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.

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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?

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“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.