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.

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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!

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“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.