Illusions Complete Series (77 page)

Detective Branson nodded. “That makes sense, then. Anyhow, I wanted to get your statement about what happened.”

I drew a breath. I fought down the sense of panic that inevitably welled up whenever I talked about what had happened to me.
You’re ok, Iris, you’re ok. Andrew is dead, and he can’t hurt you anymore. So go ahead and talk about it.

“Andrew was my bodyguard for a short time,” I said after a few minutes’ pause. “He, uh, actually ended up r-r-raping me in my home. He disappeared for a long time, but then he ended up breaking into my home. I came home from the courthouse – I was being deposed for another case that I am involved in – and he was there in my living room, holding my daughter Dalilah, with a gun in his hand.” I shivered, then looked down at my hands. As much as I tried to get that vision out of my head – seeing my daughter endangered like that – I just couldn’t. I saw it constantly, every time I closed my eyes.

“Why was he in your home?”

“He was obsessed with me, mainly because he had a psychotic break and thought that I was his wife. He came to my house with the intent to kill me, I think.”

Detective Branson was carefully taking notes about everything I was saying to him. “Go on,” he said.

“He threatened me with his gun. My husband came in and pretended that he was the person that Andrew really wanted, so Andrew shot my husband. And I must’ve gotten a butcher knife out of the kitchen drawer and plunged it into his back. That part is kinda hazy right now,” I said, with another shiver. The only scene that was replaying in my mind, in an endless loop, of the moment that I killed Andrew, was Ryan being shot and falling to the floor. I closed my eyes, and that was what I saw. Ryan being shot and falling to the floor, and the awful sight of Ryan’s blood on my hands as I futilely attempted to stop the bleeding.

“So, you say that this man, Andrew Stout, was obsessed with you. What signs were there that he felt this way about you?”

“Just second-hand information. My husband’s father was keeping tabs on Andrew, and he reported to my husband and I about Andrew’s whereabouts and state of mind.”

The questions continued from there, for several hours. Detective Branson was very thorough, asking question after question about the incident and my history with Andrew.

About 2 PM, he finally seemed ready to quit and let me leave. “I’m terribly sorry to make you have to relive all this, Mrs. Gallagher. I’ll have my team check out your story, and I’ll get back with you.”

It just then occurred to me that there was a slight possibility that I could be in some kind of trouble. Of course, it was both self-defense and defense of others, but I hoped that there wouldn’t be any charges pressed against me if Detective Branson didn’t believe my story.

“Um, I’m not in trouble, am I?” I asked Detective Branson tentatively.

“Well, any time there is a homicide, there has to be an investigation as to whether the self-defense story is going to hold up. But I’ll be honest with you – considering the fact that this man shot your husband, I would say that there is almost no chance that you will have charges pressed against you. Your story about self-defense seems pretty airtight. But no promises.”

I nodded my head. “Thank you, Detective Branson, for your time.”

We said our goodbyes, and I was on my way.

Chapter Seven

Ryan

I was wide awake, waiting for Iris to return. I impatiently looked at the clock – it read 3 PM. She had been gone that entire afternoon. I was half conscious when she was here last, but now I’m awake, and on pins and needles. I needed to know what happened to Andrew. I also needed her here, because I was spinning into dark, negative thoughts. This shooting was bringing up so much crap up for me, things that had never even crossed my mind for many a year. I guess it was because I almost died, again. In fact, I did, briefly, die. I knew that I had flatlined on the table. I knew it, because it was just like in the movies – I suddenly was floating above the table and watching down below, while the doctors and nurses were using their paddles and shouting “clear!” Then, just as suddenly, I was pulled back down, and I don’t remember much after that.

Having this near-death experience was bringing up other times when my life was endangered. Things that haunt me to this day.

I was obsessing right then about the three days I spent in the car trunk, thinking for sure I was about to meet my end. I had cheated death with the suicide attempt and the shooting at Seth’s, and it seemed that fate had finally caught up to me.

∞

It was right after I had a talk with one of my professors. He summoned me into his office on a warm October day. Fall was always my favorite time of the year – it brought back memories of football games and homecoming parades and bonfires with friends. The air was crisp, and the leaves were changing into their brilliant red and yellow colors. Alexis and I were getting along during this time, and we were going to take a drive that weekend to the country to see all the leaves changing and buy warm apple cider at a roadside diner we loved so well. The trip would include our usual rations of drugs, of course, so that was a bonus for me.

So, I actually was in a good mood as I approached his office in one of the ivy-covered administration buildings.

“You wanted to see me?” I inquired as I lightly rapped on the open door to his office. Professor Warren was a slight man, balding and bespectacled. He wore bow ties and cardigan sweaters and vests, and his pants were always slightly too short. He was definitely not an intimidating sort, so I wasn’t feeling threatened as I sat down to talk to him.

“Yes, Mr. Gallagher. Have a seat.”

I obeyed, putting my hands on my lap.

“I’m just finishing up a little bit of paperwork. I hope you don’t mind. Just give me a few minutes.”

I nodded. I felt uncomfortable, because I didn’t know what he wanted. I hadn’t been summoned to a professor’s office before. However, this office was a nice one – it was lined with wood panels, and the carpet was red, so the room had a definite cozy, yet masculine, air to it. He had an entire wall of books. Dostoyevsky, Proust, Tolstoy, Fitzgerald, Hemingway, and many non-fiction books. He had candles burning on the desk. Outside the window, I saw leaves falling to the ground.

My mind drifted to the coming weekend and the Christmas holidays that were just around the corner. I always loved Christmas. Nick’s family always tried to make it special, especially for me, since I was essentially an orphan. And, when I was a small child, my mother went out of her way to make sure that I got everything I wanted for Christmas. I got to pick out the tree, and she got ornaments just for me, and special ornaments for Sarah as well. Even my father tried to be civil on Christmas Day, although there was at least one occasion when I got smacked across the face so hard that there was a large mark on my cheek. The mark could still be seen in the Christmas home videos they made of me riding my tricycle.  

Finally, Professor Warren was finished with what he was doing, and he turned his attention to me. “Uh, Mr. Gallagher, I wanted to talk to you about something very important to me,” he said. “I wanted to talk to you about your absences.”

Uh oh.
No other professor had called me on this. I think that my father’s unseen hand had a lot to do with this, coupled with the fact that I was carrying a 3.9 GPA, and was on track to graduate
magna cum laude
.

“My absences, sir?”

“Yes, your absences. Now, I know that your other professors don’t seem to care that you continually violate their absences policies, but I do.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll do better, sir.”

“There’s another thing,” he said, fiddling with his paper weight on his desk, and not looking me in the eye. “I don’t want to offend, but at the same time, I can’t keep silent about this. I kept silent about my suspicions with my son, and that had tragic consequences.” He took a deep breath, and I watched him expectantly. What came out of his mouth was something that surprised me completely. “I suspect that you are a drug user.”

Now how did he know that? If there was one thing that I was an absolute expert at, it was hiding the fact that I was a junkie. I never went to class completely high – I only did enough to take the edge off in the morning, and I saved my heavy drug use for the weekends.

“I’m sorry sir, I don’t know why you would say that.”

“My son died of a drug overdose. I know the signs. They’re subtle, but I see them in you. I can’t even put my finger on it – it’s just something that I know in my gut. Anyhow, I wanted you to know that I’m here to talk if you need me.”

“Well, I thank you for that, sir, but you are mistaken. I am very sorry to hear about your son. But I’m not a drug user and never have been.” I looked him right in the eye as I said this. I was well-trained on how to lie to people about this subject. Sometimes I felt that I deserved an Academy Award for my incredible acting abilities.
And the winner of the Best Actor award, for his role in My Life on Smack, is Ryan Gallagher!!!!!

He looked pensive and sad for a few moments, then he raised his eyebrows in a way that said
I’m calling bullshit
. But he said nothing more about it. “Anyhow,” he said, “You need to watch your absences in my class. Now, I know that you are on track to graduate as a magna, but that doesn’t mean that you are deserving of special treatment from my class or any other class.”

“Yes sir,” I said, glad that it was the weekend and I didn’t have to worry about missing his class the next day. “I’ll be sure that I’m there every Tuesday and Thursday, right on time.”

“Thank you for coming by. And remember, if you need somebody to talk to, I’m here. I don’t want to lose another promising young life to that junk.”

I nodded. “Well, again, I thank you, but trust me, I don’t do drugs.” I chuckled. “Well, I mean, unless you count an occasional beer.”

And I made my goodbyes and left.

But his talk gnawed at me. It was one thing for Nick and the guys to be constantly badgering me about the drug use. It was another for this man, whom I barely knew, to do the same. I felt ashamed, more ashamed than I had ever felt, and that shame was like a 1,000 pound weight on me. It was dragging me down as I walked along the tree-lined path towards my car.

And I handled my shame the same way I handled every other negative emotion in my life.

I immediately headed down to Boston to see Seth.

I got to Seth’s house, and got into the usual routine. Shoot up and lay incoherently on his couch the entire weekend. I blew off Alexis, of course, ignoring the phone and the constant missed calls from her.
The changing leaves and cozy roadside diner would have to wait until next weekend. This weekend would be saved for one thing – getting high.

But I got a rude awakening, ruder than even the rude awakening I got with the hulking Jared. I came out of my stupor and saw three guys standing in the living room with semi-automatic weapons, aimed at Seth.

“We understand that you have been poaching some of Jack Haley’s most lucrative clients,” one of the men accused Seth. He was well-dressed in a three-piece suit and expensive shoes which were buffed to an impeccable sheen. His pants were perfectly tailored, as was his jacket. He, like the other two men, was wearing a Halloween mask. The other men were not dressed as well, as they were in white t-shirts and black shoes and pants. Both of them were dressed the same. All of the men were slightly built and under the height of six foot.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Seth protested, his hands in the air.

One of the guys gestured at me with his semi-automatic. “Who is this pretty boy?” he asked.

I spoke up. “I’m just here. I’ve got nothing to do with Seth’s deals.”

“Well, Mr. Just Here, looks like you are in the wrong place at the wrong time,” the leader in the three-piece suit said to me. “Too bad for you.”

Seth was talking again. “I’m serious here, I have no idea what you are talking about. What clients am I poaching?”

“You want me to give you a list?” three piece suit asked. Then all three men started laughing. “Nah, we can’t give you a list. We ain’t that organized.”

Seth looked over at me and shrugged. He seemed strangely unperturbed by this entire scenario. I, myself, also wasn’t too freaked out, simply because I was still extremely high when these guys came in.

There was an inner voice that was screaming at me, though.

“Well, now, you, Seth, and your pretty-boy friend Mr. Just Here, obviously need to be taught a lesson.” Then he put a bag over Seth’s head and mine, and jerked me off the couch. They roughly led me over to a car that was apparently parked in an alley, and I was startled by the rat-a-tat-tat sound of a semi-automatic weapon being fired.

Now I was finally freaking out. Did they just kill Seth? Was I next?

Then I realized that the sound of the weapon was not the sound of bullets hitting a body. It was the sound of bullets hitting something metal.

I soon found out what the sound was – the bullets were making air-holes in a car trunk. I heard the trunk opening, and I was shoved into it. My hands were not bound, so, after the trunk lid was shut, I was able to take off the bag over my head and breathe.

I tried not to panic. I had never been claustrophobic, thank god, but I still felt extremely uncomfortable in this trunk. I could hear the men talking, just outside the trunk. One of them was talking on a cell phone.

“Yeah, Jackie. I got a guy in the trunk. His name is Just Here,” he said with a laugh. “What do you want me to do with him?” Then he paused. “Ok, you want to set the car on fire with him in it? That can be arranged. That can definitely be arranged.”

I started to breathe heavily. I was sobering up with every word I heard from them. My blood ran cold when I heard what the men were saying.
They’re going to set the car on fire with me in it.
I never feared death. I always wanted it. But not like this. Not burned up like some kind of a low-life. Not burned up, period. That seemed to me to be the single worst way to die, and that was the only thing that scared me at this point.