“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!!!”
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
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.
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