CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Shane
We walk arm-in-arm out of the subway station in Brooklyn.
To the casual observer, we probably look like two good girlfriends, huddled together to stay warm as the wind off the East River gusts through the office buildings and loft spaces, transforming the streets into wind tunnels. The cool breeze tugs at sock caps and make eyes stream. It’s quitting time and people are hurrying to make the train, to catch a cab, to snag a seat at the bar before it fills up for happy hour and there’s no chance of getting a half-priced mojito.
No one is paying close enough attention to see the sweat beaded on my upper lip, or the way Keri’s fingers dig tight into my wrist, let alone to notice the strange way her right hand disappears beneath her brown jacket, the better to keep her gun pressed tight against my ribs.
I clench my jaw and force my feet to keep moving, one after the other, even though everything in me is screaming that I should run. Better to take a chance with a bullet now on the crowded street where I have a chance at getting away. Keri promised that if I came quietly and did what she told me to do, she wouldn’t hurt me. But my gut says that if I let her take me off the street, away from the crush of commuters to a place where we can be alone, just her, me, and that gun, I won’t be walking anywhere ever again.
I almost make a break for it five separate times between the subway station and the entrance to the crumbling brick building beneath the Brooklyn Bridge, but then I think of those two pink lines. I think of the baby and the chance of losing her and the risk grows too big. One life and maybe I would run. But there are two of us now.
Two lives, both depending on me keeping my body in working order, and so I plod along beside my kidnapper, praying that I’m not making a fatal mistake.
Praying that Addie will come to and call the police. Praying that Aaron will think it’s strange that I left with the woman who’s been loitering around the building and leaving me mysterious envelopes, and call the management.
Praying that a window of opportunity will open and I’ll be able to jump through it to safety.
This kidnapping has already gone off book—Keri didn’t plan on Addie coming into the apartment seconds after she’d broken in, or anyone else being able to ID her as the person who forced me from my home. She’s rattled, anxious, and even more high-strung than the last time we had words. If I’m lucky, that will lead to her making a mistake I can use to my advantage.
And if you’re unlucky, it means she shoots you sooner than planned so she can run before she’s caught.
I press my lips together, fighting a wave of nausea as Keri shoves me through a rusted door and toward a trash-littered stairway. I freeze, throat seizing as the door slams closed and the hallway is plunged into shadow. Overhead, the train roars past, the rumble of the cars and the squeal of the wheels over the rails so loud it feels like I’m lying under the tracks.
It’s so loud no one will hear the gun when it fires.
No one will hear me scream.
No one will hear me gasp for my last breath.
“Get moving. Up the stairs.” Keri shoves me between the shoulders just as my fear crescendos, making the world spin and my already unhappy stomach twist in a violent knot. I stumble forward and double over, bending to the right just in time to avoid vomiting on my shoes.
I’m sick until there is nothing left in me and I’m retching bile in thin, liquid streams onto the filthy floor. I stare down at the dirt-streaked tile, seeing rat droppings, a crushed popsicle wrapper, green shattered glass, and my own sickness, and I wonder if this is the last thing I’ll ever see. Will Keri put the gun to my head and shoot me now, saving herself the trouble of climbing the stairs to whatever destination she originally had in mind?
I squeeze my eyes shut as I swipe my sleeve across my mouth, fighting to regain control, to calm down and think of something good, something beautiful. I don’t want to die like this, terrified and hopeless, facing down the evidence of how ugly life can be.
So I think of my parents, of Aunt Tansy, of Wesley, and of all the friends who have lifted me up and made me believe in good things and good people. I think of Cat and Penny and Addie and Fifi, and of my kitties roaming wild on the farm. But mostly I think of Jake. I think of his face and his smell and his warm arms and his eyes that look at me like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. I’ve never felt more special or irreplaceable than when I’m with him.
I focus on memories of our last night together, of his smile and his touch and how right it felt to go to sleep in his arms, and eventually the sickness passes. I stop vomiting and the train passes by overhead. The world goes quiet once more, and I’m still alive.
For now.
“Upstairs,” Keri says in a gentler voice. “I’ve got soda and crackers and ginger tea. I heard those help with morning sickness.”
I stand, glancing down at her with a small nod. “Thank you.”
“I’ve got a toothbrush and toiletries, too,” she says, lifting her chin higher. “I told you, I’m not going to hurt you. I would never hurt a pregnant woman. That’s why I’m doing this myself. I saw how rough the guys were with you on Halloween. If I’d known you were pregnant, I never would have hired them. I promise. That’s not who I am.”
“You hired them,” I say, wondering if I’ll have the chance to tell Jake I told you so. “What were they supposed to do?”
“Rough you up a little,” Keri says. “And then ask you for money to cover Jake’s gambling debts. I thought that would be enough to scare you away.”
“But Jake would have told me that there were no debts, Keri. That plan wouldn’t have worked.”
She shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. You’re pregnant and the plan has changed.”
“How? What are you going to do with me?” I ask, swallowing hard.
“Just get up the stairs.” The softness in her eyes fades, replaced by panic and a stubborn determination that reminds me of a crazy version of Jake. Good thing they didn’t stay together. If they had, they probably would have killed each other sooner or later.
“Now,” she barks. “We don’t have as much time as I thought we would.”
I start up the stairs, thoughts racing, trying to figure out what she has planned and how to talk her out of it. “I know this must have been hard for you. Hearing that Jake and I are pregnant.”
“Save your breath,” she says. “I’m not interested in girl bonding time.”
I walk quietly up to the first landing, pausing until she motions for me to keep going. I start up another flight, skipping a step to avoid treading on a used condom lying squishy and gross in the center of the stair. “Nice place you’ve got here. Rent controlled?”
“It’s going to be torn down next summer,” she says. “Until then it’s the cheapest place in Dumbo. And the most deserted. Everyone else took the landlord’s move-out deal and hit the road.”
“But you enjoy the ghetto chic and smell of rat droppings?”
“I enjoy privacy while I’m painting.” She motions for me to keep going up a third flight of stairs. “I don’t sleep here. And we won’t be here long. Just long enough to pick up supplies.”
“Supplies for…”
She shoves me between the shoulders again. “I can gag you if you’re having a hard time keeping your mouth shut.”
“I do have a hard time with that.” I know I’m pushing my luck, but talking is making this less scary, and less scary is something I desperately need right now. “It’s my worst flaw. I never know when to shut up. What’s your worst flaw? Aside from being fixated on a man who has no interest in living happily ever after with you?”
The next shove—much harder this time—isn’t a surprise, but it still makes me lose my balance. I trip, banging my shin on the stairs. I hiss in pain as I find my feet again and curse my way up to the final landing.
“You’ve got a mouth on you for a rich bitch.”
“Thanks,” I say. “Catholic School.”
“Down the hall, last door on the right.” Keri presses the barrel of the gun against the small of my back. “Go quickly and quietly. When we get inside, I want you to cross the room, sit at the table, and put your arms behind your back. Got it? Don’t answer, just move. Now.”
I move, sensing Keri is losing patience with me and that I won’t enjoy her much once her patience is gone.
As we walk, my eyes dart back and forth to either side of the hall. There are other doors, and maybe people behind some of them, but another train is passing by and I can’t hear anything but the rumbling of the subway and the rattle of the floorboards beneath my feet. The structure seems on the verge of crumbling on in its own—no demo crew required. I can’t believe people are legally allowed to live here, but I’ve been to friends’ apartments that aren’t in much better shape. That wasn’t my first used condom on a staircase, but feeling the floor rattle is something new.
By the time I step inside Keri’s studio, I’m so grateful to see tile and rugs that I practically dash to the table on the other side of the room. Keri moves behind me, tying my wrists together through the slats of the chair, and I let my eyes wander, taking in the giant portraits of haunted-looking children on the walls of the loft, and the blank canvases leaning against the far wall. The space is open except for a doorway in the far corner, which I’m guessing leads to the bathroom. There aren’t any doors aside from the main entrance, but there are lots of windows, one of them with a fire escape visible through the hazy glass.
The fire escape. It’s the first place I’m headed the moment Keri gives me the chance. I have to believe there will be one, an opportunity to rewrite the script and regain my freedom.
“You’ll stay here while I carry the bags down to the car.” Keri tucks the gun into the back of her black pants then hitches a giant duffle bag over one shoulder and grabs several overflowing reusable grocery bags. “Hazard of the neighborhood—you can’t even leave groceries in your car for more than a few minutes unless you want your window busted. Scream if you want; there’s no one close enough to hear you. The only woman still living on this floor went deaf two years ago.”
“I won’t scream, I promise.” I bite my lip until my eyes start to water, sensing I’ll get more out of her with tears than sarcasm. “But will you please tell me where we’re going? Please. I’m scared for the baby, and if I knew where we were going…”
Her expression softens again, but she doesn’t put down the bags. “We’re going to my cabin upstate. My grandparents’ old place. It’s off the grid, but we’ll have everything we need to make it through the winter.”
I blink, the answer so completely not what I was expecting that I forget to look pitiful as I echo, “The winter?”
“The winter and the spring.” An amused smile curves her lips, but she’s the only one getting the joke. “And part of the summer, too. You should deliver in July or August, right? Somewhere around there, unless you go early?”
My jaw drops, but for once in my life I have no words. She has shocked me speechless.
“Once the baby is born, you’ll be free to go. I mean that,” she says firmly. “I’ll turn you loose to find your way back to civilization, and baby Jake and I will go somewhere no one will find us, and be happy.”
I shake my head, still so completely at a loss that all I can do is stare and wait for her to say that she’s kidding. She has to be kidding.
“If I can’t have Jake, I can at least have his son.” She stands up straighter, a sheen creeping into her eyes. “And I’ll be a good mother. I’ll be such a good mother that someday Jake will see that I’m the one he should have picked.”
“Keri…” Her name is a plea for her to stop the insanity and realize this plan is so full of holes it makes my lucky underwear look good as new.
“Love of a child is a powerful thing, and I know Jake is going to love his son so much. He’ll be a wonderful father.”
“He won’t have the chance to be a father if you take our baby away,” I say. “He’ll never know his child, and he will never forgive you for that. If you go through with this, the only thing Jake is going to feel for you is rage and resentment.”
“You don’t know anything about what it’s like between me and Jake. I should have been the mother of his baby, and now I will be.” Her tone hardens, and her jaw clenches until I swear I can hear her teeth squeak as they grind together. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Then you’ll have the chance to brush your teeth and use the restroom before we go. And if you’re good in the car on the way out of the city, you can have crackers and soda once we hit the highway headed upstate.”
“Please, Keri,” I beg as she turns to go. “Please don’t do this!”
But she doesn’t slow. She crosses the room without a backward glance and kicks the door closed behind her.
I force myself to wait until I hear her moving away down the hall before I begin frantically twisting at my wrists. I tug and pull at the rope, but the knots are tight and the slats of the chair solidly constructed. The chair itself is solid, too, but so am I.
I stand, hefting the chair along with me, my head spinning with hope. “Not as smart as you think you are, Keri.” I’m up and on the move. Now I just need to get the hell out of here.
For a second, I consider the door, but I don’t remember seeing another set of stairs, or an elevator, and I don’t want to run into Keri on my way down. Better to try the fire escape.
I waddle across the room to the window, the wooden legs of the chair thudding heavily against my calves as I move. I’m sure I’ll be bruised tomorrow but right now I don’t feel a thing. My adrenaline is running so high that for a second I’m certain I’ll be able to open the window with just the tips of my fingers.
I turn, finding the handle behind my back and tugging—once, twice, three times—but it refuses to budge, and the heavy pane stays tightly closed.
Beneath my feet, the floor begins to vibrate and a moment later the sound of another approaching train fills the air. I glance over my shoulder, calculating how many minutes Keri has been gone. No more than two or three, but that’s enough time for her to be out of earshot. And hopefully the rumble of the train will help cover the sound of shattering glass.
I wait until the grumble becomes a dull roar and then I spin hard, setting the chair on a collision course with the window. The glass vibrates as it repels the wood, sending me stumbling to the left, but I’m back in position a second later. I slam the chair into the pane again and again, until my shoulders are screaming and my arms protest the impact. Finally, on my seventh try, the glass cracks. On the eighth, it breaks.
I sob with relief as I spin to do a quick scan of the opening. There are a few jagged pieces of glass hanging from the top of the window frame, but there’s more than enough room for me to crawl through.
Lugging the chair behind me, I climb awkwardly up onto the ledge and out onto the fire escape, my hair whipping around my head as I move into the path of the wind coming off the river. One look down is enough to make my stomach pitch and my head spin.
Holy shit. Five stories is higher than I thought, and the fire escape is old, rickety, and barely clinging to the crumbling brick. The entrance to the ladder leading down to the floor below is also narrow. So narrow that, as long as I’m tied to this chair, there’s no way I’ll be able to fit.
“Then get rid of the chair, Shane. You’ve got this,” I mutter to myself, refusing to give in to despair.
I’ve made it this far, damn it. I’m going to make it down to the ground, away from this place and this crazy woman. The baby and I are going to be okay, and I’m going to have the chance to tell Jake that I love him—that I love him, and that in the moments when I thought I was going to die, memories of him are the ones that felt the most beautiful and true.
I turn back to the window, gaze honing in on a piece of shattered glass that looks like it’s about even with my bound hands. I drag the chair closer to the window, sit, and scoot back until I feel the shard bump against the knots, breath rushing out as it hits in just the right spot.
I’ve started to wiggle back and forth, slowing sawing through the thick rope, when a deep voice calls my name from inside the loft and relief floods through me so thick and fast it makes my head swim all over again
“Jake!” I cry out, sobbing in the middle of his name. “I’m out here! On the fire escape!”
With a sharp shove of my feet, I scoot around to face him, turning in time to see his handsome face melt into an expression of profound relief. And then I glimpse a blur of black as Keri rushes into the loft behind him, pulling her gun as she moves. My lips part to warn him, to tell him to be careful, but before I can pull in a breath, Keri lifts the weapon, aiming the barrel at my chest.
And then everything seems to happen at once.
Jake turns as Keri’s lips twist with a mixture of pain and rage, and the gun goes off. There’s a boom and a flash—there and gone so fast I’m not completely sure I saw it. But Jake is fast, too. Not as fast as the speed of light, but fast enough to lunge forward as the gun is fired and take the bullet intended for me.
It hits his chest, and he jerks hard to the left, staggering backward one step, then two, before his knees give and he falls to the floor.
Keri drops the gun and rushes to his side, screaming—wild, terrified screams muffled by the roar of another train and the inhuman wail of sirens on the street below.
A few minutes later, the loft is filled with policemen pulling Keri away from Jake and cuffing her, but Jake still doesn’t move.
A female cop falls to her knees beside him, bringing gentle fingers to his neck before shouting something over her shoulder as she shucks her coat. She wads the fabric into a ball, pressing it tight to the wound on his chest. But still he doesn’t move.
Then somehow I’m free and there’s a heavy blanket warm around me, fending off the cold, and a voice asking me if I’m hurt, but all I can do is stare at my lover lying unconscious on the floor.
He is still, so still, and the officer’s hands are covered in blood. Then she’s shaking her head and she looks sad. So, so sad. Her shoulders slump, and when she lifts her gaze to mine her eyes are raw and filled with pain. She tells me that she’s sorry. So sorry. And I realize that one of the best people I’ve ever known is dead.
He’s dead, and I never got to tell him that I loved him, or that we were going to have a baby. I never got to tell him that his smell was home, or that his eyes were the most beautiful place I’d ever been, or that being with him made me feel like the good side of human nature might win out after all.
But it hasn’t.
The good hasn’t won, and it never will. Not for me, or for Jake, or for our baby, who will never know her father.
The brutal reality of it hits, and I hit the floor, taking Jake’s hand in mine and crushing it to my chest as I begin to cry so hard I’m sure I’ll never stop.