I reread the message. ‘I could use a twirl’. ‘Twirl.” What is she saying? Why am I not getting this? We talk code all the time. We are sisters for crying out loud. What is wrong with me! I cant give up. I lower my head and fix my eyes on the ground. Focus. Focus.
My eyes lock on the album dated 1983. Lizi would have been an infant in 1983. The same year my mother and who I thought was my father were killed…or rather murdered. Something inside me convinces me to randomly flip the album open. A picture of me and my sisters seems to be glowing. I press my lips together and fight back tears. We were just girls…happy little girls.
“Sari!” Brad startles me back to earth. “Oh shit on a shingle! Check it the fuck out!”
I follow Brad’s indignant index finger to a photo on the next page. The pictures shows the smiling faces of us girls, my mother, my father figure Evan, my aunt Clara, Detective Hughes and…oh my god. Dan Staley, Marks’ stepfather and retired public defender.
“That’s…” The wind has been knocked out of me.
“It’s Dan.” Brad whispers in revelation. “They’re dirty.”
“You mean…my mother…”
“I mean… Hughes is a dirtbag cop and Dan was a dirty lawyer. They are in this together. They took down Ed Hayes.” As Brad’s words hit the air they turn into truths.
“But why?” I stutter. “Why kill my mom and dad? And Ainslie, and Aunt Clara, and Marcy and whoever the hell else!”
“Exactly…why?” Brad taps his finger on the photo. “They framed Ed but why. And more importantly why did Ed let them?”
“The zoo!” I shout. “Oh my god. We gotta go.”
I spin in a frantic storm trying to gather the pertinent info of our search. I madly stuff photo after photo in my bag. I have been taken over by my epiphany. No time to talk we have to GO.
Brad kneels down to help. Without saying a word he follows my lead.
“Albums. Grab all the albums. Let’s go!” I hear myself and I sound hysterical like I am on the verge of hyperventilating. “Run!”
We make a mad dash out of the house. I do not even bother to stop running to lock Aunt Clara’s door. My hands are full. We are weighed down with all of our evidence. As we scurry through the front yard a couple of photos slip out of my bag and sail onto the grass. I stop to bend down and retrieve them. I gesture for Brad to keep running. Do not stop. We have 3 blocks to go and I want the car moving pronto.
Sweat gathers on my upper lip. My armpits are soaked. My hair line is dripping. This full body cool down is not because of our rapid pace but rather my spot on intuition. I know where Lizi is!
The peeling out of the tires alerts me that Brad is driving full speed towards me. I glance up and in one Dukes of Hazard motion I leap in the car. He puts the petal to the metal and it feels like we are flying.
“The zoo?” He knowingly asks.
“Yes. The zoo.” I steadily inhale and exhale. I am so revved up and on edge I wish we were driving a Flintstone car so I could put all of my energy into this ride. How am I ever going to survive sitting here idle the whole way downtown! “The twirl is the carousel. It’s a shared place we go to when we hit a snag in our lives. The good memories always seem to put it all in perspective. God, what a piece of shit. He is trying taking everything from us! Everything!”
“My guess is this…either Hughes or Dan is behind this. They are meeting her there.” Brad never takes eyes of the road. It is almost as if he is in a trance and thinking out loud. “We are going to catch this bastard red handed!”
“I think you’re right. I don’t get it but you have to be right. That photo…the one were looking at with both of them in it. It was taken at the zoo.” My voice is unshaken but my insides are a hot mess.
“I’m calling it in.” Brad instantly reaches for his police radio.
“No!” I uncharacteristically slap the radio out of his hand. “We cannot trust them.”
“Right, you’re right about that but we can trust the police.” My eyes illustrate I am not following. Sounds like six of one and half a dozen of the other. “Hughes is scum not the entire force.”
“But he is going to hear the tip come through.” I am whining. I have no other recourse at this point.
“Exactly.” Brad smirks. “If Lizi is in danger my money is on Hughes being behind it. This call will deter him.”
“Oh. My. God.” The tension escapes my body with an exhale. My shoulders drop and my head shakes in disbelief. “You are genius. So this is why they pay you the big bucks.”
“Oh yeah…big bucks.” He wears sarcasm well. Quite sexily…actually.
I listen as Brad makes the call. He voices fades into the background as the A-Team soundtrack slips into my mind. I feel superhero powers flood my veins. I calmly sit in the passenger’s seat as the speedometer vibrates at 120mph, the single siren on the dashboard swivels a red blinking light with a screeching alarm. We are coming to get you!
My breathing is even. I cannot believe I am rational enough to know I am totally turned on by Brad right now. I feel like I could jump his bones this minute and save my sister the next. Wonder Woman. I have finally morphed into my childhood idol. I never felt thin enough to dress up as her for Halloween. Although now it seems my need to emulate her must have been a telltale sign of my future. Her I sit in possession of the poise needed to lasso this fucker.
“Ever shot a gun?” Nonchalantly asks Brad.
“No.” I furrow my brow. God no, never.
“Looks like it will be trial by fire.” Brad shrugs with a half grin. “No pun.”
“Not funny.” Okay, so maybe not as confident as I thought. A lasso is one thing a gun is a completely different animal.
“Okay, okay jokes aside you need to be protected. We have no idea what or who we are walking into. “ Brad turns his detective voice back on. He hands me a weapon. A small but deadly weapon.
“Shit.” My hands shake as I cradle the revolver. “I don’t think I can.”
“You can and if you need to you will.” Brad sounds so sure. “I wouldn’t give it to you otherwise. You have proved you will do whatever it takes to crack this case.”
“Oh. Thanks, I guess. It’s just, I am not a fan of guns.” My lower lip stretches into a straight line exhibiting my anxiety and my overbite. The gun in my lap is making nervous. My heart races as I remember the soaring bullet at the Marcy’s house. One shot can kill. Crap.
“Sari, this man violently murdered your sister and aunt. He is a monster. All you need to do is hold this gun straight out…hold it straight with all of your strength and then pull the trigger. After you pull the trigger do not drop your position. Keeping holding the weapon tight in your grip. You can do this.” Brad speaks with such conviction.
“Okay. Thank you. You believe in me. And because of that I have faith in myself. I can do this.” I nod my head repeatedly. I am almost convinced.
“Good because we are here.” Brad stops the car.
What do I do? Do I run like a crazy person through the zoo shouting and screaming for Lizi? Do I wait in the car? Do I…
“You stay behind me.” Brad soberly forces my eye contact. I hold it. My breathing is deafening. Inhale, exhale. Oh god. “We are going to creep our way to the carousel. We have to sneak up on this guy. No matter what...you remain calm and do not rush past me. Got it?”
“Got it.” I whisper. Oh god.
We climb out of the car. Brad’s demeanor is determined. Mine is a little more apprehensive.
“Gun.” He points to my seat.
“Right.” I lift the gun off of my seat. I grip it tightly. I am a superhero. I am a superhero with a gun. Here we come Lizi. Here we come.
I cautiously trail Brad through the off limits grounds of the zoo. My bones rattle with every step. It is pitch black and freezing cold. I can hardly see a thing and I have no idea what is crackling under feet, slapping my head and scratching my legs.
An eerie breeze knocks the wind out of me. Visions of Ainslie’s mutilated body flicker in my mind. I violently shake my head, Out! I need to focus on Lizi. I must save Lizi. I couldn’t save you Ainslie. I am so sorry. Please Ainslie, please protect Lizi until we find her.
“Ready.” Brad exhales.
I nod. I firm up my grip on my weapon. A rush of confidence and sheer will surge through me. “Ready.”
Without hesitation Brad dashes through the darkness. I stomp loudly behind him. We hurdle over the bushes surrounding the carousel. We plant out feet and point our guns.
Where are you Lizi?
No immediate danger. The carousel is still. No one is here.
“LIZI!!!!!” A blood hurling scream escapes my vocal cords.
“Shhhh.” Brad whispers with scolding eyes.
“Ahhhh. Ahhhhh.” Hums in the air.
“Did you hear that!?!” I eagerly tug on Brad’s shirt.
“Ahhhh. Sar…. Ahhh.” In the ripple of the wind of the hum crescendos.
“Yes!” Brad darts in the direction of the hum. My legs take hold of me and guide me in the same direction.
To my surprise, I keep up with Brad. I jump onto the carousel, thrust my body over a horse and leap through a carriage. Adrenaline.
“Ahhh…Ahhhh.” The purr we are chasing is getting closer.
“Lizi!” A tear trickles down my cheek as I watch Brad drop to his knees. Lizi’s eyes are filled with utter fear. She is tied to the center of the carousel. She is shivering. She is naked.
“Do not be afraid Lizi. We are here. You are safe.” Brad’s voice is calm and encouraging. In one motion he rips the duck tape off of her mouth. “Is your attacker still here?”
Ugh. My stomach bottoms out. Is he still here? I squeeze my gun. I hope so.
“No.” Lizi whimpers. “No.”
Brad cuts the ropes and frees her. The rope burns on her body are so deep and thick they glow through the darkness. Lizi must be in so much pain. Although, I know the burns will not last as long as the emotion scars.
I sprint to her. I fall on top of her. I scoop her up in my arms. I sob. She sobs. “I’m here.”
“Sari…oh my god.” Lizi cries. Her fear and sadness melt into me. I want to harbor all of her pain. God, I wish I could.
I crawl out of my sweater and slide it over her head as I have done so many times before when we were little girls.
“Come on. We have to get out here.” Brad helps Lizi up…compassionately. Whatever the term is for bedside manner when it comes to cops…Brad has it. In spades. I seem to always have one eye on him. “Are you hurt?”
“No. No.” Lizi quietly responses.
“Okay. Can you run?” Asks Brad.
“I can.” I recognize her voice…it’s the voice of her 4 year old self. With this simple response Brad takes off.
Lizi and I frantically hurry to stay in Brad’s wake. We dunk, dive and thrash our abrupt get away out of the zoo. Unseen.
I slow down for just a second to help Lizi comfortably into the backseat. I flinch startled at the sound of scores of sirens racing by. My eyes shift to locate the whereabouts of this alarming sound. Swiveling lights are no where to be seen.
“Get in Sari! We gotta go.” Orders Brad without explanation.
I leap in the front. With the slam of my door Brad peels out onto a dark and desolate road.
“Shouldn’t we tell the police Lizi is okay?” I ask trying to make sense of everything.
“No. I have a plan.” Casually announces Brad.
“Me too.” I begin dialing my phone. “Sam…”
”No!” Brad snatches my phone out of my hand and disconnects the call.
“I’m putting this on the air and flushing out Hughes!” I blurt.
“Hughes?” Lizi murmurs. “You mean Hayes?”
“Lizi, it is so much worse then we thought.” I hang my head devastated to shed this light on Lizi. “It seems Detective Hughes and Dan Staley are involved in this.”
“Mark’s stepfather?” Lizi inquisitively interrupts.
“Yeah.” I sigh. “Ed Hayes innocent.”
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Monday, December 7, 2009
NIP 29
“Sari.” Brad uneasily murmurs. “This is Hughes.” His dilated pupils swallow up his hazel irises. My stunned reflection is staring back at me.
“Did you say Hughes?” I stutter. Neither of us blink.
“Yes. Detective Hughes.” Brad’s straight face is as smooth as a 10 year old boy.
‘Glamourous. G.L.A.M…” Fergie is announcing a text from Lizi. Without hesitation I snatch my phone out of my back pocket.
Message 1
FROM: Lizi
Sounds great sis. I could use a twirl. C U soon.
“Wha…” My mouth agape. “See you soon. What is….why? What?” My forehead crinkles in utter confusion.
“Did you text her?” Brad harmonizes my perplexity. “Is she coming here?”
“No.” The panic launches in the tips of my toes. “I didn’t. Who is she responding to? Who is she meeting?”
The air thickens. My mouth dries up like a desert. I force myself to swallow….raw.
“What do I do???” My chest rises and lowers at a million miles per hour. My mind is racing. My emotions roll up in a ball. My phone feels like hot coal in my hand. “Should I text back? I should text back. I’m going to text back.”
“Wait.” Brad grabs my wrist. “If she is danger then texting could speed up his plans. We have to think this through. We have to consider all possibilities…”
“But..” I cut Brad, the detective, off. The sister in me needs to reach out to her right now. “She is texting me. She has her phone. She thinks we are meeting. She is on her way there. Or is she already there?” I think myself in circles. “Is she alone? What does this mean!!”
“You are onto something. Chances are she is not yet compromised.” Brad rubs his forehead. It crinkles up so tightly it looks painful. “Does her text mean anything to you?”
I reread the message. ‘I could use a twirl’. ‘Twirl.” What is she saying? Why am I not getting this? We talk code all the time. We are sisters for crying out loud. What is wrong with me! I cant give up. I lower my head and fix my eyes on the ground. Focus. Focus.
My eyes lock on the album dated 1983. Lizi would have been an infant in 1983. The same year my mother and who I thought was my father were killed…or rather murdered. Something inside me convinces me to randomly flip the album open. A picture of me and my sisters seems to be glowing. I press my lips together and fight back tears. We were just girls…happy little girls.
“Sari!” Brad startles me back to earth. “Oh shit on a shingle! Check it the fuck out!”
I follow Brad’s indignant index finger to a photo on the next page. The pictures shows the smiling faces of us girls, my mother, my father figure Evan, my aunt Clara, Detective Hughes and…oh my god. Dan Staley, Marks’ stepfather and retired public defender.
“That’s…” The wind has been knocked out of me.
“It’s Dan.” Brad whispers in revelation. “They’re dirty.”
“You mean…my mother…”
“I mean… Hughes is a dirtbag cop and Dan was a dirty lawyer. They are in this together. They took down Ed Hayes.” As Brad’s words hit the air they turn into truths.
“But why?” I stutter. “Why kill my mom and dad? And Ainslie, and Aunt Clara, and Marcy and whoever the hell else!”
“Exactly…why?” Brad taps his finger on the photo. “They framed Ed but why. And more importantly why did Ed let them?”
“The zoo!” I shout. “Oh my god. We gotta go.”
I spin in a frantic storm trying to gather the pertinent info of our search. I madly stuff photo after photo in my bag. I have been taken over by my epiphany. No time to talk we have to GO.
Brad kneels down to help. Without saying a word he follows my lead.
“Albums. Grab all the albums. Let’s go!” I hear myself and I sound hysterical like I am on the verge of hyperventilating. “Run!”
We make a mad dash out of the house. I do not even bother to stop running to lock Aunt Clara’s door. We are weighed down with all of our evidence. As we scurry through the front yard a couple of photos slip out of my bag and sail onto the grass. I stop to bend down and retrieve them. I gesture for Brad to keep running. We have 3 blocks to go and I want the car moving pronto.
Sweat gathers on my upper lip. My armpits are soaked. My hair line is dripping. This full body cool down is not because of our rapid pace but rather my spot on intuition.
The peeling out of the tires alerts me that Brad is driving right up to me. I glance up and in one Dukes of Hazard motion I leap in the car. He puts the petal to the metal and it feels like we are flying.
“The zoo?” He knowingly asks.
“Yes. The zoo.” I steadily inhale and exhale. I am so revved up and on edge I wish we were driving a Flintstone car so I could put all of my energy into this ride. “The twirl is the carousel. It’s a shared place we go to when we hit a snag in our lives. The good memories always seem to put it all in perspective.”
“My guess is this…either Hughes or Dan is behind this. They are meeting her there.” Brad never takes eyes of the road. It is almost as if he is in a trance. “We are going to catch this bastard red handed!”
“I think you are right. That photo…the one were looking at with them in it. It was taken at the zoo.” My voice is unshaken but my insides are a hot mess.
“Did you say Hughes?” I stutter. Neither of us blink.
“Yes. Detective Hughes.” Brad’s straight face is as smooth as a 10 year old boy.
‘Glamourous. G.L.A.M…” Fergie is announcing a text from Lizi. Without hesitation I snatch my phone out of my back pocket.
Message 1
FROM: Lizi
Sounds great sis. I could use a twirl. C U soon.
“Wha…” My mouth agape. “See you soon. What is….why? What?” My forehead crinkles in utter confusion.
“Did you text her?” Brad harmonizes my perplexity. “Is she coming here?”
“No.” The panic launches in the tips of my toes. “I didn’t. Who is she responding to? Who is she meeting?”
The air thickens. My mouth dries up like a desert. I force myself to swallow….raw.
“What do I do???” My chest rises and lowers at a million miles per hour. My mind is racing. My emotions roll up in a ball. My phone feels like hot coal in my hand. “Should I text back? I should text back. I’m going to text back.”
“Wait.” Brad grabs my wrist. “If she is danger then texting could speed up his plans. We have to think this through. We have to consider all possibilities…”
“But..” I cut Brad, the detective, off. The sister in me needs to reach out to her right now. “She is texting me. She has her phone. She thinks we are meeting. She is on her way there. Or is she already there?” I think myself in circles. “Is she alone? What does this mean!!”
“You are onto something. Chances are she is not yet compromised.” Brad rubs his forehead. It crinkles up so tightly it looks painful. “Does her text mean anything to you?”
I reread the message. ‘I could use a twirl’. ‘Twirl.” What is she saying? Why am I not getting this? We talk code all the time. We are sisters for crying out loud. What is wrong with me! I cant give up. I lower my head and fix my eyes on the ground. Focus. Focus.
My eyes lock on the album dated 1983. Lizi would have been an infant in 1983. The same year my mother and who I thought was my father were killed…or rather murdered. Something inside me convinces me to randomly flip the album open. A picture of me and my sisters seems to be glowing. I press my lips together and fight back tears. We were just girls…happy little girls.
“Sari!” Brad startles me back to earth. “Oh shit on a shingle! Check it the fuck out!”
I follow Brad’s indignant index finger to a photo on the next page. The pictures shows the smiling faces of us girls, my mother, my father figure Evan, my aunt Clara, Detective Hughes and…oh my god. Dan Staley, Marks’ stepfather and retired public defender.
“That’s…” The wind has been knocked out of me.
“It’s Dan.” Brad whispers in revelation. “They’re dirty.”
“You mean…my mother…”
“I mean… Hughes is a dirtbag cop and Dan was a dirty lawyer. They are in this together. They took down Ed Hayes.” As Brad’s words hit the air they turn into truths.
“But why?” I stutter. “Why kill my mom and dad? And Ainslie, and Aunt Clara, and Marcy and whoever the hell else!”
“Exactly…why?” Brad taps his finger on the photo. “They framed Ed but why. And more importantly why did Ed let them?”
“The zoo!” I shout. “Oh my god. We gotta go.”
I spin in a frantic storm trying to gather the pertinent info of our search. I madly stuff photo after photo in my bag. I have been taken over by my epiphany. No time to talk we have to GO.
Brad kneels down to help. Without saying a word he follows my lead.
“Albums. Grab all the albums. Let’s go!” I hear myself and I sound hysterical like I am on the verge of hyperventilating. “Run!”
We make a mad dash out of the house. I do not even bother to stop running to lock Aunt Clara’s door. We are weighed down with all of our evidence. As we scurry through the front yard a couple of photos slip out of my bag and sail onto the grass. I stop to bend down and retrieve them. I gesture for Brad to keep running. We have 3 blocks to go and I want the car moving pronto.
Sweat gathers on my upper lip. My armpits are soaked. My hair line is dripping. This full body cool down is not because of our rapid pace but rather my spot on intuition.
The peeling out of the tires alerts me that Brad is driving right up to me. I glance up and in one Dukes of Hazard motion I leap in the car. He puts the petal to the metal and it feels like we are flying.
“The zoo?” He knowingly asks.
“Yes. The zoo.” I steadily inhale and exhale. I am so revved up and on edge I wish we were driving a Flintstone car so I could put all of my energy into this ride. “The twirl is the carousel. It’s a shared place we go to when we hit a snag in our lives. The good memories always seem to put it all in perspective.”
“My guess is this…either Hughes or Dan is behind this. They are meeting her there.” Brad never takes eyes of the road. It is almost as if he is in a trance. “We are going to catch this bastard red handed!”
“I think you are right. That photo…the one were looking at with them in it. It was taken at the zoo.” My voice is unshaken but my insides are a hot mess.
Monday, November 30, 2009
NIP 28
Brad holds up a battered envelope. Amanda Hayes is written on the outside of the envelope. It is sealed. I snatch the envelope out of Brad’s hand. Without thought, I tear it open.
“Dear Amanda.” I evenly read aloud. “I love you so much my sweet baby girl. The only lesson I am able to teach you is this-Life is not always as it seems. I will live out my days missing you and wishing we had a much different ending. Please know in your heart I did not murder your mother and step-father. You will read articles and encounter people who will try to tell you otherwise. I am being punished for this crime and I chose this fate. I chose this fate to keep you safe and make this nightmare end. If you ever want to know me please come find me. I will always welcome you. This is your decision my sweet. I will wake every morning hoping to see you again and be given your understanding and love. When the time is right I will explain all of this to you my love. I love you with all my heart and soul. Your father, Ed.”
My lips rest. My eyes stay on my father’s cursive handwriting. Most father’s handwriting is so familiar to their children but not in my case. A tear threatens to escape down my cheek. I inhale…deeply, violently, mystified.
****************************************************************************
Oh Marcy. I am so sorry. You were the most wonderful person I ever knew. You didn’t deserve this! I choke on my tears. Rage consumes me. I sit helpless and pathetic tied to this chair. It is pitch black except for the TV inches from me…my only friend. My enemy.
This nightmare has been silent for hours now. I have no hope. This is nothing but the calm before the storm. Oh Amanda, where are you? Are you safe?
“You’re a prick baby.” His gruff and gruesome voice announces his presence. “Cry prick baby.”
“Fuck off.” Defiance is my new weapon. I have played along for years…for decades…and I am done.
“Ahh…acceptance of your situation. Nice.” His smirk is disgusting. My muscles flex under these ropes. I grit my teeth and fight the pain trying to break free. “Ha. Ha. Weak. Weak. Weak. You are weak.”
“Oh no. You are a weak piece of shit!” I spit in his face. He lunges forward. My face stings from his powerful strike. I taste blood.
“Like that!” His eyes are wild with lunacy. “Want more?!?”
“I kept your secrets and lies all of these years. So why…why now are you eliminating everyone in my life.” I roll my tongue over my teeth to ensure he did not knock any out.
“In your life. HA! What life? Please. Spare me the psycho babble. You know exactly who I am and what I am capable of.” He hisses.
“Bravo. Bravo.” My blood boils. I switch tactics. I need to get to his level in order to reserve manipulate. This man has turned being a sociopath into an art form. I must think faster on my feet to outsmart this fucker.
“Alright. I’ll bite. I’ll tell you everything. You’re dead anyway.” He nonchalantly crouches next me. His vicious energy penetrates my skin. His breath burns my nostrils. “Too many connections threaten my secret. How was I to ever predict Sari Clarke would get so close to me.?. Ha. Fuckin’ funny! And thus…everyone near it...near me must be removed. I’ve made it this far. And I REFUSE to lose.”
“Asshole!” My veins pump thick out of my neck. I lose my cool. Amanda cannot be punished for any of this…a mere coincidence. I scream until my throat is raw. “You win! You win! You win! You win! You always have. You are a sick bastard. You are as twisted as those you put in prison.”
“Nah.” To my dismay, he is cool as a cucumber. “I get shit done.”
He coolly saunters out in the footsteps he entered. With a sinister hiss he says, “Don’t take your eyes of that screen. Breaking news…BAM!”
His menacing snigger echoes his departure.
**************************************************************************
My fingers anxiously fumble sorting through thousands of photos, letters, memos, magnets and scraps of paper. The tips of them are raw. We have been edgily hunkered down over these boxes for hours. Countless hours. All contents are haphazardly strewn about. I no longer have any desire to leave Aunt Clara’s personal effects in tact. I tender the same respect for her items as she has my life.
“Sar, slow down.” Brad sympathetically rests his hands on my knotted shoulders. “Let’s take a break.”
“Can’t. Won’t. Ed is innocent. I can’t fucking believe this.” I pant. I rant. “Aunt Clara is somehow responsible for all of this. My gut knows it. Look at all this crap! Who in the world has this much compiled junk? She is hiding something! She is destroying my family. Has destroyed…”
“My gut is not so sure.” Brad swallows in trepidation.
I aggressively pivot shocked.
“Are you having temporary memory loss???” My pitch is piled high with derision.
Brad composedly clears his throat.
“That letter from Ed was unopened. Consider this…if she was behind all of this then she would have read the letter and then burned it. She would have disposed of all the evidence of betrayal and admission of innocence and/or guilt. Follow me? She didn’t know. She thought Ed was guilty. I am sure of it.” With renewed determination Brad kneels before a box, his eyes spotlight its contents as his theory uninvitedly forces its way into my thought process. “She was saving that letter for you.”
“She never gave it to me!” I am indignant. My fingers stiffened into fists. I bang on the mound of boxes in my wingspan.
“There is more to story. We’ll find it.” Brad’s eyes are kind. They are begging for my patience and cooperation. “We’ll find it.”
I defiantly say nothing and resume my tireless dig. I belligerently sigh with a juvenile roll of my eyes. I catch a glimpse of fanned photo albums fallen from the pile of boxes I knocked over. I free one album. The album is dated 1973. I toss it to the side. I pick up another album…it is dated 1974. And 1975. And 1976. And 1977.
“Brad…look.” I confidently present the albums. This is it. I know it. I feel it. I am sure. I found it! I have no words to express my triumph.
“Holy shit. Open them!” His face eagerly lights up.
I push our search debris aside. I conscientiously lay out the 1979 album. The year I was born. Cheek to cheek we impatiently hover over each page of the album. The photographs are dingy and yellow. The people look like they are dressed in costumes. Even my mother and aunt are barely recognizable to me with outdated hairstyles and fashion.
“There’s Ed!” I shriek. Ed is leaning against a blue Volkswagen Bug. His emerald eyes caught my attention…despite the photo’s distortion they remain so green. Just like mine. His hair is tossled. His smile is magnificent. The corners of my mouth involuntarily try to turn up.
“Yes!” Brad nearly applauds. “We got it. We are on track now. Is this Aunt Clara?” Brad points to a picture of my Aunt sitting on some guy’s lap. The photo gives off a promiscuous vibe. Something strikes me as odd about this picture.
“Yeah, that’s her. But something is off.” To get a closer look I slip the photo out of its cover. The photo is so small. Much smaller than even a 3”x 5”. I zoom in on my Aunt. What is weird about this photo of her? My vision pans left on the man. I prickle. That’s it. “This guy is familiar.”
“Really? Who is he?” Brad asks.
I shrug.
Brad takes the photo out of my hand. His fingers graze mine and the electricity is palpable. “Whoa!”
“What?” I attempt to regain composure quickly as if Brad can read my thoughts. He didn’t…right?
“Sari.” Brad uneasily murmurs. “This is Hughes.” His dilated pupils swallow up his hazel irises. My stunned reflection is staring back at me.
“Did you say Hughes?” I stutter. Neither of us blink.
“Yes. Detective Hughes.” Brad’s straight face is as smooth as a 10 year old boy.
‘Glamourous. G.L.A.M…” Fergie is announcing a text from Lizi. Without hesitation I snatch my phone out of my back pocket.
Message 1
FROM: Lizi
Sounds great sis. I could use a twirl. C U soon.
“Wha…” My mouth agape. “See you soon. What is….why? What?” My forehead crinkles in utter confusion.
“Did you text her?” Brad harmonizes my perplexity. “Is she coming here?”
“No.” The panic launches in the tips of my toes. “I didn’t. Who is she responding to? Who is she meeting?”
“Dear Amanda.” I evenly read aloud. “I love you so much my sweet baby girl. The only lesson I am able to teach you is this-Life is not always as it seems. I will live out my days missing you and wishing we had a much different ending. Please know in your heart I did not murder your mother and step-father. You will read articles and encounter people who will try to tell you otherwise. I am being punished for this crime and I chose this fate. I chose this fate to keep you safe and make this nightmare end. If you ever want to know me please come find me. I will always welcome you. This is your decision my sweet. I will wake every morning hoping to see you again and be given your understanding and love. When the time is right I will explain all of this to you my love. I love you with all my heart and soul. Your father, Ed.”
My lips rest. My eyes stay on my father’s cursive handwriting. Most father’s handwriting is so familiar to their children but not in my case. A tear threatens to escape down my cheek. I inhale…deeply, violently, mystified.
****************************************************************************
Oh Marcy. I am so sorry. You were the most wonderful person I ever knew. You didn’t deserve this! I choke on my tears. Rage consumes me. I sit helpless and pathetic tied to this chair. It is pitch black except for the TV inches from me…my only friend. My enemy.
This nightmare has been silent for hours now. I have no hope. This is nothing but the calm before the storm. Oh Amanda, where are you? Are you safe?
“You’re a prick baby.” His gruff and gruesome voice announces his presence. “Cry prick baby.”
“Fuck off.” Defiance is my new weapon. I have played along for years…for decades…and I am done.
“Ahh…acceptance of your situation. Nice.” His smirk is disgusting. My muscles flex under these ropes. I grit my teeth and fight the pain trying to break free. “Ha. Ha. Weak. Weak. Weak. You are weak.”
“Oh no. You are a weak piece of shit!” I spit in his face. He lunges forward. My face stings from his powerful strike. I taste blood.
“Like that!” His eyes are wild with lunacy. “Want more?!?”
“I kept your secrets and lies all of these years. So why…why now are you eliminating everyone in my life.” I roll my tongue over my teeth to ensure he did not knock any out.
“In your life. HA! What life? Please. Spare me the psycho babble. You know exactly who I am and what I am capable of.” He hisses.
“Bravo. Bravo.” My blood boils. I switch tactics. I need to get to his level in order to reserve manipulate. This man has turned being a sociopath into an art form. I must think faster on my feet to outsmart this fucker.
“Alright. I’ll bite. I’ll tell you everything. You’re dead anyway.” He nonchalantly crouches next me. His vicious energy penetrates my skin. His breath burns my nostrils. “Too many connections threaten my secret. How was I to ever predict Sari Clarke would get so close to me.?. Ha. Fuckin’ funny! And thus…everyone near it...near me must be removed. I’ve made it this far. And I REFUSE to lose.”
“Asshole!” My veins pump thick out of my neck. I lose my cool. Amanda cannot be punished for any of this…a mere coincidence. I scream until my throat is raw. “You win! You win! You win! You win! You always have. You are a sick bastard. You are as twisted as those you put in prison.”
“Nah.” To my dismay, he is cool as a cucumber. “I get shit done.”
He coolly saunters out in the footsteps he entered. With a sinister hiss he says, “Don’t take your eyes of that screen. Breaking news…BAM!”
His menacing snigger echoes his departure.
**************************************************************************
My fingers anxiously fumble sorting through thousands of photos, letters, memos, magnets and scraps of paper. The tips of them are raw. We have been edgily hunkered down over these boxes for hours. Countless hours. All contents are haphazardly strewn about. I no longer have any desire to leave Aunt Clara’s personal effects in tact. I tender the same respect for her items as she has my life.
“Sar, slow down.” Brad sympathetically rests his hands on my knotted shoulders. “Let’s take a break.”
“Can’t. Won’t. Ed is innocent. I can’t fucking believe this.” I pant. I rant. “Aunt Clara is somehow responsible for all of this. My gut knows it. Look at all this crap! Who in the world has this much compiled junk? She is hiding something! She is destroying my family. Has destroyed…”
“My gut is not so sure.” Brad swallows in trepidation.
I aggressively pivot shocked.
“Are you having temporary memory loss???” My pitch is piled high with derision.
Brad composedly clears his throat.
“That letter from Ed was unopened. Consider this…if she was behind all of this then she would have read the letter and then burned it. She would have disposed of all the evidence of betrayal and admission of innocence and/or guilt. Follow me? She didn’t know. She thought Ed was guilty. I am sure of it.” With renewed determination Brad kneels before a box, his eyes spotlight its contents as his theory uninvitedly forces its way into my thought process. “She was saving that letter for you.”
“She never gave it to me!” I am indignant. My fingers stiffened into fists. I bang on the mound of boxes in my wingspan.
“There is more to story. We’ll find it.” Brad’s eyes are kind. They are begging for my patience and cooperation. “We’ll find it.”
I defiantly say nothing and resume my tireless dig. I belligerently sigh with a juvenile roll of my eyes. I catch a glimpse of fanned photo albums fallen from the pile of boxes I knocked over. I free one album. The album is dated 1973. I toss it to the side. I pick up another album…it is dated 1974. And 1975. And 1976. And 1977.
“Brad…look.” I confidently present the albums. This is it. I know it. I feel it. I am sure. I found it! I have no words to express my triumph.
“Holy shit. Open them!” His face eagerly lights up.
I push our search debris aside. I conscientiously lay out the 1979 album. The year I was born. Cheek to cheek we impatiently hover over each page of the album. The photographs are dingy and yellow. The people look like they are dressed in costumes. Even my mother and aunt are barely recognizable to me with outdated hairstyles and fashion.
“There’s Ed!” I shriek. Ed is leaning against a blue Volkswagen Bug. His emerald eyes caught my attention…despite the photo’s distortion they remain so green. Just like mine. His hair is tossled. His smile is magnificent. The corners of my mouth involuntarily try to turn up.
“Yes!” Brad nearly applauds. “We got it. We are on track now. Is this Aunt Clara?” Brad points to a picture of my Aunt sitting on some guy’s lap. The photo gives off a promiscuous vibe. Something strikes me as odd about this picture.
“Yeah, that’s her. But something is off.” To get a closer look I slip the photo out of its cover. The photo is so small. Much smaller than even a 3”x 5”. I zoom in on my Aunt. What is weird about this photo of her? My vision pans left on the man. I prickle. That’s it. “This guy is familiar.”
“Really? Who is he?” Brad asks.
I shrug.
Brad takes the photo out of my hand. His fingers graze mine and the electricity is palpable. “Whoa!”
“What?” I attempt to regain composure quickly as if Brad can read my thoughts. He didn’t…right?
“Sari.” Brad uneasily murmurs. “This is Hughes.” His dilated pupils swallow up his hazel irises. My stunned reflection is staring back at me.
“Did you say Hughes?” I stutter. Neither of us blink.
“Yes. Detective Hughes.” Brad’s straight face is as smooth as a 10 year old boy.
‘Glamourous. G.L.A.M…” Fergie is announcing a text from Lizi. Without hesitation I snatch my phone out of my back pocket.
Message 1
FROM: Lizi
Sounds great sis. I could use a twirl. C U soon.
“Wha…” My mouth agape. “See you soon. What is….why? What?” My forehead crinkles in utter confusion.
“Did you text her?” Brad harmonizes my perplexity. “Is she coming here?”
“No.” The panic launches in the tips of my toes. “I didn’t. Who is she responding to? Who is she meeting?”
Sunday, November 22, 2009
NIP 27
“Ha. Cute. No. He keeps calling your mom a ‘cop fucker.’ So it seems Ed Hayes was not the only cop she had a thing for or possibly with.” Brad clicks his tongue as punctuation. “And he keeps talking about Dan. His stepfather knows something. He is in deep. I promise you.”
“Shit.” I say blankly. Again.
“Clara must have some old photos or some effects from your mother. We need to dig up your mother’s past. Our answers can only come from her.” Brad is so sure of himself. I am sure of nothing.
**************************************************************************
Although we are convinced we are doing the right thing we decide to discreetly park the car three blocks from Aunt Clara’s house. I secretly wish I was wearing running shoes in case we have to book it out of there. At this point I only plan for the worst possible scenario.
We attempt to move unseen so we creep along the bushes curving up around Aunt Clara’s house. I present my house key. I briefly pause before handing it to Brad. Suddenly I am bit nervous about what we will find inside. I have not been here since I saw my wonderful Aunt bloody on her kitchen floor. What if the cops turned the place upside down? What if this house no longer feels like the safe haven I grew up in? What if Aunt Clara is to blame for all of this? What is my room has been ransacked? What if Ainslie’s or Lizi’s room is…LIZI.
“Brad.” I whisper as he turns the key in the backdoor. “I have to call Lizi.”
“Hold on. Let’s get inside.” He pushes the door open.
I hold my breath. I squeeze my eyes shut. I summon strength. Go inside. Go inside and find your truth…whatever it may be.
I seize Brad’s hand. He accepts and takes my hand. He cradles it. We stand still in the kitchen and assess the situation we have intentionally place ourselves in. The floor has an outline of Aunt Clara’s body. Chills race up my spine. Although, this seems to be the worst of the police activity left behind. Thank goodness. I can’t bare anymore destruction at this point. As I think this I know it is only wishful thinking.
“Okay. They left her house intact.” Brad sighs with relief. “This is good because we are one step ahead of them. Or whoever is playing this game.”
I stare blankly. This blank look has become synonymous with my face.
“Meaning…it is unlikely that Aunt Clara’s belongings have been touched and if there is anything to find connecting Clara and/or your mother to this then we will find it…first.” Brad’s eyebrows rise in satisfaction.
“Ugh. I feel like I am in a movie.” My stomach churns.
“Ahhh yeah you are little lady. Write this down and I pretty much guarantee you can get Bradley Cooper to play me.” Brad winks.
“Stop it!” I silence my giggles. “You are distracting me. I’m fidgety and nervous…I cannot laugh right now.”
“Okay.” Brad pushes my curls behind my ear with a half grin. “Where does Clara keep her personal effects? Does she have a file cabinet? An office?”
“Yes. She has an office. Let’s start there. I rarely ever went there so I have no idea where to start looking for secrets and lies.” I recall. “Oh and she also has a few stashed boxes in the back of her closet.”
On tiptoes I guide Brad to Aunt Clara’s office. It seems dead. Lifeless. It is true, I rarely spent time in here. This was Aunt Clara’s solitude. Her alone. Her thinking space. Perhaps her hiding place?
The walls are lined with book shelves making it feel uncomfortably small for more than one occupant. Brad and I accidently elbow each other with even the slightest budge. I nearly jump out of my skin. Every bump startles me. I am edgy.
“Was she a horder?” Brad asks as he scans the stacks of papers, books, photos, random items. “Pet rocks?”
“Yeah.” I don’t fight my smile. “I gave her all of these. It was our thing.”
“Oh. Maybe I should consider this as evidence before I get involved with you?” Brad teases. God, he looks handsome in every light but I can’t help but notice especially so in this eerie and shadowy setting.
“Stop it!” I giggle and press my body up against his. “Although detective I may have cracked your code? You want to date me.”
“When you stand this close to me I cannot deny the charges.” I feel his cheeks heat up. Brad is certainly turned on by me. However, the romance is lost in my laughter. “Okay…back up. He’s gone. You shunned him and he left.”
I laugh so hard I actually lose my balance. I catch my fall on Aunt Clara’s desk. I crash down hard causing her left lower drawer to pop open.
“Let’s start here.” Brad reaches down into the drawer with a target in mind. “I spy a lock.”
Brad’s dig reveals a shiny metal lock box. Lock being the operative word.
“I’ll find the key.” I immediately offer and begin searching through Aunt Clara’s middle desk drawer. My fingers fumble over pens, tacks, rubber bands, paper clips…everything but a key.
“Nah. I’ll smash it.” Brad says as his right arm rises above his head aiming at the box on the floor. He has a pet rock in his hand. It’s the green lizard one I gave Aunt Clara the Christmas of ’87. I want to yell ‘noooo.’ But quickly realize chipping one pet rock is for the greater good.
Brad successfully breaks the lock off of the metal lock box. We kneel down and suspiciously lift open the top of the box. It is jam packed with papers and photos. In an effort to be thorough we spread the papers on the floor.
We have stumbled upon Aunt Clara’s box of legal documents. My birth certificate is in front of me. The original one. The one naming me Amanda Hayes. There is also a birth certificate naming me Sari Clarke. Father…Evan Clarke. This fake is also certified. Brad and I exchange glances asking the same question – how did they pull of getting this certified? Is this fraud?
We sift through Ainslie’s, Lizi’s and Clara’s important paperwork. Social security cards, fingers prints, a few photos. Nothing pertaining to the issue at hand! Crap. Brad’s face falls.
“Wait!” He exclaims. “What is this?”
Brad holds up a battered envelope. Amanda Hayes is written on the outside of the envelope. It is sealed. I snatch the envelope out of Brad’s hand. With thought, I tear it open.
“Dear Amanda.” I evenly read aloud. “I love you so much my sweet baby girl. The only lesson I am able to teach you is this-Life is not always as it seems. I will live out my days missing you and wishing we had a much different ending. Please know in your heart I did not murder your mother and step-father. You will read articles and encounter people who will try to tell you otherwise. I am being punished for this crime and I chose this fate. I chose this fate to keep you safe and make this nightmare end. If you ever want to know me please come find me. I will always welcome you. This is your decision my sweet. I will wake every morning hoping to see you again and be given your understanding and love. When the time is right I will explain all of this to you my love. I love you with all my heart and soul. Your father, Ed.”
My lips rest. My eyes stay on my father’s cursive handwriting. Most father’s handwriting is so familiar to their children but not in my case. A tear threatens to escape down my cheek. I inhale…deeply, violently, mystified.
“Shit.” I say blankly. Again.
“Clara must have some old photos or some effects from your mother. We need to dig up your mother’s past. Our answers can only come from her.” Brad is so sure of himself. I am sure of nothing.
**************************************************************************
Although we are convinced we are doing the right thing we decide to discreetly park the car three blocks from Aunt Clara’s house. I secretly wish I was wearing running shoes in case we have to book it out of there. At this point I only plan for the worst possible scenario.
We attempt to move unseen so we creep along the bushes curving up around Aunt Clara’s house. I present my house key. I briefly pause before handing it to Brad. Suddenly I am bit nervous about what we will find inside. I have not been here since I saw my wonderful Aunt bloody on her kitchen floor. What if the cops turned the place upside down? What if this house no longer feels like the safe haven I grew up in? What if Aunt Clara is to blame for all of this? What is my room has been ransacked? What if Ainslie’s or Lizi’s room is…LIZI.
“Brad.” I whisper as he turns the key in the backdoor. “I have to call Lizi.”
“Hold on. Let’s get inside.” He pushes the door open.
I hold my breath. I squeeze my eyes shut. I summon strength. Go inside. Go inside and find your truth…whatever it may be.
I seize Brad’s hand. He accepts and takes my hand. He cradles it. We stand still in the kitchen and assess the situation we have intentionally place ourselves in. The floor has an outline of Aunt Clara’s body. Chills race up my spine. Although, this seems to be the worst of the police activity left behind. Thank goodness. I can’t bare anymore destruction at this point. As I think this I know it is only wishful thinking.
“Okay. They left her house intact.” Brad sighs with relief. “This is good because we are one step ahead of them. Or whoever is playing this game.”
I stare blankly. This blank look has become synonymous with my face.
“Meaning…it is unlikely that Aunt Clara’s belongings have been touched and if there is anything to find connecting Clara and/or your mother to this then we will find it…first.” Brad’s eyebrows rise in satisfaction.
“Ugh. I feel like I am in a movie.” My stomach churns.
“Ahhh yeah you are little lady. Write this down and I pretty much guarantee you can get Bradley Cooper to play me.” Brad winks.
“Stop it!” I silence my giggles. “You are distracting me. I’m fidgety and nervous…I cannot laugh right now.”
“Okay.” Brad pushes my curls behind my ear with a half grin. “Where does Clara keep her personal effects? Does she have a file cabinet? An office?”
“Yes. She has an office. Let’s start there. I rarely ever went there so I have no idea where to start looking for secrets and lies.” I recall. “Oh and she also has a few stashed boxes in the back of her closet.”
On tiptoes I guide Brad to Aunt Clara’s office. It seems dead. Lifeless. It is true, I rarely spent time in here. This was Aunt Clara’s solitude. Her alone. Her thinking space. Perhaps her hiding place?
The walls are lined with book shelves making it feel uncomfortably small for more than one occupant. Brad and I accidently elbow each other with even the slightest budge. I nearly jump out of my skin. Every bump startles me. I am edgy.
“Was she a horder?” Brad asks as he scans the stacks of papers, books, photos, random items. “Pet rocks?”
“Yeah.” I don’t fight my smile. “I gave her all of these. It was our thing.”
“Oh. Maybe I should consider this as evidence before I get involved with you?” Brad teases. God, he looks handsome in every light but I can’t help but notice especially so in this eerie and shadowy setting.
“Stop it!” I giggle and press my body up against his. “Although detective I may have cracked your code? You want to date me.”
“When you stand this close to me I cannot deny the charges.” I feel his cheeks heat up. Brad is certainly turned on by me. However, the romance is lost in my laughter. “Okay…back up. He’s gone. You shunned him and he left.”
I laugh so hard I actually lose my balance. I catch my fall on Aunt Clara’s desk. I crash down hard causing her left lower drawer to pop open.
“Let’s start here.” Brad reaches down into the drawer with a target in mind. “I spy a lock.”
Brad’s dig reveals a shiny metal lock box. Lock being the operative word.
“I’ll find the key.” I immediately offer and begin searching through Aunt Clara’s middle desk drawer. My fingers fumble over pens, tacks, rubber bands, paper clips…everything but a key.
“Nah. I’ll smash it.” Brad says as his right arm rises above his head aiming at the box on the floor. He has a pet rock in his hand. It’s the green lizard one I gave Aunt Clara the Christmas of ’87. I want to yell ‘noooo.’ But quickly realize chipping one pet rock is for the greater good.
Brad successfully breaks the lock off of the metal lock box. We kneel down and suspiciously lift open the top of the box. It is jam packed with papers and photos. In an effort to be thorough we spread the papers on the floor.
We have stumbled upon Aunt Clara’s box of legal documents. My birth certificate is in front of me. The original one. The one naming me Amanda Hayes. There is also a birth certificate naming me Sari Clarke. Father…Evan Clarke. This fake is also certified. Brad and I exchange glances asking the same question – how did they pull of getting this certified? Is this fraud?
We sift through Ainslie’s, Lizi’s and Clara’s important paperwork. Social security cards, fingers prints, a few photos. Nothing pertaining to the issue at hand! Crap. Brad’s face falls.
“Wait!” He exclaims. “What is this?”
Brad holds up a battered envelope. Amanda Hayes is written on the outside of the envelope. It is sealed. I snatch the envelope out of Brad’s hand. With thought, I tear it open.
“Dear Amanda.” I evenly read aloud. “I love you so much my sweet baby girl. The only lesson I am able to teach you is this-Life is not always as it seems. I will live out my days missing you and wishing we had a much different ending. Please know in your heart I did not murder your mother and step-father. You will read articles and encounter people who will try to tell you otherwise. I am being punished for this crime and I chose this fate. I chose this fate to keep you safe and make this nightmare end. If you ever want to know me please come find me. I will always welcome you. This is your decision my sweet. I will wake every morning hoping to see you again and be given your understanding and love. When the time is right I will explain all of this to you my love. I love you with all my heart and soul. Your father, Ed.”
My lips rest. My eyes stay on my father’s cursive handwriting. Most father’s handwriting is so familiar to their children but not in my case. A tear threatens to escape down my cheek. I inhale…deeply, violently, mystified.
Monday, November 9, 2009
NIP 26
“Oh Sari. I have wanted you since the day I met you.” Brad holds my cheek in his hand. I melt. My entire being experiences a sensation unknown to me. I am lost in his eyes and his touch. It feels so good. “I never knew how to…”
“Ahhh!” I nearly jump out of my skin. The glass crashes and scatters all over us. Brad instantly dives out of the car with fists blazing.
I freeze…staring at the glass in my lap. My eyes cautiously travel to the glass all over my arms. Am I cut? Oh my god, am I bleeding? Is Brad?
“What the fuck!” I hear Brad holler. I jolt at the echo of knuckles cracking cheekbones. Whose? Who is out there? Is Brad okay?
“You no good piece of shit!” A male voice roars. Something about that voice is oddly familiar to me. “Sari is a cop whore just like her mother! You all deserve what you get!”
Mark!?! I immediately snap out of my trance. Mark!?! Mark broke the back window?
“Mark!” With shock and horror I poke my head over the car. Brad and Mark are brutally twisted together…punching, kicking, cussing. They are covered in each other’s blood and sweat. Dear god. “Stop!!!”
To my surprise they freeze. Like deer caught in headlights four wide eyes stare back at me.
I barely recognize Mark. His eyes are wild and his appearance disheveled. His coloring is pale, his clothes are in disarray and his energy is jaded. I can hardly believe this is the man who I agreed to marry…was so blessed to marry…couldn’t wait to marry. The man whose life I was so eager to share. The man I would spend the rest of my life with. Is the person I am seeing right now…right before my eyes…is this man the real Mark?
“What are you doing here?” I meant to scream but my voice is quiet and low. Seeing this vulnerable and violent man actually invokes pity in me. Pity I was unprepared for to feel for him.
“Trying to protect you!” He seethes. “Why? Why am I doing that?? I have no fucking clue.” Mark breaks from Brad’s grip and punches the air. He huffs and puffs in circles.
“I don’t even know what to say…” I slowly come around the car and approach them.
“Who do you two think you are? Some sort of perverted Bonnie and Clyde?” He pauses with his arms in the air looking as if he has truly lost his mind. “I should have blown you both to bits at Marcy’s?”
“Marcy’s?” Brad and I stutter in unison.
“Oh god.” I swallow hard. Is Mark the killer? Not until now did I even consider this a possibly. My blood goes cold and I fear Brad and I are in serious trouble.
“You were at Marcy’s?” Brad asks point blank. Good god he is calm under pressure.
“Yeah. I know about her and Ed Hayes.” Mark says matter-of- factly…almost sarcastically.
“Is that why you killed her?” Brad calmly slithers towards Mark…ready to pounce. “She had something on you. Truth about Hayes? Your involvement?”
“What!?! No!” Mark nearly giggles. “I was trying to protect you! God damnit Sari! Wake up.”
“Protect me?” I am baffled. From Marcy?
“This is all getting so out of control. Who knew Ed would be released and start murdering everyone.” As Mark speaks I see sadness creep in his eyes. “My stepfather knew…he is the one who was so adamant about keeping Ed in prison for good.”
“There is no way Marcy committed suicide. You know that.” I confide.
“She did.” His eyes turn their familiar blue. He is being honest. “She must have been crushed to find out Ed had been lying to her all of these years. He had zero intention of running away with her. He only wanted revenge.”
“But…I don’t…”
“Just keep your distance Mark.” Brad cuts me off. An unspoken force between us tells me he did this on purpose. I have faith and shut it. The palm of Brad’s hand on the small of my back guides me to his car.
“Sari…please Sari. Come with me.” Tears fill Mark eyes as he reaches out his hand to me. “Can we please work through this together? I love you so much. I was only trying to protect you. From the bottom of my heart I thought I was doing the right thing. I really did. You have to believe me.”
“Mark.” I hush him fearing he could go on pleading like this forever. My heart feels nothing. Well nothing but sympathy for him. I truly wish at moments like these I had a tiny bit of hard wiring to be a cold-hearted bitch. But I don’t. He hurt me but I still don’t want to hurt him. Not more than I have to.
“We are so good together. This will only bring us closer…”
“No Mark. I’m sorry. I need to figure this out on my own. I need answers.” I step away from him. Out of his force field.
“I can give you answers. I have told you everything. They will catch Ed and this will be over.” He wipes a tear from his eye. This gesture physically makes me nauseous. My gut telling me I cannot trust this guy.
“I’m sorry.” Is all I can say. At least for now.
“Oh.” I literally witness a shift in his demeanor. “Sorry that you are a cop fucker just like your mother! Watch out Brad. You are the first but history tells me you are not the last.”
His rage propels him in to his car before Brad and I can even utter a syllable. His slamming car door announces we are too late for any rebuttal. He peels out of our lives as fast and dramatically as he entered.
“Clara’s. Get in.” Brad instructs with what seems like giddiness. Odd.
I do as I am told. Brad starts the engine and we are off. I fidget trying to arrange my thoughts. I want to discuss the surreal scene that just took place. But I feel so incoherent.
“I cut you off because Mark is in the dark.” Brad offers. I wonder if I am this transparent to everyone. “He has been and probably is being used. We need to figure out by whom.”
“Oh god.” I groan.
“Oh no. Do not go feeling sorry for dum dum. Yes, someone is leaving him in the dark but he knows it. And he has known it was wrong all along. Which is why he is backpedaling so fast trying to get it cleaned up.” Brad exhales like the Olympic champion of the 100 meter dash.
“Shit.” I say blankly.
“It’s a lot to digest. I know. But he is dropping clues left and right.”
“He is playing a cat and mouse game with us?” My inability to keep up with Brad’s train of thought is making me feel like English is not my first language.
“Ha. Cute. No. He keeps calling your mom a ‘cop fucker.’ So it seems Ed Hayes was not the only cop she had a thing for or possibly with.” Brad clicks his tongue as punctuation. “And he keeps talking about Dan. His stepfather knows something. He is in deep. I promise you.”
“Shit.” I say blankly. Again.
“Clara must have some old photos or some effects from your mother. We need to dig up your mother’s past. Our answers can only come from her.” Brad is so sure of himself. I am sure of nothing.
*************************************************************************
“Ahhh!” I nearly jump out of my skin. The glass crashes and scatters all over us. Brad instantly dives out of the car with fists blazing.
I freeze…staring at the glass in my lap. My eyes cautiously travel to the glass all over my arms. Am I cut? Oh my god, am I bleeding? Is Brad?
“What the fuck!” I hear Brad holler. I jolt at the echo of knuckles cracking cheekbones. Whose? Who is out there? Is Brad okay?
“You no good piece of shit!” A male voice roars. Something about that voice is oddly familiar to me. “Sari is a cop whore just like her mother! You all deserve what you get!”
Mark!?! I immediately snap out of my trance. Mark!?! Mark broke the back window?
“Mark!” With shock and horror I poke my head over the car. Brad and Mark are brutally twisted together…punching, kicking, cussing. They are covered in each other’s blood and sweat. Dear god. “Stop!!!”
To my surprise they freeze. Like deer caught in headlights four wide eyes stare back at me.
I barely recognize Mark. His eyes are wild and his appearance disheveled. His coloring is pale, his clothes are in disarray and his energy is jaded. I can hardly believe this is the man who I agreed to marry…was so blessed to marry…couldn’t wait to marry. The man whose life I was so eager to share. The man I would spend the rest of my life with. Is the person I am seeing right now…right before my eyes…is this man the real Mark?
“What are you doing here?” I meant to scream but my voice is quiet and low. Seeing this vulnerable and violent man actually invokes pity in me. Pity I was unprepared for to feel for him.
“Trying to protect you!” He seethes. “Why? Why am I doing that?? I have no fucking clue.” Mark breaks from Brad’s grip and punches the air. He huffs and puffs in circles.
“I don’t even know what to say…” I slowly come around the car and approach them.
“Who do you two think you are? Some sort of perverted Bonnie and Clyde?” He pauses with his arms in the air looking as if he has truly lost his mind. “I should have blown you both to bits at Marcy’s?”
“Marcy’s?” Brad and I stutter in unison.
“Oh god.” I swallow hard. Is Mark the killer? Not until now did I even consider this a possibly. My blood goes cold and I fear Brad and I are in serious trouble.
“You were at Marcy’s?” Brad asks point blank. Good god he is calm under pressure.
“Yeah. I know about her and Ed Hayes.” Mark says matter-of- factly…almost sarcastically.
“Is that why you killed her?” Brad calmly slithers towards Mark…ready to pounce. “She had something on you. Truth about Hayes? Your involvement?”
“What!?! No!” Mark nearly giggles. “I was trying to protect you! God damnit Sari! Wake up.”
“Protect me?” I am baffled. From Marcy?
“This is all getting so out of control. Who knew Ed would be released and start murdering everyone.” As Mark speaks I see sadness creep in his eyes. “My stepfather knew…he is the one who was so adamant about keeping Ed in prison for good.”
“There is no way Marcy committed suicide. You know that.” I confide.
“She did.” His eyes turn their familiar blue. He is being honest. “She must have been crushed to find out Ed had been lying to her all of these years. He had zero intention of running away with her. He only wanted revenge.”
“But…I don’t…”
“Just keep your distance Mark.” Brad cuts me off. An unspoken force between us tells me he did this on purpose. I have faith and shut it. The palm of Brad’s hand on the small of my back guides me to his car.
“Sari…please Sari. Come with me.” Tears fill Mark eyes as he reaches out his hand to me. “Can we please work through this together? I love you so much. I was only trying to protect you. From the bottom of my heart I thought I was doing the right thing. I really did. You have to believe me.”
“Mark.” I hush him fearing he could go on pleading like this forever. My heart feels nothing. Well nothing but sympathy for him. I truly wish at moments like these I had a tiny bit of hard wiring to be a cold-hearted bitch. But I don’t. He hurt me but I still don’t want to hurt him. Not more than I have to.
“We are so good together. This will only bring us closer…”
“No Mark. I’m sorry. I need to figure this out on my own. I need answers.” I step away from him. Out of his force field.
“I can give you answers. I have told you everything. They will catch Ed and this will be over.” He wipes a tear from his eye. This gesture physically makes me nauseous. My gut telling me I cannot trust this guy.
“I’m sorry.” Is all I can say. At least for now.
“Oh.” I literally witness a shift in his demeanor. “Sorry that you are a cop fucker just like your mother! Watch out Brad. You are the first but history tells me you are not the last.”
His rage propels him in to his car before Brad and I can even utter a syllable. His slamming car door announces we are too late for any rebuttal. He peels out of our lives as fast and dramatically as he entered.
“Clara’s. Get in.” Brad instructs with what seems like giddiness. Odd.
I do as I am told. Brad starts the engine and we are off. I fidget trying to arrange my thoughts. I want to discuss the surreal scene that just took place. But I feel so incoherent.
“I cut you off because Mark is in the dark.” Brad offers. I wonder if I am this transparent to everyone. “He has been and probably is being used. We need to figure out by whom.”
“Oh god.” I groan.
“Oh no. Do not go feeling sorry for dum dum. Yes, someone is leaving him in the dark but he knows it. And he has known it was wrong all along. Which is why he is backpedaling so fast trying to get it cleaned up.” Brad exhales like the Olympic champion of the 100 meter dash.
“Shit.” I say blankly.
“It’s a lot to digest. I know. But he is dropping clues left and right.”
“He is playing a cat and mouse game with us?” My inability to keep up with Brad’s train of thought is making me feel like English is not my first language.
“Ha. Cute. No. He keeps calling your mom a ‘cop fucker.’ So it seems Ed Hayes was not the only cop she had a thing for or possibly with.” Brad clicks his tongue as punctuation. “And he keeps talking about Dan. His stepfather knows something. He is in deep. I promise you.”
“Shit.” I say blankly. Again.
“Clara must have some old photos or some effects from your mother. We need to dig up your mother’s past. Our answers can only come from her.” Brad is so sure of himself. I am sure of nothing.
*************************************************************************
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
NIP 25
“You stubborn old son of a bitch.” The volume of Brad’s voice rises like a crescendo in a Beethoven composition. He grabs my hand and jerks me out of Detective Hughes’ office. I am running so fast it is as if I am flying. My feet are not touching the ground. Brad is tugging me quickly behind him. He elbows officers, desks, cabinets out of our way. We leap over chairs and weave through crowds to make our escape. We flee the premise leaving floating stacks of computer paper and confused faces in our wake.
We rush into the car and Brad peels out before we slam the doors shut.
“What was that?!? What is happening?!?!” I am screaming like Jennifer Love Hewitt in the movie I Know What You Did Last Summer.
“Stop talking Sari! Just shhh for one minute.” Brad calmly scolds with obvious restraint.
“Shhh…you are shushing me!” I have zero restraint. “Hughes was having us arrested. We are on the run! I will not shut up!”
“Damnit Sari!” The palm of Brad’s hands strike the steering wheel. “You are a reporter. You know for a FACT you cannot take information to air without police approval. You did it twice!”
“I had too!” My voice cracks.
“No you did not.” Brad calls me out. “You did it because you wanted to. Now Hughes has it out for us. Both of us. Because I let you do it.”
“Well...well…” I rack my brain for a viable excuse. I had to, I just had to. “I had to. This is personal not just some bump in the night murder investigation.”
“Fine. Then stop bitching at the consequences of your actions.” Brad runs his fingers through his hair with a sigh. My face heats up feeling very demeaned.
“What about you!” I blurt out with the impatience of a 5 year old.
“What about me?” He furrows his burrow in annoyance.
“Just shut up!” I yell with my whole body and thrust myself against the back of the seat. I refuse to look in Brad direction. Damn him. I stare out the window…pissed.
“You know what Sari…” Brad’s speech is articulate. I want to cut him off and say ‘Have some emotion buddy!’ “I am trying to help you. I want to help you. It’s just a whole lot more messy then either of us bargained for.”
I sit in silence digesting his words. God, he is right. I hate that. I feel so mad at him or at something. I have no fight left. I pout. A tear tracks my cheek.
“Hey.” Brad’s thumb catches my tear. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. It’s not you. It’s my shit. I’m baffled.”
I gaze at him with puppy eyes. My shoulders are limp and I hunch over in defeat. “What now?”
Brad pulls over and parks the car in a hidden, dark, secluded alley. We sit still in the darkness.
“Don’t know.” Brad resignedly leans his elbow on the driver’s door and rubs out the tension in his forehead. “We need to lay low for a moment. Then we search the hell out of your Aunt’s house and find some answers.”
“Should we just stop?” I am so tired. I am so sad. We lose.
“Can’t now. Our heads are on the chopping block. We have to finish what we started.” He cocks his head with raised eyebrows and clicks his tongue.
“Yeah. I guess we do.” I hang my head and glance down at my hands in my lap.
“Let’s recharge our batteries for now. I cannot have a mopey partner.” Brad playfully punches my shoulder.
“Haha.” I giggle. Brad has such an ease about him. I already feel life pumping back in veins.
I lightly bite down on my lower lip. Brad’s arm is draped over his seat and I desperately want to be holed up there.
He seizes the spark in my eye. He firmly grips my neck and pulls me to him. Our eye contact never jeopardized. I cling to him. I breathlessly grab for him. I wrap my arms tightly around his body. I have him but I keep grabbing from him. I cannot get close enough.
He caresses me with every kiss…exploring my body with the palm of his masculine hands. He feels so right and together we feel so natural. Our eyes still locked…never straying. Our pupils are dilated and taking in every detail of our delicious encounter.
“I want you.” I whisper as I tenderly kiss his ear.
“Oh Sari. I have wanted you since the day met you.” Brad holds my cheek in his hand. I melt. My entire being experiences a sensation unknown to me. I am lost in his eyes and his touch. It feels so good. “I never knew how to…”
“Ahhh!” I nearly jump out of my skin. The glass crashes and scatters all over us. Brad instantly dives out of the car with fists blazing.
I freeze…staring at the glass in my lap. My eyes cautiously travel to the glass all over my arms. Am I cut? Oh my god, am I bleeding? Is Brad?
“What the fuck!” I hear Brad holler. I jolt at the echo of knuckles cracking cheekbones. Whose? Who is out there? Is Brad okay?
“You no good piece of shit!” A male voice roars. Something about that voice is oddly familiar to me. “Sari is a cop whore just like her mother! You all deserve what you get!”
Mark!?! I immediately snap out of my trance. Mark!?! Mark broke the back window?
“Mark!” With shock and horror I poke my head over the car. Brad and Mark are brutally twisted together…punching, kicking, cussing. They are covered in each other’s blood and sweat. Dear god. “Stop!!!”
We rush into the car and Brad peels out before we slam the doors shut.
“What was that?!? What is happening?!?!” I am screaming like Jennifer Love Hewitt in the movie I Know What You Did Last Summer.
“Stop talking Sari! Just shhh for one minute.” Brad calmly scolds with obvious restraint.
“Shhh…you are shushing me!” I have zero restraint. “Hughes was having us arrested. We are on the run! I will not shut up!”
“Damnit Sari!” The palm of Brad’s hands strike the steering wheel. “You are a reporter. You know for a FACT you cannot take information to air without police approval. You did it twice!”
“I had too!” My voice cracks.
“No you did not.” Brad calls me out. “You did it because you wanted to. Now Hughes has it out for us. Both of us. Because I let you do it.”
“Well...well…” I rack my brain for a viable excuse. I had to, I just had to. “I had to. This is personal not just some bump in the night murder investigation.”
“Fine. Then stop bitching at the consequences of your actions.” Brad runs his fingers through his hair with a sigh. My face heats up feeling very demeaned.
“What about you!” I blurt out with the impatience of a 5 year old.
“What about me?” He furrows his burrow in annoyance.
“Just shut up!” I yell with my whole body and thrust myself against the back of the seat. I refuse to look in Brad direction. Damn him. I stare out the window…pissed.
“You know what Sari…” Brad’s speech is articulate. I want to cut him off and say ‘Have some emotion buddy!’ “I am trying to help you. I want to help you. It’s just a whole lot more messy then either of us bargained for.”
I sit in silence digesting his words. God, he is right. I hate that. I feel so mad at him or at something. I have no fight left. I pout. A tear tracks my cheek.
“Hey.” Brad’s thumb catches my tear. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. It’s not you. It’s my shit. I’m baffled.”
I gaze at him with puppy eyes. My shoulders are limp and I hunch over in defeat. “What now?”
Brad pulls over and parks the car in a hidden, dark, secluded alley. We sit still in the darkness.
“Don’t know.” Brad resignedly leans his elbow on the driver’s door and rubs out the tension in his forehead. “We need to lay low for a moment. Then we search the hell out of your Aunt’s house and find some answers.”
“Should we just stop?” I am so tired. I am so sad. We lose.
“Can’t now. Our heads are on the chopping block. We have to finish what we started.” He cocks his head with raised eyebrows and clicks his tongue.
“Yeah. I guess we do.” I hang my head and glance down at my hands in my lap.
“Let’s recharge our batteries for now. I cannot have a mopey partner.” Brad playfully punches my shoulder.
“Haha.” I giggle. Brad has such an ease about him. I already feel life pumping back in veins.
I lightly bite down on my lower lip. Brad’s arm is draped over his seat and I desperately want to be holed up there.
He seizes the spark in my eye. He firmly grips my neck and pulls me to him. Our eye contact never jeopardized. I cling to him. I breathlessly grab for him. I wrap my arms tightly around his body. I have him but I keep grabbing from him. I cannot get close enough.
He caresses me with every kiss…exploring my body with the palm of his masculine hands. He feels so right and together we feel so natural. Our eyes still locked…never straying. Our pupils are dilated and taking in every detail of our delicious encounter.
“I want you.” I whisper as I tenderly kiss his ear.
“Oh Sari. I have wanted you since the day met you.” Brad holds my cheek in his hand. I melt. My entire being experiences a sensation unknown to me. I am lost in his eyes and his touch. It feels so good. “I never knew how to…”
“Ahhh!” I nearly jump out of my skin. The glass crashes and scatters all over us. Brad instantly dives out of the car with fists blazing.
I freeze…staring at the glass in my lap. My eyes cautiously travel to the glass all over my arms. Am I cut? Oh my god, am I bleeding? Is Brad?
“What the fuck!” I hear Brad holler. I jolt at the echo of knuckles cracking cheekbones. Whose? Who is out there? Is Brad okay?
“You no good piece of shit!” A male voice roars. Something about that voice is oddly familiar to me. “Sari is a cop whore just like her mother! You all deserve what you get!”
Mark!?! I immediately snap out of my trance. Mark!?! Mark broke the back window?
“Mark!” With shock and horror I poke my head over the car. Brad and Mark are brutally twisted together…punching, kicking, cussing. They are covered in each other’s blood and sweat. Dear god. “Stop!!!”
Thursday, October 22, 2009
NIP 24
‘You cross the line Brad and I promise you will spend a lifetime behind bars just like Ed Hayes.’ Mark grits his teeth. Through squinted eyes he sees who he thinks is Sam stealthily entering the Peninsula Hotel.
Mark’s attention is peaked. He leans forward for a better glimpse. That is Sam. What is Sari’s low life cameraman doing here at this hour?
*************************************************************************
“What is it?” I wake so disoriented. “Wha…”
“Sam’s here.” Brad announces and eagerly leaps off the bed for our hotel room door.
“Oh.” I dart upright and search for my equilibrium. I feel so loopy. “How long was I asleep?”
“Only about 20 minutes.” Brad says without facing me. His eye is glued to the peephole. “Here he comes.”
Sam enters dressed in all black with a package strapped around his waist. He slumps over and brusquely flings the stack of mail on the bed.
“I am not some errand boy.” Aggressively snaps Sam. “Do not call me again unless I will be filming an award winning piece on whatever the hell is transpiring here.”
“Sam, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think you would mind.” I feel my heart begin to pound. Sam, the most uncouth of people, wants nothing to do with me. Can’t say that I blame him right about now.
“Wouldn’t mind!?!” He stares at me with sheer annoyance. “Wouldn’t mind being apart of something illegal. Hell no!”
“It’s my mail.” I reply sheepishly with a hint of defensiveness.
“Save it for someone who cares.” Sam waves me off and saunters for the door. He pauses with his hand on the doorknob. “Here’s a tip. Watch your back. The police are all over the office.”
“What?” I nearly fall off of the bed. Sam doesn’t answer. He is already gone. “What was that all about?” My eyes beg Brad for answers.
“Not sure.” Brad rubs his forehead. “Let’s just stay focused on what we are looking for.”
“What are we looking for?” I ask with childlike innocence.
“Not sure.” Brad exhales.
We cautiously approach the stack of mail. The energy in the room is conflicted. We both know this is the point in the game where you throw in your chips or fold. My breathing is as loud as waves crashing.
I can’t take the indecision. I abruptly scatter the pile. The pink envelope stares back at us like a diamond in the ruff. I warily slide it off of the bed. I hold it up…it lingers in my hand. Brad and I share a glance that ends with a nod. Game on.
I turn the pink envelope with a monogrammed M in the center over and delicately open it. Inside is a pink card. My actions are in rhythm with our thumping hearts. I pinch the top of it and adeptly slip it out of its envelope. The silence is deafening.
We say nothing. Our mouths are agape.
The card has only 4 words on it. ED HAYES IS INNOCENT.
*****************************************************************************
“We are doing the right thing.” I repeat over and over a loud. There is no secret here. I am trying to convince myself. “We are doing the right thing.”
“We are Sari.” Brad takes his right hand off of the steering wheel and lays it on my leg in show of support. “Detective Hughes and his team need to see this. Number 1, what if Ed Hayes is innocent? There is a manhunt taking place and the real killer is free to murder whoever the hell he wants.” Brad animatedly speaks with authority. And I have to admit between the two of us he is the authority on the topic. “Number 2, this card and the intruder at Marcy’s apartment prove she did not commit suicide. The police need to know this.”
“But…” I can’t help but second guess our decision. “Maybe we should stick to our plan and see what we can dig up at Aunt Clara’s. There has to be evidence or proof of something or someone….”
“No Sari. This is no longer about piecing facts together searching for your truths. This is a very dangerous situation.” Brad stares ahead, his bewilderment making him feel inadequate as a detective.
I, too, stare ahead watching the street signs pass until we pull in front of the police station. Brad kills the engine and we quietly step out of the car. The weight of the situation is taking its toll.
I follow Brad through the crowded police station. The constant buzzing of voices is making me very uncomfortable. We stand shoulder to shoulder at our final destination. The office of Detective Hughes.
Detective Hughes’ expression morphs into aggravation once he spots us. Without making eye contact he rudely gesticulates us permission to enter.
“Callahan.” Detective Hughes leans all the way back in his chair as if to say checkmate.
“Detective Hughes when are coming to you with imperative information about Ainslie and Clara Clarke’s case.” Brad respectfully explains.
“And your behavior?” Detective Hughes ignores Brad’s message. This appears to be a spoken when spoken to atmosphere.
“Detective.” Brad holds his jaw in his hand. He drops his hand and puffs out his chest. “I mean no disrespect but we are on the same side here. It’s been a rough day!”
“Spare me the sod story dickwab.” Detective Hughes gruffly silences Brad. He inconsiderately holds out his hand. “What information do you think you have for me?”
On cue Brad passes the pink card and envelope to Detective Hughes. Hughes takes a glimpse at it before tossing it on his desk. “Horseshit.”
“Excuse me…” Brad yanks my arm and I know to shut my mouth.
“Hughes. This is Marcy Doherty’s stationary. And this is a scrapbook of her romance with Ed Hayes. It spans 15 years!” Brad places the scrapbook on Hughes’ desk. He flips the pages to illustrate his point.
“Where did you get that?” Hughes asks with zero interest in our evidence.
“Marcy’s apartment.” Without a pause Brad adds. “There was an intruder when we got…”
“I’d like to make an arrest.” Detective Hughes says nonchalantly into his office landline.
My mouth attempts to form the word ‘What.’ I fail and a puff of air is all that comes out. Brad suspiciously tilts his head with squinted eyes as he tries to figure out exactly who Hughes is having arrested.
“Brad Callahan and Sari Clarke. They are in my office.” Hughes sets the receiver down with a sneer.
“You stubborn old son of a bitch.” The volume of Brad’s voice rises like a crescendo in a Beethoven composition. He grabs my hand and jerks me out of Detective Hughes’ office. I am running so fast it is as if I am flying. My feet are not touching the ground. Brad is tugging me quickly behind him. He elbows officers, desks, cabinets out of our way. We leap over chairs and weave through crowds to make our escape. We flee the premise leaving floating stacks of computer paper and confused faces in our wake.
We rush into the car and Brad peels out before we slam the doors shut.
“What was that?!? What is happening?!?!” I am screaming like a child in a horror movie.
Mark’s attention is peaked. He leans forward for a better glimpse. That is Sam. What is Sari’s low life cameraman doing here at this hour?
*************************************************************************
“What is it?” I wake so disoriented. “Wha…”
“Sam’s here.” Brad announces and eagerly leaps off the bed for our hotel room door.
“Oh.” I dart upright and search for my equilibrium. I feel so loopy. “How long was I asleep?”
“Only about 20 minutes.” Brad says without facing me. His eye is glued to the peephole. “Here he comes.”
Sam enters dressed in all black with a package strapped around his waist. He slumps over and brusquely flings the stack of mail on the bed.
“I am not some errand boy.” Aggressively snaps Sam. “Do not call me again unless I will be filming an award winning piece on whatever the hell is transpiring here.”
“Sam, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think you would mind.” I feel my heart begin to pound. Sam, the most uncouth of people, wants nothing to do with me. Can’t say that I blame him right about now.
“Wouldn’t mind!?!” He stares at me with sheer annoyance. “Wouldn’t mind being apart of something illegal. Hell no!”
“It’s my mail.” I reply sheepishly with a hint of defensiveness.
“Save it for someone who cares.” Sam waves me off and saunters for the door. He pauses with his hand on the doorknob. “Here’s a tip. Watch your back. The police are all over the office.”
“What?” I nearly fall off of the bed. Sam doesn’t answer. He is already gone. “What was that all about?” My eyes beg Brad for answers.
“Not sure.” Brad rubs his forehead. “Let’s just stay focused on what we are looking for.”
“What are we looking for?” I ask with childlike innocence.
“Not sure.” Brad exhales.
We cautiously approach the stack of mail. The energy in the room is conflicted. We both know this is the point in the game where you throw in your chips or fold. My breathing is as loud as waves crashing.
I can’t take the indecision. I abruptly scatter the pile. The pink envelope stares back at us like a diamond in the ruff. I warily slide it off of the bed. I hold it up…it lingers in my hand. Brad and I share a glance that ends with a nod. Game on.
I turn the pink envelope with a monogrammed M in the center over and delicately open it. Inside is a pink card. My actions are in rhythm with our thumping hearts. I pinch the top of it and adeptly slip it out of its envelope. The silence is deafening.
We say nothing. Our mouths are agape.
The card has only 4 words on it. ED HAYES IS INNOCENT.
*****************************************************************************
“We are doing the right thing.” I repeat over and over a loud. There is no secret here. I am trying to convince myself. “We are doing the right thing.”
“We are Sari.” Brad takes his right hand off of the steering wheel and lays it on my leg in show of support. “Detective Hughes and his team need to see this. Number 1, what if Ed Hayes is innocent? There is a manhunt taking place and the real killer is free to murder whoever the hell he wants.” Brad animatedly speaks with authority. And I have to admit between the two of us he is the authority on the topic. “Number 2, this card and the intruder at Marcy’s apartment prove she did not commit suicide. The police need to know this.”
“But…” I can’t help but second guess our decision. “Maybe we should stick to our plan and see what we can dig up at Aunt Clara’s. There has to be evidence or proof of something or someone….”
“No Sari. This is no longer about piecing facts together searching for your truths. This is a very dangerous situation.” Brad stares ahead, his bewilderment making him feel inadequate as a detective.
I, too, stare ahead watching the street signs pass until we pull in front of the police station. Brad kills the engine and we quietly step out of the car. The weight of the situation is taking its toll.
I follow Brad through the crowded police station. The constant buzzing of voices is making me very uncomfortable. We stand shoulder to shoulder at our final destination. The office of Detective Hughes.
Detective Hughes’ expression morphs into aggravation once he spots us. Without making eye contact he rudely gesticulates us permission to enter.
“Callahan.” Detective Hughes leans all the way back in his chair as if to say checkmate.
“Detective Hughes when are coming to you with imperative information about Ainslie and Clara Clarke’s case.” Brad respectfully explains.
“And your behavior?” Detective Hughes ignores Brad’s message. This appears to be a spoken when spoken to atmosphere.
“Detective.” Brad holds his jaw in his hand. He drops his hand and puffs out his chest. “I mean no disrespect but we are on the same side here. It’s been a rough day!”
“Spare me the sod story dickwab.” Detective Hughes gruffly silences Brad. He inconsiderately holds out his hand. “What information do you think you have for me?”
On cue Brad passes the pink card and envelope to Detective Hughes. Hughes takes a glimpse at it before tossing it on his desk. “Horseshit.”
“Excuse me…” Brad yanks my arm and I know to shut my mouth.
“Hughes. This is Marcy Doherty’s stationary. And this is a scrapbook of her romance with Ed Hayes. It spans 15 years!” Brad places the scrapbook on Hughes’ desk. He flips the pages to illustrate his point.
“Where did you get that?” Hughes asks with zero interest in our evidence.
“Marcy’s apartment.” Without a pause Brad adds. “There was an intruder when we got…”
“I’d like to make an arrest.” Detective Hughes says nonchalantly into his office landline.
My mouth attempts to form the word ‘What.’ I fail and a puff of air is all that comes out. Brad suspiciously tilts his head with squinted eyes as he tries to figure out exactly who Hughes is having arrested.
“Brad Callahan and Sari Clarke. They are in my office.” Hughes sets the receiver down with a sneer.
“You stubborn old son of a bitch.” The volume of Brad’s voice rises like a crescendo in a Beethoven composition. He grabs my hand and jerks me out of Detective Hughes’ office. I am running so fast it is as if I am flying. My feet are not touching the ground. Brad is tugging me quickly behind him. He elbows officers, desks, cabinets out of our way. We leap over chairs and weave through crowds to make our escape. We flee the premise leaving floating stacks of computer paper and confused faces in our wake.
We rush into the car and Brad peels out before we slam the doors shut.
“What was that?!? What is happening?!?!” I am screaming like a child in a horror movie.
Monday, October 19, 2009
NIP 23
I sit pretzel style on the hotel bed flipping through Marcy’s scrapbook of her 15 year romance with my biological father.
“I can’t believe this.” I sigh aloud. “Marcy was Mark’s assistant. She was also Mark’s stepfather’s assistant before she was Mark’s. She knew all along. All along. They killed her.”
Brad crouches next me. In an effort to keep a low profile we checked into the Peninsula Hotel. The hotel is gorgeous and often home to celebrities filming movies in the city. Normally I would be pacing every hall hoping to spot fame but not tonight. Tonight I could care less about the delicious amenities this hotel has to offer.
“You are on to something. Exactly what I don’t know yet.” Brad gently rubs my shoulders. I moan my thank you.
“Sam should be here soon. I hope we find something in that mail pile.” I bite my lower lip. And without a thought I turn into Brad. I force him in my embrace. I kiss him with all of my passion. Brad responds in kind with kisses so sweet and deliberate.
I take him in my arms, I breathe him in, I taste him, I give myself to him. Our arms are linked so tightly around each other. I feel safe and secure. I think of nothing but our caress.
“Sari…” utters Brad without pulling away from me. “Sari, sweet Sari.” The sound of his voice floats in my ears…it is as light and fluffy as a cloud.
Brad shifts his head to the side. Insecurity rushes through me. I search for his lips. He takes them from me. He softly brushes my curls away from my forehead.
“Let’s lay down. You need to rest.” He carefully repositions my arms and legs. I give in with a swivel and lay down.
“Ahhhh.” Relaxation releases from my lower back up my spine and out of my mouth. Without a word Brad lays next to me. He gently lays his right arm across my limp body. “Ahhhh.” Security.
My chest gradually raises and lowers as I replay the events of this disastrous day in my mind. I am having trouble comprehending the meaning of the last 24 hours. I started the day by making love to my wonderful fiancé. My not so wonderful fiancé more like. How deep are you in this Mark? I squeeze my closed eyes tighter. I will not shed one more tear over him.
It takes some effort but I get control over my thoughts. Ainslie was found murdered with a picture of us sisters and just hours later Aunt Clara was murdered. Another picture was found. The date! The date on the picture led us to uncovering Ed Hayes.
The truth about Ed Hayes unleashed unbelievable details about who I am. The biological daughter of a raging murderous lunatic. What a great gene to pass on to my children. Ugh.
My mother. Where you do you fit into all of this? Did Aunt Clara hide all of this from me after your death to protect me? I need to find out exactly what or who Aunt Clara thought she was protecting from. I am Amanda Hayes. And soon I will know what this means. I will know. I will not stop until I know.
Now Marcy is dead. They called it a suicide. Lie. Her scrapbook is filled with hundreds of pictures of her and Ed. They all seem to be taken at the prison. Who knew about this affair? Did Mark know? Surely Marcy knew who I was. Or didn’t she?
My head begins to pound. I use my hands to physically pull my eyebrows apart. They are bunching in the center. I am so tense.
Out of the corner of my eye I see Brad is also tense. He is making the same wrinkle in the middle of his brow line. I reach out to his forehead. I tenderly rub my index finger over his deep wrinkle. I press into it and massage it. He doesn’t move except for the corners of his mouth turn upward.
I once again close my eyes.
******************************************************************************
Mark sips his steaming hot coffee in disgust. Sari and Brad are holed up in the Peninsula Hotel like they are in some Hollywood movie. ‘Nice work Brad, you fuck,’ sneers Mark. Mark is racking his brain trying to figure out what they are up to.
Why were they at Marcy’s apartment? Why would they even dare go there? Why would they think Marcy had anything to do with anything? ‘Damnit,’ Mark sighs and pounds his fist on his steering wheel.
Mark supposes he should be glad the shot he fired at Marcy’s house didn’t hit Sari. Mark knows he is not a straight shot so attempting to take Brad out could have proved to be an impulsive mistake.
‘Well fuck you detective. Guess who’s beating you at your own game. That’s right you fuck. I am! I got there first. And I knew exactly what I was looking for.’ Mark’s breath fogs up the driver side window.
Nausea ripples through him as he continues to stew over Brad and Sari sharing a bed in that hotel. He saw the way they looked at each other when they ran into the ABC building a couple of hours ago. My stepfather was right…cops are the ultimate bottom feeders. Shitbags with zero accountability and no values.
‘You cross the line Brad and I promise you will spend a lifetime behind bars just like Ed Hayes.’ Mark grits his teeth. Through squinted eyes he sees who he thinks is Sam stealthily entering the Peninsula Hotel.
Mark’s attention is peaked. He leans forward for a better glimpse. That is Sam. What is Sari’s low life cameraman doing here at this hour?
**********************************************************************************
“What is it?” I wake so disoriented. “Wha…”
“Sam’s here.” Brad eagerly leaps off the bed and over to our hotel room door.
“Oh.” I dart upright and search for my equilibrium. I feel so loopy. “How long was I asleep?”
“Only about 20 minutes.” Brad says without facing me. His eye is glued to the peephole. “Here he comes.”
Sam enters dressed in all black with a package strapped around his waist.
“I can’t believe this.” I sigh aloud. “Marcy was Mark’s assistant. She was also Mark’s stepfather’s assistant before she was Mark’s. She knew all along. All along. They killed her.”
Brad crouches next me. In an effort to keep a low profile we checked into the Peninsula Hotel. The hotel is gorgeous and often home to celebrities filming movies in the city. Normally I would be pacing every hall hoping to spot fame but not tonight. Tonight I could care less about the delicious amenities this hotel has to offer.
“You are on to something. Exactly what I don’t know yet.” Brad gently rubs my shoulders. I moan my thank you.
“Sam should be here soon. I hope we find something in that mail pile.” I bite my lower lip. And without a thought I turn into Brad. I force him in my embrace. I kiss him with all of my passion. Brad responds in kind with kisses so sweet and deliberate.
I take him in my arms, I breathe him in, I taste him, I give myself to him. Our arms are linked so tightly around each other. I feel safe and secure. I think of nothing but our caress.
“Sari…” utters Brad without pulling away from me. “Sari, sweet Sari.” The sound of his voice floats in my ears…it is as light and fluffy as a cloud.
Brad shifts his head to the side. Insecurity rushes through me. I search for his lips. He takes them from me. He softly brushes my curls away from my forehead.
“Let’s lay down. You need to rest.” He carefully repositions my arms and legs. I give in with a swivel and lay down.
“Ahhhh.” Relaxation releases from my lower back up my spine and out of my mouth. Without a word Brad lays next to me. He gently lays his right arm across my limp body. “Ahhhh.” Security.
My chest gradually raises and lowers as I replay the events of this disastrous day in my mind. I am having trouble comprehending the meaning of the last 24 hours. I started the day by making love to my wonderful fiancé. My not so wonderful fiancé more like. How deep are you in this Mark? I squeeze my closed eyes tighter. I will not shed one more tear over him.
It takes some effort but I get control over my thoughts. Ainslie was found murdered with a picture of us sisters and just hours later Aunt Clara was murdered. Another picture was found. The date! The date on the picture led us to uncovering Ed Hayes.
The truth about Ed Hayes unleashed unbelievable details about who I am. The biological daughter of a raging murderous lunatic. What a great gene to pass on to my children. Ugh.
My mother. Where you do you fit into all of this? Did Aunt Clara hide all of this from me after your death to protect me? I need to find out exactly what or who Aunt Clara thought she was protecting from. I am Amanda Hayes. And soon I will know what this means. I will know. I will not stop until I know.
Now Marcy is dead. They called it a suicide. Lie. Her scrapbook is filled with hundreds of pictures of her and Ed. They all seem to be taken at the prison. Who knew about this affair? Did Mark know? Surely Marcy knew who I was. Or didn’t she?
My head begins to pound. I use my hands to physically pull my eyebrows apart. They are bunching in the center. I am so tense.
Out of the corner of my eye I see Brad is also tense. He is making the same wrinkle in the middle of his brow line. I reach out to his forehead. I tenderly rub my index finger over his deep wrinkle. I press into it and massage it. He doesn’t move except for the corners of his mouth turn upward.
I once again close my eyes.
******************************************************************************
Mark sips his steaming hot coffee in disgust. Sari and Brad are holed up in the Peninsula Hotel like they are in some Hollywood movie. ‘Nice work Brad, you fuck,’ sneers Mark. Mark is racking his brain trying to figure out what they are up to.
Why were they at Marcy’s apartment? Why would they even dare go there? Why would they think Marcy had anything to do with anything? ‘Damnit,’ Mark sighs and pounds his fist on his steering wheel.
Mark supposes he should be glad the shot he fired at Marcy’s house didn’t hit Sari. Mark knows he is not a straight shot so attempting to take Brad out could have proved to be an impulsive mistake.
‘Well fuck you detective. Guess who’s beating you at your own game. That’s right you fuck. I am! I got there first. And I knew exactly what I was looking for.’ Mark’s breath fogs up the driver side window.
Nausea ripples through him as he continues to stew over Brad and Sari sharing a bed in that hotel. He saw the way they looked at each other when they ran into the ABC building a couple of hours ago. My stepfather was right…cops are the ultimate bottom feeders. Shitbags with zero accountability and no values.
‘You cross the line Brad and I promise you will spend a lifetime behind bars just like Ed Hayes.’ Mark grits his teeth. Through squinted eyes he sees who he thinks is Sam stealthily entering the Peninsula Hotel.
Mark’s attention is peaked. He leans forward for a better glimpse. That is Sam. What is Sari’s low life cameraman doing here at this hour?
**********************************************************************************
“What is it?” I wake so disoriented. “Wha…”
“Sam’s here.” Brad eagerly leaps off the bed and over to our hotel room door.
“Oh.” I dart upright and search for my equilibrium. I feel so loopy. “How long was I asleep?”
“Only about 20 minutes.” Brad says without facing me. His eye is glued to the peephole. “Here he comes.”
Sam enters dressed in all black with a package strapped around his waist.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
NIP 22
Is this how Ainslie felt? Was Ainslie this scared when she was being tortured and murdered? Did she know she was going to die? Did she try and escape? Was she sad?
“Ahhh!” I slap my face with my hands. Over and over! I slap harder and harder. My hair gets caught in the crossfire and I pull it. I yank it hard. I want these feelings and thoughts and questions to go away. I kick my feet out in front me. I kick the shit out of the air. My foot strikes a box and boots and…
“Oh. My. God.” I have literally stopped breathing. My eyes are locked on Ed Hayes.
******************************************************************************
My chest deflates springing me to my feet. My trembling hands fumble with the doorknob. My entire body shakes violently as I attempt to escape. My curls obstruct my vision. The door finally flings open. I stumble through the dark and eery hallway. I cannot find my balance!
“Ahh!” My body coils, my arms flail and my legs strike to break away from my captor.
“Sari…stop. Sari, it’s me.” Brad physically turns my head in his direction. I withdraw. He covers my mouth with his gloved hand. “Shhh…is he still here? Did he assault you?”
I shake my head no.
“Shit Sari. You got my heart racing. What happened?” Brad’s hand drops from my mouth.
“Marcy and Ed are..were..whatever…lovers.” I noisily exhale.
“What?” I can see he is struggling to understand my message.
“There.” I point to the closet. “The scrapbook.”
Brad leans into the closet and retrieves the baby pink scrapbook. He flips 2 pages and stands stunned. “Holy shit.”
“What does it mean?” I ask breathlessly still trying to catch my breath.
“I don’t know. But look what I found on her desk.” Brad holds up baby pink stationary with a monogrammed M in the center of the envelope.
“So?” My brow furrows.
“This is familiar to me. From your mail at work.” Brad eyes me like he is beaming information into my brain. Yet, I still don’t understand what he is telling me. “The mail your doorman handed you. I am 99% positive I remember seeing a baby pink envelope.”
“Oh.” I digest his words. “She knows something. About something.”
“Yup. Let’s go get your mail” Brad takes my hand and creep down the hall exiting the way we entered.
“Wait…the scrapbook.” I release his grip. “I’m taking this.”
“Don’t. That is called interfering with a police investigation.” Brad’s whisper is in a serious tone.
“I am so far past that bud.” I smirk. “And maybe you should tell that to the masked man that beat us here.”
*****************************************************************************
We approach the ABC building just after 3am. We inconspicuously saunter through the front doors. The third shift doorman is sitting behind the desk tip tapping on his cell phone.
“Hi. I am Sari Clarke. I am here to….”
“Oh.” His eyes widen. “Stay there. Don’t move.”
Brad and I exchange curious glances.
“What are you doing?” I ask the scruffy, young doorman.
“Calling the police.” He refuses to look me in the eye.
“WHY?” I shriek.
“Lady, I just do my job.” His expression is flat as he holds the office landline to his ear.
Brad jerks my arm and tilts his head towards the door. We make a mad dash out of there.
“STOP!” Orders the doorman. “STOP!”
We do not stop. City lights fly by as we run as fast as we can and jump into Brad’s car. Brad quickly starts the engine and speeds off.
“Ohmigod. I am a fugitive.” Sweat gathers on my upper lip.
“Maybe.” Brad doesn’t sugarcoat it. “Listen Sari we need to make a decision right now. A big one.”
“Okay.” I respond in his purposeful dramatic pause.
“Do we continue without cooperating with the police or do I take you to the station right now and do it their way?” There is no hidden agenda in his question.
“Our way.” I answer without hesitation. “I am starting to think this runs deeper then we could even imagine.”
“You may be right.” Brad concurs with pressed lips. We both blankly stare out the windshield trying not to conjure up possible scenarios.
“I’ll call Sam!” I blurt out. “He’ll get my mail.”
******************************************************************************
I sit pretzel style on the hotel bed flipping through Marcy’s scrapbook of her 15 year romance with my biological father.
“I can’t believe this.” I sigh aloud. “Marcy was Mark’s assistant. She was also Mark’s stepfather’s assistant before she was Mark’s. She knew all along. All along. They killed her.”
Brad crouches next me. In an effort to keep a low profile we checked into the Peninsula Hotel. The hotel is gorgeous and often home to celebrities filming movies in the city. Normally I would be pacing every hall hoping to spot fame but not tonight. Tonight I could careless about the delicious amenities this hotel has to offer.
“You are on to something. Exactly what I don’t know yet.” Brad gently rubs my shoulders. I moan my thank you.
“Sam should be here soon. I hope we find something in that mail pile.” I bite my lower lip. And without a thought I turn into Brad. I force him in my embrace. I kiss him with all of my passion. Brad responds in kind with kisses so sweet and deliberate.
“Ahhh!” I slap my face with my hands. Over and over! I slap harder and harder. My hair gets caught in the crossfire and I pull it. I yank it hard. I want these feelings and thoughts and questions to go away. I kick my feet out in front me. I kick the shit out of the air. My foot strikes a box and boots and…
“Oh. My. God.” I have literally stopped breathing. My eyes are locked on Ed Hayes.
******************************************************************************
My chest deflates springing me to my feet. My trembling hands fumble with the doorknob. My entire body shakes violently as I attempt to escape. My curls obstruct my vision. The door finally flings open. I stumble through the dark and eery hallway. I cannot find my balance!
“Ahh!” My body coils, my arms flail and my legs strike to break away from my captor.
“Sari…stop. Sari, it’s me.” Brad physically turns my head in his direction. I withdraw. He covers my mouth with his gloved hand. “Shhh…is he still here? Did he assault you?”
I shake my head no.
“Shit Sari. You got my heart racing. What happened?” Brad’s hand drops from my mouth.
“Marcy and Ed are..were..whatever…lovers.” I noisily exhale.
“What?” I can see he is struggling to understand my message.
“There.” I point to the closet. “The scrapbook.”
Brad leans into the closet and retrieves the baby pink scrapbook. He flips 2 pages and stands stunned. “Holy shit.”
“What does it mean?” I ask breathlessly still trying to catch my breath.
“I don’t know. But look what I found on her desk.” Brad holds up baby pink stationary with a monogrammed M in the center of the envelope.
“So?” My brow furrows.
“This is familiar to me. From your mail at work.” Brad eyes me like he is beaming information into my brain. Yet, I still don’t understand what he is telling me. “The mail your doorman handed you. I am 99% positive I remember seeing a baby pink envelope.”
“Oh.” I digest his words. “She knows something. About something.”
“Yup. Let’s go get your mail” Brad takes my hand and creep down the hall exiting the way we entered.
“Wait…the scrapbook.” I release his grip. “I’m taking this.”
“Don’t. That is called interfering with a police investigation.” Brad’s whisper is in a serious tone.
“I am so far past that bud.” I smirk. “And maybe you should tell that to the masked man that beat us here.”
*****************************************************************************
We approach the ABC building just after 3am. We inconspicuously saunter through the front doors. The third shift doorman is sitting behind the desk tip tapping on his cell phone.
“Hi. I am Sari Clarke. I am here to….”
“Oh.” His eyes widen. “Stay there. Don’t move.”
Brad and I exchange curious glances.
“What are you doing?” I ask the scruffy, young doorman.
“Calling the police.” He refuses to look me in the eye.
“WHY?” I shriek.
“Lady, I just do my job.” His expression is flat as he holds the office landline to his ear.
Brad jerks my arm and tilts his head towards the door. We make a mad dash out of there.
“STOP!” Orders the doorman. “STOP!”
We do not stop. City lights fly by as we run as fast as we can and jump into Brad’s car. Brad quickly starts the engine and speeds off.
“Ohmigod. I am a fugitive.” Sweat gathers on my upper lip.
“Maybe.” Brad doesn’t sugarcoat it. “Listen Sari we need to make a decision right now. A big one.”
“Okay.” I respond in his purposeful dramatic pause.
“Do we continue without cooperating with the police or do I take you to the station right now and do it their way?” There is no hidden agenda in his question.
“Our way.” I answer without hesitation. “I am starting to think this runs deeper then we could even imagine.”
“You may be right.” Brad concurs with pressed lips. We both blankly stare out the windshield trying not to conjure up possible scenarios.
“I’ll call Sam!” I blurt out. “He’ll get my mail.”
******************************************************************************
I sit pretzel style on the hotel bed flipping through Marcy’s scrapbook of her 15 year romance with my biological father.
“I can’t believe this.” I sigh aloud. “Marcy was Mark’s assistant. She was also Mark’s stepfather’s assistant before she was Mark’s. She knew all along. All along. They killed her.”
Brad crouches next me. In an effort to keep a low profile we checked into the Peninsula Hotel. The hotel is gorgeous and often home to celebrities filming movies in the city. Normally I would be pacing every hall hoping to spot fame but not tonight. Tonight I could careless about the delicious amenities this hotel has to offer.
“You are on to something. Exactly what I don’t know yet.” Brad gently rubs my shoulders. I moan my thank you.
“Sam should be here soon. I hope we find something in that mail pile.” I bite my lower lip. And without a thought I turn into Brad. I force him in my embrace. I kiss him with all of my passion. Brad responds in kind with kisses so sweet and deliberate.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
NIP 21
“Marcy Dothery was found dead.” He presses his lips together in contemplation.
“Mark’s assistant. Oh my god.” I deflate and with my head in my hands I fall into the rug.
**************************************************************************
I have to get out here and help Sari. Where am I? I awoke in a dark, damp, unfamiliar place. All of these years I hid from my family but I will not hide anymore. I owe Amanda my love and support during this difficult and confusing time. She shouldn’t have to piece history together alone.
This is entirely my fault for not being truthful. I deserve what I have coming to me. But Amanda does not. All of these years she has been forced to live a lie. Sure, a lie designed to protect her. But it is the lie ripping her world apart. Ainslie and Clara are gone. Amanda is putting a brave face on for the cameras but I can see the pain behind her beautiful emerald eyes. I need to comfort my daughter.
My hands are bond. My skin torn. My mouth is duck taped. My eyes are inches away from a TV screen forcing me to watch my lie unfold and destroy the lives of those I love. I did this for all of you!
Oh my sweet baby, I must get out of here so I can tell you how sorry I am. I truly thought I was doing the right thing by walking out of your life.
What!?! My eyes sting as I digest the recent affects of my deceit. Marcy Doherty is dead. Suicide they say. Liars!
*********************************************************************************
“Suicide. Suicide? No, no this doesn’t make sense.” I ponder aloud gazing out of Brad’s passenger side window. My hair is still wet from the shower I had at Brad’s house. My insides are still tingling from our embrace. “Marcy would not do that to herself. She is…was…the sweetest human being ever. I mean it. Not a bad bone in her body.”
“Well I don’t know what to tell ya. She must be hiding something.” Brad’s in full detective mode. I can hear it in his voice and see it on his face.
“No way.” I sigh. I notice I am leaning on the middle console, leaning in towards Brad. “Okay…maybe. But why?”
“My guy didn’t say way. He said suicide. End of story…it’s dropped.” Brad’s eyes are focused on the road. The white dotted lines of the highway are unzipping the way to Aunt Clara’s.
“No. Turn around we need to go to Marcy’s apartment. Right now.” I tap my index finger on Brad’s left hand.
“Are you suggesting foul play?” Brad faces me with concern or maybe it is confusion.
“I don’t know. I just know she knew something. Something about Mark.” I pause in an effort to separate the thousands of thoughts formulating in my mind. “Do you think the cops will be at Marcy’s?”
“Nah. Case closed. They may wise up and search her premise tomorrow. Trust me little lady they are not heading there right now…it’s nearly 1am.” Brad chuckles. An inside police joke I suppose.
Brad turns the car around and we double back to Marcy’s South Side apartment. Despite Brad’s suspension he blares his swiveling red siren. We arrive to Marcy’s apartment in a matter of minutes.
“Listen to me Sari. Wear these.” Brad hands me a pair of black gloves.
“Oh god. We are breaking the law, aren’t we?” These gloves symbolize the depth of our actions.
“’fraid so.” Brad slaps them in my hand. I exhale as I slide them on. “Sari. Stay calm. Follow my lead. We will be in and out of there. You still cool with this?”
“I am.” I inhale and hold my breath. I am worried my words will sabotage our plan. I need answers, I need the truth and thus I need to color outside of the lines.
We casually walk into Marcy’s building. We creep up the staircase to her 3 floor apartment. We are in luck. The floor light is out. The hallway is dark. I sigh in relief…no one will be able to see us. With sheer anticipation we reach Marcy’s front door.
“Ahhh!” I gasp. The door to Marcy’s apartment is cracked open. Brad shushes me.
“Go to the stairs.” He orders.
“No. I’m going in!” I demand. Our eyes do must of the talking as our words are faint whispers.
We sense restlessness from inside Marcy’s apartment. We freeze. Brad cautiously pushes the door open. We slip in. A dark figure dashes through the living room to the kitchen. I cover my mouth and swallow my scream. We stand still stock at the other end of the hall. Unnoticed.
“In!” Brad shoves me into the front closet. I let him with zero resistance.
‘UH’ gets caught in my throat as a fiery silver bullet soars past Brad’s ear in slow motion. The noise is deafening. Maybe I am screaming…I won’t know. A glimpse of rage rolls into Brad’s eyes as he slams the closet door.
I fall into the back of the closet. I slowly slide down the wall onto my butt and hug my knees into my body. The silence is terrifying. I hear nothing! What is happening out there? Is Brad okay? Will that man come in here and kill me??? I cannot believe this is real. Tears stream down my cheeks as my body convulses. I hug myself tighter and cry.
Is this how Ainslie felt? Was Ainslie this scared when she was being tortured and murdered? Did she know she was going to die? Did she try and escape? Was she sad?
“Ahhh!” I slap my face with my hands. Over and over! I slap harder and harder. My hair gets caught in the crossfire and I pull it. I yank it hard. I want these feelings and thoughts and questions to go away. I kick my feet out in front me. I kick the shit out of the air. My foot strikes a box and boots and…
“Oh. My. God.” I have literally stopped breathing. My eyes lock on Ed Hayes' face.
“Mark’s assistant. Oh my god.” I deflate and with my head in my hands I fall into the rug.
**************************************************************************
I have to get out here and help Sari. Where am I? I awoke in a dark, damp, unfamiliar place. All of these years I hid from my family but I will not hide anymore. I owe Amanda my love and support during this difficult and confusing time. She shouldn’t have to piece history together alone.
This is entirely my fault for not being truthful. I deserve what I have coming to me. But Amanda does not. All of these years she has been forced to live a lie. Sure, a lie designed to protect her. But it is the lie ripping her world apart. Ainslie and Clara are gone. Amanda is putting a brave face on for the cameras but I can see the pain behind her beautiful emerald eyes. I need to comfort my daughter.
My hands are bond. My skin torn. My mouth is duck taped. My eyes are inches away from a TV screen forcing me to watch my lie unfold and destroy the lives of those I love. I did this for all of you!
Oh my sweet baby, I must get out of here so I can tell you how sorry I am. I truly thought I was doing the right thing by walking out of your life.
What!?! My eyes sting as I digest the recent affects of my deceit. Marcy Doherty is dead. Suicide they say. Liars!
*********************************************************************************
“Suicide. Suicide? No, no this doesn’t make sense.” I ponder aloud gazing out of Brad’s passenger side window. My hair is still wet from the shower I had at Brad’s house. My insides are still tingling from our embrace. “Marcy would not do that to herself. She is…was…the sweetest human being ever. I mean it. Not a bad bone in her body.”
“Well I don’t know what to tell ya. She must be hiding something.” Brad’s in full detective mode. I can hear it in his voice and see it on his face.
“No way.” I sigh. I notice I am leaning on the middle console, leaning in towards Brad. “Okay…maybe. But why?”
“My guy didn’t say way. He said suicide. End of story…it’s dropped.” Brad’s eyes are focused on the road. The white dotted lines of the highway are unzipping the way to Aunt Clara’s.
“No. Turn around we need to go to Marcy’s apartment. Right now.” I tap my index finger on Brad’s left hand.
“Are you suggesting foul play?” Brad faces me with concern or maybe it is confusion.
“I don’t know. I just know she knew something. Something about Mark.” I pause in an effort to separate the thousands of thoughts formulating in my mind. “Do you think the cops will be at Marcy’s?”
“Nah. Case closed. They may wise up and search her premise tomorrow. Trust me little lady they are not heading there right now…it’s nearly 1am.” Brad chuckles. An inside police joke I suppose.
Brad turns the car around and we double back to Marcy’s South Side apartment. Despite Brad’s suspension he blares his swiveling red siren. We arrive to Marcy’s apartment in a matter of minutes.
“Listen to me Sari. Wear these.” Brad hands me a pair of black gloves.
“Oh god. We are breaking the law, aren’t we?” These gloves symbolize the depth of our actions.
“’fraid so.” Brad slaps them in my hand. I exhale as I slide them on. “Sari. Stay calm. Follow my lead. We will be in and out of there. You still cool with this?”
“I am.” I inhale and hold my breath. I am worried my words will sabotage our plan. I need answers, I need the truth and thus I need to color outside of the lines.
We casually walk into Marcy’s building. We creep up the staircase to her 3 floor apartment. We are in luck. The floor light is out. The hallway is dark. I sigh in relief…no one will be able to see us. With sheer anticipation we reach Marcy’s front door.
“Ahhh!” I gasp. The door to Marcy’s apartment is cracked open. Brad shushes me.
“Go to the stairs.” He orders.
“No. I’m going in!” I demand. Our eyes do must of the talking as our words are faint whispers.
We sense restlessness from inside Marcy’s apartment. We freeze. Brad cautiously pushes the door open. We slip in. A dark figure dashes through the living room to the kitchen. I cover my mouth and swallow my scream. We stand still stock at the other end of the hall. Unnoticed.
“In!” Brad shoves me into the front closet. I let him with zero resistance.
‘UH’ gets caught in my throat as a fiery silver bullet soars past Brad’s ear in slow motion. The noise is deafening. Maybe I am screaming…I won’t know. A glimpse of rage rolls into Brad’s eyes as he slams the closet door.
I fall into the back of the closet. I slowly slide down the wall onto my butt and hug my knees into my body. The silence is terrifying. I hear nothing! What is happening out there? Is Brad okay? Will that man come in here and kill me??? I cannot believe this is real. Tears stream down my cheeks as my body convulses. I hug myself tighter and cry.
Is this how Ainslie felt? Was Ainslie this scared when she was being tortured and murdered? Did she know she was going to die? Did she try and escape? Was she sad?
“Ahhh!” I slap my face with my hands. Over and over! I slap harder and harder. My hair gets caught in the crossfire and I pull it. I yank it hard. I want these feelings and thoughts and questions to go away. I kick my feet out in front me. I kick the shit out of the air. My foot strikes a box and boots and…
“Oh. My. God.” I have literally stopped breathing. My eyes lock on Ed Hayes' face.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
NIP 20
“HA!” My laughter thrusts me forward onto his beautiful and rare Blanco Romano granite countertop. Brad’s elbows join mine on his counter. We gasp for air. We are in stitches. “That feels good.”
“Laughing?” His hazel eyes are so kind. I never notice how they have a gold ring in the center.
“Yeah. I probably shouldn’t be. Huh?” I hang my head.
“You should be Sari. You need to be.” Brad rests his hand on the small of my back. I arch my back into the weight of his hand. I can feel every golf ball sized knot. Ahhh…
“I need a hot shower.” I moan.
“Follow me.” In one motion Brad sets his drink down and meanders towards a dark hallway. I do as I am told and blindly follow.
I trail Brad threw his ‘hidden staircase.’ The 2 story staircase is narrow and ornate. The steps squeak and the railing wobbles. I wonder if we are going to come out of a book shelf into a 1920’s study. Sherlock Holmes smoking a cigar and all. Oh so fitting for a detective.
We don’t. Instead we enter a lavish hallway filled with fresh flowers and breathtaking paintings. This place is unreal.
“An art collector as well.?.” I say this under my breath a little louder than expected.
“Yup.” He responds nonchalantly. “What? Don’t look so surprised. Didn’t we just have this same conversation in the kitchen.”
“We did.” I nod. “How is it possible I knew nothing about you? Why didn’t you ever mention any of this?”
“We talk shop over drinks. It’s standard.” He shrugs. Right, I think, shop talk…police work, investigating, the murders of Ainslie and Aunt Clara. Remembering why I am in Brad’s gorgeous house literally knocks the wind out of me.
He pushes open the bathroom door. It is heavenly. I sigh in relief. A chance to relax.
“Thank you Brad.” I softly say with immense gratitude. “Thank you so much for your hospitality and your faith in me today.”
“Sari…just enjoy the next few minutes in peace.” Brad’s eyes are so kind that a sense of peace does overcome me.
Brad leaves me on my own and I eagerly step into his steamy shower. The heat of the water beating down on my shoulders instantly loosens my tense muscles. I roll my neck with an ‘ahhh.’ I stand completely still repeatedly inhaling and exhaling. Relax. Meditate. I sense of rejuvenation tingles through my bones. I will have enough strength to continue on my quest for the truth. And with Brad by my side I am confident I will uncover just what I am looking for.
I position myself so the water pelts my lower back. I groan in release. I am actually relaxed. I successfully shutdown my brain.
**************************************************************************
“How ya feelin’?” asks Brad as I enter his snug living room. He has comfortably taken up residence on his cushy, crème colored couch in front of the warmth of his fireplace.
“Wonderful.” I glow. The crackling fireplace draws me in. Brad’s soft, chenille, white robe is draped around me. I crawl towards the flames. “This is divine.”
“Good work. I’m happy you are relaxed.” Brad joins me on his brown shag rug in front of his built out brick fireplace. He compassionately hands me a glass of red wine.
“I am so loose. Like a noodle.” I hazily concur as I take a sip of wine. “Again thank…”
“No more thanks. This is what friends are for.” He raises his glass for a toast. “Moving forward.”
“Moving forward.” I muttered. I have another sip and pause deliberately. I tap my finger on my glass as I silently work on the proper sentence. “Brad, I want to go to Aunt Clara’s house and peek around. Can you come with me or is that a conflict of interest?”
“No conflict.” He smirks. “Yours truly is suspended.”
“What!” My eyes widen in shock. “But why?”
“Well, running around town with you and letting you go on the air is not exactly protocol. So Hughes gave me the temporary axe.”
“Oh god. I am so sorry…”
“No apologies necessaries. Hughes is set to retire in a few weeks. He needs this investigation to run smooth and quickly. He wants to take his pension and run. I am incidental. I annoyed him.”
“Politics.” I sigh and click my tongue. “I get it. Well I have a key to Aunt Clara’s. house.”
“Why do you want to go there?” The sincerity in Brad’s voice is magnified by the glow cast on his rustic yet boyish face from the light of fire.
“I need to find out what she knew. She was obviously hiding my biological father from me and the true cause of my parent’s death. I need to know why and if there is anything else.” I hold the gaze of his eyes for a moment too long. “No more surprises.”
“I understand. I do. But you are in danger. Maybe this can wait until…”
“It can’t!” I forcefully sit straight up. “My DNA is filled with the worst kind of evil. What if it’s in me? What if…”
“Sari, no!” Brad jumps on his knees and approaches me. He wraps his arms around me and holds me still. My heart rate decreases. “You are nothing like Ed Hayes. You are the most loving, caring, kindhearted, adorable, funny and smart woman I know. I mean this. You did not get Ed Hayes’ homicidal gene. I promise you.”
“How can you be so sure?” I whimper into his shoulder.
“Because your eyes are the window to your soul.” He whispers in my ear. I gasp in involuntary belief in what he has said. I follow the instructions of my heart.
I slowly pull back from Brad’s embrace. I lift my face to his. I take in every color of his hazel eyes. I stare deep into his soul. I take his face in my hands. He blinks once and I watch as his pupils dilate. I lean in closer…still slowly...to savor every single second of this moment. I lay my lips on his. Our eyelashes touch as we blink together. His hands dig into my back as he pulls me into him. His kiss is sweet and profound. I throw my arms around his neck and cling to him to illustrate my fervor. His hands drift to my waist. He pushes back. I swallow flabbergasted and slightly embarrassed.
“Sari, you are amazing. Are you sure?” His question is intense but his eyes do not blink.
“Yes.” My answer is truthful. My eyes do not blink. I fall back into him. He catches me. Each kiss is more passionate than the one before. Our bodies get closer as our hands explore each other. Our hearts beat are now in unison.
“Bad boys bad boys whatcha gonna do when they come for you…”
“Is that your phone?” I giggle. Our lips still touching.
“Yeah. It’s the precinct. I better get it.” He darts over to answer his phone. A delicious shiver works its way through me as we let go of our embrace.
“Detective Callahan.” His tone is commanding and professional. “Oh shit. Do you know anything else?? Alright. Keep me in the loop. Thanks man.”
“What is it?” I can hardly breathe.
“Marcy Dothery was found dead.” He presses his lips together in contemplation.
“Mark’s assistant. Oh my god.” I deflate and with my head in my hands I fall into the rug.
“Laughing?” His hazel eyes are so kind. I never notice how they have a gold ring in the center.
“Yeah. I probably shouldn’t be. Huh?” I hang my head.
“You should be Sari. You need to be.” Brad rests his hand on the small of my back. I arch my back into the weight of his hand. I can feel every golf ball sized knot. Ahhh…
“I need a hot shower.” I moan.
“Follow me.” In one motion Brad sets his drink down and meanders towards a dark hallway. I do as I am told and blindly follow.
I trail Brad threw his ‘hidden staircase.’ The 2 story staircase is narrow and ornate. The steps squeak and the railing wobbles. I wonder if we are going to come out of a book shelf into a 1920’s study. Sherlock Holmes smoking a cigar and all. Oh so fitting for a detective.
We don’t. Instead we enter a lavish hallway filled with fresh flowers and breathtaking paintings. This place is unreal.
“An art collector as well.?.” I say this under my breath a little louder than expected.
“Yup.” He responds nonchalantly. “What? Don’t look so surprised. Didn’t we just have this same conversation in the kitchen.”
“We did.” I nod. “How is it possible I knew nothing about you? Why didn’t you ever mention any of this?”
“We talk shop over drinks. It’s standard.” He shrugs. Right, I think, shop talk…police work, investigating, the murders of Ainslie and Aunt Clara. Remembering why I am in Brad’s gorgeous house literally knocks the wind out of me.
He pushes open the bathroom door. It is heavenly. I sigh in relief. A chance to relax.
“Thank you Brad.” I softly say with immense gratitude. “Thank you so much for your hospitality and your faith in me today.”
“Sari…just enjoy the next few minutes in peace.” Brad’s eyes are so kind that a sense of peace does overcome me.
Brad leaves me on my own and I eagerly step into his steamy shower. The heat of the water beating down on my shoulders instantly loosens my tense muscles. I roll my neck with an ‘ahhh.’ I stand completely still repeatedly inhaling and exhaling. Relax. Meditate. I sense of rejuvenation tingles through my bones. I will have enough strength to continue on my quest for the truth. And with Brad by my side I am confident I will uncover just what I am looking for.
I position myself so the water pelts my lower back. I groan in release. I am actually relaxed. I successfully shutdown my brain.
**************************************************************************
“How ya feelin’?” asks Brad as I enter his snug living room. He has comfortably taken up residence on his cushy, crème colored couch in front of the warmth of his fireplace.
“Wonderful.” I glow. The crackling fireplace draws me in. Brad’s soft, chenille, white robe is draped around me. I crawl towards the flames. “This is divine.”
“Good work. I’m happy you are relaxed.” Brad joins me on his brown shag rug in front of his built out brick fireplace. He compassionately hands me a glass of red wine.
“I am so loose. Like a noodle.” I hazily concur as I take a sip of wine. “Again thank…”
“No more thanks. This is what friends are for.” He raises his glass for a toast. “Moving forward.”
“Moving forward.” I muttered. I have another sip and pause deliberately. I tap my finger on my glass as I silently work on the proper sentence. “Brad, I want to go to Aunt Clara’s house and peek around. Can you come with me or is that a conflict of interest?”
“No conflict.” He smirks. “Yours truly is suspended.”
“What!” My eyes widen in shock. “But why?”
“Well, running around town with you and letting you go on the air is not exactly protocol. So Hughes gave me the temporary axe.”
“Oh god. I am so sorry…”
“No apologies necessaries. Hughes is set to retire in a few weeks. He needs this investigation to run smooth and quickly. He wants to take his pension and run. I am incidental. I annoyed him.”
“Politics.” I sigh and click my tongue. “I get it. Well I have a key to Aunt Clara’s. house.”
“Why do you want to go there?” The sincerity in Brad’s voice is magnified by the glow cast on his rustic yet boyish face from the light of fire.
“I need to find out what she knew. She was obviously hiding my biological father from me and the true cause of my parent’s death. I need to know why and if there is anything else.” I hold the gaze of his eyes for a moment too long. “No more surprises.”
“I understand. I do. But you are in danger. Maybe this can wait until…”
“It can’t!” I forcefully sit straight up. “My DNA is filled with the worst kind of evil. What if it’s in me? What if…”
“Sari, no!” Brad jumps on his knees and approaches me. He wraps his arms around me and holds me still. My heart rate decreases. “You are nothing like Ed Hayes. You are the most loving, caring, kindhearted, adorable, funny and smart woman I know. I mean this. You did not get Ed Hayes’ homicidal gene. I promise you.”
“How can you be so sure?” I whimper into his shoulder.
“Because your eyes are the window to your soul.” He whispers in my ear. I gasp in involuntary belief in what he has said. I follow the instructions of my heart.
I slowly pull back from Brad’s embrace. I lift my face to his. I take in every color of his hazel eyes. I stare deep into his soul. I take his face in my hands. He blinks once and I watch as his pupils dilate. I lean in closer…still slowly...to savor every single second of this moment. I lay my lips on his. Our eyelashes touch as we blink together. His hands dig into my back as he pulls me into him. His kiss is sweet and profound. I throw my arms around his neck and cling to him to illustrate my fervor. His hands drift to my waist. He pushes back. I swallow flabbergasted and slightly embarrassed.
“Sari, you are amazing. Are you sure?” His question is intense but his eyes do not blink.
“Yes.” My answer is truthful. My eyes do not blink. I fall back into him. He catches me. Each kiss is more passionate than the one before. Our bodies get closer as our hands explore each other. Our hearts beat are now in unison.
“Bad boys bad boys whatcha gonna do when they come for you…”
“Is that your phone?” I giggle. Our lips still touching.
“Yeah. It’s the precinct. I better get it.” He darts over to answer his phone. A delicious shiver works its way through me as we let go of our embrace.
“Detective Callahan.” His tone is commanding and professional. “Oh shit. Do you know anything else?? Alright. Keep me in the loop. Thanks man.”
“What is it?” I can hardly breathe.
“Marcy Dothery was found dead.” He presses his lips together in contemplation.
“Mark’s assistant. Oh my god.” I deflate and with my head in my hands I fall into the rug.
Friday, September 25, 2009
NIP 19
He calmly sets his phone down. He is done crying like a baby and wallowing in self-pity. In fact, he is slightly aroused by his and Sari’s passionate encounter. No two people would act so irrational if it weren’t true love. Mark feels a tingle in his pants.
A soothing hot shower should do. For now.
****************************************************************************
I feel wired as I eagerly approach Lizi front door. This rawness is reminiscent of college all-nighters topped off with 3 pots of coffee and vivarin. I am pruning…my skin is so tight. My insides are a desert. I am not even certain what is up and what is down. I am simply in motion.
Despite my want to crawl under a rock and weather the storm I keep on the move. I need to see Lizi with my own two eyes. And truthfully, I need a friend. A sister.
I knock my standard 3 taps. 2 fast, 5 second pause, last one. I have announced myself this way since before I can remember. This way Lizi knew it was me and not Aunt Clara or Ainslie. Lizi and I would stay up way too late on school nights braiding each others hair, dancing to Madonna and planning our perfect weddings. So much for that, I sigh.
“Sari! It’s Sari! She is here!” Lizi cheers before she reaches out to me and captures me in a bear hug. “Thank god. Thank GOD!.”
“Oh Lizi. You are safe.” I cry. Lizi cries. We hold our embrace saying nothing while our hearts say everything.
“I am.” She wipes tears off her cheeks. We stand just an arms length away. Seeing her is the first time I feel anything like myself. I push her long, sleek, brown sugar hair off of her shoulders. “It is so good to finally see you. In person. I am so sorry about all of this Sari. I’m stunned. I saw the newscast.”
“What!?!” Oh no. “Oh Lizi, no. I am so sorry. I wanted to tell you everything face to face. I didn’t want you to find out that way! Please let me tell you now.”
“No need. Detective Callahan already did.” Lizi steps to the side to reveal a seated Detective Brad Callahan.
“Oh. Hi. What are you doing here?” I ask curiously.
“Figured I’d find you here.” His honesty catches me off guard.
“Why? Oh shit…Detective Hughes?” My conscience is unnecessarily guilty. Can I really be thrown in jail for avoiding an unproductive interview?
“Not quite. But you need to know Hughes is looking for you to place you under protective custody.” Brad informs while pointing his index finger at me. “And if you would stop moving for two seconds you could probably help shed some light on this. By the way nice exit from the studio.”
“Thanks.” My voice is like that of a child caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar. I press my lips together and the corners turn upward. “I can shed zero light. I know shit about my own existence.”
“Sari! Come on.” Lizi insistently shakes my arm as if she can shake the horror of this day out of me. “This whole thing is getting stupid creepy. This Ed Hayes is obviously trying to get your attention.”
“Wha…” My attention? “But….wha?”
“Why else would he be coming after our family?” asks Lizi with childlike innocence.
Oh. My. God. Ainslie and Aunt Clara were murdered because of me. My heart drops into my stomach. I don’t know what emotion to call on! I simply stand there…lost. Is there something Brad told Lizi that he hasn’t shared with me?
“This is not your fault!” Lizi again insistently shakes me, but this time out of my daze. It’s like she is reading my mind although she is not…she just knows me better than I know myself.
“There are no other suspects.” Brad volunteers. “The crimes are connected and the clues are real. So far you, me and Sam and found the most compelling motive. There is an APB on Ed Hayes.”
“Now what?” I lower my head. It seems I am not waking up from this nightmare. Ever.
“Well, Lizi is going to sit tight here with her boyfriend and Officer Stevens over there. And you are going to stay at your home under the same conditions until this guy is caught.” Brad clarifies. “No more news segments. Got it?”
“I cannot promise that and I’m not going home.” I give him a solid PMS sigh and nod to my duffle bag. “I am not going home ever again.”
“Oh.” Brad looks perplexed.
“Why? Sari…you don’t think Mark has anything to do with this do you? I mean, that is crazy. Pure crazy. Not Mark. He loves you. Surely he…no way…you don’t think?” Lizi’s eyes show she too is hoping this is all a nightmare. Pinch yourself Lizi…you are not asleep baby sister.
“I do. And he did. He has been lying to me for years. Every time he said my name he was lying to me. Lizi, he has known about our parents murder and who did it our entire relationship.” I watch as my words literally deflate her.
“Oh fuck.” Lizi wraps one of my curls around her index finger. “What a prick. I can’t believe it. How? Why?”
“Lizi, you have to forgive me because I really don’t want to talk about it right now. I want to check into a hotel, shower and just be for a minute.” I am defeated.
“No way…you’ll stay here!” Demands Lizi.
I glance around her tidy one bedroom apartment. There is hardly enough room for Officer Stevens who weighs a solid 250 pounds. Let alone Lizi and her boyfriend.
“Thank you Lizi but really I want to be alone for a bit and sort through all of this in my head.” I rest my head on her shoulder. She accepts with the grace only a sister can.
“Okay sis. But I’m here if you need me.” She wraps another curl around her finger.
“I’ll get you set up.” Brad assumptuously picks my duffle bag.
“Oh, sure. Thanks.” At first I am baffled but then I mean it, thanks Brad. Honestly, I was not looking forward to thinking my way through to a comfy, relaxing bed.
Brad patiently waits for me by the door. He is leaning against the wall like Jake Ryan in Sixteen Candles. What is it about him? I wonder to myself as I tightly cling to Lizi. I don’t want to let go. Nor does she.
“You’ll be fine Sari. You will get through this…no matter how screwed up this is.” Lizi encourages me. “We have each other. Always.”
“Always.” I nod and head towards Brad. My chariot awaits.
“You’re coming with me.” Brad says as we exit Lizi’s apartment.
“Where?” I scrunch my nose.
“To my place.” He confidently walks towards his car. I self-consciously follow.
“Your place?” I question.
“Yes. Since you refuse protective custody you are stuck with me.” He grins and holds the passenger door open for me.
“Fine.” I give in quickly remembering my homicidal DNA dad has been released from prison and seems hell bent on murdering people close to me.
************************************************************************************
I fidget as Brad unlocks his front door. I have never been to his place before. My emotions are all scattered and I cannot place exactly what I am feeling in this moment.
“Welcome hostage.” Greets Brad as he extends his left arm to show me the way in.
I slowly saunter past him into his home. The corners of my mouth turn up as I glance to him out of the corner of my eye. I am totally surprised. Brad’s place is amazing. It is exquisite, inviting and cozy.
I am standing in the living room of the most charming old Victorian house in the city. The walls, floors and ceilings are all dark wood. The bookshelves are built-in and stacked with antique bound classics. The pieces of furniture are shades of blues and greens. The rugs are divine and immaculate.
I sashay through his elegant dining room filled with various sorts of plants and find myself in an first-rate chef’s kitchen. The island alone is spacious and gorgeously decorated with granite and metallic hanging pots. Not mention a shiny fruit bowl which makes my stomach growl.
“Brad…” I face him with a delicious smile. “I didn’t take you for a…god I know what…a clean freak…a fancy pants. This place is wonderful.”
“Wait until I show you the hidden stairways.” He winks. “It’s quaint.”
“Explain.” I bat my eyelashes. I need details. How does this guy live here. This macho police guy. I pick up a mosaic serving tray and stand akimbo.
“Okay, okay.” He chuckles and rescues his serving tray from my inquisitive grip. “I rehab houses in my spare time.”
“And the tray?” I raise my eyebrows and suck in my bottom lip.
“And…I furnish them.” Brad quickly spins away from me.
“Detective Brad Callahan blushes!” I tease as I spin him back to face me with is red cheeks.
“Watch it little lady. Drink?” Brad pulls open his double wide refrigerator to show me my options.
“Ahhhh…nope.” I shut the fridge. “Red wine.”
“Works for me. A beer for me.” He playfully shoves me out of his way and reenters the fridge for a Heinken Light. Light? “What?”
“Nothing. It’s nothing.” I quietly giggle.
“It’s something.” Brad stares me up and down.
“Okay..don’t use your police voodoo on me. It’s just..you’re not what I expected.” I shrug my shoulders. After all, I am entitled to my opinion.
“Right, right. I am suppose to be downing 12 packs of Bud and chowing on sausage and peppers.” He lays on a thick Chicago accent. “Move over Miss I’m going to take my belt off and let my big, hairy beer belly flop around.”
“HA!” My laughter thrusts me forward onto his beautiful and rare Blanco Romano granite countertop. Brad’s elbows join mine on his counter. We gasp for air. We are in stitches. “That feels good.”
“Laughing?” His hazel eyes are so kind. I never notice how they have a gold ring in the center.
“Yeah. I probably shouldn’t be. Huh?” I hang my head.
“You should be Sari. You need to be.” Brad rests his hand on the small of my back. I arch my back into the weight of his hand. I can feel every golf ball sized knot. Ahhh…
“I need a hot shower.” I moan.
A soothing hot shower should do. For now.
****************************************************************************
I feel wired as I eagerly approach Lizi front door. This rawness is reminiscent of college all-nighters topped off with 3 pots of coffee and vivarin. I am pruning…my skin is so tight. My insides are a desert. I am not even certain what is up and what is down. I am simply in motion.
Despite my want to crawl under a rock and weather the storm I keep on the move. I need to see Lizi with my own two eyes. And truthfully, I need a friend. A sister.
I knock my standard 3 taps. 2 fast, 5 second pause, last one. I have announced myself this way since before I can remember. This way Lizi knew it was me and not Aunt Clara or Ainslie. Lizi and I would stay up way too late on school nights braiding each others hair, dancing to Madonna and planning our perfect weddings. So much for that, I sigh.
“Sari! It’s Sari! She is here!” Lizi cheers before she reaches out to me and captures me in a bear hug. “Thank god. Thank GOD!.”
“Oh Lizi. You are safe.” I cry. Lizi cries. We hold our embrace saying nothing while our hearts say everything.
“I am.” She wipes tears off her cheeks. We stand just an arms length away. Seeing her is the first time I feel anything like myself. I push her long, sleek, brown sugar hair off of her shoulders. “It is so good to finally see you. In person. I am so sorry about all of this Sari. I’m stunned. I saw the newscast.”
“What!?!” Oh no. “Oh Lizi, no. I am so sorry. I wanted to tell you everything face to face. I didn’t want you to find out that way! Please let me tell you now.”
“No need. Detective Callahan already did.” Lizi steps to the side to reveal a seated Detective Brad Callahan.
“Oh. Hi. What are you doing here?” I ask curiously.
“Figured I’d find you here.” His honesty catches me off guard.
“Why? Oh shit…Detective Hughes?” My conscience is unnecessarily guilty. Can I really be thrown in jail for avoiding an unproductive interview?
“Not quite. But you need to know Hughes is looking for you to place you under protective custody.” Brad informs while pointing his index finger at me. “And if you would stop moving for two seconds you could probably help shed some light on this. By the way nice exit from the studio.”
“Thanks.” My voice is like that of a child caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar. I press my lips together and the corners turn upward. “I can shed zero light. I know shit about my own existence.”
“Sari! Come on.” Lizi insistently shakes my arm as if she can shake the horror of this day out of me. “This whole thing is getting stupid creepy. This Ed Hayes is obviously trying to get your attention.”
“Wha…” My attention? “But….wha?”
“Why else would he be coming after our family?” asks Lizi with childlike innocence.
Oh. My. God. Ainslie and Aunt Clara were murdered because of me. My heart drops into my stomach. I don’t know what emotion to call on! I simply stand there…lost. Is there something Brad told Lizi that he hasn’t shared with me?
“This is not your fault!” Lizi again insistently shakes me, but this time out of my daze. It’s like she is reading my mind although she is not…she just knows me better than I know myself.
“There are no other suspects.” Brad volunteers. “The crimes are connected and the clues are real. So far you, me and Sam and found the most compelling motive. There is an APB on Ed Hayes.”
“Now what?” I lower my head. It seems I am not waking up from this nightmare. Ever.
“Well, Lizi is going to sit tight here with her boyfriend and Officer Stevens over there. And you are going to stay at your home under the same conditions until this guy is caught.” Brad clarifies. “No more news segments. Got it?”
“I cannot promise that and I’m not going home.” I give him a solid PMS sigh and nod to my duffle bag. “I am not going home ever again.”
“Oh.” Brad looks perplexed.
“Why? Sari…you don’t think Mark has anything to do with this do you? I mean, that is crazy. Pure crazy. Not Mark. He loves you. Surely he…no way…you don’t think?” Lizi’s eyes show she too is hoping this is all a nightmare. Pinch yourself Lizi…you are not asleep baby sister.
“I do. And he did. He has been lying to me for years. Every time he said my name he was lying to me. Lizi, he has known about our parents murder and who did it our entire relationship.” I watch as my words literally deflate her.
“Oh fuck.” Lizi wraps one of my curls around her index finger. “What a prick. I can’t believe it. How? Why?”
“Lizi, you have to forgive me because I really don’t want to talk about it right now. I want to check into a hotel, shower and just be for a minute.” I am defeated.
“No way…you’ll stay here!” Demands Lizi.
I glance around her tidy one bedroom apartment. There is hardly enough room for Officer Stevens who weighs a solid 250 pounds. Let alone Lizi and her boyfriend.
“Thank you Lizi but really I want to be alone for a bit and sort through all of this in my head.” I rest my head on her shoulder. She accepts with the grace only a sister can.
“Okay sis. But I’m here if you need me.” She wraps another curl around her finger.
“I’ll get you set up.” Brad assumptuously picks my duffle bag.
“Oh, sure. Thanks.” At first I am baffled but then I mean it, thanks Brad. Honestly, I was not looking forward to thinking my way through to a comfy, relaxing bed.
Brad patiently waits for me by the door. He is leaning against the wall like Jake Ryan in Sixteen Candles. What is it about him? I wonder to myself as I tightly cling to Lizi. I don’t want to let go. Nor does she.
“You’ll be fine Sari. You will get through this…no matter how screwed up this is.” Lizi encourages me. “We have each other. Always.”
“Always.” I nod and head towards Brad. My chariot awaits.
“You’re coming with me.” Brad says as we exit Lizi’s apartment.
“Where?” I scrunch my nose.
“To my place.” He confidently walks towards his car. I self-consciously follow.
“Your place?” I question.
“Yes. Since you refuse protective custody you are stuck with me.” He grins and holds the passenger door open for me.
“Fine.” I give in quickly remembering my homicidal DNA dad has been released from prison and seems hell bent on murdering people close to me.
************************************************************************************
I fidget as Brad unlocks his front door. I have never been to his place before. My emotions are all scattered and I cannot place exactly what I am feeling in this moment.
“Welcome hostage.” Greets Brad as he extends his left arm to show me the way in.
I slowly saunter past him into his home. The corners of my mouth turn up as I glance to him out of the corner of my eye. I am totally surprised. Brad’s place is amazing. It is exquisite, inviting and cozy.
I am standing in the living room of the most charming old Victorian house in the city. The walls, floors and ceilings are all dark wood. The bookshelves are built-in and stacked with antique bound classics. The pieces of furniture are shades of blues and greens. The rugs are divine and immaculate.
I sashay through his elegant dining room filled with various sorts of plants and find myself in an first-rate chef’s kitchen. The island alone is spacious and gorgeously decorated with granite and metallic hanging pots. Not mention a shiny fruit bowl which makes my stomach growl.
“Brad…” I face him with a delicious smile. “I didn’t take you for a…god I know what…a clean freak…a fancy pants. This place is wonderful.”
“Wait until I show you the hidden stairways.” He winks. “It’s quaint.”
“Explain.” I bat my eyelashes. I need details. How does this guy live here. This macho police guy. I pick up a mosaic serving tray and stand akimbo.
“Okay, okay.” He chuckles and rescues his serving tray from my inquisitive grip. “I rehab houses in my spare time.”
“And the tray?” I raise my eyebrows and suck in my bottom lip.
“And…I furnish them.” Brad quickly spins away from me.
“Detective Brad Callahan blushes!” I tease as I spin him back to face me with is red cheeks.
“Watch it little lady. Drink?” Brad pulls open his double wide refrigerator to show me my options.
“Ahhhh…nope.” I shut the fridge. “Red wine.”
“Works for me. A beer for me.” He playfully shoves me out of his way and reenters the fridge for a Heinken Light. Light? “What?”
“Nothing. It’s nothing.” I quietly giggle.
“It’s something.” Brad stares me up and down.
“Okay..don’t use your police voodoo on me. It’s just..you’re not what I expected.” I shrug my shoulders. After all, I am entitled to my opinion.
“Right, right. I am suppose to be downing 12 packs of Bud and chowing on sausage and peppers.” He lays on a thick Chicago accent. “Move over Miss I’m going to take my belt off and let my big, hairy beer belly flop around.”
“HA!” My laughter thrusts me forward onto his beautiful and rare Blanco Romano granite countertop. Brad’s elbows join mine on his counter. We gasp for air. We are in stitches. “That feels good.”
“Laughing?” His hazel eyes are so kind. I never notice how they have a gold ring in the center.
“Yeah. I probably shouldn’t be. Huh?” I hang my head.
“You should be Sari. You need to be.” Brad rests his hand on the small of my back. I arch my back into the weight of his hand. I can feel every golf ball sized knot. Ahhh…
“I need a hot shower.” I moan.
Monday, September 21, 2009
NIP 18
“Oh baby. You’re home now. You are home. With me. I gotcha’ya.” Mark wraps his arms around Sari. He tries with all of his might to melt his body into hers. “I love you sweetie.”
“Get the FUCK off of me!” I violently convulse causing him to lose his hold on me.
“Sari, honey…” Mark whimpers with surprise.
He is actually pretending to be surprised. I am dumbfounded. Oh please. I stay still while gazing in his eyes. They are bloodshot from either stress or possibly even tears. The contrasting irises are bright blue like a bewildered child.
“Tell me everything.” I hiss.
“Everything?” Mark stammers. “About what?”
“About what!?!” Pure unadulterated shock and rage rush through my body. It is as if a gust of wind lifts me into mid-air…a flaming ball of anger. I find myself in our galley kitchen. “How about this??”
I yank the butcher knife out of its custom block. Mark jolts and leaps backward.
“Did he kill her with a knife like this!?!” I ask coolly. As cool as a homicidal maniac, I think to myself. “Or a knife like this? Or this one!” I belligerently jerk every knife out of the block and slam it on the counter. The volume of my voice steadily rises with each slam of a knife. Mark remains silent…a safe distance away. “Did he gut her with this knife? Stab her with this one! Huh? How did he do it??”
“Sari…Sari…” Tears fill Mark’s eyes as he tries to coax words up his throat and out of his mouth. Instead, he stands there choking on his lies.
“Speak! Goddamnit Mark.” I sigh. “I am Amanda Hayes. Amanda fucking Hayes. And you have known all along. Haven’t you? Haven’t you…you shit!” I demand my tear ducks to close. I force my eyes wide open. It is easy to ignore the stinging. I refuse to waste another tear on the likes of this guy.
Mark doesn’t move, not even a twitch. I lunge at him. My hands balled in fists of fury. I flail at him…my arms and legs ferociously propelling. I attack him with all of my might. I don’t have to dig deep for this violent charge. My father is Ed Hayes after all. I seethe at this thought. I grab fists of Mark’s hair and yank it. I want to hear him scream. I want to put in the exact same position I am…hurt and fear.
It takes Mark a few unsuccessful attempts to grab my wrists but he conquers. He forcefully pins me against the wall. He rubs his body up against mine to restrain me. I squirm, my wrath not yet finished.
“Shhhh….” Mark rests his head on my shoulder and sobs.
“Why? Why? Why Mark?” I give up, I remain still and I sob but I will not to rest my head on his shoulder. I will not give him my emotions.
“I was only trying to protect you.” His voice quivers. His tears drain on my shoulder.
“From what?” I gulp. “The fact that I am the flesh and blood of a murdered.”
“Yes.” Mark rubs his nose on my shoulder. He kisses my shoulder.
His scent is making me nauseous. His touch is making me dizzy. I retrieve power from my ‘power house,’ my legs, and cruelly heave him off of me. He lands on his ass and I listen for a crack…hoping it is tailbone. Nothing.
“Well, you can’t beat down DNA. Counsel, you should know better.” I stand over him and maintain his gaze for only a moment. This, I know, will be the last time I ever look into those deceitful eyes.
“Sari, please. You have to listen to me.” Mark pleads as he trails me into our bedroom. “Please don’t. You have to give me the chance to explain. You owe me that much.”
“I owe you. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I sneer and continue shoving anything of my mine in my wing span into a duffle bag. “You are Ed Hayes’ attorney! It’s pretty clear to me.”
“Yes, but….only so I could keep him in prison for LIFE!” Mark’s appearance turns even more disheveled as he realizes he has lost control of this entire situation. “I got the case 5 years ago. It was in my first pile of cases my first day on the job. Dan made a big deal about making sure Ed never saw the sun again. I was new, curious, young, whatever so I did what was I told. It’s a bizarre coincidence. When I met your aunt I recognized the name Clara Holland. That is when I pieced it all together. Aunt Clara begged me not to say anything.”
“Aunt Clara.” I freeze. My insides and all…immobilized. “You and Aunt Clara discussed this? Behind my back.”
“Yes.” Mark nods. He carefully approaches me. “You see Sari. I didn’t start this. She did.”
“Don’t you dare touch me!” I squint my eyes at him hoping to burn the grin off of his cowardly face. “Shame on you!”
I throw the overstuffed bag of my clothes and other necessities over my shoulder and coldly sidestep him. Without one single care for him in the world I head toward our door.
“Sari…listen to me. I am the one protecting you! You cannot leave!” He leaps in front of me, blocks me from exiting and tries to wrestle my bag out of my grasp. I hold my grip for dear life.
“You are not protecting me Mark! You are suppose to be the one person in this world I can trust and believe in. You have been lying to me! LYING TO ME!” I nearly lose my balance from our struggle. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the foyer mirror. What is staring back at me is just a premeditated disguised. “I am an entirely different person. You knew! My father is not who I thought he was. YOU KNEW! My parents were murdered not killed in a car accident. YOU KNEW. You know everything. How could you keep this from me.” The air coming out of me is fiery hot like an enraged dragon. “Why won’t you tell me? Because Aunt Clara told you not too. That didn’t seem strange to you? I never would have kept this from you. I love you too…loved you too much to ever hurt you like this.” I pause to put my thoughts back on track. “So there is only one question I have to ask myself. What do you love more, me or the life we were destined to have?”
Mark’s lips part.
“Don’t you even think about answering you bastard. You already did. And now Ainslie and Clara are dead.” I bash my shoulder into his as I saunter past him. The slamming door announces my final exit from our condo and everything it symbolizes.
*****************************************************************************
Mark cradles his head in his hands. But only for a second. “This is not the way this ends”, he says under his breath. “Not on my watch. I deserve you Sari. I deserve our life. Yes, this is our destiny. I am correct.”
Mark stands upright and brushes the wrinkles out of his suit. He cracks his neck and embraces his dark side. He is out of options.
“Doug. This Mark from 3206. Make sure you find out where Sari is off too. Well she did enter the building and now she is leaving it. I want your best cabbies keeping tabs on her every move. Yes, call my cell.”
He calmly sets his phone down. He is done crying like a baby and wallowing in self-pity. In fact, he is slightly aroused by his and Sari’s passionate encounter. No two people would act so irrational if it weren’t true love. Mark feels a tingle in his pants.
A soothing hot shower should do. For now.
*********************************************************************************
“Get the FUCK off of me!” I violently convulse causing him to lose his hold on me.
“Sari, honey…” Mark whimpers with surprise.
He is actually pretending to be surprised. I am dumbfounded. Oh please. I stay still while gazing in his eyes. They are bloodshot from either stress or possibly even tears. The contrasting irises are bright blue like a bewildered child.
“Tell me everything.” I hiss.
“Everything?” Mark stammers. “About what?”
“About what!?!” Pure unadulterated shock and rage rush through my body. It is as if a gust of wind lifts me into mid-air…a flaming ball of anger. I find myself in our galley kitchen. “How about this??”
I yank the butcher knife out of its custom block. Mark jolts and leaps backward.
“Did he kill her with a knife like this!?!” I ask coolly. As cool as a homicidal maniac, I think to myself. “Or a knife like this? Or this one!” I belligerently jerk every knife out of the block and slam it on the counter. The volume of my voice steadily rises with each slam of a knife. Mark remains silent…a safe distance away. “Did he gut her with this knife? Stab her with this one! Huh? How did he do it??”
“Sari…Sari…” Tears fill Mark’s eyes as he tries to coax words up his throat and out of his mouth. Instead, he stands there choking on his lies.
“Speak! Goddamnit Mark.” I sigh. “I am Amanda Hayes. Amanda fucking Hayes. And you have known all along. Haven’t you? Haven’t you…you shit!” I demand my tear ducks to close. I force my eyes wide open. It is easy to ignore the stinging. I refuse to waste another tear on the likes of this guy.
Mark doesn’t move, not even a twitch. I lunge at him. My hands balled in fists of fury. I flail at him…my arms and legs ferociously propelling. I attack him with all of my might. I don’t have to dig deep for this violent charge. My father is Ed Hayes after all. I seethe at this thought. I grab fists of Mark’s hair and yank it. I want to hear him scream. I want to put in the exact same position I am…hurt and fear.
It takes Mark a few unsuccessful attempts to grab my wrists but he conquers. He forcefully pins me against the wall. He rubs his body up against mine to restrain me. I squirm, my wrath not yet finished.
“Shhhh….” Mark rests his head on my shoulder and sobs.
“Why? Why? Why Mark?” I give up, I remain still and I sob but I will not to rest my head on his shoulder. I will not give him my emotions.
“I was only trying to protect you.” His voice quivers. His tears drain on my shoulder.
“From what?” I gulp. “The fact that I am the flesh and blood of a murdered.”
“Yes.” Mark rubs his nose on my shoulder. He kisses my shoulder.
His scent is making me nauseous. His touch is making me dizzy. I retrieve power from my ‘power house,’ my legs, and cruelly heave him off of me. He lands on his ass and I listen for a crack…hoping it is tailbone. Nothing.
“Well, you can’t beat down DNA. Counsel, you should know better.” I stand over him and maintain his gaze for only a moment. This, I know, will be the last time I ever look into those deceitful eyes.
“Sari, please. You have to listen to me.” Mark pleads as he trails me into our bedroom. “Please don’t. You have to give me the chance to explain. You owe me that much.”
“I owe you. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I sneer and continue shoving anything of my mine in my wing span into a duffle bag. “You are Ed Hayes’ attorney! It’s pretty clear to me.”
“Yes, but….only so I could keep him in prison for LIFE!” Mark’s appearance turns even more disheveled as he realizes he has lost control of this entire situation. “I got the case 5 years ago. It was in my first pile of cases my first day on the job. Dan made a big deal about making sure Ed never saw the sun again. I was new, curious, young, whatever so I did what was I told. It’s a bizarre coincidence. When I met your aunt I recognized the name Clara Holland. That is when I pieced it all together. Aunt Clara begged me not to say anything.”
“Aunt Clara.” I freeze. My insides and all…immobilized. “You and Aunt Clara discussed this? Behind my back.”
“Yes.” Mark nods. He carefully approaches me. “You see Sari. I didn’t start this. She did.”
“Don’t you dare touch me!” I squint my eyes at him hoping to burn the grin off of his cowardly face. “Shame on you!”
I throw the overstuffed bag of my clothes and other necessities over my shoulder and coldly sidestep him. Without one single care for him in the world I head toward our door.
“Sari…listen to me. I am the one protecting you! You cannot leave!” He leaps in front of me, blocks me from exiting and tries to wrestle my bag out of my grasp. I hold my grip for dear life.
“You are not protecting me Mark! You are suppose to be the one person in this world I can trust and believe in. You have been lying to me! LYING TO ME!” I nearly lose my balance from our struggle. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the foyer mirror. What is staring back at me is just a premeditated disguised. “I am an entirely different person. You knew! My father is not who I thought he was. YOU KNEW! My parents were murdered not killed in a car accident. YOU KNEW. You know everything. How could you keep this from me.” The air coming out of me is fiery hot like an enraged dragon. “Why won’t you tell me? Because Aunt Clara told you not too. That didn’t seem strange to you? I never would have kept this from you. I love you too…loved you too much to ever hurt you like this.” I pause to put my thoughts back on track. “So there is only one question I have to ask myself. What do you love more, me or the life we were destined to have?”
Mark’s lips part.
“Don’t you even think about answering you bastard. You already did. And now Ainslie and Clara are dead.” I bash my shoulder into his as I saunter past him. The slamming door announces my final exit from our condo and everything it symbolizes.
*****************************************************************************
Mark cradles his head in his hands. But only for a second. “This is not the way this ends”, he says under his breath. “Not on my watch. I deserve you Sari. I deserve our life. Yes, this is our destiny. I am correct.”
Mark stands upright and brushes the wrinkles out of his suit. He cracks his neck and embraces his dark side. He is out of options.
“Doug. This Mark from 3206. Make sure you find out where Sari is off too. Well she did enter the building and now she is leaving it. I want your best cabbies keeping tabs on her every move. Yes, call my cell.”
He calmly sets his phone down. He is done crying like a baby and wallowing in self-pity. In fact, he is slightly aroused by his and Sari’s passionate encounter. No two people would act so irrational if it weren’t true love. Mark feels a tingle in his pants.
A soothing hot shower should do. For now.
*********************************************************************************
Thursday, September 17, 2009
NIP 17
Marcy will never forget the first time she met Sari Clarke. It felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. ‘What a surreal moment,’ remembers Marcy. Sari walked the most friendly of walks right up to Marcy. She extended her right hand to greet Marcy with her perfectly wide smile. Sari’s eyes shined like emeralds and in that moment Marcy knew she was face to face with Amanda Hayes. Those eyes, her beautiful blonde curls, her amazing soul. Marcy nearly fainted.
Could this all be a coincidence? Marcy stops fidgeting…completely.
*************************************************************************
Mark savors the burn of his scotch on the rocks with a twist from the darkness of his and Sari’s living room. He sits a disheveled mess. The day’s events have exhausted him…mentally, emotionally and physically. And from the looks of the TV it just got a whole hell of a lot worse.
He turns up the volume on the 50” flat screen TV. An engagement gift from Clara.
“In studio we have ABC’s very own Sari Clarke. Sari’s sister and aunt were victims of malicious crimes this every day which took their lives. We have the exclusive on this horrifying story straight from Sari herself.” Carol Jacobs pauses on cue. Dramatically she swivels her anchor chair to face Sari. “Sari, you are so brave and courageous to chase this story in the wake of this very personal tragedy.”
“Thank you Carol. I cannot imagine a tougher day. Yet, this experience has given me perspective on all viewers who have experienced this kind of loss and sadness. Like some of the victims I have interviewed I will stop at nothing to find the truth so my sister and my aunt may rest in peace.”
Mark rubs his forehead and takes sip of his scotch. Sari is unbelievably composed. Not one blonde curl is out of place. Mark observes his bride. Her strength is magic. It is as if she is reporting live from their living room speaking only to him. Mark is sure everyone watching this broadcast is having the same reaction. She is determined, alive and brilliant. Mark chugs his scotch wondering what breaking news she will reveal.
“I have uncovered facts indicating a man by the name of Ed Hayes was released from prison yesterday. Ed Hayes has not been in touch with his parole officer since his release.” A picture of Ed Hayes appears in the screen. “This is of interest because Ed Hayes was convicted of murdering my mother and father in 1983. All evidence points to Ed Hayes being responsible for the murders of my sister and my aunt. It is crucial that any information on Ed Hayes be given to the police. He is a dangerous man and needs to be removed from the streets of Chicago.”
Sari’s eyes are sparkly emeralds. Passion erupts from those beautiful eyes. Mark shakes off a chill.
“Is there anything else you know about Ed Hayes at this time?” Carol promptly asks.
“Ed Hayes was awarded the Police Officer of the Year Award in 1977. He rescued….”
Marks zones out what Sari is saying. He has heard all of this before. What else does she know? He begins to perspire. He cracks his neck. He would know how to respond if he knew what she knew! But he is too much of a coward to answer her calls. He doesn’t have the guts. Mark stands, stumbles to the bar and pours himself another scotch.
“SON OF A BITCH!” He yells as his glass smashes against the wall. His body crumples to the ground at the same speed of the scotch dripping down the wall.
**************************************************************************
“…my mother was in the fire.” A loud noise to the side of the stage steals my attention. I try to hide my gasp.
Detective Hughes is tearing through the studio. He is forcing his way through the crew. He is coming after me. Brad jumps in his way to stall him. I take zero chances.
“They married a short time after. This all we know now. Please report any information to the police. Thank you!” The words are rushed but the meaning is intact. Carol seems a tad startled by my haste but she is a professional and will cover it up effortlessly.
I dash off the opposite side of the stage. I know the ins and outs of this studio like the back of my hand. I could run through the halls with my eyes closed. My breathing is so heavy and I fear I will not hear the vicious footsteps behind me.
I make it to the building exit. The door flies open from my push. I run. I run north. I run north in high heels. I run north with stinging eyeballs. I run. I run as fast as I can. I run and run.
I don’t want to stop running. I don’t want to face this. I don’t want to be alone. If I stop running I will be alone. I can’t be alone nor can I be idle. I need to think. I need to a plan. I need to digest this information.
I run. Ed Hayes. Amanda Hayes. I didn’t report this info because I am not sure what it all means. Evan Clarke is Ainslie and Lizi’s father but not mine. Perhaps there is a chance this all a mix up. Why lie?
LIZI!
“Shit.” I plant my feet. I dial Lizi as I recite the Lord’s Prayer. Who knew I still remembered it. Surely this will award me brownie points in my hour of need.
“Lizi! CALL ME!” I hang up. Frustrated. Crushed.
I run.
Home.
I sneak past Doug, the doorman, I can’t talk. I stand silent in the elevator. I am alone but the silence is evident. My mind has quieted.
I unlock the door to mine and Mark’s condo. With my head down, I walk into my home longing for my bed. I want to crawl on my bed and hide…if only for a minute.
“Sari!” Mark’s silhouette rattles me to my core.
I plunge to the ground in uncontrollable sobs.
“Oh baby. You’re home now. You are home. With me. I gotcha’ya.” Mark wraps his arms around Sari. He tries with all of his might to melt his body into hers. “I love you sweetie.”
“Get the FUCK off of me!” I violently convulse causing him to lose his hold on me.
Could this all be a coincidence? Marcy stops fidgeting…completely.
*************************************************************************
Mark savors the burn of his scotch on the rocks with a twist from the darkness of his and Sari’s living room. He sits a disheveled mess. The day’s events have exhausted him…mentally, emotionally and physically. And from the looks of the TV it just got a whole hell of a lot worse.
He turns up the volume on the 50” flat screen TV. An engagement gift from Clara.
“In studio we have ABC’s very own Sari Clarke. Sari’s sister and aunt were victims of malicious crimes this every day which took their lives. We have the exclusive on this horrifying story straight from Sari herself.” Carol Jacobs pauses on cue. Dramatically she swivels her anchor chair to face Sari. “Sari, you are so brave and courageous to chase this story in the wake of this very personal tragedy.”
“Thank you Carol. I cannot imagine a tougher day. Yet, this experience has given me perspective on all viewers who have experienced this kind of loss and sadness. Like some of the victims I have interviewed I will stop at nothing to find the truth so my sister and my aunt may rest in peace.”
Mark rubs his forehead and takes sip of his scotch. Sari is unbelievably composed. Not one blonde curl is out of place. Mark observes his bride. Her strength is magic. It is as if she is reporting live from their living room speaking only to him. Mark is sure everyone watching this broadcast is having the same reaction. She is determined, alive and brilliant. Mark chugs his scotch wondering what breaking news she will reveal.
“I have uncovered facts indicating a man by the name of Ed Hayes was released from prison yesterday. Ed Hayes has not been in touch with his parole officer since his release.” A picture of Ed Hayes appears in the screen. “This is of interest because Ed Hayes was convicted of murdering my mother and father in 1983. All evidence points to Ed Hayes being responsible for the murders of my sister and my aunt. It is crucial that any information on Ed Hayes be given to the police. He is a dangerous man and needs to be removed from the streets of Chicago.”
Sari’s eyes are sparkly emeralds. Passion erupts from those beautiful eyes. Mark shakes off a chill.
“Is there anything else you know about Ed Hayes at this time?” Carol promptly asks.
“Ed Hayes was awarded the Police Officer of the Year Award in 1977. He rescued….”
Marks zones out what Sari is saying. He has heard all of this before. What else does she know? He begins to perspire. He cracks his neck. He would know how to respond if he knew what she knew! But he is too much of a coward to answer her calls. He doesn’t have the guts. Mark stands, stumbles to the bar and pours himself another scotch.
“SON OF A BITCH!” He yells as his glass smashes against the wall. His body crumples to the ground at the same speed of the scotch dripping down the wall.
**************************************************************************
“…my mother was in the fire.” A loud noise to the side of the stage steals my attention. I try to hide my gasp.
Detective Hughes is tearing through the studio. He is forcing his way through the crew. He is coming after me. Brad jumps in his way to stall him. I take zero chances.
“They married a short time after. This all we know now. Please report any information to the police. Thank you!” The words are rushed but the meaning is intact. Carol seems a tad startled by my haste but she is a professional and will cover it up effortlessly.
I dash off the opposite side of the stage. I know the ins and outs of this studio like the back of my hand. I could run through the halls with my eyes closed. My breathing is so heavy and I fear I will not hear the vicious footsteps behind me.
I make it to the building exit. The door flies open from my push. I run. I run north. I run north in high heels. I run north with stinging eyeballs. I run. I run as fast as I can. I run and run.
I don’t want to stop running. I don’t want to face this. I don’t want to be alone. If I stop running I will be alone. I can’t be alone nor can I be idle. I need to think. I need to a plan. I need to digest this information.
I run. Ed Hayes. Amanda Hayes. I didn’t report this info because I am not sure what it all means. Evan Clarke is Ainslie and Lizi’s father but not mine. Perhaps there is a chance this all a mix up. Why lie?
LIZI!
“Shit.” I plant my feet. I dial Lizi as I recite the Lord’s Prayer. Who knew I still remembered it. Surely this will award me brownie points in my hour of need.
“Lizi! CALL ME!” I hang up. Frustrated. Crushed.
I run.
Home.
I sneak past Doug, the doorman, I can’t talk. I stand silent in the elevator. I am alone but the silence is evident. My mind has quieted.
I unlock the door to mine and Mark’s condo. With my head down, I walk into my home longing for my bed. I want to crawl on my bed and hide…if only for a minute.
“Sari!” Mark’s silhouette rattles me to my core.
I plunge to the ground in uncontrollable sobs.
“Oh baby. You’re home now. You are home. With me. I gotcha’ya.” Mark wraps his arms around Sari. He tries with all of his might to melt his body into hers. “I love you sweetie.”
“Get the FUCK off of me!” I violently convulse causing him to lose his hold on me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)