Breathe In Page 10

  That’s exactly how I feel. Pointless and meaningless. I’ve holed up in this apartment for three days and I’m restless. I could go somewhere. I should go somewhere. A little fresh air would be good for me. A rush of excitement zings through my body as I dart to the bedroom and snag a pair of baggy sweats from my dresser.

  Back to the living room, I open the closet in search of a warm jacket. As I slip into a puffy coat, I remember it’s the middle of the night. Paused, both hands frozen in place on the zipper, I’m distraught and confused. I can’t go out at these hours. I want to, though. Why can’t I? I just need some fresh air.

  The old Tessa wouldn’t dare go out at this hour. She’d be too terrified. But that girl is gone. Am I scared now? I search inward, expecting fear and trepidation. I’m not afraid. Not yet. I need to get out of this damn apartment. I zip up the coat, grab my keys off the counter, and head out the front door before I can analyze it any further.

  Once outside, the frigid night air hits my face and invigorates my whole being. I stand on the sidewalk and look right, then left. The streets are empty. Frost covers every windshield. My heart races and I rub my hands together in nervous anticipation. I have no idea where I’m going, but it feels good to be out of that stuffy building. I take a left.

  Three blocks down, I sense the space between myself and the apartment expanding beyond my comfort level. My pace slows as my bravery wavers. I don’t know if I can do this. I zip the zipper up the last inch so that it’s nestled just under my chin. Another block or two, then I’ll head back.

  With my head down against the wind, I squelch my internal dialogue and put one foot in front of the other. There’s nothing to be afraid of. The sound of a man’s laughter gains my attention and my chin snaps up. Almost to the corner of Jefferson and Third, I scan the area and don’t see anyone. I round the corner and look down the street. A small group of men stumble out of the pub half a block down. By the sound of their ruckus I know they’re drunk out of their minds. I scoot back behind the brick of the building. My breath plumes in front of my face in short bursts. I need to get home.

  I turn and hurry back the way I came. Their voices echo somewhere behind me. I can’t tell if they are following me or not. I can’t bring myself to look back, but now I’m panicked. It’s hard to breathe. My chest tightens. I break into a sprint. All I can hear is my brisk breathing echoing in my ears and my feet slapping against the pavement. Empty stores flash by. My vision blurs with tears. I wasn’t ready for this.

  Like a bad dream, I feel as if I’m running in slow motion. When my foot finally hits the first steps of my apartment building I’m frantic to get inside. I reach into my jacket pocket and fish out the keys. With shaky hands, I wrestle with them for a moment before I unlock the door. As I slip inside and turn to shut the door behind me, I scan the street. No one is around. The block is empty. Drunk men weren’t chasing me. My imagination got the best of me.

  I shut the door harder than necessary and hustle back to my unit. I’ve had enough excitement for one night. I’m ashamed and angry with myself. Once inside the apartment, I peel out of my coat and make a beeline for the kitchen. Why? I pace back and forth staring down at my feet, mumbling under my breath, “I’m such a stupid girl. I’m a pathetic, scared wimp.” The girl I was before still loiters somewhere within. I can’t even go outside without having a panic attack. Jake and Vance are dead, but they’ve won. They laugh at me beyond their graves. I’m at their mercy. Forever.

  Agitation fills me, bubbling to the surface so that it dances under my skin. It feels like bugs crawling over me. I want to drag my nails over every inch of my body. Am I losing my mind? Desperate for relief, I pull a paring knife from the knife block. I pull the sleeve of my sweatshirt up above my left elbow. Hands shaking, I push slowly, until the sharp point pierces the skin inside my forearm. Cherry-red fluid breaks through and beads up around the steel. I barely feel the sting as the skin splits open and blood trickles down to my elbow. Yes. Unsatisfied, I cut three more slices under that one. The last is deeper than the rest and a hiss escapes my lips as the pain sears down to my wrist. In awe, I pause and inspect my handiwork. They run parallel to one another, like rows of a garden. It looks beautiful somehow.

  My hands have stopped trembling and the agitation has soothed. Without contemplation, I wash the knife and slip it back into the block on the counter, where it belongs. Relief floods my system and eases the tension in my shoulders. Fatigue creeps in and my thoughts grow murky. I reach for the paper towels and unravel a long bit before wrapping it around my forearm. I’m too tired for anything else. Wandering out of the kitchen and down the hall, my eyes droop heavily.

  I think I can sleep now.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  A shrill racket pierces my wandering thoughts as I stare at the blank wall across the room. I jerk backward, pushing the kitchen chair out and wracking my knee against the table leg. Shit! Disoriented, I stand and turn in a circle before I realize it’s my smoke alarm going off. Shit, the eggs. I turn and bolt to the stove. With a flick of the wrist the burner is off. I toss the skillet to the side. The bottom is scorched and so are my scrambled eggs.

  Desperate to stop the ear-piercing commotion, I lean across the sink and throw open the small window. I grab the dishtowel that hangs over the handle of the stove and begin waving it up and down, hoping to fan the smoke out the window. The motion aggravates the scabbed-over cuts on my arm. A knocking at my front door cuts through the ruckus.

  Waving my flag, I consider ignoring the door in hopes that whoever is there will give up and leave. They’re probably just neighbors wanting to complain about the noise anyway. The alarm stops as quickly as it started, leaving a sharp ringing in my ears.

  Another knock echoes through the apartment. Shit. “I’m coming.” I toss the towel to the kitchen table and scurry down the hall, pulling the sleeves of my shirt all the way down to cover my arm. Just before I reach for the handle, I spot my reflection in the small sun-shaped mirror behind the door. My hair falls out of a messy bun in disarray. My cheeks have a sunken, sallow, zombie-like appearance. I’m wearing the same baggy sweats and sweatshirt I’ve had on for the past two…no, three days. I grab my sweatshirt and give it a quick sniff. Doesn’t smell all that great. I shrug and open the door.

  Officer MacGregor stands in front of me in his police uniform. His fresh, clean appearance exacerbates my own uncleanliness. I should have ignored the damn door.

  “Umm, hey. Hello.”

  He cocks one eyebrow. “Miss Benson. Is everything all right?”

  “Oh, yeah, just set off the smoke alarm.” I giggle nervously, and wipe a strand of hair away from my face. “It’s a usual occurrence when I cook. Nothing to worry about.” I grasp the doorknob tighter. His presence represents things I’d rather not think about this morning. A muscle under my right eye twitches. “Is there something I can help you with?”

  He takes a subtle glance at my outfit. “There have been a few things that have come up with your case and I’d like to ask you a few questions, if that’s all right? I tried calling a few times yesterday and then again this morning, but there was no answer. I thought I’d drop by and check up on you. I hope that’s okay?”

  My mind races. I step back and open the door wider, though I’m reluctant to invite him in. As if sensing my hesitation, he lingers in the hall. Ashamed of myself, I wave my hand in a welcoming gesture. “Please come in. I’m sorry if it smells like burned eggs, but I…well, I got distracted.” I look down at my sweats. “And I’m still in my PJs, so if you’re okay with that, I’m okay with that.” But I’m really not okay with it. He’s handsome and I reek. Besides, I’m in no shape for company these days.

  A grin spreads over his features like wildfire as he steps inside. “I’m okay with that. You look fine to me.”

  I shut the door behind him and scurry toward the living room, sniffing the air to see if it smells as bad as I do. Only burnt eggs waft over the air. “Can I make you a cup
of coffee?”

  “No. I’m fine. Don’t go to any trouble. I won’t stay long.”

  I stand by the couch and wait for him to sit on the loveseat before I sit kitty-corner from him.

  As he sits, the leather on his gun belt squeaks. His posture is stiff and I wonder if it’s the uniform or the topic of conversation that has him so uptight. “It must be uncomfortable to be in that uniform all day.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The uniform. It looks uncomfortable.”

  He looks down as if thrown off by my question. “I guess. I never really thought about it, but yeah, now that you mention it, it’s not the most comfortable outfit I own. I’d much rather be in sweats.” He gives me an innocent wink.

  My skin flushes with embarrassment.

  “I’m just teasing,” he says. “Breaking the ice and all that.”

  I offer a smile. “Told you I was still in my pajamas. I wasn’t expecting company.”

  “I know, I know. Like I said before, I’m sorry I popped over here like this but I tried calling multiple times. Your phone goes straight to voicemail like it’s off or the battery is dead. I figured it’d be best to drop by and chat with you myself.”

  “I don’t have my phone anymore. I haven’t had it since that night.” As the words leave my lips, I instantly regret them.

  He catches the beat change. “The night you were kidnapped? Do you happen to know when you had it last? Maybe we can locate it.”

  My eyes wander the apartment. “I know where it’s at. I just haven’t gone to pick it up yet.”

  “Miss Benson? Do you mind if I ask where your phone has been this whole time? When we went over the details of that night, you simply said you lost your phone that night.”

  I sigh. “I did. In my boyfriend’s…my ex-boyfriend’s car.” The look on Tom’s face when he paid me a visit at the hospital pops into my mind. I’m not supposed to speak of him. Of us.

  “Your ex-boyfriend’s car? Miss Benson, you never mentioned anything about a boyfriend or an ex or anything of that sort.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s because we broke up and I don’t really want to talk about it. I didn’t want to bring it up. He had nothing to do with the rest of that night, so I didn’t feel like it was worth mentioning.”

  “Miss Benson, I understand your concern with remaining discreet, but it really is best if we know everything we can in detail about that night. If your ex saw someone or something that could help lead us to clues that might fill in the gaps, then maybe we could close this case.”

  “See, that’s what’s so frustrating about this whole thing. Why is there still ‘a case’? The men who kidnapped me are dead. What’s left to investigate?”

  He pauses as if contemplating how to articulate his next thoughts. “Miss Benson…”

  “Would you please stop calling me that!”

  “I’m sorry. Would you prefer I call you Tessa?”

  I sigh. “No. I mean, yes, you can call me Tessa. I’m sorry, I’m just agitated. I’m not sleeping well lately.”

  A look of empathy passes quickly. “Tessa, there is still a very thorough investigation in place because it’s important that we find out who was willing to pay men like Vance and Jake for these types of films. We have reason to believe they are linked to other cases in the area like it.”

  “Sheila Weaverton.”

  He cocks his head to the side. “What makes you say that?”

  I shrug. “Nothing in particular.”

  “Did they mention her?”

  “No. Not directly. But they did mention ‘the last one’ and how they had taken care of her quickly so they wanted to make sure to drag mine out. To make it more entertaining. They never said her name, but I knew who they were talking about.”

  The fact that there was a man who would pay money for my snuff film jolts me back to reality. I’d somehow forgotten that detail. For some reason, I let myself believe that the whole ordeal died with Jake and Vance. It didn’t occur to me that there was still an accomplice to my attempted murder out there somewhere. My stomach sours and my mouth waters as I fight a burst of nausea.

  “Are you all right? You look pale.”

  I stand and walk to the kitchen. “I just need some water.” I float above the floor as I walk to the sink. I’m worried I might pass out, so I focus on one step and then the other. Without waiting for the water to get cold, I fill and chug a small tumbler. The room steadies. I sense him behind me. I turn.

  He stands in the kitchen archway. “You doing okay?”

  “Fine. I’m fine.” I walk to the kitchen table and plop down at the chair I sat in earlier, when I let my eggs burn. “I just, I guess I didn’t think about the fact that there was anyone else out there related to…to my situation. I’m not sure how to process that, or how to feel about it.”

  “Understandable.” He walks toward me. “Can I sit?”

  “Of course.”

  He sits across from me, his gaze direct but calming. His blue eyes sparkle with genuine concern. “Can I ask who all you interacted with that evening? Maybe if we go over the details of that night, something might come up that didn’t seem odd at the time, but seems odd looking back.”

  I shake my head, reluctant to mull over the details again. “I told you. I did see Vance that night at the club. I remembered him from the library a few days before. Jake was next to him, but I didn’t know who he was yet. They’re the only ones I remember seeing. No one else seemed to be with them.”

  His lips purse together in concentration. “Okay, well, who did you talk with that night? Did you run into anyone? Dance with anyone?”

  Memories of the incident in Tom’s car rush forward, but I don’t want to talk about that. “I danced with my ex, Tom, but that was it.” I pause, watching his face to see if he believes me. “Oh, and we ran into Gerald that night too, but we didn’t really talk.”

  “Gerald? Who is that?”

  With a flick of the wrist, I toss the question aside, as if unimportant. “Oh, he’s a guy I was seeing a while back. No big deal.”

  “Another ex?”

  “No. I mean, yeah, I guess. We dated for a couple of weeks, but I wasn’t into him. Nice guy. Too nice, probably. Other than him, I really didn’t interact with anyone other than Terin. So there’s no reason to hash it out again.”

  “Well, that may or may not be true, which is why I ask all the annoying questions over and over again, because you just never know when something will trigger a thought or idea that leads to a clue. We have no idea how they choose the women they target. Do they know the women? Is it random? We don’t know. That said, this all leads me to why I came by in the first place.”

  My heart stops. Then starts again, thundering like racehorse hooves against my ribcage. “Why? Why did you come by?” I already know the answer.

  His blue gaze holds mine. “I know I said I wouldn’t ask again but…”

  “Then don’t.”

  He sighs and closes his eyes for the briefest of moments before opening them again. “I have to.”

  I clench my teeth so tight my jaw aches.

  “Tessa, I’m sorry, but we need that SD card.”

  I stand, knocking the chair back abruptly, the legs scraping the floor. “No!”

  He stands, his stance wide and firm. “Calm down. I know why you don’t want it to get out, Tessa. I understand. I really do. But there might be something, anything that could lead us to whoever buys these films. Don’t you see?”

  My hands shake so hard I can’t hide it, so I jam them into my sweat pockets. I’m torn. I want to catch the asshole behind this whole ugly scheme but I can’t bring myself to let that video out to anyone. I can’t bear it. “I don’t have it,” I lie. “I burned it.”

  “You burned it?” He knows I’m lying. I don’t care.

  “Yes. I burned it. As soon as I was released from the hospital.”

  Silence fills the room as he eyeballs me suspiciously. His voice is calm when he spe
aks, almost a whisper. “Listen, Tessa. I’m here to help you. I want to help you. With your cooperation, we can find this guy and anyone else who could be linked to these crimes. It would give you, and whoever else they’ve done this to, justice. I want that and I know you want that. But I need your assistance.”

  Tears spill over. “I can’t. I just can’t.”

  His body language softens. He understands. I sense that he wants to offer me comfort but knows I’m not ready to accept it.

  “Is there anything I can do for you right now?”

  I press my lips tight to stop them from quivering. “No. Thank you. I just need to be alone.”

  He reaches into his front shirt pocket and pulls out a business card. “If you need anything, I’m serious, anything at all, you call me. If you remember something they said, or a name they mentioned that could prove useful, just call. I’m here for you, Tessa.”

  I nod. “Okay.” Just leave. Just leave.

  “I’ll show myself out.”

  I nod. When he walks away, I stand, frozen to that spot in the kitchen until I hear the front door close. I wait another minute while I imagine him walking down the hall and out of the building. Then I wait just a bit longer to be sure. When I know he’s long gone, I snatch the paring knife, pull up the sleeve on the opposite arm, and carve out matching parallel lines. A sharp hiss escapes my lips with each desperate slice. The pain offers some relief. I’ll take what I can get.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Standing in front of the display of apples, I try to tune out the myriad of sounds of the local grocery store. I’d never noticed the sheer amount and variety of sounds that assault a person every single day. Lately, I can’t un-notice it. I don’t like the feeling I get when I’m out in crowds now. Like I’m too vulnerable, like I stick out like a sore thumb. Though when I take a look around, no one even seems to notice I’m there.