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.

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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.