Dark Mysteries (22 page)

“Oh,
cool,” he said, glancing around as if looking for Nick. Because
she was never allowed to go anywhere without him.

“It
was nice seeing you Jason,” she said, forcing a smile that felt
weird, stiff. “But I have to go catch my bus. I have dinner
plans with Nick... and I don't want to be late.”

“Oh,
right,” Jason said, nodding. Knowing if she was late she'd get
her ass kicked. That was no secret in Nick's circle. Everyone knew he
kept his women on a short leash. “It was nice seeing you.”

“You
too, Jason,” she said, smiling again and turning. She tried to
focus on making her walk slow. She glanced over her shoulder, Jason
watching her as he reached into his pocket, stabbed something into
the number pad and put the phone up to her ear. And then she turned
and ran. Because that call was to Nick. And if she didn't get out of
town immediately, he would get her. Drag her off the bus. Drag her
all the way back to Trenton.

She
found her bus, barreling up into it. Finding it almost full. She took
a breath, ducking her head, and walked down the aisle toward the
back. The only open seat. She sat there, her heart slamming in her
chest. Until the doors finally closed. Until they started to pull
away.

Ellie
slammed her head back on the seat, releasing the breath she had been
holding. She watched out the window as the city passed her by,
slipping back into survival Ellie. She shouldn't have gone back for
her bag. That was the mistake. That was what almost got her caught.
She could have jumped on a train out of the city, grabbed a burner
when she got to the next station, called K, got the location of a
bug-out bag. There was no reason for her to go back for her bag.

She
shouldn't have even had her bug-out bag in her apartment. It should
have been stashed somewhere. Under a dumpster. Under the counter in a
bodega where she had bribed the owner to let her put it. Stashed
somewhere inconspicuous in Central Park. Anywhere but her apartment.

Sloppy.
She was getting sloppy.

Seventeen

He
bought her a new teacup. He knew it was stupid. Silly. But the
teacups she had had at her apartment were pretty, delicate, feminine
things. With floral patters. Thin handles. He had been browsing
around the food store, getting stuff to restock his empty fridge and
cabinets, when he saw a display. And his hand just automatically
reached for a pretty porcelain cup with a yellow and white floral
pattern. It made him think of her. And so he bought it.

He
knocked once then reached down to unlock the door, feeling a bit
sheepish about giving it to her.

Xander
walked into the kitchen, putting the bags down on the dining table,
reaching into one to pull out the cup, wrapped in brown paper. It
wasn't fancy, but she could unwrap it. Presents should always need to
be unwrapped.

“Ellie,”
he called, looking around and realizing he didn't see her anywhere.
He put the cup down on the table, walking into the hall and noticing
the bathroom was empty. Where the hell was she now? He moved back in
to the apartment.

And
that's when he saw it. On the bed. Her box of stuff. With a letter on
top.

He
felt a spreading of dread as he walked over and picked it up. A part
of him knew. Knew what he was going to read. Knowing what happened.

He
unfolded the yellow paper and felt his heart sink to his feet. He
actually felt unsteady as he read, moving to sit on the edge of his
bed.

So,
she was gone.

It
shouldn't have mattered. She was a client. Sometimes clients changed
their minds. Sometimes he got fired. It didn't mean anything that he
slept with her.

Even
as he thought it, he knew it wasn't true. He fucking wanted her to
stick around. To wake up with and watch her make her tea. Watch her
do her crazy little cleaning routine. Feel her curl up next to him
reading one of her books.

He
reached into the books, finding the one from the note. Jane Eyre. He
opened the front flap, looking at her handwritten quotes on the page.

“I
have for the first time found what I can truly love. I have found
you.”

Xander
slammed the book closed with a curse. He got up, grabbing his keys,
and ran out of his office. Not bothering to lock his door. Barreling
past Gabe who had tried to catch his attention. Maybe she went back.
It was the only chance he had of seeing her.

He
tore up her apartment staircase two at a time, stopping in the
hallway, his heart frozen in his chest when he saw the door open, a
long crack down the center. He was barely in the doorway when he was
yelling her name, mindlessly, hopelessly.

“Who
the hell are you?” a deep male voice asked calmly, coming in
through the bedroom.

He
was tall. Somewhere around Xander's height. Strong-looking. The
muscles thick and coiled. Like a fighter. He wore gray slacks and a
tucked in black dress shirt. Bald-headed, dark skinned, smart, deep
eyes. Xander took a breath. “You first,” Xander said,
squaring his legs. Gauging his opponent.

“I'm
K,” the man said, raising a brow.

“That
means nothing to me,” Xander said, looking around. “Is
she here?” he asked, trying to look past him into the other
room.

“No,”
K said, shaking his head.

“Fuck,”
Xander said, sighing, looking around.

“It's
about damn time you showed up,” Mary said, marching into the
room, shaking a finger at him. “You know, I only promised her I
would wait a half an hour to call you because I thought you would be
smart enough to get here sooner.”

“She
ran away,” Xander said, hanging his head.

“No
shit,” Mary said, rolling her eyes at them. “Who the hell
is he?” she asked, nodding toward K.

“K,
ma'am,” K answered, looking between the two of them like they
were crazy. “So, you both know E?”

Xander
watched the man, drawing his eyebrows together. “If by 'E' you
mean Ellie... then yeah. She was staying with me...”

“Why
would she be staying with you?”

“Dude,”
Xander said, sounding frustrated, “for all I know, you're the
dickhead she is running away from. I'm not telling you shit.”

“Oh,
for god's sake,” Mary said, shaking her head, “have a
pissing contest another time. Ellie took off to the bus station. The
men... the ones who make her face look like they kicked her puppy,
were here looking for her. She was in my apartment with me.”

“Why
the hell was she still here?” K asked, his tone accusing.

“She
asked for my help,” Xander said, eyeing the man. Someone from
her past. Someone who knew she was living her life on the run from
her ex. “Okay,” he said, waving a hand out. “I
think you need to tell me exactly who you are now.”

“You
first,” K said, looking completely comfortable. Patient. Like
this was a normal, everyday kind of interaction.

“Oh,
for god's sake,” Mary said, rolling her eyes at them. “This
is Xander Rhodes. The private investigator Ellie hired because she
was tired of running. I am Mary, the nosy neighbor,” she said,
smiling slightly at Xander. “Now you go.”

“I've
been helping Ellie since she first left her ex.”

“So
you're from...”

“Seattle,”
K supplied, “the fist town she ran to.”

Xander
nodded, putting the pieces together. “You're the one who taught
her self defense,” he said and K inclined his head slightly.
“She did a number on my friend. Twice. You did a good job.”

K
nodded. “What happened?”

“I
don't know,” Xander said, knowing his tone sounded vulnerable
but not caring. “He found her. She came to me, black eye, split
lip, bruised ribs. And she asked me for help with a stalker. She
asked if she could stay with me. I knew she was hiding a lot from me.
I was... investigating. But...”

“She's
a ghost,” K supplied, sounding proud. “I made sure she
knew how to stay hidden.”

“Who
is she hiding from?” Mary asked, making both of them look at
her.

Xander
looked back at K, raising a brow. “Sorry,” K said,
shaking his head. “That's her secret.” At Xander's pained
expression, he softened a bit. “Look. She will call me. We have
a system. When she gets out of town, she grabs a burner and she calls
me. I point her in a direction. She sets up a new life. I'll know
she's safe.”

Xander
took a deep breath. That mattered. Knowing mattered. But he wanted
her back just as much. “Why are you here?” he asked
suddenly, his brows pulling together. If they had a system, then why
did he show up?

“She
missed two check-ins. We send letters. I send to her P.O. Box. She
sends to a special address. I hadn't heard from her. She never misses
a week.”

“She
went to the post office,” Xander recalled. “She came back
running. Freaked out. Maybe she had been found there too.”

K
sighed. “Okay,” he said. “Give me your card. When I
know she's safe, I'll let you know.”

It
was something. It wasn't much, but it was something. He handed K his
card and walked back out the building. Trying to ignore the feeling
in his chest. Like a cord snapped. But that quote was wrong. He
wasn't going to forget her. He was bleeding inwardly too.

Eighteen

Ellie
didn't call K. She knew that was the deal. But things were different
this time. She needed to get as far as fast as possible. She didn't
need a bug-out bag. She was set. Besides, K would have just received
her note about having help. That she would keep him posted. That
would hold him over for a week. Before he started to freak out. She
wouldn't wait that long to call him. She just needed to find a place.

She
got off the bus stop near a sign that said the train station was half
a mile to the right. She took off down the unfamiliar street, feeling
like she should be breathing easier. But, instead, she felt a weight
on her chest.

She
tried the method K always used to use to calm her down. The
repetition of the plan.

You're
going to walk to the train station. Pick a city. Get on a train.
Forget about Xander. Pick another city. Get on a train. Go to a
library. Search for apartments. Forget about Xander. Find one with a
close staircase and a fire escape. This time, check the fire escape
to make sure it works properly. Go to the bank. Take money out of the
special account. Get the apartment. Settle in. Forget about Xander.
Get a P.O box. Go to the closest book store. Get books and maps on
the area. Pour over them until you can redraw them from memory. Walk
those streets. Run those streets. Forget about Xander. Get a job that
will pay mostly under the table. Sock the money away. Find a martial
arts class. Do your weekly check-ins. Stay vigilant. Put extra locks
on the doors. Make an extra bug-out bag. Keep it outside of the
apartment.

Forget
about Xander. Forget about Xander.

ForgetaboutXanderforgetaboutXanderforgetaboutXanderforgetaboutXander.

Ellie
fell into the third train, a pounding behind her eyes. She had been
traveling for well over eight hours. Tired. Hungry. Sad. She repeated
her plan for the twentieth time. She repeated her forget about Xander
mantra for the hundredth time.

She
had two more trains. Two more until she could settle down. At least
temporarily. Get a hotel where she could pay cash. No names. No Ids.

Then
she could cry until there were no tears left. Open her chest up and
let it out. Scream into a pillow until the feeling inside was more
bearable. Call K. Get instructions. Wipe away the tears. Slip back
into her armor. Numb everything inside. Move on. Survive.

But
for the first time, surviving didn't feel like enough. Surviving felt
like the smallest possible goal she could reach for. Was it good
enough to just live? Live and stay away from Nick? Was that really
any kind of life? Wasn't that just another kind of prison?

She
turned her head, staring out the window, watching the world fly by.
She had no choice. This was how life had to be. And just because she
got a small taste of what life could be like if she could be normal,
safe, settled down... didn't mean it was a viable option for her. She
could never stop running. Never stop worrying that anytime she got
close to someone, they could end up killed.

She
couldn't have Xander's death on her conscience. She couldn't live
with that.

It
would be all over. She would have no fight left.

–

Hartford
was a big city. Bigger than she had anticipated when she chose it as
her temporary destination. She walked down the streets, feeling like
she could take a breath. She could be lost there. For a while. A week
or two at most. Before picking somewhere further away.

Boston.
She had been giving Boston a lot of thought. Another big city. Small
towns were problematic. She would be an outsider. Everyone would know
she was new. When someone came looking, they could point Nick right
in her direction. There was no protection in small towns.