by W Winters
“Is it possible he was wearing this?” the cop questions. I’ve seen him before.
It’s short, it’s dark and as I close my eyes and picture Marcus, his sharp blue eyes scold me, forcing my eyes to bolt open. He was wearing a fake beard and that’s what’s in the cop’s hands.
“I didn’t get a good look at him,” I answer with my arms wrapping tighter around myself, “but yes. I think he was.”
The night continues, the sounds and the flashing lights and the speculation consuming every moment but all I can think about, all I can see and feel are those pale blues and the singeing touch.
If he’s not the one who left the note, how did he know to insert himself so seamlessly the way he did? Questions pile up and not a single answer comes to light.
“You need to go home. I’m taking you home.” Taylor’s statement comes with a hand on my shoulder that startles me back to the present.
With muted voices on his speaker and then white noise, Taylor presses the push-to-talk button and answers, “Copy that,” before moving his hand to the small of my back.
“Let me drive. Andrews will follow and I’ll ride back with him.” With a nod and a thank you, I don’t protest. I can barely think straight. I can barely even see what is directly in front of me. Instead I recall the cases. The first time I met Cody and the FBI team that was assigned when the bodies started compounding on one another.
His signature was the letters. His script matches the note. The entire quiet drive home I glance between the photo on my phone and Taylor, who does his best to comfort me, but the kindest thing he does is turn on the radio.
If he wants me dead… I’d be dead.
What the hell does Marcus want from me?
Cody
The messages come through one after the other. Reception out here in this part of Virginia is a bitch and as I sit in the back of the van, I listen to each of them get worse. It’s the makings of a horrific nightmare.
In the first one, Delilah disguises her fear with a sense of indignation. Knowing she’s scared, my blood instantly runs cold. Where are you? But she ended the call with a softer, I need you.
She can’t hide the fear in that statement.
Which makes the second and third messages harder to listen to.
Marcus.
My reaction to hearing his name on her lips is visceral. Bastard! Anger tears through me that he went to her, that he dared to make contact with her.
I’ll kill him. If he touches her, I’ll cut his fucking throat open.
Attempting to play off the emotions that roll through me while surrounded by my team in the back of the van, I can barely respond.
“Right, Walsh?” Evan jokes, shoving his shoulder against mine as we head down the highway.
“Right,” I say as I nod in agreement and then lean forward, gripping the back of Parker’s headrest. “Hey, I need to stop up here for a minute,” I call up to the driver, Bradley. The van has always seemed small with the six of us spread out in the eight-seat vehicle. Two in each row and the black cases in the back stacked up just behind me.
I do all right playing it off even though I feel sick to my stomach, and my hand’s wrapped around my phone with a viselike grip.
They all know about Marcus, but they don’t know the truth. The details are where the betrayal lies and they wouldn’t understand that.
I don’t rush out of the van when we stop. If I did, they’d know something’s up. They probably already do. I don’t want them involved any more than they’ll insert themselves without being told shit. They only need to know what they already know about me and Delilah, which isn’t a damn thing.
She’s for me to take care of and unless I really need them, I’m keeping them in the dark. That’s the way it has to be. The rest stop is typical. They’re always the same. Gas station on one side for passenger vehicles, with diesel pumps on the other for trucks and other commercial transport. The smell of gasoline is strong as I make my way past the pumps. There’s a convenience store with an entrance on the outside and then inside contains a food court and restrooms. The brisk night air is the only comfort against my hot skin.
Evan, a man taller than me and with more years in the bureau too, climbs out behind me and yells for me to wait up. The walk with him is silent and I know he’s catching on to the tension but he gives me my space. Lord knows Evan has his own secrets and if the man is good at anything, it’s respecting boundaries.
This time of night, there are fewer families in the rest stops than during the day, but this particular one has never been empty any time we’ve stopped here.
The interior is littered with cheap tables that are half-filled and the smell of burgers and fried food lingers in the air. There’s only one corner relatively vacant and I pick that one, ignoring Evan’s questioning look as he heads for the restroom and I don’t.
The legs of the chair grind against the speckled linoleum and I take a moment to compose myself before I call Delilah. The tips of my fingers are numb as fear and anger stir inside of me.
If he threatened her, I’ll kill him. I’ll find him and kill him. If anyone has a clue as to where Marcus hangs out, it’s me.
I don’t know where he lives or what he looks like, but with the information I’ve got, my team will find him. I’ll come clean, for her. I’ll confess everything.
If it wasn’t him who left the note and he knows who’s after her… then we have an even bigger problem on our hands.
Her number’s on speed dial and without thinking twice I hit number 8, my lucky number, swallowing thickly as I stare straight ahead, mindlessly watching two kids pull on their father’s jacket, begging for a cookie that’s larger than the size of their small hands. They’re all the way across the food court, but everyone in here can hear their pleas.
The phone rings and rings and just when I think it’s going to voicemail, Delilah answers.
“Cody,” she says and the longing and relief contained in the single-word answer does something to me. My heart sinks but in a way that’s difficult to describe.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” I tell her first, dropping my gaze to the gray lacquered tabletop. Fuck, I’m sorry for so much. The truth goes unspoken.
“It’s okay. I’m okay,” she answers quickly. “They found the kid, he works for a pizzeria and he’s the one who left the note. He said a woman asked him to drop it off for me. She told him she was my friend and it was an inside joke. He had no idea.”
A kid and a woman? The man I knew years ago as Marcus would never have involved children in his work. Never. Maybe she was right in the last message she sent. Two different situations, both colliding. My instincts tell me Marcus, at the very least, knew she’d be threatened. He has a hand in every sin that occurs in our city and I don’t believe he just happened to be there. If the last decade has taught me anything, it’s that there’s no such thing as coincidence.
“And Marcus?” Anger flares in my tone and I have to close my eyes to keep it at bay. When I open them, Evan is across the court, watching me but remaining at a distance. I wave a hand in the air to let him know I’m all right, but he stays where he is, diligently keeping an eye on the surroundings.
I’ll have to tell him something. I’ll think of some excuse. A partial truth maybe. Something happened to a woman I’m seeing. She’s shaken up and I need to get the hell home so I can help her. That’ll do it. Only Evan, though. The entire team doesn’t need to get wind of this.
When one of us is down, all of us pull together. But this? They can’t go digging into this.
Delilah’s inhale is easily heard on my end of the line before she says, “I only think the man who walked me to my car was Marcus because of the note he gave me. The number is untraceable, probably a burner and when they called no one answered. They tried to track it and they got nothing.”
Of course he didn’t answer. There’s no way he wasn’t watching her every move. He knows she told the cops what she suspects. I should
feel terror at the realization because Marcus isn’t known for having mercy, but he told me how he felt about her once.
He wouldn’t touch her. He made that clear.
He better fucking not.
“You saw his face?” I question her, my hand forming a white-knuckled fist at my side. He’s a sick fuck and a ruthless murderer. It doesn’t make sense that I’m this calm. That I can hold back this much of what I’m feeling. Except for one little truth. One small detail I’ve never told anyone.
“Only his eyes. Caucasian male with blue eyes.”
No one’s ever seen his face but me; and back then, it was only a glimpse. The details of who Marcus is choke me as I force my body to relax in my seat. It’s only to put Evan at ease. What is reflected on the outside is nothing at all like the turmoil that rages inside of me.
“Is someone with you?” I ask her, praying the security team had enough sense to take this seriously. If everything she’s told me is true, all they have is a note from a man who said he was Marcus. On paper it’s not a threat, but in reality, she should be terrified.
“They put four men on me and they have two teams on the case. One for the note and one for Marcus.”
I can only nod, words refusing to slip through my tight throat. She says his name so easily. Marcus. If only she knew.
Biting back a bitter taste, I tell her I’m sorry again and that I’m coming home. “You’ll stay with me.”
“You don’t have to do that. I’m having security—”
“You will go to my place and stay there until I’m home. Your apartment’s not safe until you get a security system. I’ll do the installation myself.” There’s no margin for negotiation in my tone and as I lean forward, my jaw clenched and lungs still, I know that’s not the tone Delilah typically appreciates. Her silence at the demand confirms my suspicions.
“Do it for me,” I plead with her, lowering my voice as I do. “You don’t have a security system, you’re in an apartment with neighbors everywhere. My place is on its own; there’s no risk and I spent a fortune on the security system.” The reasons line up in my head. It’s a mistake for her to stay in that building. Marcus could be just one floor up and there isn’t a damn thing we can do about it. “Please,” I add for good measure.
“Text me your address.” Her tone is reluctant.
“The security code is eight seven four three. Got it?” I ask her and rub the back of my neck.
“I got it. When will you be home?”
“We’re driving back now. Just twelve hours to go. I promise I’ll be there soon.”
There’s a shift between us. It’s been happening for weeks now. It’s easy to deny what’s between us when we both go along with it. But there’s no question that she means something to me and that I mean something to her.
What that is… we don’t have the time to delve into it right now. I just want to feel her, to hold her and know she’s safe.
“I’ll protect you. I promise.”
We end the call as if nothing’s changed between us, but I know it has.
I’ll see you soon doesn’t capture the meaning of what I want to tell her.
With the call over, I watch Evan motion to someone outside. The guys are ready to go. Irritation consumes me. I need a fucking moment to figure out all this shit and get a grip. Years of history come back to me. The details of a man I said goodbye to and thought I’d never hear from again.
I motion to the bathroom to Evan and he tilts his chin in acknowledgment.
When I’m enclosed within a stall, I text a certain number knowing full well if this blows up, the evidence will be damning. It’s the only number I have of his, though. And I’m unwilling to not reach out and tell him I know what he did and that he crossed a line.
You went to her? He sees the message almost immediately but doesn’t answer and it pisses me off. Someone enters the restroom as another person leaves. I need to wrap this up. You weren’t supposed to go near her.
The responding text is immediate: Neither were you.
The sounds of a faucet being turned on, a distant cough and footsteps in the men’s restroom turn to white noise as Marcus continues in a series of messages that drain the blood from my face, even as it heats to an unbearable degree.
Where are you now, when she needs you?
Don’t answer that.
It doesn’t matter.
I’ll take it from here.
Delilah
Still staring outside the window, I end the call with Cody. The phone is heavy in my hand and I find myself gripping it tighter than I should. With my left hand holding open the curtains, I let my eyes adjust to the dark night and take count of the men outside.
I invited them in, but that’s against protocol. Fine. They can stay out there all night. I don’t care what anyone else does at this point. I just want to be able to sleep.
Exhaustion and disbelief weigh me down as I pull my robe tighter around me. A hot shower didn’t do a damn thing to calm my nerves. I’m so tired, I feel as if I could lie down and fall asleep in only seconds. But I know better. With the way my mind is reeling, I’ll be lucky if I can keep my eyes closed when my head finally lands against the pillow.
Reluctantly, I grab an overnight bag and begin packing. I only take enough for one night. Cody said he’d be back tomorrow and that’ll give him hours to install a security system up here. It’s plenty of time and I’m not staying at his place for more than just tonight. Especially when it’s only so that one of the two of us can have less to worry about.
We’re… we’re not boyfriend and girlfriend. We aren’t anything but friends who wind up in bed together. I barely even know a personal thing about the man. Much less the state of his place. I don’t even know if it’s an apartment or a ranch house or… whatever it is. Hope is nonexistent but I’m praying for it. The truth? The real truth? Even with the men outside, I’m so fucking scared. I’ve never been this terrified in my entire life.
It comes with the territory. The nature of my business is to be met with threats and stare them down while demanding justice. But from what I know, Marcus has his own version of justice and I don’t know where I fall in his eyes.
My breathing hitches remembering his steely gaze, but I keep moving, grabbing my earplugs, sleep bonnet, and lip moisturizer from the nightstand and tossing them into the small travel bag then zipping it up.
I pretend I’m not falling apart with every step. I keep moving, grabbing a sweater aimlessly and then two blouses for underneath. It’s when I’m folding them, the note coming back into my mind and the knock at the door of my office playing back in my head, that I nearly lose all control. Marcus is one beast and the threat is another.
The half-full bag sags on my bed as I cover my face with my hands and just breathe. I finally get dressed, and just breathe. Just breathe. It’s only once I calm myself down that I realize my hands are shaking.
Hugging myself, I sit on the edge of the bed, rocking slowly and pulling myself together. I let myself slip off the side, falling to the floor and leaning my head back against the mattress.
I could call my sister, but it would frighten her more than anything. What good would that do? I could call my father and he would overreact. He would make demands and attempt to take over… not unlike the man I just ended my last call with, but at least I can go along with Cody’s decisions.
I wish he were here. I need him and I don’t want to need him like I do, but my God I do.
Is it so wrong to want to be held and protected? It goes against everything in my nature, everything I’ve worked for, but right now I desperately need it. A little human contact that reminds me I’m safe and okay and nothing bad is going to happen.
Because every time I close my eyes, all I see are the photographs from various crime scenes. But instead of the victim lying there, it’s me. It’s my eyes that are wide open, staring aimlessly and my body that’s broken and lifeless.
Without thinking about it, I reach fo
r my phone and text Cody as quickly as I can: Please drive fast. When it’s sent, I can’t take it back.
After wiping my eyes with a tissue and a handful of water splashed on my face, I give myself a cursory pass and pretend like none of that happened.
I take my time, reorganizing the bag and thinking about everything other than what happened tonight, grabbing some sleeping pills for safe measure before leaving my bedroom. I’m damn sure going to need them tonight.
Letting time pass, I go over everything I need and then do it again, making sure I didn’t miss anything before zipping up the bag with a sound of finality echoing in the room. I saved a pair of gray sweats and a comfortable olive hoodie to wear tonight. I certainly don’t look like a damsel in distress; I’ve never been a fan of that.
Taking deep breaths in and deep breaths out, I put on light makeup before making my way out of my bedroom, ready to relocate as per Cody’s not so gentle request. The security detail will just have to follow me to Cody’s place. I don’t know what they’ll think about it or if it goes against protocol, but I don’t have the energy to fight and they can’t make me stay here, so… it’s up to them if they come or not. The last thing I’m going to do right now is fight with the only person I can confide in.
I don’t want to be alone either, though.
With the straps digging into my shoulder, I carry the heavy bag past the kitchen and the bright bloom of gorgeous red petals catch my eye.
Roses. Dozens of roses.
The heavy duffle bag slips from its place and plops onto the wood floors. I’m still in bare feet and my soles pad on the floor as I make my way over. My first reaction is to touch the petals. They’re velvety soft and the flowers are fragrant. There are at least two dozen roses in a simple vase.
Knock, knock, knock, there’s a knock at my front door. The loud bangs startle me, forcing my fingers to pull back, not unlike Belle when the Beast came up from behind her, but I make haste getting to the front door, and see Taylor in the peephole. I could laugh at the reference to a fairytale; oh, what a poor excuse for a princess I would make.
