Love Lies Bleeding (4 page)

“If Grady was such a perfect partner, we wouldn’t be in this situation,” Phil muttered to himself as he turned to wander off in the opposite direction. “Plus, a little nice goes a lot further than you think.”

Erwin, now at the far end of the corridor, turned into an intersecting hall, but then immediately took a step back to check on Phil’s progress. Phil turned the corner without remotely noticing Erwin watching him as he left. Erwin then opened his suit jacket and removed his gun from its holster.

•••••••••

Now, Phil was nothing like the nursery rhyme,
Boys are made of snakes and snails and puppy dog tails
. In fact, he was much more the
sugar and spice and everything nice
usually used to describe girls, but that didn’t get him very far with the agency. In fact, Erwin was kind of right. Phil wouldn’t even have this current assignment if it wasn’t for Grady’s death, though his report writing was unparalleled and he always got picked first as a training buddy. He was almost as highly certified as Grady had been. He just leaned toward the less physical pursuits.

Phil preferred to follow his Chinese Horoscope, in which he was the dog, not that he was even remotely oriental. He hadn’t even met a person of Asian descent until high school. Everyone knew that the dog was the absolute best sign to be; there was no better. Everyone loved a dog. Everyone loved Phil, except Erwin, but Phil was determined to win his new partner over … any day now.

•••••••••

Back in the interrogation room, Pamela reached for the laptop, toggled a key, and started to replay the DVD.
 

Grady’s face filled the screen. “
Ah, the first kiss was perfection itself
,” Grady-on-the-DVD said. “
Filtered street light, after hours spent talking … but a gentleman never tells tales
.”

“There you are,” Pamela sighed, and she reached to brush her fingers across Grady’s face. Except before she could do so, her own face filled the screen. She was being interviewed by her mother and answering the same question as Grady had before her. “
Oh. It was … he smelled of beer and his stubble rubbed my chin raw, but I already knew, even then, just how much I loved him
.”

On screen, the picture cut back to Grady, who winked and then grinned. Pamela tapped the spacebar and the video paused. Grady, even on the two-dimensional screen, seemed filled with energy. He almost exuded charisma.

Pamela sighed as if a tiny piece of her heart had just broken off and fallen into her belly. She then cradled her head in the crook of her arm on the table, in a way that allowed her to continue to gaze at Grady on the laptop screen. “I’ll be with you soon. I promise, Grady. I promise.”

THE ESCAPE

CHAPTER SIX

The Interrogation Room — Moments Later
 

After only a few peaceful moments with Grady’s still image on the computer, Erwin burst back into the interrogation room and startled Pamela.

He slammed the door behind him and paused to assess her. His demeanor was different than before. He seemed more forceful, his chest all puffed out as if he had just stepped to center stage to perform a monologue or carve the Thanksgiving turkey. “I just can’t let this … this charade continue. Grady wouldn’t have wanted it this way.” He crossed to the laptop and, rather determinedly, slammed it closed.

“You know … knew Grady?” Pamela curled her arm over the laptop protectively, and a minor tug-of-war ensued until Erwin managed to wrestle it away from her. He tucked it under his arm, held a hand out to Pamela, and beckoned.

“Come. Come.” Pamela didn’t move. “I’m getting you out of here,” Erwin insisted.

“But … why suddenly … do you really think that’s a good idea? It seems like I should just answer the questions I can answer.”

Erwin, completely ignoring Pamela, purposefully crossed to a nearby ventilation cover. Then, realizing he couldn’t hold the computer and remove the cover at the same time, he awkwardly returned the laptop to the table. Pamela immediately placed a protective hand on top of it.

“Grady kept a picture of you, totally against regulation, on his money clip.” Erwin turned back to the cover, retrieved a small electric screwdriver from his jacket pocket, and started to remove the screws. “And when asked about it, he would just smile, like it was this secret that no one could ever understand even if he shared.” He finished removing the screws and propped the cover against the wall. “There’s a lot riding on this. Maybe more than you know.” He held out his hand to Pamela again. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

After a contemplative moment, Pamela made a decision. She hugged the laptop to her chest and then took Erwin’s hand.

He pulled her up out of the chair and toward the vent. “You climb in, I’ll follow.”

“But doesn’t that just lead to the furnace? And …” She lifted the heavy fabric of her dress.

Erwin, not daunted, laced his fingers together and leaned down to offer Pamela the use of his hands for a step. Pamela, doubtfully, placed her foot in Erwin’s palms. Her strapped sandals were shimmery pink. Her bare toes — she didn’t like nylons — were painted in Opi’s classic
I’m A Princess, You’re Not
polish. Erwin heaved her upward.

She was heavier than she looked.

 
Erwin grunted, turned a little red in the face, and couldn’t seem to steady Pamela.
 

Pamela flailed, then managed to grab the edge of the duct. She slid the laptop in, wedging her upper body after it.

Erwin gathered her skirt and legs as he tried to push her farther into the shaft. But, as he couldn’t get all the massive yards of fabric to fit, he was soon frustrated and exhausted.

Pamela, her voice muffled by the duct, loathed being unkind. But, as she was rapidly losing sensation in her legs, she pointed out Erwin’s ill-conceived escape plan by tentatively asking, “Can’t we just use the door?”

“Fine!”

Erwin maneuvered underneath Pamela — her dress could have doubled as a tent for two — and grabbed her waist to pull her out of the vent. As he stumbled forward from the momentum, he barely managed to stop from slamming his face into the concrete floor. Pamela, on the other hand, neatly managed to stay upright, the laptop still firmly pressed against her chest.

Erwin, embarrassed and a little pissed, scrambled to his feet and crossed to the door. He pulled a gun from his side holster and held a finger to his lips to caution Pamela. Her eyes widened at the sight of the gun, she hadn’t known he was armed before, though logically, given his black ops claim, she supposed the gun came with the job.
 

He carefully opened the door and looked out.

“Clear,” Erwin said, then he stepped out into the hall.

Pamela obediently followed.

•••••••••

Even if he’d never admit to it Erwin knew he was a lesser version of Grady. Not as smooth around the edges, not quite as handsome, and nowhere near as charming. He didn’t have hobbies; he played sports. Soccer and basketball, specifically. He wasn’t particularly good at either, but he didn’t mind long shifts. He had to be exhausted to sleep these days. A woman once asked him during a particularly bad date — for her not him — what his sign was, and he’d had no idea what she was asking. This turned out to be just fine for the date, as she wasn’t going to go out with him a second time anyway, and had just been trying to prove a point to herself. She suspected he was a Leo. He wasn’t.

•••••••••

They moved in tandem up the nondescript hallway of the Undisclosed Location. No identifying symbols marked the walls. No ‘Exit’ or other signs labeled the doors. Without a good sense of direction, it would be easy to get lost. Pamela, of course, had no idea where they were. She’d been blindfolded when they brought her in. The car ride couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes from the cemetery, though, so it was obvious that they were still on the North Shore.

Erwin, his gun held in a ready position, side-stepped along the wall as he led Pamela away from the interrogation room. Pamela trailed behind, but didn’t bother to skirt the wall. No one seemed to be in the immediate vicinity.

They neared a perpendicular hall, which, being painted the same gray as the corridor walls, seemed to appear out of nowhere. The paint was only a slightly lighter gray than the concrete floor, which didn’t help matters. Erwin held a cautionary hand out to Pamela, then dive-rolled forward into the mouth of the perpendicular hall, coming up on one knee. His gun now pointed down the new corridor. It was a well-executed move, one Erwin often practiced at home, but there was no one around to truly admire it.

Pamela didn’t bother to pause when cautioned. Therefore heedless of impending danger, she crossed to stand behind Erwin.

This perpendicular hall was empty as well.

Flustered, Erwin jumped up and pulled Pamela across the opening to continue along the same corridor as before. “When I hold my hand like this …”  — he once again held up a cautionary hand — “… you need to wait.”

“All right.”

Seemingly satisfied that his lesson had sunk in, Erwin continued onward. As they neared another steel door, he paused to address Pamela. “I don’t think you understand the trouble you’re in, or the people who would hurt you for what you know. Grady wouldn’t want that. You shouldn’t want that.”

“You’re right,” Pamela said. Erwin looked suddenly elated. “I don’t want to hurt anymore.” Erwin’s face fell and a flash of anger marred his boy-next-door features. Bottling up his rage, he got himself under control. It was a struggle. “I can protect you,” he said. “Tell me everything you know. I’ll take the heat, hide you away to let you heal, let you rediscover life.” He stroked Pamela’s cheek; she flinched at the contact. “Wouldn’t that be for the best?”

“I don’t want to rediscover life.”

Erwin clamped a hard hand against Pamela’s mouth, pressing her against the wall while looking frantically around. “Shhh … someone’s coming.”
 

Pamela, now wide eyed, couldn’t turn her head to verify this statement, but it didn’t sound like anyone was near. Erwin’s behavior felt more than a little put on. The bobby pins holding her elaborate French twist in place dug into the back of Pamela’s head where Erwin pressed her against the wall. This didn’t help with the headache, but Pamela welcomed the punishment. It felt like she was letting Grady down every minute she continued to breathe.

Erwin opened the nearby door and shoved Pamela through. All the while, he kept his hand clamped over her mouth. Then, looking rather satisfied, he slammed the door behind her and brushed his hands together as if dusting them off.

•••••••••

Darkness.

Pamela flicked the light switch on, then looked around at the shelving and cleaning supplies surrounding her. She seemed to be in a janitor’s closet. Or were they still called broom closets even if they held more than brooms?

Erwin shouted, rather muted by the thick steel door. “This isn’t right, I tell you. I refuse to let you have her.” No one answered, but then Pamela heard a few faraway pops that might be gunfire. If that was what a gun firing sounded like.

Not at all concerned with whatever was happening in the hall, she sat cross-legged on the floor. Her dress spread around her like a lily pad. She placed the computer in front of her and opened it.

Erwin yelled again, seemingly right next to the door. He might have been shouting into it. “You’ll have to go through me to get at her.”

More popping noises followed this statement.

“So be it!” Erwin yelled, his voice muffled but again, oddly clearer than it should have been in a gunfight. Not that Pamela had ever been in a gunfight. Except she would have thought that no matter how Erwin pressed against it, a closed door really didn’t provide much cover. Especially in a long corridor during a shoot-out. But then, she really knew nothing about anything anymore except for the empty space in her chest where her heart had once beaten solely for Grady, and she didn’t care about much else. Still … it was a little odd.

More gunfire.

Pamela clicked open the email application on her laptop, then opened a file folder titled:
Grady and Pamela in Barcelona.

She highlighted all the emails in the folder and moved the cursor over to the delete button. She paused, uncertain. Her finger hovered over the touchpad.

Erwin, panting as if winded, flung open the door. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep them all at bay.” Then, thrown to see Pamela hunched over the computer, he choked on his own spit. “What are you doing?” He hacked out the words.

“I just can’t. I can’t lose these as well, not voluntarily.”

“You stupid, little …” Erwin snapped his jaw shut with a nasty click, then got himself reigned in, barely. Burning with anger, he wrenched the computer from Pamela and slammed it closed. With the laptop secured, he yanked her to her feet by her upper arm, giving her a good shake in the process.

Then, as if remembering to act the part, he tossed his gun off to one side. “Out of bullets,” he said, as he turned and pawed through the rolls of toilet paper that occupied the closet’s middle shelf.

“You just leave your gun? Isn’t it easier to get more bullets than replace —”

Erwin retrieved a gun from behind the paper towel rolls and checked the magazine.

“I guess not.” Pamela, terribly confused, stared at the shelf that yielded the weapon.
 

Erwin snapped the mag back into the gun, then once again grabbed Pamela’s upper arm. “I’ve got you covered. Just remember who to thank when the time comes.” He pulled her from the closet.

•••••••••

Back in the corridor, there was no evidence of the apparent gunfight that had taken place while Pamela was in the closet.

Erwin, carrying the laptop, dragged her behind him. She stumbled to follow quickly enough, but his angry stride was difficult to match in a meringue wedding dress. They swerved off into another hallway, which was distinguished from the previous only by the fact that it ran in the opposite direction.

Phil, enjoying a lemon cream donut, rounded a corner ahead. He paused with his mouth full upon seeing Erwin and Pamela. “What?”