Fugue State (22 page)

Alexa took a quick glance at the scene. She tried to make out the face of the driver, but the airbag had deployed, and there was nothing to see from her angle. She considered confronting him, but she didn’t have a weapon. Although strong-willed, she wasn’t physically strong. If it came down to a battle of brute force with a man, she would lose every time. She dismissed the idea and fled the scene on foot.

She prayed he wouldn’t come after her, but feared otherwise. She ran back on the road for about three hundred yards before she reached another patch of grapevines. A glance behind her revealed nothing. She needed to take cover off the road. Cutting through the vines, she headed south. She moved toward the coast, hoping to reach civilization.

Beyond fatigued, she forced her body to persevere. She took a moment to survey the damage. Blood tricked down her left leg from the fall after she jumped, and her knees were scuffed with abrasions. Her feet ached, and she envisioned the blisters developing. Her lungs burned, and her throat was parched.
Keep moving.

She ignored the pain and concentrated on listening. Her feet landed softly on the bare earth. She focused on the rhythm of her steps while trying to delineate if any additional sounds were present. Aside from an occasional gust of wind or bird chirp, she heard nothing.

The dirt beneath her feet turned to short grass as she neared the edge of the vineyard. The sound of her footsteps changed as the grass shuffled under her feet. Becoming fixated on the sound of her feet, she was slow to realize she
had
reached civilization. She approached the edge of the city and immediately recognized a café where she’d sipped espresso.
I’m near my hotel!

She looked behind her and saw no one. Her feet stuttered trying to stop and her torso doubled over as her hands fell to her thighs. When her breath normalized, she started to hobble down the street, feeling her muscles tighten with every step. Her hotel sat at the end of the street.
Has the driver of the SUV been to my hotel?
She questioned the bellman in the lobby, “Has anyone asked for me?”

His eyes moved over her body, pausing at the bloody leg, and he shook his head.

“Can you bring me a glass of water?”

“Oui, mademoiselle.” He brought her a glass of ice water, and she swallowed it in gulps on her way to her room. After unlocking the door, she kicked it open with her shoe. She stepped away from the doorway and leaned against the wall across the hall.
Is there someone inside? Is someone waiting for me?
Her mind fell into a state of disarray. The pounding of her heart rang in her ears. As her knees grew weak, she felt her body slump to the floor.
I’m afraid to go into my hotel room
.
Afraid of people chasing me. Always afraid. I’m so tired of being afraid!
Her face contorted into a pout, but her body couldn’t spare the liquid to form tears.

At the end of the hallway, a young couple collected their bags. They cast perplexed glances her way. A maid popped in and out of a room two doors down. When she exited the last time, she pointed to the open door of Alexa’s room and muttered something to her in French. Alexa blushed.
I’m being silly
.
Everything is fine. Just stand up and go in your room.
She coaxed herself inside.

Everything seems in place.
The maid has come by, turned down the sheets, and replaced the towels. See? It’s okay.
The pep talk didn’t calm her nerves, so she poured herself a hot bath and plunged her aching body into it. The water stung the abrasions on her legs, making it difficult to tolerate the bath, and she emerged before her muscles had a fair chance to recover. She settled for a vodka tonic from room service to take the edge off and help her sleep.

CHAPTER 26

O
n edge the whole night, every noise startled her. Around two a.m., a sound in the hallway made her jump to her feet. Her eyes scanned the room to make sure no one had ransacked the place while she slept.
Calm down, Lex. I have to put my mind at ease.
Her hands sifted through her luggage and found the handgun she’d purchased from Smokey Joe. She stuffed it under her pillow.
Jimmy was right. A gun buys peace of mind.

Her fatigued body rested until mid-morning before she dragged herself to breakfast by the pool. This morning, she would meet with one of Ivan’s former lovers. She’d just finished eating when the pool boy motioned her to the front desk for a phone call.

“Hello?” Alexa spoke into the receiver.

“Is she there?” It was Mike.

“Is
who
where?”

“Corbin. She’s the woman you’re meeting. Dammit. Just like a Swede. Stay put. I’ll make sure she finds you.” He hung up the phone.

Alexa ordered a glass of water, no ice, and sipped it slowly. She took out the manila envelope filled with pictures of Ivan and the girls. She wanted to memorize his face and features. One of the photos had a paragraph of descriptors attached to it. She read over the words that described Ivan.

Age: 38

Height: 6’4’’

Here Alexa paused.
He will tower over my five-eight frame.

Weight: 200 lbs

Hair: dark blond

Eyes: Brown

Race: Caucasian

Religion: n/a

Family: Estranged father, no siblings, mother deceased, no wife or children

Distinguishing features: tattoo right shoulder: Swastika, tattoo left forearm: Chinese symbol, tattoo right forearm: demon face, scar over left eyebrow

Alexa scanned through the collection of blonde pseudo lovers he’d acquired. They had similar features: long blonde hair, slender, pale skin. She examined their scars and bruises. One girl had a cut on her neck and a busted lip with abrasions on both wrists, as though she had been tied with a rope and had struggled to escape. Another girl had whip marks on her back. While a third had a broken forearm and cuts on both thighs.
Looks like the scar Jamar left on my leg.
Her hand covered it, reflexively. Of all the photos, only one girl didn’t have her eyes covered with a black scarf. That face materialized at Alexa’s side.

“Corbin, I assume,” Alexa greeted. Corbin pulled up a chair and dropped an oversized Hermes bag on the table next to the manila envelope. The Swede’s cat-like eyes seemed perturbed. Alexa fought feelings of intimidation.

The woman lit a long, skinny cigarette and sucked its fumes hungrily. She grabbed a photo off the table without saying a word. She’d picked Ivan’s photo. Corbin’s head turned from side to side as she viewed the image from different angles. Then she crinkled her nose, parted her lips, and with clenched teeth, hissed like a stray cat defending its territory.

She turned back to Alexa, straightening her neck and taking another drag from the cigarette. Alexa realized the parallels between Corbin’s features and her own.
If this is the kind of girl Ivan is interested in, it shouldn’t be hard to get his attention.

“So you are looking for my Ivan, no?” Corbin let a wicked little giggle escape her crimson lips. “And what will you do with my Ivan — kill him? No?”

Alexa hesitated, unsure how to handle the unpredictable woman across the table.

“What do
you
want me to do with him?”

“Ha! Wouldn’t you rather know what he is going to do with you?” Corbin sneered.

“Okay. Tell me what Ivan will do with me.”

Corbin’s sinister snicker twisted into a monstrous scowl.

“I met Ivan for business. I work as a professional escort at —” She cut herself off, her eyes moving up and down Alexa’s face. “It doesn’t matter where I work. He called on a Monday night. We met around eight-thirty. I arrived wearing only my corset and coat. Son-of-a-bitch pulled me into the room by my hair. I kicked him. I don’t do rough play. He pulled a fistful of hair from my head. He wasn’t playing. It wasn’t the S & M bullshit people talk about. He taped my mouth before I could scream. Taped me all the way around my head. When I finally got the tape off, I was half bald.”

The Swede took a moment to reach a hand into her bag and pull out another cigarette. This one was bent in the middle, suggesting it didn’t come from a carton; rather, it was loose amongst the other objects in the bag. She fumbled for a lighter. Corbin flicked the switch on the lighter repeatedly until a flame appeared. She took two long puffs from the new cigarette before she snuffed out the old one on the table and flung it onto the patio.

“Son-of a bitch tied my wrists to the bed posts. Ran his hands over my body. He pinched me so ferociously, bruises popped up all over. Bruises on my chest made some kind of symbol. He cut me and scraped me with a metal necklace he wore around his neck. He slapped me around, gave me two black eyes.” She adjusted her cross-legged stance from left-over-right to right-over-left in a languid, orchestrated movement.

“Did he rape you?” Alexa interrupted.

The Swede shot Alexa a steaming glance.

“Not in the conventional sense. Metal things from a suitcase cut my insides. It hurt like hell, made me bleed. The pain aroused him. That’s what turns him on, eliciting pain from others. He jerked himself off into a plastic bag in the corner.” She shrugged and took a drag.

“And he whipped you?” Alexa continued.

“Yes, at the end. He cut my ankles free, flipped me over, and whipped his belt across my back. He left me for the hotel maid to find the next morning.”

Corbin’s story was gruesome, but Alexa wasn’t alarmed. No shudder ran down her spine. Her stomach didn’t turn. Years of medical training had hardened her heart. Too many heart-wrenching stories and painful events merged together into one coalescent story of grief. She’d seen everything from a quadriplegic woman suffering panic attacks while telling the story of how she was thrown from her horse the day before, to the man who watched his wife die beside him in the emergency room.

Alexa knew her part in the matter — she knew how to play the empathy card with her patients. No matter what their dilemma, when patients gave her the water works, her words were always the same: “I can’t imagine what you’re going through. This must be so hard.” Then she would put her hand on their arm and offer them a box of tissue. “I’m so sorry for your (fill in the blank: pain, loss, etc.). Let me know if I can do anything to help.”

In a way, she did know how they felt. The five stages of grief were the same for everyone: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. Eventually, they all wound up in the same place: Acceptance. It wasn’t a happy ending to the series of events; rather, it was the numb emotional state that resulted in a hardened heart.

But Corbin wasn’t giving her the water works. She told her story matter-of-factly, with cold words emanating through pursed lips. She didn’t need empathy; her heart was hardened already. Corbin didn’t feel sorry for herself; she still had a taste of hatred lingering on her tongue. She wanted revenge.

The Swede took another few puffs from her cigarette. “Are you ready for this? Ready for Ivan?” She raised her eyebrows into a high arch. Ivan’s beating hadn’t stolen her beauty.

Alexa shook her head. “No. I’m not ready. Not for any of this. But I think I could be. That is, I will be, when the time is right. . . .” Her voice trailed off. She wasn’t convincing anyone, not even herself.

Corbin smeared another coat of red lipstick across her mouth, dumped the tube in her bag, and gathered her things. She rose from her chair.

“Good luck to you.”

Alexa smiled. “Thanks.”

Corbin scoffed. “You will need it.”

CHAPTER 27

A
lexa sat alone at the table. Her eyes glanced at the photos spread out before her. She sorted through them and placed them back into the manila envelope one by one. She paused at the picture of Corbin.
There’s something different about her compared to the other girls, but I can’t put my finger on it.

A phone rang. Her phone still sat at the bottom of the Seine. Her head spun toward the sound. She turned to see Mike walking toward her with a cell phone in hand.

He silenced the ringing phone and handed it to her. “This is
your
new phone, my dear. This is the phone you will carry, and this is how you will reach me.”

She glared at the phone, a much simpler model than the smartphone she was used to carrying. “Why?”

“I need to keep in touch with you, and this is a more secure device than the models you’re accustomed to. It’s encrypted. It doesn’t store numbers. It doesn’t have a memory. It doesn’t have caller ID. It can’t be traced. It’s safer. Take it.”

“Safer? You mean if something happens to
me
, right?”

“Yep. It’s the nature of the job. Get used to it.”

She took the phone reluctantly.

“How was Corbin?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Fine, I guess.” Alexa fiddled with the phone in her hand.

“She didn’t scare you away?”

She shook her head. “No. I guess not. I suppose it was all very expected — what she said, that is.”

“Expected? All right.” His lips pressed into a line. “I guess you’re as screwed up as the rest of us.”

She ignored his mockery. “Now what? Why are you here?”

“It’s training time — for you.”

“Oh. Okay. Do I need to change clothes or something?”

“I’m afraid you don’t get that luxury. It’s the nature of the job — no time to prepare. You can’t prepare for the unexpected. In this line of work, it’s all unexpected. Come with me.” She followed him around the side of the hotel and into a parking lot. He led her to a black SUV that looked all too familiar. It was the same make and model as the one that tried to run her down the day before. He motioned her to the driver’s side, and Alexa entered without questioning him. Inside the SUV, her hands naturally settled onto the steering wheel. Mike scooted into the passenger’s seat. It only took a moment for him to whip out a pair of handcuffs and snap them on her wrists, attaching them to the steering wheel.