Tailspin (Better Than You) (10 page)

              “What are you doing here?” I ask. It’s so loud in here that it doesn’t even feel like I’ve said the words, but I see in her reaction that she’s heard me. Body stiff, she doesn’t respond. Maybe I was wrong. Or maybe she’s choosing to ignore me, to ignore the fact that we’re both here and what are the odds? She’s got to be wondering what I’m doing here. If she would just
say something
… “Where’s the boyfriend?” I ask, mostly just to get a reaction.

              It works, and I immediately regret asking. She slips her small hands around my wrists and tugs. The feel of her fleshy hips disappears from under my fingers. With nothing else to do, I clench them beside me and then shake them out. They feel empty. Wrong.

              “My
boyfriend
isn’t here,” she says, a snarl on her lips and coldness in her eyes. The change is sudden, drastic. She’s so hot and cold that it makes me sick. It makes me want to strike back.

              “He let you come by yourself?”

              “He doesn’t own me, Nathan. I’m allowed to go wherever I want.”

              I nod my head, a small, sarcastic smile slipping into place. “Right. How’s your jaw? And your side? The way you’ve been moving the past couple of weeks, I’d say you probably have a few broken ribs.”

              I expect another hate filled stare, but instead she rolls her eyes, like I’m an incessant child, and walks away. Sam, who I’ve just now noticed in the crowd, watches Logan with wide eyes before turning them on me.

              “What are you doing here?” she yells and I can’t help but laugh. That will be the question of the year. “What’s going on? Something’s going on here.” She wiggles her finger in some sort of triangle shape, but I’m assuming she doesn’t mean here, in this second. More like here, in this fucked up situation. I don’t know what she wants me to say, so I opt for nothing and start to push past her and the other bodies surrounding us, oblivious to this monumental moment. She grabs my arm and squeezes. I turn and meet her strange blue eyes.

              “Don’t mess with her,” she says seriously. “There’s a lot of things you don’t know.”

              “I know enough.” And then I pull my arm free and continue to follow Logan through the crowd. At one point I lose her, despite her height, but then I catch a glimpse of her escaping through the sliding door at the back of the room. Pushing and shoving and apologizing, I finally make it outside. As soon as she hears the door slide closed, she spins around, fire in her eyes and venom ready to pour out of her mouth.

But then something shifts, eases, and the words out of her mouth are a soft caress. “Why do you care, Nathan? Am I doing a bad job at work? Am I a bad investment after all?”

“I never said you were a bad investment, Lo. As far as doing a bad job,” I smile at a memory of her pissing off a little brunette girl, “you don’t really pull in the tips.” The air inside of me escapes in a quiet whoosh when I see her smile peek through the sadness. “And I care because I care about
you
. If he’s hurting you, Lo, you have to let someone help. You have to tell someone.”

“And then what, Nathan? I have nowhere to go. I’ve been living with him since I was sixteen. He’s all I have.”

              It can’t be true, but I know she wouldn’t lie. Not about this. With a sigh, I rub my face and think. “You can pick up some more shifts at work, make more money. You’d be able to afford something small on your own.”

              “It’s not that easy,” she counters quickly.

              “It
is
that easy.” Taking a chance, I step forward and wrap my hands around her tiny upper arms. When she doesn’t protest, I pull her close and bend down so that our eyes are level. “What’s keeping you there?” I challenge.

              “
Nothing
,” she says, implying that nothing can
keep
her anywhere. After a second, she adds, “Everything.”

              Still holding her, hoping that my touch will somehow further advance my offer, I say, “I can help you, Lo. Let me help you.”

              There’s this moment, when her eyes seem distant and I know she’s thinking. Her mouth moves, as if she’s biting the inside of her lip, and against my better judgment, hope explodes inside of my chest. It’s a bad idea, I know it is, but I’ll do anything for her. If it means walking away from this damn assignment, then so be it. I’ll take the consequences over losing Logan any day. She lets out a long breath, and opens her mouth, and I can just imagine the words that she’ll speak.

              But then our solitude is penetrated and the world turns red with evil and hatred and desperation. A body slams into me so forcefully that my hands are ripped away from Logan. At the same time, I see Danny step into the place my body previously occupied, his fingers digging deep into Logan’s fragile face. I don’t have time to struggle against the hands pinning my arms behind my back. Can’t even think past the fact that Danny is touching her. The months of training vanish into a cloud of paralyzing fear, because around her, nothing is rational.

              “What’s going on out here, Lo?” he asks, voice cold and smooth as ice. Some sense of logic comes crashing into me and I start to twist out of my captor’s hold when cold metal presses against the back of my neck. I freeze, literally cease to breathe and begin to pray that he keeps the gun pointed on me.

              As if in slow motion, I watch the way Danny pulls back his arm and propels it towards Logan’s face. A guttural scream erupts from my chest, forever encasing this moment in panic and agony as I’m powerless to stop it all. Logan ducks, but it’s useless as Danny’s fist pummels into the side of her head. Before his arm is even finished with the motion, Logan’s body falls limply to the ground. Not even the gun against my skin keeps me from trying to break free. Danny turns his ice cold eyes on me, but speaks to his friend behind me.

              “Give me the gun,” he demands, as calm as someone asking for a pencil in class or a napkin at a restaurant. Its unnerving, the amount of restrain and calculation he is clearly capable of.

              The exchange is quick. I’m thinking this might be my chance to knock someone off balance, get the situation under my control, but then he points the gun at Logan’s still body.

              “Danny, come on, man.”

              The voice draws my attention. It’s Brody, standing off to the side of the ordeal and looking for all of the world like he’s uninterested in the outcome. A slight shift of his hand lets me know that it’s actually the opposite; he’s keeping his cool, trying to diffuse the heat before it consumes.

              Danny swings the gun around to Brody, seeming to have lost his calm. “Back the fuck up, Brody. I swear to God I’ll fucking kill you.”

              Hands in the air, Brody presses his back against the glass door. “Alright, alright, calm down. Just get her out of here.”

             
Shit
. I was wrong. He doesn’t have anyone’s interest in mind except his own. With my arms still pinned behind me and Danny now pressing the gun against Logan as he lifts her off the ground, I am struck paralyzed with the realization that I can’t gain the upper hand. I can’t take the chance. Instead, I scream, like a crazy man about to lose everything, because it feels exactly like that. The guy behind me kicks the back of my knees and I fall hard and scream harder. People inside turn to see the commotion, the way Danny’s dragging Logan behind him and the way I’m screaming so hard it feels like my throat is on fire, but nobody moves to help. Not a fucking finger is lifted. It’s sick, wrong. So wrong. I taste the bile in the back of my throat and am tempted to let it all lose on this bastards porch, but I’m too proud. I also know that it’ll weaken me, and as soon as I get the chance to beat the shit out of this mother fucker, I am going to need my strength to take it.

              That chance never comes, though. I’m led out to my car with another gun pressed against the center of my back and only freed of it once seated in my car. Hands shaking so bad, I turn the key in the ignition and try to convince myself its better this way. If I kill someone, I won’t be able to help Logan. I’ll be stuck in jail or on some probationary shit and without the power to pull the strings to get Danny locked up for good. In prison, with the men who murder the men who beat on women, he’ll get his karma. It’s the only thought I allow to play out in my head, because the alternative- Danny dragging Logan back to some unknown location- is too much to bear.

13

March 15, 2009

              As soon as I leave the party, I head straight to the bar. It’s dark and empty when I get there, only the moonlight spilling through the large bay windows lighting my way. It doesn’t occur to me to turn on a light. Thumbing through the filing cabinet in the office, I finally find Logan’s folder, almost tearing it in the process of freeing it. I type her address into the GPS on my phone and run back to the car, something like optimism filling me up.

              Except the address is nothing but a rundown train station. I scream and curse and kick the tire on my car before I drive home. There’s nothing I can do until someone is in the office.

The minute the sun starts to peak into the blinds in the living room of my house, I’m on my feet. First I make coffee, and then I wake up Emily. I tell her that I’m going to run errands, but I don’t know why I bother lying. She just rolls over with a grunt.

              The clothes I was wearing last night are still on, smelling like stale beer and sweat, but I can’t be bothered to change, not when there are more important things to do like finding Logan. As soon as I’m on the road and headed toward the station, I realize that coffee was a bad idea, the caffeine adding to the restlessness I’ve been battling all night. My hands haven’t stopped shaking. Images of Logan, unconscious and helpless, consume my mind, make my blood pulse savagely against my eyes. With a heavy foot, I make the twenty minute commute to the office in nine, throw the truck into park and sprint towards the front doors. I tug on the handle, but they’re locked. Pound on the buzzer until a click lets me know they’re open.

              “Jesus, Hawkins,” Crowley yells as I run past. I keep running. I don’t know what will happen if I stop moving.

              It seems like the computer takes forever to boot up. Everything moves in slow motion; the mouse as it hovers over the icons, the folders as they open and one by one disappoints me with their useless information. Danny’s address is unknown; Brody’s is here, so I write that down on a sticky note. Danny’s brother’s, too. Logan’s name catches my eye, and next to it, the name Lena has an address.
It must be her mom’s.
Writing down everything I think will help, I don’t notice the sound of footsteps until they’re already on top of me. I don’t even know how long I’ve been in here.

              “What are you doing, son?” a thick voice asks, exasperated. I know the question is meant to mean so much more than asking what I’m doing at this moment. Which is why I choose not to answer, instead clicking furiously through more insignificant information.

              “Don’t do anything stupid,” Chief says, and then it’s nothing but the sound of his retreating steps.

              But his words, they mean nothing. They don’t provide more than a moment’s pause. Once I’ve got everything I think I’ll need, I run back out to the car and head to the closest address; Danny’s brother, Miguel. The gun in the waistband of my pants digs into my back as I drive, but it’s the only thing that registers. Streets pass by in a blur. The radio in the car, horns honking, all sounds are muffled. The address runs through my mind like a chant.

              It’s not even eight in the morning by the time I make it to Miguel’s, but I pound on his apartment door with such force that it echoes in the cement hall. A few seconds pass without any sound from the other side. With both fists this time, I pound again.

              Finally there’s commotion, mostly a string of curse words and what sounds like Miguel telling someone to stay put. The door flings open and I’m momentarily stunned. In front of me is an older version of Danny, face schooled into a mask of anger and confusion. To pacify him, and to justify myself, I pull the badge out of my pocket and flash it at him. His demeanor shifts immediately.

              “Is this about Danny?” he asks, sounding apprehensive.

              “It’s about Logan,” I say, and his hands drop to his side. Everything about him shifts in that moment; his eyes draw down and his mouth pinches. His body language screams guilt and concern.

              “Is she…okay?”

              I shake my head. “I need to know where your brother is.”

              Miguel exhales, runs a hand over the top of his head. “I have no idea where he is.”

              “If you’re lying to me, Miguel…”

              “I swear I’m not,” he says, eyes hard on mine. “I haven’t spoken to him since April of last year. He and Logan used to live here…” He trails off, looking down at the ground now. “It was bad. I should have done more.”

              There’s a pause before I ask my next question, because I’m not sure I want to know the answer. I ask it anyway. “Would he kill her?”

              He snorts, face twisted with disgust. “No. But that’s not any better.” A moment of silence and then he leans against the door jam. “Things have been hard for him, for us. You have to understand that he…he had a hard time growing up.”

              I flex my fists. “Miguel, honestly, I could give two shits about Danny and his hard life right now. He dragged Logan away last night, practically by her hair, with a gun pressed against her temple. I have to find them.”

              Miguel’s eyes are glassy when he finally looks up. “I should have done more,” is all he says and I know that he won’t be any help. I leave him standing at the entrance to his apartment, looking broken and full of regret.