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.

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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.”

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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.”

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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.