Twenty-Two
They laughed from the shadows.Lurked and laughed. Both of them. All of them. They held knives and needles in their hands to cut and poke and hurt and kill.
My hands and feet were free but frozen in place. I stood in the center of the darkness, surrounded by shadows. They reached for me, stabbed me, cut me. My mind flew as drugs invaded my bloodstream, sending me soaring. Even as the world circled around me, I felt every jolt of pain, every tearing muscle.
He ripped me apart, piece by piece, yanking out my insides, breaking my bones. I screamed in agony but made no sound. He was killing me, and I wanted to die. Death would be better than this. Anything would be better than this…
I jerked awake with a gasp of relief. My body throbbed with phantom pain that had, moments ago, been as real as the bedspread under my hands. I fell back against my pillow, concentrating on breathing, letting the nightmare loosen its hold.
It’d been harder than I thought, going back to sleeping alone after the last couple nights. It had been tempting to settle in at Jalen’s place, to not ask him to take me home on Christmas night. If I hadn’t told Maggie to come into work yesterday, I wasn’t sure I would’ve come back yet. Despite my lack of sleep the last two nights, I knew it’d been the right move. Jalen and I were working toward something serious, something I hoped would one day lead to us living under the same roof, but we weren’t there yet.
I still didn’t know exactly what drug Serge had given me while I’d been prisoner, but whatever it was had done a number on my sleep cycle. I’d had more nightmares since then than I’d had in a few years. They’d fade again, I knew, but for now, I was done sleeping.
I reached over and turned on the light. It was still early, but I had plenty to do to pass the time. I’d kept up with the basic cleaning since I’d been back, but I hadn’t done much in the way of anything else. That seemed like the perfect way to spend a couple hours until the office opened. Some mindless physical exertion to clear my mind.
I’d just gotten out of the shower and dressed after having thoroughly dusted, swept, and scrubbed everything I could think of when someone knocked on my door. I checked the time to make sure I wasn’t running behind, but I had a half-hour before Maggie was due.
“Clay, what are you doing here?” I blurted out the question before I realized how it sounded. A gust of wind made me shiver, and I folded my arms to warm myself up. “I mean, come in. It’s freezing out there.”
“Thank you,” he said as he stepped inside. He rubbed his hands together, then cupped them in front of his mouth and blew on his fingers.
“Want some coffee?” I asked as he bent to take off his boots. “I just made a fresh pot.”
“That’d be great, thank you,” he said. “Just a spoonful of sugar, if you don’t mind.”
“I remember,” I said with a smile.
The first time Clay had come over to the loft to work on the case that had introduced he and Anton, my uncle had asked me to make them coffee. When Clay had asked for a spoonful of sugar, I’d been unable to resist making aMary Poppinsjoke. Anton had apologized for me, mortified I’d said something like that to an FBI agent. Clay, however, had just laughed and said that he’d never made the connection.Mary Poppinshad been his favorite movie when he was four and five years old. He’d worn out his family’s copy of it. Anton had harassed him about it every time they had coffee together after that.
I glanced at Clay and saw a reflection of my own nostalgia on his face.
“I miss him too,” he said quietly. “He’d be so proud of you, you know.”
I shook my head. “Not after what happened at Quantico. There was a lot he and I didn’t talk about, but when we did, we were always honest with each other. He would’ve been ashamed of me for lying.”
“We all make mistakes.”
I handed him the mug of coffee. “We do.”
Our eyes met, and I knew we didn’t need to talk about things anymore. What happened was in the past, and it would stay there.
“Not that I’m not glad to see you,” I said as I took my coffee to the sofa, “but what brings you here this early?”
“News.” He sat down next to me. “The task force the bureau put together raided an auction last night and got their hands on the books for the trafficking ring that had you. Sixteen people were rescued, and we have the names of the people who bought the rest of the group you were with. Warrants went out an hour ago, and arrests are being made as we speak.”
I stared at him, unsure if I understood him correctly. “You got them?”
His expression was far too sober for it to be all good news. “We took down six traffickers and twelve potential buyers, including two that matched your descriptions of the scrawny guy and Yerik, but no one named Serge.”
I was glad to hear about the rescued people and the arrests made, but the fact that Serge was still out there didn’t sit well – obviously. I took a moment to compose myself before saying anything. I didn’t want to seem like I didn’t appreciate the work the FBI had done. In the whole scheme of things, one kidnapping wasn’t at the top of crimes Serge and his men had done.
“That’s great, Clay,” I said with a half-forced smile. “Hopefully the guys you arrested will be able to point you in the right direction to find Serge.”
“The federal prosecutor on the case is already laying out a couple deals for information.” He set down his mug. “We already got something out of Yerik though. Not about Serge. About you.”
“Me?” I wasn’t sure what Yerik could’ve told the FBI about me that would’ve been of interest. They already knew I’d been drugged and beaten. Okay, maybe I said some strange things when I’d been high, but I couldn’t think of anything the FBI would want to know.
“When you were mugged a couple weeks ago, it wasn’t some random attack.”