Adelaide Confused (19 page)

The argument broke off at
my approach. The man rang up my purchase while pretending I didn’t
have a face. Sweat broke out on his bald pate and his fingers shook
slightly. His wife stood back, staring at the back of his head, her
lips pressed into a grim crinkled line. It was painfully apparent
that they were both fuming. In contrast I had the steely discipline
to act indifferent. Each week my control improved. This week was no
different. I was in such a good mood over my success that on the
way out I offered them a cheeky goodbye.

I’d accomplished enough
this trip, it was time to go home and get ready for work. I fumbled
to open the pack of Starburst, wending my way without paying much
attention. So it came as something of a shock when I got snatched
right off the sidewalk.

I guess it would be more
accurate to say that I was preoccupied, not merely inattentive or
careless. I was thinking of Lucas and obsessing over our kiss. He
was a good kisser, an expert really. It didn’t make sense. Why was
he so awkward when it came to talking, but not with kissing? Logic
would have it that he was a scoundrel, but I wasn’t going to listen
to logic. I felt it best not to worry about it.

Something I would worry
about was how things hadn’t gone as expected. It hadn’t been like
in the movies where two lovers embrace while an orchestra
crescendos, cuing the couple to fall into a mindless passion. I’d
felt the passion part, but my mind had never shut off. I’d been
worrying about my breath, what he was thinking, his bare chest, and
all while we were kissing! Appalling and totally unexpected,
someone should really warn you that no matter how great a kiss, you
can always multitask, finishing up your grocery list while touching
tongues (though I swear I didn’t do that). I was just saying it was
possible was all.

Mostly I thought about my
parting words. I told Lucas we’d be seeing more of each other. At
the time I’d just meant, you know, I’ll see you later. Upon further
consideration I worried he might misinterpret my meaning, thinking
it had been a sassy sexual innuendo, like I’d suggested getting
naked. Shit. He probably thought I was a floozy.
Lucas thinks I’m a floozy.
That was what I’d been thinking just before I got
snatched.

I had no warning.

A kidnapper should feel
something before he did the deed, right? If anything he was calm.
Calm just like the night he bashed me and Reed over the
head.

His arm snagged around my
chest, pinning my elbows to my waist. He walked backwards, dragging
me into a smelly side road. I recognized the place. I sometimes
parked there because no one would complain. There was no point. I’d
only be blocking the dumpster and a few back doors. This alley was
for foot traffic, and it didn’t see much. No doubt the reason
Beagban chose it, no witnesses to see me die. Of the dying part I
was certain. In his other hand he held a knife.

A nine inch long butterfly
knife, the blade slim as my pinky, rested just under my chin. I
dropped the pack of Starburst as he pulled me further from sight.
His deep harsh voice sounded from just behind my ear. “Do you know
where we are?”

My thoughts were too frantic and frightened,
I was unable to reply.

He turned me, pivoting so I
could see down the alley. “Around that corner is where I killed a
man,” he rumbled in my ear. “Stabbed him to death,” he whispered,
the sound hoarse and grating.

I began to shake.

“
Did you think you were
safe?” he ground out, his voice choked with rage. “Did you think
your boyfriend would stop me?”

I could only whimper. His arm had constricted
around me, tightening with each moment that passed. I could barely
breathe.

“
I killed them, I killed
them both! Did he tell you that?” he raged. His hands began to
tremble, the knife nicking me softly as he lost control. “I took
their guns, shot ‘em with their own guns!” he bragged hysterically.
“But not before I bashed in their faces with my fist.”

That was when I noticed it,
the reek of blood. Blood, the sticky substance that layered him
like a second skin. His hands were stained, everything I saw was
stained, even me.

The arm that held the knife
was a sodden mess, wrapped in wads of cloth to stop the flow. He
hadn’t gone to the hospital after I put a blade in his bone, hadn’t
even cleaned it. The fresh stench of blood and sweat told me more
than that he’d merely neglected tending his wounds. Beagban had
killed, and it had been recently.

He shook me brusquely,
unmindful of the knife scratching away at my throat. “I’m going to
kill you both!” he promised.

I began to hope, filled
with a comforting relief. I blinked my eyes open. They were warm
and swollen, filled with tears. The ghost floated at the far end of
the alley, coating the shadowed crossroads with a soft mist. He
couldn’t help me now, I knew. Was he trying to console me, ease me
to the end?

“
I’m going to kill you
both!” Beagban shrieked. “You’re dead! YOU ARE DEAD!”

Three scrawny figures dressed in sagging
black rounded the alley entrance just then, stopping abruptly with
eyes gone wide.

Beagban growled. Being
interrupted only ratcheted his anger up a notch. I hunched over,
gulping in air the moment he loosed me. Then his fist was tangled
in my hair, pulling me upright sharply. Only when my chin was
pointing to the sky did he whisper in my ear, “I’m going to chop
off your arms before I kill you.” And then I was flying through the
air.

Beagban had pushed on the
small of my back with all his strength, sending me halfway down the
alley. I landed on my side, cheek to the asphalt. My long apricot
hair lay puddled on the ground, red with blood where Beagban had
grasped it. My hair was red. He’d made my hair red!

I moaned pitifully, pushing
myself onto all fours, then to my feet. The teens were clustered
around me, worried but wary. I didn’t understand what was making
them so nervous, Beagban had gone. But then I understood. They were
afraid of me. And what was more, I recognized them. Not long ago
I’d held them up with a hairbrush. Was that ironic or what? I
wasn’t sure, irony was a tricky word.

One of them, I couldn’t
tell which, was talking, asking me a question. It was hard to
focus. My mind and body weren’t on the same page. I felt scared,
longing for someplace safe. My home. I wanted to go home and
shower. But my body was suffering from either adrenaline or shock,
I couldn’t tell which, maybe both. I stood there for a moment,
shaking, crying. The boys kept talking at me, and they were getting
harder to ignore. Finally I asked, “Which way did he
go?”

They pointed past the
dumpster, the way he’d dragged me in. I went the opposite
direction. Stumbling became jogging, and jogging became running.
I’m sure I passed people on the way to my car, but I recall none of
it. I don’t even remember the drive home.

I went to work later that
day.

I was still reeling from my
Beagban encounter, but sitting around the house wasn’t going to fix
anything. And I meant that literally—I didn’t have a phone. And the
first thing I planned to do was call Reed Wallace. His account of
‘taking care of it’ and Beagban’s cryptic ranting didn’t add
up.

I briefly considered asking
to borrow Lucas’ phone, but this wasn’t a conversation to be
overheard, especially by Lucas. So I went to work, though I didn’t
much feel like looking at anyone.

I had to wear the ugliest
shirt I owned. The scratch on my face hadn’t received much
attention. I’d been able to pass it off with a vague explanation.
But if I showed up to work a few days later with more marks it
would stir concern. So I dug around the bottom of my closet until I
found an outdated turtleneck. Of course it just happened to be in
puke brown.

Usually I wore my hair in a
simple way, down, up, or in a ponytail. Today I gave myself two
loose French braids, going for a whimsical look. It failed. I
didn’t look whimsical. I looked like shit, which was exactly how I
felt.

I found Ben in his usual spot, parked at the
picnic table under the oak. “You look like shit,” were the first
words out of his mouth.

“I’ve had a problematic morning. What’s your
excuse, old age?”

He glared at me with a
frown etched on his face, carving lines beneath his grizzled beard.
If Helen’s was the face that launched a thousand ships, then Ben’s
could have sent them scurrying home again. It sometimes miffed him
that I never responded to his cantankerous behavior or baleful
expressions. He’d sent Stephen into a dither on more than one
occasion, and even our own Queen of the Damned, Missy, was
intimidated by him. Maybe I would be too if he was half as
ferocious as he liked to think.

When he only glared, I
asked, “So what’s on the agenda for today? Checking the airfare for
trips to Atlantic City? The internet can be tricky, but I can help
you—”

“You’re a real pain in my ass,” he
griped.

“So no special plans then?”

Feeling a bit abashed, he
mumbled something under his breath.

“What was that?”

“
Isaidswimminlessons.”

“
Your larynx must be
gnarled like your fingers.”

“
I SAID SWIMMING LESSONS!”
he bellowed.

“
No need to shout. I heard
you the first time.”

He huffed his anger, standing to stalk off no
doubt. His knees cracked in protest.

“
Maybe swimming lessons
will do you some good, or any form of exercise for that
matter.”

“
I’m fit as a fiddle,” he
protested before turning to leave. Over his shoulder he called out,
“Someone’s expecting you in the office.”

Of course he would wait
until now to tell me. Fear struck like a lightning bolt. “It’s not
a man is it?”

“No, she’s a lady that one, a real class
act.”

The lady in question was
none other than that mega-bitch secretary, Karen. She wasn’t
sitting down or even leaning like a normal person would. No, she
stood at attention, straight and stiff, her haute couture purse
clutched in both hands.

“What?” I barked, heading for my chair.

She was stunned by my rude
manner. I believe she had expected me to say something like ‘so
sorry to keep you waiting.’ Oddly enough, she wasn’t mad—a first.
In fact she was... happy.
No, not
happy
, I thought, evaluating her
emotions,
smug
. I soon found out why. Smiling sweetly, she turned to face me
while I got settled. “Reed thought it would be best if you didn’t
see each other for a bit.” Of course she was smug; she thought Reed
had dumped me. Hardly, he was probably afraid I’d unman him if we
met again so soon. She was waiting, anticipating my indignant
response.

I stared at her blankly for a moment before
asking, “And?”

“And?” she repeated hollowly.

“What does he want? I assume he sent you with
a message.”

Disappointed, she nearly scowled, but quickly
hid her darker side behind that chilling professionalism. “Yes, of
course. Mr. Wallace has requested that you find time to visit the
Sea Turtle Center, preferably tomorrow morning.”

“The Sea Turtle Center?”

“
Yes, the Georgia Sea
Turtle Center,” she clarified. “It’s located on Jekyll Island, not
far. Mr. Wallace said you would understand.”

I understood, but thought
it a bit far-fetched. Did Reed expect a sea turtle to just vomit
the demon diary into my lap? Unlikely, but who knew, maybe I’d find
it under a statue or something. It was worth a try. “Is there
anything else?”

She was back to being her
normal angry self. “Yes, he’s requested that you attend a picnic.
It’s tomorrow at the club, another Wallace Enterprise
event.”

“Sure, fine, whatever.”

“
There will be tennis and
other recreational activities. Reed suggested you dress
accordingly, a polo and some khakis will do.”

“
Alright,” I said, knowing
I didn’t own either.

“
That’s it then,” she said,
sliding her purse handles up to rest on one shoulder. “Reed will
meet you at the gate, noon sharp, don’t be late.”

I watched her leave. As her
body swayed with each step, her hair remained unmoving. Most
unnatural. I passed a great deal of time daydreaming that she was a
robot after that. Eventually I realized I couldn’t put off calling
Reed any longer. It didn’t matter that he thought we shouldn’t see
each other, in fact, I quite agreed, but we still needed to
talk.

The phone rang the moment
my hand touched it. I picked up. “Sterling’s, how may I help
you?”

“
He’s involved with someone
else!” Francesca wailed. “He came in to see one of his employees,
we got to chatting, things were going great, and then he says he’s
involved!”

“That is a bit shocking,” I agreed.

“Can you believe he’s got everyone thinking
he’s a bachelor, all the while he’s got a woman waiting back in New
York?”

“
Yes I believe it, that
part isn’t such a surprise. But what I do find shocking is that he
admitted it. I’d have expected him to try for a one night stand at
least, girlfriend or no.”