The Mistaken (21 page)

He paced the small space between us, back and forth,
over and over, mumbling to himself. Then all of a sudden, he
stopped and peered back down at me. The same look of remorse and
regret washed over him once more, but this time it was followed by
fear. Acute and irrefutable.

“Oh my God!” he said as he stepped back from me,
both hands resting atop his head. “Oh God, what have I done?”

He bent down and crouched on the balls of his feet
then raked his hands across his face. With his chin tilted upward,
he closed his eyes and whispered.

“What have I done?”

Chapter
Twenty
-
Two

Tyler

I paced the floor around me, unable—perhaps
unwilling—to process the reality of what I had just done—what I
almost
did—the severity of the mistake I had made, and the
dire consequences that now faced me, my brother, and the wounded
woman cowering in fear and humiliation in the corner. The reality
was that through the hazy cloud of alcohol and pills, I believed
delivering a degrading punishment would somehow empower me, fulfill
my need for revenge, and expunge the hate, grief, and rage that
filled me. I thought my mind might be rewarded with a sense of
balance, my soul a thread of justice, and my heart a measure of
peace.

But I despised myself for the act. Though I knew the
woman must hate me with every fiber of her being, to the very core
of her soul, I hated myself more. I was not the man I thought I
was. The true measure of a man reveals itself during the darkest
moments, and I had proven false to the man I always believed myself
to be, to the man Jillian believed me to be. The fact that I had
not followed all the way through didn’t diminish the horror of it.
I could not have sunk any lower had I taken a human life with my
bare hands.
God, how did I get here? How could I have even
thought of doing such a despicable thing?
I was an abomination,
a monster far worse than Erin Anderson had ever been.

Even if I had dispatched the penalty upon Erin,
rather than this woman, it still would not have accomplished what I
sought. I could see that now, that my inability to accept my own
guilt had robbed me of my humanity. And now, the actuality of my
error in both judgment and reason lay broken and beaten at my feet.
Whoever said vengeance is sweet was wrong. It’s the thought of
vengeance—filtered through memories that haunt and torment—that is
sweet. Not the act itself. The act is vile and bitter. I felt
physically ill as it filled me, as I realized what I had almost
done, what I had, in fact, already done, the pain, fear, and
humiliation I had caused.

I studied the woman as she sobbed on the floor,
blood smeared and crusted along the side of her face. She stared at
me with haunted eyes that bore through me with rage, hatred, and
despair. I could relate. I had felt the same way and now abhorred
that I was the source of all three. The man I once was wanted to
reach out and comfort her, but I knew all I would accomplish would
be to further terrorize her. Her dress was ripped, nearly torn from
her body, and her legs were exposed and already showing signs of
bruises. As I took a step closer, she raised her chin, but still
pressed herself deeper into the corner.

“You keep back!” she screamed. “Stay away from
me!”

“
Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Just…calm
down, all right? I won’t hurt you, not any more.” I made the
promise, but realized how hollow my words must sound to her. I
grabbed the blanket from the bed and held it out to her. “Here,
take this. Cover yourself up. Please.”

Instead of moving closer and scaring her further, I
tossed the blanket at her. The blood on my hands flashed before me
like a beacon at twilight. I held my hands up in front of my face,
repulsed. I would have wiped the blood onto my shirt had I not been
naked from the waist up. I turned, hunting for my discarded
clothing, and put my t-shirt back on, though it, too, was stained.
I pulled on my wet jacket and zipped it to cover the evidence
beneath. A trembling sigh of relief escaped my lips, but I could
not hide the true testament of my crime. With slow caution, I
approached the woman again. Her frightened eyes followed me, round
as saucers.

I knelt down in front of her, five feet away. “I’m
sorry, your name?” I asked. “What did you say your name was?”

She sniffled. “Hannah...Maguire,” she replied
between hiccups. She wiped her eyes and nose with the blanket now
secured tightly around her.

I offered her a feeble smile and gnawed on my lip.
“Right. Hannah. Okay, um…good. That’s good.” I stared at her and
sighed, unsure of the best way to proceed. “Look, Hannah, I...
There are no words... I don’t even…know what to say... What I’ve
done…what I tried to do, it’s…it’s unforgivable, I know.” I bowed
my head, unable to look her in the eye any longer. “I can’t even
begin to explain...why I...what would make me... I have nothing
that would help you understand. I don’t understand it myself. I
don’t know where that came from, even with everything that’s
happened. I…I don’t know what to say. I am so very, very
sorry.”

I looked back at her, hoping my regret was as
plainly written on my face as it was seared into my heart. My
throat constricted with the effort it took not to allow the sorrow
and shame to overwhelm me. But I had to address her. The situation
had become unbelievably dire. There was more at stake now than
ever.

“Okay, so, um…Hannah…you mentioned that you had a
private investigator following your husband, that you had pictures,
right? May I see them, please? Whatever you have on the two of them
together. I need to be absolutely sure. If you could get them for
me, please.”

She continued to glare at me silently from the
floor.

“Where are they?” I requested more urgently.

She startled and poked a hand out from beneath the
blanket, pointing to the room behind me. “They’re…in the…closet.
Back there…through…the bathroom.”

“Right. Okay, good. That’s…that’s good. Um…would you
get them for me, please?”

Again, she sat silently, not moving to get up or
respond in any way.

“Please, Hannah, this is more important than you
could possibly know.”

She narrowed her eyes and stood up slowly, one hand
pressed against her temple as she winced in pain. Her bare foot
caught the edge of the blanket, and she stumbled forward. Without
thinking, I reached out to steady her, but she lurched up against
the wall, shrieking at me, her eyes wide with fear.

“No! Get away! Don’t touch me!”

I pulled back and retreated a few steps with my
hands raised. “Sorry! I won’t hurt you. I promise. I won’t hurt
you.” I stepped back farther, allowing her room to pass.

With her back turned away, she sidestepped around
me, never once letting her eyes slip from mine. She retreated in
reverse, each step slow and measured, all the way into and through
the master bathroom where she stopped in the doorway of a large
walk-in closet. Hannah spun around and disappeared into the
darkness.

I followed her to the closet and flipped on the
light, startling her again. She jumped and sucked in a sharp
breath. I stopped in my tracks and raised my hands.

“It’s okay. Take it easy.” I even tried to smile,
but it was a miserable attempt. “Now…if you could…the pictures,
please.”

She pulled a file folder out of a built-in dresser
drawer. The file trembled as she held it out to me. I looked her in
the eye, trying to reassure her that I meant no further harm.
Without taking a step closer, I stretched forward and took the
folder then gestured for her to return to the bathroom.

“Please, Hannah, go sit down.”

She shook her head. “No way. I’m not going anywhere
near you. You move first.”

I chewed on my lip then said, “Okay, that’s fair.”
With my eyes glued to hers, I backed out of closet and into the
bathroom, stopping shy of the main door. “Okay, I’m all the way out
here. It’s your turn.”

Her worried face eased through the open closet door
and turned toward me.

“Good enough?” I asked.

She nodded, but only slightly.

“All right then. Come on out and have a seat,
please.” I gestured toward the large jetted tub.

She side-stepped across the carpeted bathroom floor,
eyeing me warily every inch of the way. Her face screwed up as she
lowered herself down along the edge. I winced at her display of
pain, disgusted with myself. I dropped her gaze and lowered my
head, my eyes pinned to the floor in shame.

I opened the file she’d given me and pored over the
material in the folder. I read through a report prepared by the man
she had hired. The descriptions noted numbered photographs which I
studied intently. The people in the photographs were identified as
Beckham Steven Maguire of Sammamish, Washington, age thirty-eight,
and Erin Elizabeth Anderson of Petaluma, California, age
twenty-four.

The pictures showed the two of them in a variety of
locations. I stared at the images of Erin. There was no doubt that
Hannah and Erin bore an uncanny resemblance, but with Hannah
sitting so close, there was also no mistaking the differences. Erin
was probably ten years younger than Hannah. Holding the evidence in
front of me, I don’t know how I could have made such a monumental
error, even as drunk as I was. The magnitude of my mistake was
astounding and crushed me anew.

“Oh my God,” I whispered to myself. I was still
looking them over them when I walked over to confront Hannah.
Sighing, I shook my head and looked into her worried eyes. “Hannah,
besides the obvious, this evidence provides me with a substantial
problem.” I wasn’t sure how to explain the gravity of the situation
and what my options were, especially without scaring the life out
of her. “I’ve made a terrible—”

We both jumped when my mobile phone rang from inside
my pocket. I kept my eyes on Hannah as I dug for it, glancing at
the screen before I answered.

“Shit,” I swore quietly to myself. I turned away and
accepted the call. “Nick?”

“Ty, where the fuck are you? When I woke up, you
were gone. And so was my gun. Did you take it?”

“Yes, Nick, I did. I’m sorry, but—”

“Ty, please tell me you didn’t go up to Maguire’s on
your own.”

“Yes, I did. Look, Nick, we have a problem.” I
looked back over my shoulder at Hannah. “A rather significant one.
And I’m not quite sure what to do about it.”

“Oh God, Ty, you didn’t kill her, did you?”

“God, no. I did not kill her.”

“Well, what is it then?”

“Well, um, there’s…been a...mistake.”

“A mistake? What does that mean, a mistake? What
happened?”

“I don’t have time to explain it right now. I’m kind
of…busy. I’ll tell you everything when I get back.”

“No, Ty, I want to know what you’re talking about.
What mistake?”

“All right, Nick, please, listen carefully. I need
you to call Alexi and tell him that I’ll be delayed. Do
not
say anything else. Just tell him I’ll be a few days longer than
expected. Make up some excuse. Anything. I don’t care. Just get him
to extend the deadline, all right? I’ve got to figure all this out
before I talk to him again myself.”

“What is going on? You’re scaring me, Tyler. You do
not
want to piss Alexi off, believe me. He doesn’t trust you
as it is. I’m sure he’s having you followed, you know, to keep an
eye on things, in case there’s a problem. If you want, I can get
some of the guys over there. Just one call to Alexi and—”

“No, Nick! Don’t you say a goddamn thing. They can’t
come here! Not now!”

“Why not, Ty? What the hell is going on?”

“Nick, please just...just do as I ask, all right?
I’ll be there as soon as I can. We’ll talk then. Don’t worry about
anything just yet, okay?”

Nick sighed impatiently. “Okay, but you better
hurry.”

I ended the call and turned back to Hannah who was
fidgeting in her seat alongside the tub. What Nick had said about
Alexi’s men concerned me. I couldn’t risk having them involved
until I mediated a new arrangement with Alexi, one that involved
only the repayment of funds. Dmitri had already been paid; his
client was waiting. If they thought I was even slightly reluctant
to turn the girl over to them, they would simply eliminate me,
seize Hannah, and deliver her themselves. They wouldn’t care who
she was. Any girl would do. And with me out of the way, they
wouldn’t have to relinquish Nick either. They’d both be slaves to
the Russians.

My God, what a mess!

“Hannah, I need to get you out of here...right away,
okay?”

She shook her head. “No way. I’m not going anywhere
with you. Just leave, please.”

“Look, I know you don’t understand. You’re scared.
You’re hurt and angry. I get that but…I can’t explain everything to
you right now. It’s urgent that we leave immediately, please.”

“Why in God’s name would I leave my home with
you
? I don’t know you, and after what you’ve done...” She
shook her head. “You’re insane! Just get the hell out and leave me
alone, please. I won’t tell anyone what happened, I swear.”

Hannah became agitated, alarmed by my urgency. As
she stood up, a new course of tears erupted. She wiped at them with
the blanket, smearing the dried blood crusted along the side of her
face into streaks. I groaned inwardly as I scanned her appearance
from head to toe, the blood and bruises, her ruined clothing. I
grew more anxious by the minute. I couldn’t take her out looking
like that and risk drawing unwanted attention, and I didn’t have
time to argue with her.

“Find some comfortable clothing and change,” I
ordered. “Wash up first, you’re covered in blood. Then pack a
change of clothes and whatever personal items you might need over
the next few days.” I took a step closer. “We’re leaving. Now.”