by Dana Mason
Ali fought the despair that was slowly enveloping her. She stood and walked to the window, wrapping her arms around her shoulders and wishing with everything she had to hold Micah within her embrace again. When Carl approached, she stared at him, lacking the energy she needed to step away from him. “Honey, it’s not him. Let’s just focus on—“
Johnny moved to block Ali. “Back off, Hayes!”
“I’m just trying to . . . talk to her. She’s upset. I can’t watch and not comfort her.”
“I’ll comfort her—you don’t touch her.”
“Alison, I didn’t mean for any of this . . .” He shook his head and Ali thought he might actually shed a tear. “I’m sorry you’re hurting. Hurting you was never my intention.”
Ali looked up at him, holding on to the indifference—no, the hatred she needed to feel for him. “But, Carl, I’m not the only person you’ve hurt.”
Carl nodded jerkily and turned, walking out the sliding glass door and at the same time, Ali turned and looked back up at Johnny. “What the hell was that?”
Johnny shrugged and squeezed her shoulders, then lifted his hand and brushed it against her cheek. “Why don’t you go splash some cold water on your face and lay down.” He glanced over at Melissa and Julie for back up. “You’ve had a rough day and I don’t want you to overdo it.”
Melissa cupped her hand around Ali’s elbow. “We’ll go up with you, Al. You should get some rest, you need to recoup after what happened today. They’ll come get us if they hear anything else.”
“But . . .” her chin quivered involuntarily. A deep seeded weepiness pushing her to surrender even when she just wanted to know what was happening to her son. “I want to be here when they find out about . . .”
“We’ll let you know right away,” Brian said. “Babe, let Jules and Lis take you upstairs to get some rest or you’re going to force us to take you to the ER. You look like you’re about ready to collapse again.”
Ali nodded, defeated and too drained to argue.
Johnny stayed behind, he wanted to keep an eye on Carl. Why was he apologizing for Ali being hurt? He couldn’t be referring to the divorce. Why apologize here . . . and now?
Johnny, Mark, and Brian stared as Carl paced the patio. Then Mark narrowed his eyes and stepped out. Brian and Johnny both strolled over to the open window to listen to the conversation, with their eyes locked on each other’s.
“What’s your game, Carl?” Mark asked.
From what he could see through the window, Carl looked as if he was trying to pull off confused, but Johnny wasn’t buying it.
“What are you playing at—why are you here?” Mark ticked the questions off, pointing at Carl. “Why are you acting concerned all of the sudden? You haven’t been around in months and now you come here worried about Micah.”
“I’m worried about her!” Carl snarled. “Contrary to popular belief, I do love her.”
“Really?” Mark’s voice rose. “Is that why you tried touching another woman while Ali was in labor with your child?”
“You don’t know shit about me, Mark, so don’t act like you do,” Carl said, dropping down into a patio chair. “I didn’t want to be a father. I’m forty-six years old. I didn’t want to start over with a baby. I love Jamie. Having him here was great, he was self-sufficient and a good kid . . . but I never wanted a baby.”
“Then why did you marry her?”
“I love her—believe it or not! I told her from the beginning I didn’t want kids. I never lied about that. Ask her why she got pregnant regardless of my feelings—she assumed I would change my mind when she told me about the baby.”
“That doesn’t excuse what you did,” Mark said.
“What I did—I never wanted to hurt her. If I didn’t do something drastic to make her hate me, it would never be over. She kept trying to make it work, kept coming back for me. She was scared to death of another failed marriage. She’d be married to me for the rest of her life and be completely miserable just to save face.”
“What?” Mark sneered. “Are you telling me you planned that, you purposely used Sarah to get out of your marriage? You mother fucker!”
Brian pulled the door open and stepped outside and Johnny knew it was to break up the impending fight.
“I’m sorry,” Carl said, bowing his head.
“Don’t even try to play the martyr here. What did you think that would do to Sarah? Did it ever occur to you that she had already been through enough? You son of a bitch!”
“Whoa, what’s going on?” Brian asked, moving between them as Mark started pacing.
“I wasn’t thinking about Sarah. I needed an out, Ali was having a baby. I told you—I got desperate and freaked out. It wasn’t planned, I just did it without thinking.”
“You’re the most selfish bastard I’ve ever met in my fucking life, you fucking scumbag,” Mark shouted. “And you did this to Ali, hurt her—the woman you just insisted you love!”
“If I didn’t do something unforgivable, she never would’ve ended it. Seemed better than staying in a bad—resentful marriage.” He scrubbed his face with his hands. “I thought it would be better for her too.”
“Oh—well how fucking kind of you to save her. How fucking nice of you to end your marriage that way, especially when you could’ve just left.”
“Have you done something else drastic?” Brian asked Carl. “Have you done something to Micah?”
“I never wanted the boy hurt.” He stood and walked passed Brian and Mark. Stepping back inside the house through the open door.
Johnny leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest. When Carl passed him, he said, “You had better not be involved with Micah’s kidnapping.” Carl ignored him and kept walking.
Mark stormed through the door a few seconds later. “I need to see my wife. I’ll be back later.”
Johnny stepped outside where Brian paced the backyard. “What do you think?”
Brian shook his head and kept pacing.
“So, I figure Carl got some creeps to kidnap Micah to get him out of the way,” Johnny blurted out.
Brian stopped pacing and looked at Johnny intensely.
“He either wanted to get Micah out of the way . . . or he wanted to get out of paying child support, maybe he even stands to profit from the sale of his own son . . . something like that. He did something, Brian.”
Brian nodded and went back to pacing. “Why would he want to get Micah out of the way—besides money?” Brian said it as if he were talking to himself.
“You heard him! He’s still in love with Ali, but he doesn’t want kids. Maybe he thought if Micah were gone he could get her back.” Johnny stepped in Brian’s path, wanting his undivided attention. “The only way Carl would know for sure that Micah is out of the picture would be if he made sure of it himself.”
“He emphasized he didn’t want ‘the boy hurt’ so either he assumes Micah is out of the way for good or he changed his mind about the baby,” Brian said.
“Did you get anything from the Chinese place?” Johnny asked.
“They have a camera mounted above the cash register, but the picture was worse than what we got from the original parking lot surveillance. Mark has Shane working to enhance the video from the Eastside Plaza’s surveillance. We got her getting into a car, the footage is better than what we got the first time so we’ll have a better shot of her, but we’re also trying to get a license plate number from the car.”
“Anything else you haven’t shared?”
Brian bowed his head. “Fuck, man, I’m not keeping you in the dark on purpose. You get that, right?”
“Yeah, I get it,” Johnny said. “I don’t like it, but I get it.”
“Shane finished up with the original footage. We got an enhancement of the driver in the silver car who plowed into you. Peters just released it to the press. Hopefully we can get some leads off it.”
“That’s good news. Two faces are better than one.”
“Micah deserves nothing less.”
“Once we start circulating the pics from the surveillance, these fuckers won’t be able to hide.” Brian rubbed his hands together and said, “And once we got ’em then we can find out how Hayes is connected to this thing.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Johnny thanked Melissa and Julie for their help then said his goodbyes. Once they were gone, he went up to check on Ali. He found her lying on the floor in Micah’s bedroom clutching the small, blue, fuzzy blanket again.
He tiptoed in and eased himself down on the floor next to her. “How are you holding up, sweetheart?”
“I’m not,” she whispered.
“Do you want me to leave you alone?”
She sat silent for a moment then said, “You don’t have to stay.”
How could he make her understand how much he didn’t want to be away from her? All he wanted was to hold her, feel her warmth against him and keep her safe within his arms. “Can I lay with you?” He reached out and stroked her hair down her back.
“Don’t feel obligated to be here. I’ll understand if you want to get out of this house and away from me.”
Johnny lay down behind her and wrapped his arms around her, trying to close the distance growing between them. “I don’t ever want to be away from you, please don’t talk like that.”
Lying on the floor with her, and with each passing hour, Johnny felt that space between them grow larger and the air around them grow colder. He’d been hopeful before, but as the minutes passed, he became more and more despondent and so did Ali.
As if sensing the distance too, Ali turned to him and cried into his chest, clutching the blanket like a lifeline. Johnny smelled the sweet scent of Micah on the blanket and it nearly stole his breath. His stomach tightened and it took all his focus not to throw it across the room.
He wasn’t sure how long they’d been there, but when he heard her stomach growl, he realized they hadn’t eaten anything. “Sweetheart, let’s go get you some food.”
She didn’t respond and he had to look down at her face to see if she was awake. Her eyes were open, but they were staring unblinking at nothing.
“Alison,” he said again, but she didn’t blink. “Look at me, babe.” He saw no signs of life, as if she couldn’t hear him.
Johnny gave up and wrapped his arms back around her, pulling her closer and resting his cheek on her hair. He watched as the room grew dark and wondered if they were missing anything by not being downstairs. He wanted to hear everything that was happening in the investigation, but he didn’t want to leave Ali alone. Then again, he didn’t think he had the strength or energy to contribute anything, which would only put him in the way of the people that were able to help.
The longer he lay there, the more he thought about his life and how everything had unraveled for him over the years. By anyone else’s standards, he should have been in prison or dead, but somehow he’d managed to pull himself out of the pattern of the people around him. His hometown, the small, but hard neighborhood in West Nashville had a way of producing troublemakers and Johnny had been one of the worst.
One day he just woke up. Woke up and decided he didn’t want to be the bad guy, he wanted to be the good guy, and wanted to make his dead parents proud. So he joined the Marines to the shock of his aunt and uncle. He’d served his tour then went home to go to college and join the Police Academy. When he returned, most of his friends were already in jail and by the time he started full time with Nashville Metro he felt like a complete outsider. He moved downtown to start over and tried to be the best cop possible.
When he met and started seeing Lisa, he thought he had a future, but then she’d betrayed him. After that he’d almost completely given up on life. By this time, the few friends he had left from his childhood had treated him like he had the plague. He trudged through and threw himself into the job, focusing on being the good detective and giving up on any personal life . . . then he received that call from Brian Hammel.
He looked down at Ali then around the room. The darkness was turning to light again. Ali’s eyes were still open and staring blankly.
“Where are you, sweetheart?” He put his hand under her chin and lifted her head up. When he saw the darkness in her eyes it scared the life out of him. It was as if she’d checked out completely.
“Please talk to me,” he begged. “I need to hear your voice.” She didn’t stir and if her chest hadn’t been moving up and down from her breathing, he’d of thought she was dead. Her pale skin, dry lips, and frozen, unfeeling—unfocused eyes, shook his soul.
“Don’t do this—do not do this, Alison. Micah needs you to stay strong. You need to remember to breathe in and out. You need to eat and you need to snap out of this funk.”
She just stared at him.
Johnny leaned in and kissed her, his hands tangling in her long hair and tugging it gently until he got a response out of her.
When she gave in to his kiss, he deepened it and moved over her, sucking, nipping and tracing her lips with his tongue. She was lifting to him now, seeking his mouth and moving toward him. Johnny felt her skin grow warm and come to life under him. He took a chance and opened his eyes to look at her face, tears spilled from her closed lids. Johnny moved to her cheeks and kissed them away.
“I would do anything to ease this,” he whispered. “Anything. Tell me what to do.”
Ali shook her head and pushed him away, then put her hands over her face, turning from him and bringing her knees to her chest.
“Don’t, Ali. Please—don’t turn away from me.”
When she didn’t respond, he scooped up her limp, lifeless body and carried her to her bed. When he laid her down, she pushed at him again.
“Stop pushing me away.”
Ali turned, ignoring him and going back to her blank stare. Johnny tried to look at her face, but she pushed him away again, closing her eyes this time. He placed his hand on her hip and tugged her, again she just pushed at his hands.
“No!” He grabbed her wrists and turned her, holding her against the bed. “No—no! You don’t get to shut me out. No!” he shouted in her face. “I love him too, Ali.”
Ali’s eyes finally met his, her lips turning into a deep frown. “Don’t act like you know how this feels . . . you don’t know.” Her voice was cold, and uncaring.
Johnny gritted his teeth. “Don’t act like you know what I’ve been through in my life—don’t act like you’re the only person here in pain.”
Ali closed her eyes tight and whispered, “I hate you.”
“No,” Johnny gritted his teeth. “Don’t say that.” He squeezed his eyes closed and turned his face away from her. “That won’t work. I’m not leaving.”
“I hate you,” she said again.
Johnny shook his head wanting to put his hands over his ears to block her out. “Telling me you hate me will not chase me away. I would rather you feel hatred than be numb.”
“Just kill me.” Her voice was so cold, Johnny had to whip around to see her face. Her eyes were open and emotionless.
Slowly, her eyebrows drew together and the word please brushed out from between her lips.
The look cut Johnny through. He framed her face with his hands. “Baby, you’ll live through this.”
“I don’t want to live through losing my son.”
“We. Are. Not. Losing Micah.”
Ali closed her eyes. “Just leave, please.”
“No. I will not let you harm yourself.” A bead of sweat trickled down the back of his neck. The anxiety coursing through his system reminded him of facing down an armed suspect in a standoff. Fear, anger, and something akin to grief was pushing him to lose his grip.
He had to focus.
S
wiping his forehead against his upper arm, he cleaned off the layer of sweat forming. He needed to clear his head for a minute and focus on fighting for Micah and Ali.
“ . . . ask the doctor to come back . . . sedate me.” Her voice wavered, and tears slid out from beneath her closed lids. “I don’t want this gnawing—eating me from the inside out pain. Take it away.”
Johnny thumbed the tears off her face and leaned in, resting next to her, cheek to cheek. If he felt so completely empty, how had she felt? She was right. He didn’t understand what it was like. He had never imagined anything being harder than losing his parents, but now, he wasn’t so sure.
“You need to take the edge off. Is that what you need, baby?” He lifted up to see her face. “Just something to help with the pain?”
She nodded and more tears dropped down her face and into her hair. “Please.”
Johnny took her hands and stretched them out over the bed. He kissed her with so much heat it sucked the breath out of him.
When his hips nudged against hers, she turned her face from his. But she couldn’t deter him. He continued to kiss his way down her jaw line.
“Johnny, don’t . . .”
“Shh, trust me, sunshine. I’ll take the edge off.”
When his teeth found her nipple protruding from beneath her thin shirt, she cried out. “Johnny, I can’t, I . . . don’t . . .”
He lifted his mouth to hers in an attempt to shut her up. Her skin warmed against his and her cheeks pinked, a sign he was golden. He rubbed against her again and felt the slight prod back.
“Trust me, sweet, I’ve got you. Leave it to me.” His shaking hands couldn’t grasp the buttons on her shirt so he grabbed the collar and tugged them loose until her shirt was completely undone.
His need for her intensified, she was the cure to save him from a long suffering disease. The urgency drove him to a troubling point, but he wouldn’t turn back. He yanked the button of her pants and tugged them from her body, while his mouth, lips, teeth and tongue continued to travel her skin.
