He’s not okay and I’m not with him.
Let me fall to whatever may await me, and I’ll crawl my way back up to Jase. I’ll find him or he’ll find me. And when that happens, he better fucking confess. I deserve to know what happened.
Strands of my hair wind around my finger as I ignore Officer Walsh. He hasn’t charged me yet, but I know he will. I’ll be charged with obstruction of justice for not giving them information about the blood on my shirt when it comes back confirmed from a human… or maybe with a name. God forbid it comes back as from a missing person. And who knows what I’ll be charged with because of the cash in the back of my car. I don’t even know what the offenses will be, since so many have been listed off in their speculation of what I’ve done.
But I’ll never say a word. And that’s how I know I care more for Jase than I should. And why he needs to tell me everything.
“There’s no helping anything. Whatever she says will be a lie.” The dark stare of Officer Linders makes my stomach curl.
Good cop, bad cop, I suppose. I manage to offer him a hint of a smile. My mouth moves on its own and I didn’t mean for it to do that. It just happens. As if I need to tempt fate any further.
“Let me make you an offer,” Officer Walsh starts and Linders huffs in disdain, rocking back in the chair and for the first time his gaze shifts from me. He’s young, very Italian in appearance although he doesn’t have an accent. He scratches at his coarse dark stubble as Officer Walsh draws my attention.
“I used to work for the FBI and I have some friends in town, looking into things.” There’s a sense of compassion and empathy in Cody Walsh’s voice that’s hypnotizing, like a lullaby that draws you in. “What I’m trying to tell you is that I have connections. I know what happened to your sister. I know Jase Cross has been seen at your residence.”
His light blue eyes sharpen every time he says, ‘Cross.’ “What I know is that you can have a happy life. You can start over, Bethany. All you have to do is tell me what happened.”
It’s like he read my mind. A way out. This is the bottom of the barrel, isn’t it? When you need witness protection to find a way out of the hole you’ve dug for yourself.
Officer Linders
clears his throat and the spell from Walsh is broken for only a moment as my eyes flick between the two of them. A man with hate for me, and another who I’ve felt from the first day I saw him, that he wanted to help me.
“All you have to do is tell me what happened.” His hand gestures an inch above the table as he adds, “No matter how guilty you may feel; no matter what you’ve done.”
Everything seems to slow as a part of my conscience begs me to consider. The part that remembers how dark Jase’s eyes were when I last saw him. The part that’s fear’s companion. The part that questions if I’m strong enough for all this. Even if Jase tells me what he did and why he was sitting there like that, like he was someone else. Even if I pretend as though what happened earlier today will never happen again.
And yet another part of me is like a signal amid all the noise. A part that’s fading away. A small part that remembers this all started because I wanted a single thing from Jase Cross.
A name. The murderer who made the one person I had left in my life disappear. Justice for my sister.
A name Jase has yet to deliver.
I have to blink away the thoughts, and Officer Walsh seems to take it as me considering his offer.
Say nothing, do nothing. Say nothing, do nothing. Fall down the rabbit hole; they can even throw me in that pit if they want. When I finally land, I’ll do what I’ve always done. I’ll stand up on my own and keep moving. With Jase or without.
Three knocks at the door startle me, causing the chair I’m firmly seated in to jump back. Officer Walsh is the one to stand and rise, leaving Linders staring at me, relishing in the hint of fear I’ve shown. I can barely hear someone outside the slightly ajar door speaking to Officer Walsh over the sound of my heart racing.
All my life, I’ve lived by elementary rules. Do what is right and not what is wrong. It’s the simplest way to break down the laws of life. And yet here I sit, not knowing my judgment and wondering when the black and white of right and wrong turned so gray for me. Especially since I can’t even list all the wrong things I’ve done recently. There are too many to count, yet I’d defend them all.
“Be right back.” Officer Walsh is tense as he grips the door, locks eyes with me, then leaves the room. With only Linders across from me, a new tension rises inside of me.
I don’t like the way he looks at me. Fear and anger curl my fingers into a fist in my lap.
Say nothing, do nothing.
He stares at me and I him, neither of us saying a word until a small red light goes off to my left. It’s oddly placed in between the painted bricks. If it had never come on, I would’ve never known of its existence. And the little red light changes everything.
“It’s clear for the moment, but I don’t know how long we’ll have, so I’ll be fast,” Linders says quickly with a new tone I haven’t heard from him. Leaning forward, the distaste vanishes, and the hate I felt he had for me is nowhere to be found.
“It’s all being scrubbed; every shred of evidence on you is going to vanish. Or it already has. Officer Walsh won’t have anything to hold you on and no charges will be pressed.”
“What?” Disbelief takes the form of a whisper.
“He already knows someone here at the station is in their back pocket. It’ll be all right,” he assures me when my expression doesn’t change. “If you want to go to a cell, tell me. If you’d rather stay here, we’ll have to keep this up when Walsh comes back, but I’ll make sure he doesn’t cross the line. There are others too who are loyal to Walsh, but I’ll stay with you the entire time. Unless you want to be alone.”
“I don’t understand.” I don’t know why that’s my reply.
Because I do understand. The pieces line up with one another perfectly. The Cross brothers control the police department. I knew that. I know that now, even. But to be a part of it, to see it happening…
“Mr. Cross told me to protect you and get you out of here.” His eyes search mine, although there isn’t a bit of judgment to be found.
“Thank you,” is all I can say although I wrap my arms around myself and contemplate what would have happened if I was in a different mindset. If I was ready to spill my guts. If I was wanting that new life Walsh sold me so well.
I should feel relief, which I do. The more nagging thoughts are of how powerful Jase is. How much damage a single man could do. And how little I know about him. Yet how willing I was to fall for him.
What if I had said something? What then?
“The shirt’s been destroyed and that’s really the only damaging piece he had on you,” Linders tells me, clearing his throat.
The money.
“What about the money?” The question leaves me with haste just as the red light vanishes, blending in with the wall once again.
“Are you going to sit there and deny everything? Maybe I should put you behind bars and see how you like that,” Linders sneers, forcing my body to turn ice cold. I can feel the blood drain from my face, even if I’m consciously aware this time that it’s all an act.
“What’s it going to be, Miss Fawn? Are you going to talk? Or do you want us to stick you in a cell like the criminal you are?” Those are the options he offers me as the door opens and Walsh returns. Walsh’s demeanor is defeated as he motions for Linders to follow him out of the interrogation room.
Linders doesn’t though. He doesn’t obey the command from his superior. He waits for me, wanting to know an answer.
Words get stuck in my throat and I try to swallow them, I try to speak.
Nothing comes. Not a word is spoken as I stare into Linders’ gaze, knowing he’s one of so many men who do Jase’s bidding.
Jase is still here, still in this room, protecting me even when I didn’t know it.
Jase
“It’s risky with the FBI already involved,” Seth speaks from the driver’s seat as we’re parked out front of the police station. His eyes seek mine out in the rearview mirror and I meet them, but I only nod, not bothering to speak. “Four men now, active agents, coming all the way down here from New York.” He sucks his front teeth in the absence of a response from me.
It’s all my fault. It’s my fault she’s in there. I know it is. What I don’t know is what the fuck came over me.
A voice in the back of my head answers instantly. She did. Bethany Fawn came over me.
“We should prepare for someone to take the fall,” Seth continues and a grunt of acknowledgment comes from my chest.
I’ve already been thinking about it. How best to handle this particular fuckup of mine. It involves a dead former FBI agent by the name of Cody Walsh and one of my men in a jail cell taking the fall. Judge Martin will give the minimum sentence. All because I fucked up at a time when fucking up isn’t a possibility.
“Someone who needs the money for their family. Someone who’d go away for a year and be all right with that.” Seth rattles on.
“Chris Mowers,” I finally answer him and then clear my throat although my eyes stay glued to the double doors at the front entrance. “He’s new to the crew, young and seemingly naïve. His dad isn’t doing well. Medical costs and looking out for his mother while he’s serving time should do it. Besides, we’ve primed him for this.” Chris wanted to work for me. I told him to go through the police academy, to earn a position we could use to our advantage. “He’s not going to like it. But we can make it worth it.”
My answer receives a single nod from Seth followed by the impatient tapping of his foot in the front seat.
“You’re too nervous,” I comment. I’m well aware of the consequences and everything at stake in this moment. The nerves he feels are nothing compared to the turmoil rattling inside of me. “Knock it the fuck off.”
With his hand running over his chin he takes in a deep breath, but doesn’t speak. Instead he releases a long sigh.
“You have something on your mind?” I push him.
I start to think he’s going to keep it from me, whatever it is he’s thinking, an
d then he finally says, “She’s different.”
Bethany. Every muscle in my body tenses at the mere mention of her.
“Yes,” I answer him, feeling a pressure inside of my chest that makes me grit my teeth.
“She’s in your head.” He swallows after speaking.
Narrowing my eyes, I answer him with an acknowledging yes.
“I don’t know how to help that,” Seth admits, breaking eye contact in the small rectangular mirror for the first time. I hear him readjust in the seat in front of me as he adds, “I don’t know what I should have done differently.” When I don’t immediately respond to that, he doesn’t say anything else.
The sound of a car driving past us intrudes on the silence and I watch the tires leave tracks on the asphalt after driving through a small puddle. The brutal cold hasn’t stopped the early spring flowers from pushing through the dirt out front of the police station.
Staring at the double doors that hold my cailín tine behind them, I finally answer him, “This is all on me. I know where I fucked up and you did everything right.”
“What if it happens again?” he questions and a coil of anger tightens inside of me. He adds, “What do you want me to do? When you took off, I knew I should have stopped you.”
I don’t have time to answer him. Instead my attention is drawn to the doors being held open by Curt Linders while Bethany walks through them. With her arms crossed, she stands at the top of the concrete stairs, looking smaller than she ever has to me. Her hair is wild as the wind blows from her left and it’s then that her gaze lands on our car.
“You don’t have to worry about it,” I say without taking my eyes off of her. “The next time I’ll be the one taking the fall,” I answer him and push my door open, not hesitating to go to her. Curt’s shock doesn’t go unnoticed. Neither does Seth’s protest to simply wait for her and for me to remain inside the vehicle.
