House of Steel (21 page)

“Speaking of, there he is.” Mark pointed his
beer at the screen. The screen flashed to a previous shot of
President Givens and a man shaking hands.
Holston Parker.
Delaney’s raised bottle slipped from her hands, crashing on the
wooden bar. Beer foamed from the bottle, spilling down the opposite
side of the bar.

“Damn!” She jumped up, tipping the
half-broken bottle back up before the bartender moved with towel in
hand to the spill, wiping it up with a few sweeps. He shot a look
at Evie.

“Too much to drink already, little lady?”
the bartender scoffed as he picked up the shards from the bar and
remaining bottle.

“Fuck you,” Delaney spat back before she
could stop herself.
Holston Parker is Fedora?

“Delaney, relax.” Mark placed his hand on
his sister’s arm.

“Sorry about that,” she muttered under her
breath as she turned toward Evie, her eyes unmoving from Delaney.
What the hell does Holston Parker want with me? My family.
Mark.
Her mind raced as she flashed to the hospital. The
church. The mask. Theron’s jacket. The pieces lay scattered in her
mind with no interlocking pieces and two unsuspecting employees in
front of her
.
She looked back at Mark.
He couldn’t know
anything about this.
Her eyes floated back to Evie.
She
knows something.

“I’ve got to get some air. I’ll be… back.”
Delaney stumbled as she moved from her stool.

“I’ll come with you,” James replied,
starting to stand.

“I got it,” she said, sliding her shaking
feet along the tile, moving toward the back of the pub again.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Evie added, pushing
her body off the bar from her leaned position.

“I got it,” Delaney yelled as she moved down
the hallway of canvases. She spotted the steely gray eyes, holding
the shovel, as she stumbled to the back door. A fedora lying on the
ground next to him, near his feet.
Fedora.

The sound of bass filled her ears as the
gorilla turned on music from behind the bar. The back door was only
a few feet away. She needed to feel the icy air in her lungs, the
coolness on her face. Her hip felt the hard, scratching surface of
the mortar as she collided with the brick wall to her left. She
stumbled back and pushed the wooden door open with both hands.

26

DAY 4: Sunday, December 21 – 4:05 p.m.

Evie’s eyes trailed Delaney down the hall,
watching her stagger along the floor of the bar. Laughter filled
her head as she narrowed on the pink heels. Gunnar would be
waiting. Watching. Somewhere. If Gunnar couldn’t get to Evie, then
he would take Delaney because he knew that Evie would follow
Delaney. She needed to give Delaney a lead with just enough time
for him to take her. Evie knew where he was headed. There was only
one place now that the building along the river was out, swarmed
with hoards of students and uniforms searching for a trace of
Theron. Gunnar wasn’t insane enough to go back there. He wouldn’t
hurt her, but she wondered how much more Delaney could take. Evie
would find out just how much Delaney meant to Holston.

“Mark, look at her.” The sound of James’s
voice snapped her back to her current problem, Mark and James.

“I’ll get her,” Mark said, hopping off his
stool before Evie could protest. She threw a hundred dollar bill on
the bar before leaning across it.

“Make sure they stay,” she whispered to
Ethan before turning her attention on James whose eyes were
following Delaney down the hall.

“Stay and drink. I got this. Lady talk. It
might be awhile,” she yelled over the music as she grabbed Mark’s
arm, spinning him around. “I’ve got it covered. We’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? You don’t know my sister,”
Mark replied, looking down at her.

“I don’t know Delaney, but you know me. Just
stay. Trust me,” she asserted, pushing him back to the seat. She
watched as Ethan turned his back and slipped small white pills into
two bottles of Miller. They would stay. Ethan would make sure of
it.

Evie’s boots made their way down the hall,
following the footsteps of the heels minutes before. Delaney was
out of sight, already in the alley. She paused as she heard the
clanging of a bell and felt a draft of cold air. The door closed,
but not before she saw a glimpse of his white hair. Gunnar had been
in the bar all along.

27

DAY 4: Sunday, December 21 – 4:05 p.m.

Delaney pressed against the door and shifted
all her weight to burst into the silent alley ahead. The harsh air
of the December night pierced her lungs before the heavy door
closed behind her, sealing the pounding music of Atlas Pub inside.
Her feet slid against the ice, trying to get traction. She knew she
would be better off without them, despite the burn she’d feel when
the ice stabbed the flesh of her feet. As she leaned down to take
them off, a bell clanged behind her. The ringing was followed by
the creak of a door closing and a deep voice grunting through the
icy air.

“Hey, Delaney.”

The voice was deeper and stronger than she
remembered. She last heard it two days ago – he had warned her that
he had never wanted to see her again. His electric blue eyes
flashed through her mind followed by Mr. Rowan’s lifeless body in a
pool of blood. The rancid smell of singed hair and menthol wafted
into her pulsing head. With pumps clutched in her hand, Delaney
sprinted toward the end of the alley to the flashes of red
taillights two blocks ahead. The footsteps pounded heavy behind
her, closing in with every step. A yank on her arm pulled her body
back as his arms surrounded her. She stabbed the air blindly with
the five inch spike of her heel, desperate to connect anywhere on
his body.

“Damn!” Gunnar yelled as she finally made
contact, connecting with his shoulder.

“LET GO!” she screamed as she wriggled and
stabbed, connecting again, this time to his face. His white hair
kicked forward as rage filled his eyes.

“BITCH!” He grabbed her wrists, twisting
them. The pink heels dropped to the ground as she cried in pain.
His hand covered her mouth, stifling the sound. She clenched her
teeth, opening her mouth to clamp down on his hand.

“Oh no, you don’t.” He kicked the back of
her legs, dropping her to her knees. She wailed out again as he
wrenched her arms behind her back and hard plastic wrapped against
her wrists as he bound them together. She stared straight ahead at
the taillights before blackness consumed her, feeling a soft black
cloth around her head.
God, no.

“Get up,” he whispered in her ear as she
felt the fight escape from her body. Her hands were immoveable
behind her back, and her knees throbbed with agony. As her mind
desperately begged to assess the odds of her getting out of this
alive, the soft hum of an engine filled the air. He shoved her to
the side of the building, watching as his black car pulled to a
stop. He reached out, opening the back door. She felt a slight
release from his pull and instinctively lurched forward to run
away. Her head yanked back as he grabbed a fistful of loose hair
that was still visible beneath the sack.

“Cut the crap. Get in,” he hissed heavy in
her ear. Her body was pushed forward, sprawling, as she landed on
the leather.

“Go.” Gunnar’s voice rumbled as he climbed
in next to her, shutting the door as the car accelerated.

28

DAY 4: Sunday, December 21 – 4:07 p.m.

Headlights flooded the alley as Evie closed
the bar door shut, tucking her head back into the warmth inside.
She hadn’t expected Delaney to fight as much as she did and was
amusingly surprised. The sound of the car passing by prompted her
to crack the door again. Evie watched as Gunnar shoved Delaney into
the sedan, the black bag over her head disappearing into the seat
before he climbed in after her. She squinted, seeing the back of a
familiar head behind the wheel, but it couldn’t possibly be him. It
couldn’t be.

Be vigilant
. She breathed inward,
taking one quick look into the bar before she slipped into the
alley, waiting for the red taillights to turn to the right. They
were going west, just as she had suspected. She smiled for the
first time in months as her boots fell heavily on the surface,
propelling her to the car parked three blocks to the south.

Ethan could be trusted to occupy Mark and
James. She had known Ethan as long as she could remember. They had
found ways to bide the time during those long nights in their
childhood. It was Ethan who had taught her to be a fighter.

Evie ran forward onto the second block,
passing by garbage cans and a vacant parking lot. The town, stunned
by the bloody crime scene, coiled back into their homes while the
students went out searching for one of their own.

4:07 p.m. The vision of Theron lying in the
bed, his legs and arms strapped to the bed, flashed in her mind.
The white gauze wrapped around his chest. But she couldn’t bring
him to the hospital. Not yet. Not with Delaney in Gunnar’s hands.
He would never let her live if Theron was dead. The hard metal of
her gun, rubbing against her ribs, soothed her as she narrowed in
on her gray sedan parked in front of the riverside Victorian homes.
She was only ten minutes out.

29

DAY 4:Sunday, December 21 - 4:10 p.m.

The warmth of her breath inside the black
hood comforted Delaney as she lie motionless on the leather of the
back seat. The hardness of the barrel against her leg served as a
reminder to be still. She winced as the blood trickled into her eye
from the blow Gunnar had given her just minutes before as she
writhed and kicked in the back seat. A resounding ”NO!” had filled
the car from the seat ahead of her just before she felt the metal
against her skull and the excruciating pain that seared through her
head. She screamed in agony before it had swelled, the blood and
heat rushing to her head. Immediately after, the sound of hands
hitting the steering wheel swirled in her head.

Her body jostled back and forth with the
turns of the car while the black fabric clung to her cheeks, wet
from the blood and sweat pouring down her face. Her lips were
moistened with a salty, metallic taste.
Gunnar.
She had
caught a glimpse of his white hair and snake-like scar just before
she had connected her heel to his face. It was definitely Gunnar,
the man from Joe’s shop. He had followed her to Atlas Pub, watching
her all along. Her head reeled as her mind played back the vision
of Theron’s jacket burning in the fireplace beneath the stacked
logs. The matches with an embossed V, still in her pocket, singed
against her leg. Was
Gunnar V?

Her bare feet curled up beneath her as she
fought to keep them warm. She twitched as she felt a cold finger
against her foot.

“Pink toenail polish. Fitting,” Gunnar said
beside her. She winced, curling her feet deeper into the crack of
the seat, her knees now folded so deep they ached.

“Stop whining,” Gunnar grunted as the car
began slowing. “It doesn’t suit you.” He tapped the gun against her
knee.

“For Christ’s sake.” Delaney heard the voice
whisper in the front seat before two hands pounded against the
wheel again.

“Fuck you,” Gunnar hissed low next to her.
“Just pull the car ahead.”

The hum of the wheels against the pavement
disappeared as the car bumped her roughly against the seat, stone
crunching beneath the tread of the tires. Her body jerked forward
not long after as the car pulled to a stop and she settled back
into the seat.

“Get out,” Gunnar ordered. The wind whipped
against her body as the back door opened. She slid her body
upright, her jeans sticking to the surface before she clamored out
of the car, hands still behind her back. The sharp, rugged cuts of
the stones sliced her bare feet, her toes curling up in
retaliation.

“WALK,” Gunnar boomed. The fluttering of
wings echoed through the space followed by short, clunking noises.
Birds. A building.
The birds’ wings were hitting the surface
of something above her. She felt the barrel point against her back
again as he led her forward.

“Couldn’t keep her panties up. I tried to
help you,” Gunnar whispered in her ear, the heat of his breath
warmed the side of her head. The familiar smell of stale smoke
mixed with a faint hint of diesel filled her nostrils. She closed
her eyes, hoping the complete blackness would swallow her, take her
away from him. Instead, she could only see Theron’s face.

“Keep going,” he said. His voice was louder
now, but further behind her. She heard feet shuffling alongside of
her.
The driver?

“What do you want from me?” she whispered,
turning to the feet next to her. She looked down to see heavy boots
half-covered with blue snow pants. A red stripe ran up the leg. Her
body froze as she noticed the detail of the red stripe.
Those
pants.

“You know what we want.” Gunnar kicked the
back of her knees.

“OW!” She flinched at the blow, stumbling
along the jagged stones. Warm liquid oozed between her toes as
vibrant red streaks appeared among the bright pink polish.

“Lay off, Gunnar.”
The driver. His voice.
The pants. Joe? Joe’s Towing?

“Don’t you start with me. You called me,
remember?” Gunnar’s voice bellowed behind her.
How am I going to
get out of this alive?
She knew Gunnar was a killer. The
satisfaction Gunnar had gotten from the knife sinking into Mr.
Rowan’s chest revolted her. He would do it again to her, without
hesitation. The headline splattered in blood printed through
Delaney’s mind
“Woman, 30, Beaten and Hung.”