Authors: Sarah Masters
"Two?” Brian seemed to fold in on himself, and the motion drew me out of hiding to put a hand on his shoulder. He reached up and touched my fingers. The warmth of contact that didn't hurt was surprisingly reassuring. “Vic, this is Paul."
Vic looked up, and his mouth fell open. Shocked recognition crossed his face, then, for one split second, he appeared horror stricken. “Shit.” His face went completely blank.
"Paul Miller.” He stood, reached to his belt, and pulled his badge free to hold up in my face. “You are under arrest for the murder of Henry Staffville."
"What?"
The words slammed into me, knocking my breath out, but meant nothing right away. Not until he stepped behind me, grabbed one arm, and yanked it back did the meaning register. And then, my default to cowed submission was so ingrained he had me cuffed in a matter of seconds. I couldn't resist if I'd thought of it. Brian surged to his feet.
"Vic!"
"I'm sorry, Brian,” Vic said.
I didn't know him. Who knew if he really was sorry? But the professional veneer slipped as he stepped around, back where I could see him, and met Brian's gaze.
"I have no choice.” He turned back to me and rattled off what I guessed were supposed to be my rights, but I didn't hear any of it.
"Bri?” I moved toward him. He could set this cop straight. This wasn't right.
"Victor, this is ridiculous! He didn't kill anyone!"
Brian inserted himself between the door and me, and I realized Victor had a hand on my back, shoving me toward the exit. I stumbled and would have fallen on my face if Victor hadn't caught me by one arm. He hauled me back upright, but his grip wasn't harsh. He met my eye, and I couldn't look away.
"It's my job.” The blank look softened. “I didn't expect to see you here. I'm sorry. But there's a warrant. I can't ignore that."
"For murder? No.” Brian planted his feet, crossed his arms. “No. I don't care about any warrant. He didn't do whatever it is you think he did."
"Who says
I
think it?” Victor's grip on my arm loosened a little more as his head swung round. He frowned at Brian. “Everything about this case is cocked up. I'm on a short leash as it is, Bri, and if I'm going to figure any of it out, I have to go by the book. Please, please don't make me arrest you too."
"I'm telling you, he didn't do it."
Victor studied him for a minute, then me, and a tic twitched his lips. There was that look in his eyes again. The one I couldn't interpret. I swallowed, trying to process what was going on.
"You must...” I had to clear my throat and still struggled to get my voice above a stunned whisper. “Have the wrong guy. I didn't."
Victor gave himself a tiny shake, focused back on Brian. “Call Lil. Call a lawyer. Get out of my way."
"Please.” This time, I didn't let him push me closer to the door. “Please, I didn't. I was here..."
"Don't.” Victor's hand moved from my arm to my shoulder. “Let me do my job. It's the best way I can help you."
"You're arresting me!” I spat it like an accusation, and his fingers tightened.
"I have no choice. There's evidence we can't ignore, so come with me. You'll get a chance to explain yourself."
"You've already got me in cuffs.” I yanked on my hands, and the pain of the hard cuffs against tender wrists sharpened my focus. I remembered what Lil had said last night about them needing to find their cop killer. “You don't want an explanation. You want an arrest. You're desperate to pin this shit on anyone you can find. Who's going to listen?"
"I will. I have my own theories on what's going on, but I have to work within the rules, and the rules say I have to take you in."
"I'm no one to you except a convenient fall guy."
He stepped in front of me, lips pursed, but those dark eyes were earnest. “That isn't true. You don't know me. I know that, but I've been keeping close tabs on you. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you."
"Who the hell are you?” My voice wavered. I didn't realize I was shaking until his hand ran down my bare arm and his thumb brushed my inner elbow. The shaking turned to a shiver, and I gasped.
"You have to trust me."
"I don't know you."
He glanced over to Brian, a slightly pleading look on his face. “Tell him."
"Tell him what? What do you want me to tell him? You're arresting him."
"I have to!"
"Why? You said evidence. What evidence?” Brian's fists moved to his hips.
"I can't tell you that."
I shifted to face him better, maybe to get that focus back on me. It shouldn't have, but his gaze, his touch, calmed me. “Why have you been watching me?"
"Your boyfriend...” His eyes darkened, and the hand on my arm twitched. “I've come across him before. He's not a nice man."
"You think?"
He leaned closer. “If I could have talked you into leaving him, would you have?"
I swallowed a hefty dose of anger. He was right. Until yesterday, I wouldn't have listened to Brian and Lil, never mind a complete stranger.
"I know this is cocked up. This is not how I wanted things to go, but I'm here, you're here, and if it got out I didn't take you in when I had the chance, I'd be done. I'm on thin ice as it is, and I need to keep myself in this investigation. It's the only way to get the
right
man. Please. I know it doesn't seem like it right now, but you can trust me. You have to. I'll prove you didn't do it."
"How?"
"I'll prove who did."
"You know who did?"
"Yes. I just have to get at him long enough to prove it. You might be able to help me do that."
"How?"
"Trust me."
"Just like that.” I rattled the cuffs on my wrists. “How are you going to protect me when I'm in jail?"
That's when he turned back to Brian. “Get him a lawyer. Get down to the station. I'll delay as long as I can. Just be fast."
Brian nodded. He'd resigned himself to this, and there was nothing I could do. He wasn't backing me.
"I'll be right behind you, Paul."
I was shaking again. “This isn't right. You know I didn't do anything, Bri."
"I'll get you a lawyer. I'll call Lil. We'll be there."
"I didn't..."
Brian stepped grimly aside, allowing Victor access to the door and letting him haul me out.
"Bri?"
Victor barely stopped long enough for me to get my feet into my shoes and for Brian to drape a jacket over my shoulders. He straightened it as I passed and patted my shoulder. “We'll be there. Promise."
"I didn't."
"I know."
I sighed, a loud huff of relief. I'd needed him to say it again. I had to hear it even though I knew he believed me. “Thank you."
Outside, Vic's car sat right on the curb, and he opened the back door to maneuver me inside. I bent and folded into the seat, glanced up at him, and he actually smiled.
"I promise, I'll keep you safe. The charges are based on so little. It's going to be okay."
I nodded. Why was it so easy to believe him?
He closed the door, and I glanced at the front entrance of Brian's building. I half expected to see Carl there grinning at me. He'd enjoy this. He'd be pissed when he didn't find me in my apartment. I just hoped to hell he didn't go looking for me at Brian's.
Carl woke with a banging headache. Last night's activities had worn him out, what with the adrenaline rush, his anger toward Paul, and every goddamn grievance heaped upon him during his life pushing him to do what he'd done. He stared at the ceiling, thoughts of his childhood seeping into the edges of his brain. He hated looking back. After all, what was the point in harping on about regrets and things he couldn't change? Yet every so often it was like his mind forced him to go back to that shadowy place that still haunted him, a place he'd escaped from. Or so he'd thought.
Disliking the lack of control these memories gave him, he clenched his teeth to ward the images off, but they came regardless.
Shit
. He didn't need a dose of guilt right now. Didn't need to think about why he behaved as he did.
But the remembrance of those times as a kid butted at him, insistent that he listen to the voices of the past and watch the images flashing before him. His throat swelled with emotion and the knowledge of what he'd see and hear, and he closed his eyes, allowing those times to swamp him with their weighty oppression...
Moonlight's fingers clawed around little Carl's Superman bedroom curtains, and a low-watt lamp glowed on a chest of drawers at the bottom of his bed. He didn't like nighttimes. Didn't like what they brought.
"You're a damn jerk of a kid sometimes, Carl,” his father said, leery grin too close, eyes round and bloodshot. “Got no idea where you get your bad behavior from, ‘cause it sure ain't from me.” His breath fanned Carl's face. Rancid. Evil. “Reckon your bitch of a mother's to blame. Fucking off and leaving us."
Carl shrank back in his bed, nine-year-old eyes wide, the covers clutched beneath his chin. His father, the son of a bitch named Kevin, sat on the edge, baggy sweatpants and filthy white vest gaping at the neck. Kevin pulled away and stared at the wall, elbows on knees, hands dangling between them. Carl wondered what his father saw when he gazed like that, all bug-eyed and slack-jawed. He squinted, taking in Kevin's stubbled, ruddy cheeks and big stout nose. A shudder snaked up his spine, and he drew the blankets further up so only his eyes and the top of his head showed.
"So, you got in trouble at school again, fuck-wit, huh?” Kevin kept his sights ahead and rasped his palm over his chin.
The noise shrieked in the quiet room, and Carl blinked, hot tears pricking his eyes.
"No point in answering me, ‘cause that fat bitch from the school called. Told me all about it. Getting in fights, huh? Been going on for some time, she said. Carl's a bad influence, she said. Carl's a
bad boy
, she said.” He sighed. “And you know what happens to bad boys, right?"
Carl's stomach churned. Oh, he knew what happened all right. Any minute now, Kevin would pick up that belt he'd dropped to the floor when he'd come into the room and lift it high into the air, bringing it down, down, down... Carl needed to pee. He willed himself not to, but the hot trickle of urine burned his thighs and seeped between them, onto the mattress beneath his ass. When Kevin whipped the covers back, he'd see. He'd know. And that belt...sure as shit it'd hit him harder.
I can't help being bad. I'm sorry. I don't mean to, I just... I want Mom. I want her back here so she can hug it all away, make Dad stop...
Kevin stood, fists bunched, and paced beside the bed. “D'you know, kid, that when you love someone, you are all they need. You diggin’ me?” He stopped walking and glared down at Carl.
Nervous as hell, Carl shook from head to foot, unable to control his body. The piss had cooled, itched his legs, but he couldn't bring himself to let go of the covers to scratch them.
He'll start on me in a minute, just like he always does.
Kevin's brow furrowed, and his dark eyes darkened some more, as though the irises had bled into the brown. “I see you
don't
get what I'm saying. Take you and me as an example. I love you, right, and everything I do is because I love you. I show you that love with discipline.” He resumed pacing and shook his head. “I tell you, you'll understand when you're older, when you love someone and they rip your fucking heart out. So, when you
do
find that person you love over anyone else, you gotta keep them in line, make them understand your love with authority. It's the only way, kid. And another thing,” he reached down for the belt, “when you get that special person in your life, you've gotta take away every danger, every other person that threatens your relationship, ‘cause if you don't, they'll fuck you over and screw with you. Leave you broken. D'you get
that
?"
Carl nodded, quick sharp bobs of the head that hurt his neck.
"So never forget what I just said, right? And now you understand why I gotta do what I'm gonna.” Kevin wrenched the covers back, his eyes widening and mouth gaping at Carl's midsection. “You gone and
pissed
again, kid?"
A sob left Carl, and snot shot out of his nose onto his top lip. With his balled hands over his mouth, he bit a knuckle and closed his eyes tight.
"Lift your damn arms,” Kevin said.
Carl obeyed.
It's coming, it's coming, it's coming...
The sound of the belt whizzing through the air reached him a millisecond before the leather cracked across his chest. The burn
killed
, and he instinctively raised his knees to his chest.
"Knees down, kid."
The belt slapped again and again, until Carl peed once more and sobbed, his knuckles bleeding from his teeth's bite. After the last strike, tears streaming down his face, Carl opened his eyes. Kevin was gone, but the filthy stench of him remained—his sour breath, his fetid body odor. Carl blew out through shaky lips and, wincing, got out of bed. His chest ached, throbbed, and as he walked to the closet, fresh tears spilled. He opened the door and gingerly bent down to take a clean sheet off the wardrobe floor. Once he'd stripped his bed, he went out onto the landing and dumped the wet sheets in the laundry hamper then collected a towel from the airing cupboard. Back in his room, he laid the folded towel over the piss and remade the bed, every movement agony.
He kneeled beside his bed and clasped his hands together, closing his eyes.
"Please, God, let me be just like my daddy. If I'm not, he'll hurt me some more."
Carl fisted the tears away, angry that his past still had the ability to affect him this way. He should be over it by now, god-fucking-damnit! He got out of bed, stomping into the bathroom and setting the shower to hot.
The hotter the better. Burn those bastard memories away
.
He stepped inside, bracing himself for yet another reminder of the past as the hot spikes of water seared his torso. He thought of Paul, how his chest must have burned last night, how he would have pissed the bed just like Carl used to do if he hadn't gotten free. Tears mingled with the water splashing on his face, and he swallowed past the lump in his throat.