Page 83 of Fade Out
“My hands, get my hands.”
I felt around the back of him. His hands were bound with the same tape. I began pulling at it, loosening it as I had the gag. Then I stopped. What was I doing? I had a paring knife in my pocket. I pulled it out and managed to cut the tape off Brian’s hands. Then, I reached up to take off the gag, but Brian was already working the tape over his head.
“How do we get out of here?” he asked.
I took him by the hand and began walking toward what I thought was the outer wall. I held my free hand in front of me, moving it from side to side in case I encountered something I wasn’t expecting. I was pretty sure there was nothing down here but the parking ramp, but I didn’t want to find out the hard way that I was wrong.
I found the wall and let go of Brian’s hand. “Grab hold of my jeans in the back. He felt around my back, reached up under the tux jacket and got hold of my jeans. I took a moment to wipe my bleeding nose. Big mistake. I almost whimpered from the pain.
With one hand touching the wall and the other out in front of me, I led us up the ramp rather quickly. In a short time we were standing at ground level looking down into the parking structure we’d just come out of. Brian said, “You killed two people, didn’t you?”
“I don’t know. I might have.”
I thought the next thing he’d say would be that it was wrong or that we needed to call the police. Instead he asked, “Did you leave any evidence?”
“I left a knife,” I said. “With my fingerprints on it.”
“Nick, you need to get the knife.”
Shit. I had to go back down in there. I should have thought things through. For a moment, I didn’t know if I could do it. Then, I told myself not to think. To just do.
“Stay here,” I said, and then I began to retrace my steps, back down into the darkness. I moved down quickly, using the same method I’d used coming up. One arm on the wall, one in front of me. I moved quickly because I knew it was unlikely I’d encounter anything.
Chapter Nineteen
Fumbling around in the dark,I knew I was probably leaving footprints in Possum’s blood. Better they have my shoe size than my fingerprints. Still, just to be safe, I deliberately slid my feet around to obscure any prints. I crouched and felt around Possum. I was pretty sure he was dead. I began close to his body and then branched out.
It was quiet, the only sound I heard was my own breathing. Finally, I found the knife and snatched it up. Slipping the knife into the pocket of the tux jacket, I stood fully erect. I knew I should just walk over to the wall and feel my way back up to the surface. But there was something I wanted to check, something I needed to know.Was Rita really dead?
I moved my foot around in the dark, trying to find her body on the floor. Nothing. Nothing at all. I stepped on her purse. I stepped on some of the things that had fallen out of it—breaking them with loud crunches. But no Rita. I kept kicking my foot around. I began to get the sick feeling she wasn’t there.
She was alive.
Brian. I’d left Brian alone. I hurried over to the wall. Keeping one hand on it, I ran, ran in the pitch black, ran upwards until I was at the top of the ramp.
“Brian. Brian where—”
He stepped out from where he’d been standing next to the base of the building. “Sorry. I had to pee. I’ve had to pee for like the last hour.”
“I couldn’t find Rita. I think she’s still alive. I think she’s somewhere around. We have to get out of here.”
I led Brian over to the open gate and then across the street to my car. We got into the car. Brian dug around in the glove compartment as I pulled away from the curb. He handed me a tiny packet of tissues. I shoved a couple up my nose.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
He ignored that and asked, “What does it mean if Rita’s alive?”
“I don’t know,” I said, honestly.
“She’ll come after you again.”
“I’ll have to figure out how to stop her.” And I would have to figure out how to stop Deanna Hansen and ADA Sanchez from coming after me too. For a moment that was overwhelming. I had to hold tight to the steering wheel and focus on the road.
About then, I began to feel sticky. Possum had bled all down the front of me. And then I’d bled all over me. My shirt was glued to my chest with blood.
“What if you can’t make her stop?” Brian asked.
I didn’t know what to say to that. He was asking if he should be afraid that Rita would come after him again. The adrenaline from saving Brian had worn off and the realization that I’d put my friend, my dear friend, in danger had begun to take hold. And it wasn’t just Brian, it was anyone close to me. Anyone close to me was in danger as long as Rita was alive.
