Frayed Rope (20 page)

“I don't think it’s a bad man Greta, it’s most likely the trainer from my gym. Did you see what he was driving?” I ask.

Brock and his wife live two miles away and there's a running trail on the other side of the lane I live on. He definitely could’ve been jogging through.

“No dear, I didn't see a car. I just wanted to check in and make sure you were okay. You don't get many visitors, after all,” she says in distaste.

A woman my age should be married with four children by now in her books.

“It’s okay Greta. Thanks for stopping by.”

I can smell my eggs burning on the stove. Now I just want to call Brock to verify it was him.

“No problem dear. I’ll head to town now; need some more flour so I can finish making my biscuits. You take care.”

She ambles down the steps.

“You too Greta, have a good day.”

I all but slam the door and dash for my prepaid.

“Hello?” Brock’s groggy voice greets me from the other end of the line.

“Brock, its Elle.” I say out of breath into the phone. His voice perks up at the mention of my name.

“What's up girl?’

I cut straight to the chase.

“Were you at my place yesterday?”

“No, haven’t been there since last week when your dog chased me down on my run. Talk to me Elle.”

This man is so fucking awesome I could cry.

I know if I tell him someone was here he’ll be over before I hang up the phone. But I can’t do that to him, or me. I need to keep my cool and play it down or he’ll be camped out on my front step for the next three days with a gun tucked in his waistband and his gloves on.

He’s that protective.

“Nothing to talk about Brock, neighbor thought she saw someone here but her Alzheimer’s gets the best of her sometimes, so I thought I’d ask,” I play off with an amusement in my tone, hoping he buys it.

“You need me girl, I’m there. Just say the word.”

It’s moments like this when I take a deep breath and thank the universe for sometimes putting such awesome people in my life.

“I know Brock thank you, she’s probably talking about your visit last week. Like I said, Alzheimer’s.”

I play it off again.

“Alright Elle. I’ll swing by tomorrow morning on my run. You need anything before then you call me or Sam at the bakeshop.”

“Will do Brock, thanks.”

I need to settle my mind after that fiasco this morning, so I make a tea and take it to the large dining room table. I’ve turned the table and the wall adjacent to it into my work station.

One week after moving in I decided to dig out ‘the box’. Well, most of it. I’ve spread all accounts and statements of my attack across the table and pasted the photos on the wall, photos from the parking lot where I was taken, photos from the basement, and photos of the man responsible. I drank for three days straight when I brought this all into the light. It made the nightmares worse and the three day bender did little to help.

I spent that bender and a few days after embracing the numb feeling I found in the basement that horrid day. I’ve slowly learned with passing time that if I distance myself from the situation, and look at the evidence as an outsider it’s much easier to handle.

I purposely put all photos that include me back into the safe. I know what I looked like, I don't need to see it again. It won’t help me solve anything.

I study everything, the witness account from the parking lot, my statements I barely remember giving in the hospital while I was doped up on morphine. I look over the basement photos with a magnifying glass making sure I haven’t missed anything.

I’m relentless.

I could recite every detail from memory; I’ve spent that much time looking at it. I can’t stop. It’s as if this is my life purpose, to catch a potential killer. Not get a job at the local beauty salon, not cure cancer and save the whales. Not get married and start up a family in the ‘burbs.

No.

My purpose is to catch the man that helped that evil bastard Andrew. I know he’s out there. I can feel it, regardless of the DNA, or lack thereof. He’s out there and I will find him.

It’s late evening when I call it quits. I stretch the aches out of my back from sitting so long and head into the kitchen. It’ll be soup and a sandwich tonight since I lack the drive to cook a hearty meal.

I curl up on the couch with a tray of vegetable soup and a ham sandwich and tune into the Food Network. It’s enough to keep my mind occupied while I slowly eat my dinner.

My body still aches from last night’s training with Brock, so once I’m finished I grab a half-empty bottle of wine and head for the tub. I have a small docking station for my iPod on the shelf in the bathroom so I plug it in while I soak. Same bath tunes as always, mostly the blues.

I think back as I stare at the peach colored wall. I think about the people I’ve lost; those who’ve died and those I’ve ran away from. I think of Jimmy and Laura and her beautiful kids.

I wonder how much their looks have changed since I’ve been gone. I think of the locals from my old watering hole and old acquaintance's from work. Then I think about the people I’ve met on this journey—Tiny, Doc and kind old Greta across the street. Some of these people have drastically changed my life more than others. Some I never would’ve met if it were not for my past.

As much as I still feel the guilt weighing on me for how things have happened in my life, I try to focus on the small positive things like calling the ambulance for Mr. Butlers that day, and providing Tom with enough money in prepaid rent to continue living life on his fishing boat. Maybe one day the small things will add up to bigger things and the guilt will ease away.

***

“I wish it didn't have to go that way Jayne. But you left me no choice. You waited too long and I had to make a quick decision.”

The psycho sits on a chair to the side of the room with his hands pulling at his hair. I’m guessing it’s been about three days now since I’ve been down here.

I’ve been given water and a few granola bars since I’ve been here. Much of my time is spent trying to read this man, to understand what makes him tick and what makes him cool down. I haven't spoken since the first day I’ve been here other than to say ‘bathroom’. I refuse to piss myself even though I’ve been wearing the same underwear since I got here and haven't showered. I know I smell bad.

I’m absolutely certain he planned on killing me sooner. I haven't spent much more time being hung and stabbed with the knife. He seems to be slowing down. He needs sleep, I can tell. I’ve gotten a few hours randomly each day on the floor in the corner. He’s still afraid to take his eyes off me to get any shuteye himself.

If I was not tied to the floor I would consider some heroic escape plan where I take him out as I flee. Sadly, there’s nothing in this corner I’m lying in to use as a weapon, and the five feet of slack on the rope I’m given only allows me to go over to a bucket to piss in.

“If you had just paid attention, better attention Jayne, more attention, I wouldn’t have had to do it! I didn't want to see you hurt, and then you wouldn't leave the house so I couldn't see you as much anymore. I needed to see you, so I had to take you. You were supposed to come to me after they died, that was the plan. Then you would need me.”

The accident.

The lazy detective’s words ring though my head.

“The brake line was torn, Ms. O’Connor. Most likely something caught it and pulled it loose from the wheel. These things happen ma’am. Could’ve been a tree branch for all we know and it slowly leaked out over a short time. Not something you realize until it’s too late.”

It clicks, and instantly the fog is cleared from my brain.

I settle my eyes on the sick fuck across the room. If I had no fight in me before, I have it now. I will scream, I will fight and I won’t stop until this heartless fuck takes his last breath. I feel the angry tears building in my eyes and the increased beating of my heart.

He killed my fucking family.

I buried my little girl.

Now, I’m going to bury him.

* * *

I’m hefting the garbage out to the end of the driveway when Norma takes off across the street barking and tail wagging.

Brock.

“Goddamnit Elle, I think your dog’s blind.”

He’s chuckling at the fact she still barks like a rabid animal whenever he comes running toward the house.

“Nah, she’s just protective.”

I set the bag of trash down and face him.

Brock is looking around the property and surveying the street. He’s perceptive, and not so subtle about it. He knows I have demons, and he makes a habit to check the surroundings whenever he’s close by.

“All good around here, Elle?”

I know what he’s asking, and I’m still going to play it off. Even if Ryder has found me I know he poses no immediate threat. He hasn’t approached me, so either Greta’s Alzheimer’s really is in full effect or he’s just checking in. It’s been two days; surely if he was going to make a move he would’ve done so by now.

“Yes, all good. Just getting ready to head into town. Maybe stop by Sam's for some sugar,” I say with a small smile.

He’s studying me intently and I know I’m not going to like what comes out of his mouth.

“Your mind has been elsewhere for almost a week. You’ve got bags under your eyes and you never call me, for anything. So what's up with the phone call yesterday? Bullshit somebody else babe, but not me.”

The genuine look of concern on his face is enough to make me crack, a little. He’ll lose sleep over something like this, worrying about me. His wife is one lucky woman and I’m thankful to have someone like him in my life.

“Got a little freaked out Brock, that's all. I have good neighbors who spend all day looking out their windows at what's going on. Unfortunately they get their days mixed up sometimes. If something is wrong, I’ll let you know.”

Brock shakes his head and puts his hands on my shoulders. He rarely touches me, and I’m thankful for that. The way he’s looking into my eyes softens my heart a little.

“Babe, you’re not stupid. I know that. But you’re stubborn as hell, so I give you space. If you’re in any kind of trouble Elle, I will get in your space quicker than you can fucking say ‘help’. I know your hiding from something and you don't want to talk about it. But I need you to take me seriously when I say if you need help, in any way, you call me.”

I’m at a loss for words and my throat is dry, so all I manage is a jerky nod. Before I can blink he pulls me into a hug. It’s the first one I’ve had since my days with Ryder and I feel the tears starting to build. I give him a quick squeeze on his sides before pulling back.

“Gotta run Brock, I’ll see you tonight.”

I don't look back as I walk toward the house. So I don't see him wait until I’m safely tucked inside before continuing on his jog.

Chapter Nineteen

“Fuck ya girl, hit me! Get those elbows in!”

I’m full of fucking fire tonight. After my little chat with Brock this morning, I went back to bed and woke up centered and fueled with the desire to hurt someone.

Last night’s nightmare did a number on me, so I got the anguish out this morning, letting the anger settle in deep before I came to the gym tonight. It’s a good kind of anger, and its keeping me on my toes.

I see Brock’s leg swing out in his attempt to knock me on my ass. I jump backward, swinging around with my own leg out, nailing him behind the knee. He starts to go down so I throw an elbow into his ribs and a right hook to his jaw.

“Enough! Ya got me. Fuck babe.”

He wipes the side of his mouth. I notice there's a little bit of blood there.

It makes me smile, a full on genuine teeth baring smile.

I notice him staring at me like I’ve grown two heads, before I lend him a hand to get up.

“Guess I should be thankful I brought a smile to your face, even if it cost me my balls getting whipped by a woman.”

Still smiling, I shake my head at him.

“I won’t lie dude, if feels fucking good.”

I throw my hand out for a fist bump which he reciprocates before throwing his arm around my shoulders.

“I guess I’ll look on the bright side, seeing as Sam likes to play nurse when I’m banged up.”

He imitates a limp and I chuckle before moving out of his grasp.

“Ha! Well you better get home to your nurse then.”

I grab my bag from the side of the mats and throw my gloves in. Tonight warrants a bath at home instead of a shower here, and maybe some takeout from my favorite Italian place.

Feeling like I could walk on water, I wave as I make my way outside. Brock has a grin on his face and watches through the window like usual as I go. I spare a quick glance up at the sky and thank my family for bringing such a great person into my life, even if only for a short little while.

I hit the key fob to unlock my truck and stop dead in my tracks when I see the lone figure leaning up against it.

His face is in the shadows and his silhouette is illuminated by the interior lights that have come on inside the vehicle. His hands are in his pockets and his posture is tight.

Ryder.

I ignore the mild flutter in my stomach at the sight of him.

“You happy with him Elle?” he asks.

I understand exactly what he’s referring to, or whom I should say. I don’t bother correcting him because I’m more interested in how he came to be here.

“How did you find me Ryder?”

This is the only thing I need to know right now. I don't like the idea of someone being able to track me down. Not that I’m totally unhappy to see him, just a little unsettled about how he’s standing in front of me right now.

In Indianapolis. Not North Carolina.

I hear the gym door open and quick footsteps headed my way. Ryder looks over my shoulder and soon Brock is standing beside me. I feel his hand touch my arm before he speaks to me.

“You alright, babe?”

He’s speaking to me, but he’s looking at Ryder. Ryder doesn't move from his position leaning on my truck, attracting Brock’s attention. He turns his head toward me and talks a little quieter, but loud enough that Ryder can hear.

“Elle, you know I don't get in your business but is there something I’m missing here, or you want me to take you home?”

Ryder gives him a hard look but Brock finishes before he can say anything.

“No disrespect yet man, but I’ve known her for two months; I don’t know you at all. Don’t doubt you’re a good guy, but forgive me if I need to hear that from her mouth before I believe it, seeing as she doesn’t seem too happy to see you.”

I love him even more in this moment. After I kicked his ass today I didn't think that was possible.

“Brock, meet Ryder Callaghan of Callaghan Securities. Ryder, Brock West, my trainer and the owner of this gym.”

Ryder still stands firm but the hold Brock has on my arm relaxes.

“You work out of the East Coast?” Brock asks. Ryder nods his head and seems to calm, slightly.

“That’s me,” Ryder says with the little bit of pride in his tone he always has when speaking of his work.

“Denny Black. He used to work with me here at the gym before he left for the East Coast, taking a job with Callaghan Security. Haven’t heard from him. Did it work out?”

I’m stumped with where this conversation is headed before Ryder breaks through my confusion.

“It worked out. I hired the big bastard on the spot and posted him up near Virginia.”

Brock rubs his hands over his face and nods his head.

“Good. I’m glad to hear that. He was going through some shit here and I hoped he came out alright on the other side. Needed change, I’m glad he found it. He doing okay?”

Brock’s concern for his friend is unmistakable, and I'm happy Ryder puts him at ease.

“He works hard at his job through the week and spends his weekends chasing tail. Not the friendliest fucker, but he does his job well and so far has no complaints. Can’t tell you much more than that.”

Ryder’s assessment of Denny seems to satisfy Brock. The look of relief on his face doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Thanks for the info, you see him again tell the prick to call me would you?”

“I will.”

Ryder turns his head to look at me and the tension in his posture returns.

What the fuck is he tense with me for?

“We need to talk Elle.”

Those black eyes bore into mine. My happy mood from kicking Brock’s ass earlier has long since vanished and my stubborn pride sets in.

“Nothing left to talk about Ryder. Now, if you’ll excuse me I have a hot bath and a bottle of vino waiting at home for me.”

I give Brock’s shoulder a squeeze before I go, silently thanking him for his concern tonight.

“Go let the nurse look after you. I’ll see you Friday.”

I notice Ryder’s posture, the way he studies me when I touch Brock. Not that it’s any of his business but I was not about to let my new friend go home without a thank you, even if it was a silent one.

“So you’re into sharing your men now Elle, didn’t peg you as the type,” the smug fucking bastard declares.

It’s enough to set me off and put a hand to Brock’s chest to stop any altercation between these two. Ryder has moved away from my truck and is now standing a few feet in front me. I speak to him in the sweetest, most condescending voice I have.

“No baby, I don't share. And Brock, being the good man that he is, doesn’t stray from his beautiful wife.”

I look him up and down and register the shock on his face before taking a step around him and speaking over my shoulder.

“Can’t say the same about you, can we Ryder?”

I don't wait for his reply as I climb in my truck and close the door. He spins around and runs his hand through his hair, boring holes into the side of my head.

I don't wait for him; I don't roll the window down to hear what he has to say. And I don't give a flying fuck in this moment if Brock pummels his ass into the pavement.

Why did I get that damn flutter in my stomach like a goddamn horny teenager? And why these past few months did he still invade my thoughts? Even knowing that he was engaged, I still couldn't get my mind off him. Perhaps it’s a case of ‘we all want what we can’t have’. He became the unobtainable, so I could not rid him from my thoughts.

I don't look at either of them as I make my way out of the parking lot.

Goodbye Ryder fucking Callaghan.

* * *

I’ve drank almost a full bottle of wine. I’m too disappointed for it to fully hit me. I wish I could be angrier, but I’m just fed up.

Such a good night turned to shit in an instant.

My bath is finished and I dress in a tank and panties, my usual sleep attire plus my robe. I’m trying to decide whether I just want to curl up in bed and sleep, or get drunk so I sleep peacefully when my head finally does hit the feathers.

I’m pulling the towel out of my damp hair when I hear a knock at the door. I’ll bet its Ryder. But looking at the time it could be Brock after he closed up the gym.

I’m hoping on the latter.

Norma is at the door wagging her tail and sniffing around it.

Not Brock.

The storm door is locked, as well as the main door. I unlock the main and face a defeated looking Ryder.

“Please let me talk Elle,” is the first thing he says before his eyes travel up and down my body.

“I said what I needed to say on the phone to you almost three months ago. Then I finished it in the parking lot tonight. I’m done Ryder. The only thing I want to hear from you is how you found me. After that you can leave.”

My voice is firm and I keep eye contact with him regardless that his are wandering.

“I’ll tell you.”

“Now Ryder, I want to know now.”

I cross my arms over my chest, willing him to hurry the fuck up with the story.

“It took a while, and it will take some time to tell it. Let me in and we can talk about it. Please.”

He’s genuine in wanting to speak with me, I’ll give him that. But the moment sweet nothings come out of his mouth is the moment his ass will be kicked out the door. The fact that his black long sleeve shirt is hugging his beautiful body and his jeans hang perfectly on his hips isn’t helping this situation.

I need to put some clothes on.

“I want to go to bed. You’ll be quick, and then you’ll get the fuck out.”

I unlock the storm door and make my way back in the house.

“Wait on the couch. I’ll be back in a minute.”

I head to my room and throw on a pair of sweat pants. I need more armor around him and being half dressed is not going to help. I grab my wine bottle from the kitchen and make my way back to the living room. I settle in the comfy chair beside the sofa, not wanting to share it with him and wave a hand for him to commence talking.

“This place isn’t you Elle.” He muses looking around.

“You don't fucking know me Ryder, and I don't know you. Now cut the small talk shit and tell me how you found me. I’ll give you ten minutes to explain and then you can go.”

He looks visibly hurt at the way I’ve just spoke to him but I really don't give a shit anymore. The lying engaged bastard deserves that and then some. Thankfully he cuts to the chase.

“When I got home and saw that you really were gone, I started looking for you Elle. I got a lot of dead ends. The first bit sent me up to some cabins in Virginia where you used your driver’s license as identification and debit card to book a stay there. But I later learned that was before I spoke to you last. You used cash obviously for your trip out here and closed you bank accounts back home before you left.