Save Me (4 page)

RECOVERED

Mercy

A year had passed.  The charges against Marc were entirely dismissed and the man who hit her still remained at large.  It nearly consumed her.  She wanted justice, retribution for that coward’s actions.  And Marc.  He’d never come.  Didn’t answer his phone.  Had moved from the address listed on the police report.  He was a damn ghost.

“How does it feel?” Her rehabilitation specialist asked her.

Mercy held onto two metal handrails and walked slowly toward the portly woman who’d become a close friend.

“Feels better than my last one.”  Mercy let go of the rails and walked cautiously without assistance.

“Doing good there girl.”

“It feels good.”  Mercy looked down at her new leg.  Her first one had been painful and didn’t fit properly.

“If it feels uncomfortable, you call your specialist and get right in.  Don’t wait like you did last time.”

“I wanted to give it time to get adjusted to it.”

“Mhm.  You just didn’t want to go to the doctor again.”

“You know me too well Rosa.”  Mercy sat down.

For the next hour they worked together.  Mercy exercised on a treadmill trying to adjust to the new limb.  It would be a while before she could wear the leg for more than an hour at a time without it hurting like a son of a—.

“I’ll see you in a couple days?”

“I’ll be back next week.  I’m taking a few days off.”

“Doing anything fun?”

She had an agenda.

“Just going to take it easy and relax.”

“You deserve to.”  Rosa patted her good knee.

Mercy grabbed her crutches and Rosa followed her outside with her metal limb.

“You take care girl.”  Rosa put her appendage in the back seat and gave her a hug, Mercy returned it.

“Thank you.  You too.” 

Rosa walked back into the rehab center and Mercy started up her Jeep Grand Cherokee.  A half hour later she was back at her house in Bellview. 

The past year had been full of trials and tribulations.  There were days when she wanted to give up.  There were days she wanted to jump in a boxing ring and just thrash someone, anyone, for no reason.  And today, today she just wanted answers. 

“I’m on my way home, I’ll be a few minutes late,” Mercy said into the phone.

“I’m here.”

“I won’t be long.”  Mercy hung up the phone and felt butterflies in her stomach.

A silver Ford Explorer was parked in her driveway.  Mercy didn’t bother to grab her prosthesis, immediately hobbling to the Explorer with her crutches.  A man opened the door and stepped down.  He was in his fifties, had white hair and silver rimmed glasses.

“It took some time, but I have your information.”

“Come on in.”  Mercy unlocked the front door and he followed her to the dining room table.

“This is the Marc Foster you wanted me to find, right?”  James, her private
investigator, said.  He placed a picture of Marc on the table.

“That’s him.”  Her throat closed slightly.  “Where did you find him?”

“He lives in Queens.”

“New York City?”

“Yes.”  James slid a piece of paper across the table.  “This is his address.”

“What did you find out about him?”

“He disappears first thing in the morning to Brooklyn and returns late in the evenings to Queens.  The crowd of men he frequents aren’t very savory.”

“Anything else?”

“He partakes in street races.  He’s quite good, I must say.”

Mercy didn’t believe it when the cops told her that.  She didn’t want to believe he was a party to her accident.  Now more questions than ever flooded her mind.  Was it him?  Had she imagined
the second car?  She was so sure there was a second one.

“I have some background information if you’re interested.”

“Um, sure.”

“He’s twenty-eight.  Grew up in Brooklyn.  Went to school at NYU, law school at Harvard.  Worked for a prestigious law firm in Manhattan until last fall when he fired for attendance issues.  Mother overdosed when he was five, his father passed when he was twenty, he overdosed as well.”

“Oh my…”  Mercy felt pity for him.

“The man hasn’t had an easy life.”

“What does he do now?”

“He spends his days in different places, but the majority of the time he is with a man called Ricardo del Toro, his street name is Ace.”

“Who is he?”

“A few small time arrests when he was a teen.  Since then his nose has been clean.  My guess is someone else is doing his dirty work.”

“So you think he is some kind of, what, drug dealer?”

“Possibly.”

Mercy’s eyes furrowed.  Marc wasn’t the man she’d pictured in her head.  Her knight in shining armor could very well be a demon in disguise.

“I’d stay away from this.  As far away from this as you can Mercy.  These aren’t good people.”

But the desire to find him hadn’t waned.

“Thank you, James.”

“You’re very welcome.  I just hope you don’t go after him.”

Mercy looked up and met James’ concerned eyes.

“No promises.”

“Do me a favor.”

“What’s that?”

“Bring an armed bodyguard if you go.”

“I’ll be fine.”  She put her hand on his forearm.  “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”  James rose and took a step back.  “Bye Mercy.”

“Bye.”

James walked out the front door and Mercy stared at the picture of Marc.  He was more handsome than she remembered, but her memory of that night wasn’t sharp.  He had a muscular build, tall frame, strong jawline, and beautiful blue eyes.  What she did remember was his calming voice and soothing touch.  Then she remembered the fear when he left her side.  She shuttered from the memories.

*****

Marc

Returning from another drop, Marc drove his Porsche to his comfortable home in Queens.  The car was slightly out of place in the neighborhood, but he wasn’t willing to part with his baby.  He had a garage to hide it in and an alarm.  Thankfully Ace didn’t make him reside in Brooklyn.  He hated it as it was that he had to spend his days there.  No longer did he work as a successful lawyer for Grumman and Lutz Law Firm, now he was reduced to working full-time for Ace.  He wouldn’t pass a background check to obtain another position as a lawyer.  Not after the charges associated with a few of his races.  He’d been arrested twice since he’d started racing for Ace once again.  It had cost him a pretty penny to get his license reinstated after it was suspended for several months.  Not that it mattered, he still drove.

Marc went to pull into his driveway, but there was already a car in the drive.  The hackles on the back of his neck rose.  Why was someone at his house? 

Marc parked on the street and cautiously walked up his driveway.  A woman sat on his entry way steps.  Marc took her in.  She looked familiar, but he couldn’t place her.  Her hair fell at her shoulders and was a shimmering shade of brown, her features were soft, her green eyes vibrant.

“Can I help you?” Marc asked, curiosity getting the better of him. 

With difficulty, the woman brought herself to her feet, using a handrail for support.

“Yes, I believe you can.”

Marc waited for an explanation, but she offered none.  She looked at him with a glare that he felt penetrate his soul.

“Alright.  What can I help you with?”

“You don’t remember me?”  She seemed upset.

Marc starred trying to place her, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.  He felt an inexplicable connection with this stranger though.  Why?

“I…”  Marc racked his brain and then a flashback rocked him.  Her bloodied body on the side of the road, helpless, begging him not to leave her.  Marc stared for some time before he found his voice again.  “Mercy,” he said breathless.

She looked at him, a cross between anger and excitement in her glare.

“You look…amazing.”  And she was beautiful.  More beautiful than he remembered.

“A little better than the last time you saw me I imagine.”

“How are you?”

She didn’t answer his question.

“I want to know what happened that night.”

Marc put his hands in the pockets of his denim jeans.

“I told the police already.”

“I want you to tell me.”

He couldn’t tell her the truth.

“They told me you hit me, but they didn’t have proof to support it, that’s why they dropped the charges.”

“I didn’t hit you Mercy.”

“I know.”  She took a few steps toward him and Marc saw a slight gimp in her step.  “But you know who did.”

“I don’t.”  Uncomfortable was an understatement to describe how he felt at that moment under her prying little eyes.  “I wish I could tell you I did.”

“I
know
you know who it was.  You were talking to a second man.  I remember.”

Marc averted his eyes to the ground.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The truth would be a good start.” 

Marc could feel her gaze pinned upon him.

“Mercy, I’m glad you’re okay, I really am.  And I’m glad to see you, but I don’t have the answers to the questions you’re asking.”

“Please,” she pleaded.  “I deserve to know who the coward was that took my leg and nearly killed me!”

Marc brought his eyes up to hers and incredible guilt overcame him.  She’d lost her leg.

“I know you were racing that night.  That you race as some kind of damn hobby.  But you’re racing nearly killed me!  Just because you didn’t hit me, doesn’t mean you weren’t a part of it!  I want to know the truth!”

Marc’s stomach dropped to the ground. 

“Why are you protecting the person who did this to me?”  Tears started to flow down her eyes.  “I just want to confront him.  I deserve that!”

Marc couldn’t disagree.

“I’m angry, I’m hurt…”  Mercy wiped her eyes, “I’m mad as hell!”

“I’m sorry Mercy.”

“Sorry doesn’t turn the clock back a year.”  Her stance waivered.  “Sorry doesn’t give me my damn leg back.  Doesn’t give me my life back!”

Marc took a deep breath and took a step closer.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that.  I don’t care if you’re sorry, I just want to know!  Please!”

Marc wanted to tell her.  Wanted to run Jose into the ground himself, the fucking coward.

“I was racing, you’re right.”

Mercy waited for him to continue.

“It was in part my fault for being involved in that.”

Mercy nodded her head. 

“But, I can’t tell you any more than that, I wish I could.”

“What?”  The expression on her face changed to absolute hate.

“These aren’t good people.  You don’t understand.  Telling you who did this isn’t going to change anything.  If anything it will put you in danger.”

“Put me in danger?  More danger than fucking cutting my leg off?!”  Mercy pushed his chest.  Marc took a step backward.  They needed to move this melee out of his driveway before the cops were called.

“Let’s go inside and talk.”

“I want to talk out here!”  She pushed him again.

“Mercy, please.”

Marc walked around her and unlocked the door.  She was significantly slower than him, so he had time to go inside before she could assault him again.

“Have a seat,” he instructed when she came into his kitchen.

“I’d rather stand.”  She folded her arms in front of her.

“Look Mercy,” Marc rubbed his face, “I don’t blame you for being upset, for hating me, but there’s nothing else I can say other than I’m truly sorry.  I wish I’d never taken that race that night.  I wish I could have swapped places with you and I would have in an instant.”

Tears dripped down her face, but she didn’t acknowledge them.

“Marc, please.  Just tell me the truth.”

“I’m telling you the truth.”

“Fuck you!”  Mercy pushed him roughly.  “I fucking hate you!”  She pushed him harder repetitively.

“Mercy, stop,” Marc said ever so calmly. 

On her last push, Mercy lost her balance and fell down roughly.  As she did, her prosthesis came out of place.  The sight of her metal leg on the floor unnerved Marc.  Mercy pulled herself back to a sitting position and leaned against his lower cupboards, her head leaned onto her knee.

“You never came.”  She pulled her head up and looked at him with pained eyes.

“What?”

“You promised to come to the hospital.  You left me for dead just like whoever the hell did this to me.”

“I didn’t leave you.”  Marc knelt down beside her.  “Jesus Christ, I got arrested.”