Page 67 of The Hitch
"It will." Conviction shines in her eyes. She believes every single word she's saying. And it helps me believe her, too. "I know it will work."
Helena and I lost our shoes. Both of us. We tried throwing them at the light switch over on the far wall, but neither of us played softball—or baseball—and the horrendous lights stay on. They cast a clinical glow over everything in this disgusting basement. Clearly, Ella never had the forethought to install a drain like Dante did.
And I'm starting to smell myself. I don't know how long we've been here, maybe only a day? But the shooting range was sweaty work, as was panicking in a grocery store bathroom. The freshscent of my deodorant is long gone, and it just adds to the frantic misery I find myself spiraling into. Running my finger along my arm, I wince at the thin layer of grime coating my skin.
"Do you think they have cameras down here?" I whisper to Helena, trying not to move my mouth.
She shakes her head. "No. Before that dickhead turned the lights on, I looked everywhere for even the faintest hint of a red light. Infrared, you know? Sometimes you can see it. But look at the ceilings—there's nowhere to hide one."
I follow her gaze to the concrete ceiling. She's right. There aren't any vents—there are no dome-like cameras attached to the solid walls enclosing us. The only thing in the room with us is the bolted-down chair and our fucking cages. Oh, and our shoes scattered across the floor.
"What about the stairwell?" I ask, squinting into the light. I can only see the first five steps or so, but beyond that is a mystery.
"Maybe," she shrugs. "But wouldn't they want us to know we're being watched? Adding to the element of fear?"
"You've really thought this out," I say with the ghost of a smile.
"Comes with the job, babes. And, um, Melody? I'm really,reallysorry I didn't protect you." Her voice cracks again, and I find myself welling up with tears, too. Figures that it would take unlawful imprisonment to learn that I'm a sympathetic crier.
"You did protect me. Youareprotecting me. Don't ever apologize to me, okay?" I hoist myself up on my knees, pulling on the bars between us. "Promise?"
"I can't promise that." She reaches out and grazes my fingertips with hers.
My stomach lets out averyundignified growl. "Shit. Do you think they're just going to starve us down here?"
"No. No way. Ella wants to put you away. She wants the glory of catching a murderer, right? She wants the accolades. She'llkeep us alive. There's no way she'll just let us die down here." Her stomach growls, too. "Hey, Melody?"
"Yeah?"
Helena's voice drops to a whisper. "Why did you lie for me?"
I furrow my brow and shake my head. "What do you mean?"
"When you said I didn't know. When you said I never knew about… any of the things you did. Why did you tell her that?"
I laugh. "Oh, easy. Because I don't fucking trust cops, and there's not a chance in hell that I'd implicate you in anything."
"But you could've—"
"But Iwouldn't." I sit up straight and stare into her eyes. "She already knew about me. Hell, she's probably known for months. She just needed me to say it. She'll probably, I don't know, get a promotion or something? I don't know how cop jobs work. She'll be the long-suffering detective who put me away. There's no reason for you to be anything but a footnote in the case file."
"She's not going to put you away." Helena meets my gaze with her own. "Guarantee it. She'll try, and Dante will fuck her over at every turn. But still… thank you."
"Thank you. For everything. I feel like… I feel like you're the first real friend I've had in a long time." I smile with a tearful sniff. "Even though you're paid to hang out with me."
Helena laughs and wipes away the tear rolling down her own cheek. "Easiest money of my life. Can't believe I get paid to hang out with my best friend, really."
Best friend. Holy shit. Those two little words shouldn't make me sob uncontrollably, but I'm going to blame that on the pregnancy hormones. I never really had a best friend when I was growing up. Sure, I had my friendgroup,but I always felt like a hanger-on. The obligation. Always invited to things last or as a runner-up.
If only those little shits could see me now. My best friend is a badass ex-military queen who could beat the shit out of them—or anyone—without breaking a sweat. Not only that, but she listens to me. And she talks to me, really talks to me, without making me feel like a burden. Someone to be placated.
"I love the hell out of you, Helena." I laugh again. I really do love her—platonically. It's funny, I said those words to her before I said anything remotely like that to Dante.
"Love you, too. Sorry if this is weird, but you kind of… you kind of feel like more of a sister than my actual sister." She rubs her eyes and stifles another laugh.
"Not weird. I get it. Never had any siblings, but if this is what it's like? Sign me the fuck up."
"Maybe you'll have a handful of kids with Dante, so they'll have siblings." She lolls her head to the side, smiling serenely.
