Layers Peeled (18 page)

“Yes, that
will convince me.”

“Ah, come on.
If you let this girl get to you, think about how many more might
miss out on your help—our help. You will get off this chair,
stretch, clear your mind, and work on the next case underneath
Marissa’s” – she pointed to the stack on my desk – “because if you
don’t, then tomorrow and the day after, a woman we could have saved
will overdose, or be raped or sold or killed.”

Yeah, well,
that was blunt enough.

“I’ll just
have to give you some Laura medicine and kick your butt to get over
it.”

“Like you
could,” I smirked from underneath my lashes. There was nothing
better than a dose of reality from my friend. Laura was right—not
that I’d say it out loud. If a doctor mourned a patient who died on
his operating table forever, he wouldn’t do another surgery. And
didn’t they say the best way to get out of a slump was to take the
bull by its horns?
Gosh, that’s so cliché.
I rolled my eyes
at myself.

“Thank you.” I
stood up to embrace Laura, “I really needed that.”

“I know. And
I’m sure I’ll need a rain check when you want to try to kick my
butt, too.”

I pulled away.
“Try? You know I would win.”

“Don’t tempt
me, Green. Actually, come with me. I have a temporary cure for
you.” She grabbed my arm.

Within minutes
we were sitting in a cab driving to a shooting range. Each mile
we’d passed my heart beat faster. Why was I so excited to shoot a
gun? But the moment I’d held the pistol in my hands, the cold metal
so familiar against my skin, I understood why Laura brought me
here.

“Remember who
to focus on!” She yelled over the ricocheting shots.

Holding my
arms in front of me I aimed at the centre target. At first, it was
just a black dot. A small pixel I needed to hit. But soon, one shot
after another, that central spot became a forehead of the bastard
who killed Marissa. My jaw tightened as I pulled the trigger,
somewhat hopeful the bull’s eye would somehow manifest itself into
the murderer I could punish for his crimes. The smell of gunpowder
filled the air as I repeated in my mind:
for my sister, for my
mother, for Marissa and her child, for the abused women,
firing
on each count without pause until the load emptied.

I lowered the
gun, removed my shooting earmuffs and gazed at Laura who leaned
against the wall behind me.

“Better?” she
asked.

“Yeah.
Definitely better.”

I couldn’t
deny the shooting helped me focus. I had to move on and perhaps one
of the other cases would give the lead on the bastard I was looking
for.

Back at the
office Tristan was still occupied between meetings.

Laura on the
other hand wouldn’t have any of my sulking and threw a new file on
my desk, “Now start on that file. The girls need you.”

But I wasn’t
ready just yet.

“I’m gonna go
grab a coffee downstairs. Do you want anything?”

“I’m coming
with you.” She grabbed her jacket.

“
No
,
you’re not.” I removed her jacket from her arm and hooked it back
on the wall. “I don’t need a babysitter. Now, do you want a coffee
or not?”

“No, thank
you. I’ve already had way too much caffeine this morning. At this
rate I’ll keep James up all night trying to...”

“Too much,
Laura. Too much.” I opened our office door. Tristan must have been
on another conference call which was good because I needed a few
more minutes to myself.

“See you
soon,” she said, and started clicking on her computer.

I grabbed my
jacket and took the elevator downstairs. Outside the first snow had
covered the sidewalk. The fresh layer blanketed everything in its
fluff as I headed for the Starbucks at the corner. I had a feeling
we’d have a long winter.

Waiting in the
line, I thought back to that dreadful night at the auction, and the
angst I’d felt that night returned. No matter what happened, I had
to find a way to move on.

I approached
the counter and placed my order.

“Hey, Katie!”
I recognized the voice, but definitely not the pretty face. After a
double-take, I asked with hesitation, “Mercedes?”

“It’s actually
Michelle,” she said as she handed me my coffee.

Michelle
neither sounded nor looked anything like the red-haired Mercedes I
remembered. Her brown ponytail waggled as she moved, and the
natural toned make-up complimented her flawless complexion much
better than the layers of heavy blush and thick mascara.

“So, you work
here too now?”

“Only here,”
she winked.

I couldn’t
believe what I was hearing. Who was the angel who had helped her
off the street?

“I want to
thank you too. The card you gave me… I called that number on the
front and this lady enrolled me at this center. They found me a job
here, and everything just rolled.”

Laura?

“I’m glad
you’re here, Michelle,” I said. “And I guess I’ll be seeing you
around here more often, then.”

“I always knew
you were special,” she said to me. “The coffee’s on me.”

“Thank you.” I
raised my cup and sat in the last booth. I needed time for this
news to sink in and to catch my breath. Still out of breath from my
run downstairs, my lungs ached for a break. I’d heard this could
happen while pregnant, but not this early. Wasn’t my stomach
supposed to be bigger than a little bump before it left no space
for my lungs? With my back turned to the ever-growing line, I
leaned my head back. Every time the door opened, a cold gust of
wind brushed my side, messing up my hair. The snow outside was
piling up on the ground and the flakes were falling thicker. I
sipped on my coffee, almost ready to return and start digging
through a new case, when I heard his voice.

“A tall
black,” he barked at the server.

My shoulders
tensed and I shut my eyes. If I didn’t hear his voice again for a
century, I’d still recognize it. But it had been only thirteen
years. Part of me wanted to turn around, go to the counter, and
flip him on his back. I’d punch him until he bled to death, and I’d
break every single bone I could. In that short moment, I imagined
castrating him and throwing his dick to the wolves before pouring
salt on the wound for good measure. But another part of me, the one
who’d witnessed her mother brutally attacked, invaded my body. I
was once again that little girl hiding under the staircase, afraid
to move an inch to wipe the snot off her nose. I felt myself sink
lower in the cushioned seat. It took three random words for Wright
to steal my entire identity all over again. With caution, my hand
slid down to my stomach, covering it protectively. And I waited in
silence for David Wright to get his coffee and leave. Slowly, I
glanced in the window’s reflection, hoping and praying he went the
other way.

But Lady Luck
wasn’t with me today. I’d felt it the moment I woke up. Something
was off. My instinct screamed to be careful, and I hadn’t known why
until now. First it was the news about Marissa; and now Wright, a
few feet away from me, separated only by thin glass. My day could
not get any worse, could it?

Wright checked
his iPod, moving his finger over the touch-screen to scroll. I
lowered the hood over my forehead just enough so my gaze could
follow him as he passed in front of the window where I sat.

My mouth
opened. Up to this point I’d held onto a glimmer of hope that
perhaps the identical voice was that of someone else. That by
chance the deep and exasperated tone belonged to just another New
Yorker. But it didn’t.

The man was
definitely David Wright. As he neared, I noticed that his cheeks
sagged and his skin was blotched with drizzles of age spots. And
his eyes, even from the side, still held evil, hate, and
determination.

And all desire
for the vengeance that I once sought returned. I imagined the shots
I’d fired today flying straight for his forehead. Rage began to
swim against the current in my veins, fighting to keep me strong,
demanding to do something, anything.

I lifted my
phone to my ear, wanting to call Tristan, but I never dialed. The
coward from thirteen years ago that I’d promised I’d never be
again, slowly began to shy away. If I didn’t settle this now, I’d
continue living in fear and I’d remain
a piece of nothing
who couldn’t save her mother. I could no longer pretend he didn’t
exist; and I didn’t want to look over my shoulder for the rest of
my life.

Was this my
chance to get Wright? I couldn’t just kill him in the middle of the
street, of course, but I couldn’t lose him either. I slid out of
the booth, zipped up my jacket, and walked out the café, following
the direction I’d seen him leave. Two minutes later I spotted the
gray-haired man step inside a convenience store. I watched him from
across the street as he paid for something and then came back out
and lit a cigarette. I spun around to face away from the bastard
and looked for him in the reflection of a storefront window. The
snow fell harder. The thickening white flakes made it difficult to
keep him in focus. The smell of a cigarette paralyzed me, and then
in the window I saw him standing next to me.

With caution,
I lowered my hood and adjusted my scarf upward, covering my face.
He turned to the right and kept walking.

I don’t think
he saw me.

I finally
exhaled, and then followed him down the stairs into the subway
heading north. My legs shook underneath me but I pressed harder,
determined not to let him escape from my sight. He turned the
corner, and a scrap of paper fell out of his pocket. In rush, I
picked it up without looking and kept running after Wright.

Gripping the
handrail, I hurried downstairs toward the tunnel, nearly losing my
footing. The sound of an approaching subway echoed. Within seconds,
the screech of brakes and a gust of wind flew past me. I paced
along the platform just as the train door opened. Three cars down,
Wright stepped inside with his back turned to me. I ran toward his
section, but didn’t go in. Instead, from less than ten feet away, I
watched his back. This was all too much. I couldn’t just go in the
same car with him. I had no plan. What would I do if I went in?
What would he do? Would he even recognize me?

As much as I
wanted to beat him up until he passed out, I couldn’t. Now that I
knew he was here, I could use the information to ambush the bastard
and finally settle a debt. Storming in after him now would only get
me arrested and in deeper trouble than I wished to be. After all,
Wright had police connections. The door closed and I let go of the
breath I was holding.

A subway
approached from the opposite direction right behind me and the wet
piece of paper I’d picked up flopped against my palm. I finally
flipped it up to look at it. The air stilled, the fast wind howling
between the tunnels disappeared. I felt like I’d just stepped into
a deep freezer. What at first I thought was a photograph of me was
actually a copy of my mom’s picture of when she was young. I
couldn’t believe the resemblance. After all these years, she was
still on his mind. Or was she?

And just
before the train left, Wright turned around and looked right at me
with a deadly smirk. He wasn’t shocked to see me holding the
photograph. In fact, I was now sure he’d dropped it on purpose.
Wright knew exactly who I was.

The train
left.

I stood there
with my back flat against the wall.

First
ring.

I thought
Tristan had said he’d taken care of Wright. Had he lied? No,
Tristan would never jeopardize his family’s safety. What was the
scum doing here?

Second
ring.

I should have
killed him that day up in the mountain, when Tristan gave me the
opportunity to shoot him. Instead I cowered. I lived with the
pledge I’d been taught at the force seared into my heart:
Police
officers don’t shoot to kill unless their life is in jeopardy.
And even if with Wright alive I’d feared for my life, at that
moment in the mountains, with Tristan’s arm around me as I aimed
the rifle, that fear hadn’t seemed so important.

But he’d vowed
he’d take care of Wright. I never expected Tristan to murder
someone, but his promise to make Wright disappear was worth more
than gold. Was this all a coincidence?

Third
ring.

“Allie?”
Tristan asked in a whisper.

He must have
silenced his phone. I’d never call his cell while we were both in
the office, so the surprise in his voice was what I’d expected.

I lowered my
tone as if the man who’d assaulted my mother and killed my father
and unborn sister was nearby. “He’s here.”

My voice shook
audibly, and so did my hands and legs. I shuffled my feet along the
wall, never breaking my back’s connection with the tiles until I
found a bench. A homeless man tucked his feet in so I could
sit.

“Where are
you?” I didn’t have to specify who. Tristan knew.

“Eighth and
Broadway.”

“Don’t move.
I’m coming.”

Five minutes
later Tristan rushed down the steps of the subway, almost slipping
on the wet ceramic.

I didn’t budge
because I simply couldn’t. So many questions were racing through my
mind I wasn’t sure exactly where to begin. How did he find me? And
why the charade of me following him? What was he planning? Did he
know I worked for Cross Enterprises? What if he was making sure I
would be alone, stalking me up until now like a ghost? I had to
think like an obsessed maniac to figure out his plan. Could I?

“Allie, look
at me – you’re safe. I’m here.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.
I’ve already alerted my men. Come, let’s get back to the
office.”