Chapter Eighteen
Eva holds tightly to Amber’s arm as they walk into the bus station. Amber wants to tell her it’s not necessary, that although she just found out the man she’s been living with is a rapist and murderer, she’s perfectly capable of walking on her own. But Eva seems to be enjoying her role as the compassionate caretaker. She pats Amber’s back comfortingly, telling her it will all be okay. Amber allows her friend this, since Eva has such a personal connection to her situation. Amber watches the screens behind the counter as they project the bus times and destinations. Her heart flutters when White Oak comes up. The next bus there is in little over an hour.
“I’ll buy your ticket,” Eva says as they wait in line. “Don’t worry about a thing.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Amber protests.
“No, I insist.”
“Eva,” Amber says, her brow squinting in confusion. She keeps her voice low. “I thought you didn’t have much money.”
A shadow flashes briefly across Eva’s face. She smiles gently, squeezing Amber’s hand. “I have some savings. But don’t let that concern you.” She gestures towards the rows of chairs where passengers await their bus’ arrival. “Go sit down. I’ll take care of everything.”
Amber knows that Eva is just trying to be helpful, but it feels strange to be coddled like this. Amber is perfectly capable of buying her own ticket, but what can she say to the woman who was raped by Amber’s boyfriend? She nods, gratefully, and takes her seat.
The waiting area is almost full of fellow travelers. The rustle of newspapers, the occasional throat clearing, and the idle conversations all merge together, forming white noise in Amber’s ears. Everything about this feels wrong. Leaving Jack, going back home, being in this bus station with Eva, everything feels wrong. Amber rubs her temples, trying to regain her sanity. It’s what you have to do, she tells herself. You have to get away from him. He’s not the man you thought he was. He isn’t the man you love.
Amber’s managed to stay in control of her emotions so far, but suddenly, her chest tightens. Pressure rises from her throat and presses against her nose. The tears are ready to break free. Amber dries her eyes on her sleeve. She doesn’t want to become a sobbing mess in front of all of these people.
Eva walks over with the ticket in hand. When she sees Amber’s pinched expression, she rushes to her side, slipping her arm around Amber’s shoulder.
“It’s going to be okay,” she says, encouragingly.
Amber nods, swallowing down the rest of the tears. She swings her head down while Eva rubs her back. She focuses on Eva’s sandals. After weeks of frigid cold, New York is experiencing a warm snap. Amber silently muses that she’s never seen Eva’s bare feet before. Usually, Eva’s dressed in pants and boots.
Eva shifts in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs. Amber sees a flash of something yellow on Eva’s ankle. The little surprise makes Amber smile. She didn’t know Eva had a tattoo. She squints to get a better look and see what it is.
Amber’s heart slows for a couple of beats right before it starts to pound rapidly. Blood, hot and forceful, pumps through her veins. It raises her body temperature and makes her sweat. On the inside of Eva’s ankle is a small yellow goldfish. The head is angled up, with small bubbles around the tail, like it’s about to swim up her leg.
Amber remembers that night she questioned Jack in his sleep, the words she thought were nonsense at the time.
A little yellow goldfish swimming up her leg.
“It’s going to be okay,” Eva repeats, patting Amber’s arm.
Amber bites her tongue to keep herself from saying the name that echoes in her mind.
Chloe. Eva is Chloe.
*
Jack clutches the note, his eyes tracing the hurried scrawling of Amber’s handwriting. Staring at those words, I’m sorry, he experiences the same stomach tightening sensation as when he stared into the glassy surface of the East River, preparing to jump in. His gaze lands on the window. He visualizes the hard cement that’s three stories below. Amber’s gone, nothing matters anymore. He can still jump.
“No,” he says out loud, his voice piercing the silence. He crumples the note in a tight a fist. He’s admonished the demons inside of him, and he’s going to keep it that way. As long as he and Amber are still alive, she belongs to him.
Why did she leave? Did she give up on proving his innocence? Does she think he did it, that he’s the monster all the papers say he is? He could track her down, but then what? What if she doesn’t believe him? Jack’s gripped with determination. He has to find out the truth, what really happened that night, who’s responsible. By finding this note, he became a man with nothing left to lose. He doesn’t have the patience for caution anymore. He’s going to go straight to the one man who can give him what he wants.
Jack drives as fast as he can within the legal limits over the Queensboro Bridge. The last thing he needs is to be stopped by police when he’s so close. It’s late evening, but Jack’s willing to bet that Uncle Harvey will still be at the office. For men in a certain position, their office is like a second home, and for men like Jack Larsen Senior, the home they often prefer.
He parks the car a few blocks away, then walks with tunnel vision to the Financial District. Blinking up at the skyscraper, he sees that one light is still on. He grits his teeth, seized by a flashback. On that night, when his life completely changed, he’d done the same thing to see if his father was there. He remembers Chloe, giggling by his side. Why was she filming him? Was she working for someone?
The front doors of the building are locked up tight, inaccessible to anyone who doesn’t have an ID card with a scannable bar code. But Jack knows of a way inside. There’s a service entrance on a side alley. The head janitor always had a habit of leaving it propped open. Jack heads down the alley, hoping that’s still the case.
It is. The door is propped open with a crate. Jack slides inside and heads up the back staircase, all the way to the very top floor.
Jack enters through the lobby where a large, curved desk sits forebodingly in front of the hallway. This is the floor where the head honchos of Larsen International work. The desk, unoccupied now, is the gatekeeper to those mighty executives, usually staffed with a receptionist who has the power to accept or turn people away. Jack breezes past the desk, down the hallway, all the way to the end, to the largest office of them all.
Uncle Harvey hasn’t bothered to close his door in these after hours. Jack can see his head and shoulders as he hunches over a laptop at his desk, pecking the keys with both of his index fingers. There’s a strange smell in the air, sharp and sterile, and the whir of some kind of machine. Jack doesn’t remember either of those from his time here, but he doesn’t think much about it. He’s too distracted by the memories of the last time he was here. He almost expects to see his father’s bleeding body on the office floor.
Jack gives a passing glance to the placard next to the door, and the fact that it still says Jack Larsen, Sr, CEO. He feels the anger quickening in his core, pumping fire through his limbs, and tensing his muscles. But the anger doesn’t control him anymore, it powers him.
Jack throws the door open wide, then takes long strides inside. Uncle Harvey jumps in his seat when he sees Jack. He clutches his hands to his chest, and struggles to get his breath. Jack can tell his uncle doesn’t recognize him.
“Who are you? What do you want?” Uncle Harvey sputters.
Jack crouches down, letting Uncle Harvey get a better look at his face. Harvey looks different as well. He’s thinner than Jack remembers, and his skin is different. It has a yellowish undertone. Maybe Harvey’s finding that overseeing a huge corporation is more stressful than it’s worth.
Harvey’s eyes open wider as he sees past the beard and long hair. He leans forward, studying Jack’s face more closely.
“Jack?” he says with a strained voice. The corners of his lips turn up, making him appear hopeful. “It’s you.” He stands up quickly, but collapses back in his seat, his hands against his chest. “Does your mother know where you are? She’s been worried sick about you.”
“She thinks I’m a murderer,” Jack says, his voice dark and heavy. “Everyone does.”
Harvey shakes his head. “She doesn’t think that, Jack. She’s insisted on your innocence from the beginning.”
A smile grows deep inside of Jack’s belly, though he doesn’t show it on his face. Uncle Harvey could be lying about his mother, but Jack desperately wants to believe it’s true.“That’s because I am innocent.”
Harvey blinks rapidly. “I-I believe you. I want to help you.” He reaches for the phone on his desk.
“Don’t touch that,” Jack warns, drawing the knife from his pocket.
Harvey raises his hands in the air. “I won’t, Jack.”
Calmly, Jack walks around the desk and stands behind him. He grabs the back of Harvey’s collar, then presses the knife against his neck. He can see a purple vein pumping beneath the translucent flesh. Jack imagines pressing the blade into it, nicking the skin, and watching the blood spurt out.
“Talk, or you die,” Jack warns.
Harvey gulps. His entire body begins to tremble. “I don’t know anything, Jack.”
Jack notices the whirring sound again, and a smell that reminds him of hospitals. There’s a machine parked in the corner of the room. It’s compact and gray like a small robot. It’s sucking in air, and wheezing it out. There’s an oxygen mask attached to it. Jack tightens his grip on the handle of the knife.
“Tell me what happened,” Jack demands. He scrapes the edge of the blade against Harvey’s skin. “You always hated my father. You thought he was mismanaging the company.”
“That’s true, I did hate him. That’s no secret,” Uncle Harvey admits. “But who wouldn’t hate him? After all he put my sister through. You have no idea how many nights I spent on the phone with your mother, listening to her sob. But I didn’t kill him, Jack.”
“You had him killed.” Jack clenches his back teeth, struggling to keep himself from slicing Harvey’s neck. “You hired her, Chloe, the woman who filmed me. You set me up.”
Harvey’s eyes soften. “Is that what you think? Sure, your dad was a piece of shit, but I’d never to that do you, Jack. I remember when you were born, when you and Henry played together as little kids. You’re my family.”
Jack shakes his head, resisting the urge to believe him. “You wanted to take over the company. You had to get both of us out of the way-“
Jack’s interrupted by Harvey’s chocking laughter.
“Are you kidding me?” Harvey wheezes.
“What the fuck are you laughing at?” Jack says through his teeth. The anger courses freely through him now, invading his veins, and becoming an indistinguishable voice in the back of his head, telling him to act, to crush this man to shreds.
“Look at me,” Uncle Harvey says, gesturing to his frail body. “I’m dying, Jack. I have Stage three lung cancer. It’s spreading rapidly. They can’t stop it. It’ll soon be stage four.”
Jack looks at the oxygen machine by the wall, and the mask attached to it. The anger inside of him dissipates, and he drops the knife from Uncle Harvey’s neck.
“I didn’t know.”
“I didn’t tell anyone for a long time,” Uncle Harvey says.
“Henry didn’t…”
“Henry is dealing with his grief in a complicated way,” Harvey sighs. “He’s hiding his emotions so well, it seems like he doesn’t have them at all. But I know it must be killing him.” Harvey stands, shakily, and places a hand on Jack’s arm. “Sit down. We’ll get this figured out.”
Jack sits down in a nearby chair, stunned. “Don’t call anyone,” he says, numbly.
“I assure you, I won’t,” Uncle Harvey says, then sits back behind his desk. Out of the corner of his eye, Jack sees Harvey’s hand flit beneath the desk, but he doesn’t think much of it.
“You didn’t want to be CEO,” Jack says.
Harvey shakes his head. “That’s the last thing I wanted. I’d rather live out my last days in my mountain house, not here. But someone had to take over and steer the ship. Really, I’m just trying to get everything ready for the transition.”
Jack raises an eyebrow. “Transition?”
“Yes. Henry will be taking my place, sooner rather than later, I hope.”
Jack feels the anger spark up again. “Henry?” It all clicks together in Jack’s mind. Dr. Sheila had always warned Jack that Henry is a powerful manipulator. This was nothing Jack didn’t know, but he never thought he’d be the victim. He thinks back on how Henry had advised him to kill Amber. Jack sees flashes from that night in the ballroom, Henry’s face twisted cruelly as he assaulted that poor woman. Henry thought nothing of life and death.
“That’s right. It’s the only logical choice. But now you’re back. Go to the police, prove your innocence, and your rightful position will be restored to you.”
“The police already think I’m guilty.” Jack stands up quickly, kicking the chair out from under him. He rushes towards the door.
“Where are you going?” Uncle Harvey asks after him.
Jack doesn’t tell him what’s he’s thinking, that he’s going to track down Henry, and make him pay for everything he’s done. He wants to mangle Henry’s head until he resembles the last image Jack has of his father.
He tears down the back staircase, his heart pounding in his chest, his breathing loud in his ears. He darts out of the service entrance, and into the alley. Jack doesn’t see the uniformed figure waiting for him until he’s tackled to the ground.
The air is knocked out of Jack’s lungs when he hits the pavement. He can barely breathe. The man who tackled him jerks Jack’s arms behind his back, then cuffs his wrists.
“Jack Larsen, you’re under arrest for the murder of Jack Larsen, Senior. You have the right to remain silent-“
Jack barely listens as he’s read his Miranda rights. He squints towards the end of the alley to the street. There are several police cars, all waiting for him. Uncle Harvey must’ve called them somehow. Maybe there’s an emergency button under his desk. There’s no use fighting. Jack relaxes his shoulders, feeling the cold pavement against his cheek. He’s calm and compliant as he’s led to the back of the police cruiser.
*
The realization is immediate and sickening. This person who Amber thought was her friend has been lying to her the entire time, manipulating her. Her name isn’t Eva, it’s Chloe, or maybe it isn’t Chloe either. This woman was with Jack that night, and suddenly, Eva/Chloe lives in the same building as Amber and Jack. It’s too big of a coincidence. This has setup written all over it. Amber cowers away from Eva like she’s emitting toxic radiation. She tries to keep her expression neutral while her mind spins with possibilities. She sits quietly, connecting the dots while Eva rubs her back.
Amber can’t believe anything Eva has ever told her. She was probably lying about Jack raping her. And now, Eva’s sending Amber off. Someone, Eva, or whoever she may be working for, wants to get Amber out of the way.
A new wave of emotion roils through Amber, making her double over, and tears sting her eyes. Jack isn’t a rapist. He isn’t a murderer. And Amber left him. She has to get back to him.
“Hey, I know it’s hard,” Eva says. “I’m here for you.”
Amber clears her throat, dabbing her eyes. “Thank you for being such a good…friend.” She has to stop herself from cringing.
Eva looks down at her feet. Amber thinks she sees a shade of regret in Eva’s eyes.
“You just need to get away, forget about all this,” Eva says. Her eyes glaze over, giving Amber the sense that she’s being genuine. “Move on. You’ll find another man one day, and you’ll have a great life.”
“You’re right,” Amber sighs. She wipes her wet cheeks, laughing at herself. “I’m a mess. I better go to the bathroom and clean up.” She gathers her purse and starts to stand.
“I’ll go with you,” Eva says.
Amber forces herself to smile. “You don’t have to do that.”
Eva stands. “It’s okay. I’ll keep you company.”
Eva starts towards the bathroom. Amber holds her arm out, stopping her.
“Really, I just want to be alone,” Amber says. “Maybe cry a little more.”
Eva’s eyes dart just above Amber’s head, focusing on something, or someone. Amber’s blood goes cold in her veins.
“Are you sure?” Eva asks, desperation rising in her voice.
“I’m sure.” Amber starts to leave, but stops, taking Eva’s hand. She doesn’t know what’s true or what isn’t about Eva’s story, but even if just a little bit is true, Amber can’t help but have compassion for her. “You deserve good things,” Amber says. “You’re worth more than you think.”
Amber turns on her heels and quickly walks away. She can feel Eva watching her, so Amber slips into the nearest bathroom. Her heart pounds in her chest as she grips the sink, staring at herself in the mirror. Her skin crawls with the need to get back to Jack. She wants to feel his strong arms around her, and breathe in his scent. She should’ve known he wasn’t what Eva said she was, she should’ve known.
Amber doesn’t want to spend too much time in the bathroom, and run the risk of Eva coming to look for her. After a couple of minutes, she peeks out of the door. Eva is still sitting in the waiting room, a cell phone pressed against her ear. She’s talking rapidly. Her eyes dart towards the bathroom, and Amber ducks back inside. With her heart pounding, Amber knows she has to make her move. She slips out of the door, and walks quickly in the opposite direction of Eva.
She doesn’t slow down, or look over her shoulder as she makes a lap around the bus station. Her breath is shallow in her chest, and she can feel every pulse of her veins. When she glimpses the glass doors of the exit, her heart starts to slow a little. She’s close, so close, to being back with Jack.
Amber bursts out of the doors, her speedy walking turning into a full-fledged run. She weaves through the people making their way to the bus station. She expects Eva to turn up at any moment. She keeps her head down, moving forward. Suddenly, she hears someone call her name. It’s not Eva, it’s a male voice.
She skids to a stop, looking around. A group of people pass, revealing Henry standing there. He locks his eyes on her and starts to move forward.
“Amber, thank God,” Henry says, running towards her. His tie is undone, and his immaculate hair somewhat out of place. “I caught you before you left.” He reaches out and grabs her arm, his fingers tightening around her flesh.
“What are you doing here?” Amber asks.
“Jack sent me,” Henry says, panting. He points towards the station. “That woman in there, you can’t trust her. Come on. Let’s go.”
He tugs on Amber’s arm, but she doesn’t move. Planting her feet, she looks him straight in the eye.
“Who is she?” Amber asks. “Is she Chloe?”
Henry rolls his eyes up towards the sky, exhaling in exasperation. “Yes, she’s Chloe. Joel hired her to set Jack up. And he hired her again to get you out of here.”
“Joel,” Amber says, her brows knitting together.
“Yes, Joel,” Henry says. “He’s behind everything. Come on, Jack’s waiting for you.”
Henry pulls her arm harder now, making Amber follow him. Her chest expands with hope. Maybe Jack found the connection between Joel’s law firm and Jack Larsen Senior’s murder. Maybe this is almost over.