Anarchy Found (14 page)

I walk up around a corner, then double back though a cut in the hedge to an alcove that has a window cut through, so I can watch the detective pass by.

The sound of soft footsteps on the large flat stones make me duck back into the darkness. A few seconds later, she walks past the window. Her eyes dart around. She looks right at me, but she’s unable to see past the shadows.

Can I turn her? It’s a good question. One Case and I discussed at length this week after I told him the whole story. He came by the cave earlier and watched the footage with Sheila and me, and then we pulled up the tracking map from the transponder I magnetically attached to the undercarriage of her work car.

She was at Blue Corp all week. Which, as Case pointed out, might be useful to us. If we can get her to cooperate. Everyone—I do mean everyone—knows why she was put on that Blue case and it wasn’t because they’re short-staffed.

It was because she’s new. She’s got no history. No context. No memory.

I wait until her footsteps fade and I walk to my left, deeper into the maze. It’s not the right path, and eventually it will dead-end on the far side of the garden after twisting and turning so much, a person unfamiliar with this puzzle might feel dizzy.

But it goes in the right direction and meets up with another side path that will take me back to the main one. So I continue. I hear her a few times. And she hears me too. Because she stops, like she’s listening.

I pause for several seconds and let her get ahead, and then, as silently as I can, weave my way through the heavily shadowed corridors until I’m back on the main path that takes you to the center. Thomas spared no expense building this place and rehabbing the cathedral. And I wonder why? Why spend all that money just to relive what we left behind? I’ve spent the past fifteen years trying to forget that place. Don’t get me wrong, I remember the important parts. The drugs. The doctors. The manipulation. The end.

But the maze? And the cathedral? No. That’s not shit I need to keep.

“I know you’re here,” Detective Masters says from a hedge or two away.

“Come find me,” I whisper back.

Her feet whirl on the stone path and she’s closer than I first thought. Sneaky thing, isn’t she?

“I remember you.”

“Yeah?” I ask, easing into another alcove. She’s gonna pass by me if she goes towards the center of the maze, so all I have to do is stay put now.

“It was raining.”

“It was snowing, gun girl.”

“And you crashed a bike in front of me.”

“I pushed you out a window.”

“What?” she asks. I walk forward a little, and then slip across the stone path and into another corridor where I make a turn that will bring me back towards her, but on another side of the hedge. “You drugged me.”

“You drugged yourself that night. I was just the supplier.”

She’s silent. And then, “I was with you last weekend, wasn’t I?”

“I thought you remembered?” I can hear her breathing, that’s how close she is. I can see bits and pieces of her cream-colored gown through small breaks in the hedge. “What do you think I did?”

“Took me home—”

“I sent you away, remember?”

She hesitates. So she doesn’t remember all of it.

“I didn’t have a party last Saturday.”

“You sound unsure. Like parties are your thing. Are you a party girl, Molly?”

She starts walking without answering.

“That’s the wrong way.”

“Why should I believe you?” She’s breathing hard now, like she’s scared. And she should be. Because she’s alone out here with me. She’s the last person on earth who should be alone with me.

“Because I have the maze memorized. I designed it. Many, many years ago.”

“Liar,” she whispers.

“Keep walking then,” I say, following her on the other side of the hedge. “You’ll come to a fork—”

“A fork in the road. You went left and he went right.”

“You ran one way and I ran the other.”

“There was a dirt road. And you were driving my brother’s truck.”

“You got a nice new brother out of that deal, eh? I should’ve never trusted him.”

“I don’t know what that even means, but…” She lets out a long sigh.

“Found the fork, did you?”

“Why are you here?”

“I’m here for you. Why else would I bother to show my face?”

She stays silent for a few moments, and then I hear laughter from the start of the maze as more people enter. I wonder if she’ll scream?

I decide no when she stands her ground. She wants to talk. Wants answers. And she wants to follow my lead. She might not realize it yet, but she wants me to take over. Be alpha again. “Go left at the fork,” I say.

“Just like I did last weekend.”

“Just like that, gun girl.”

There’s a long silence after that, and then she draws in a deep breath, lets it out slowly. “Bike boy,” she whispers.

“The one and only. Now do as I say and then we can talk.”

“What if I don’t want to talk? What if I want to arrest you for rape?”

“Rape?” I laugh. “Come on.”

“I woke up wearing lingerie.”

“What’s so bad about that?” I say, walking towards her voice. I have to go the other way to get to the middle, but I don’t think she’s ready to see me yet, so I stay close, but not too close.

“Girls don’t wear shit like that to bed when they’re sleeping alone.”

“Some girls do.”

“Not this girl. And this girl doesn’t drink.”

“Doesn’t drink anymore?”

“Right.”

“Hmmm,” I say. “But that lingerie was pretty. And you looked pretty wearing it.”

“You took my clothes off,” she growls.

“You were very muddy and wet. I needed to clean you up. So why not make you look pretty after?”

“You fucking pervert.” She’s breathing harder now and I start to get a little worried.

“We didn’t sleep together, if that’s what you’re worried about. You were stoned, man.”

“You’re the one who got me stoned.”

“I had to.”

“Why?” she demands. “Why—” And then the rest must come rushing back. Because she stops and stays silent for more than a minute. We stand there, just a few feet apart but separated by more than a tall hedge. We’re separated by fifteen years. By a night in the snow and an eternity of regrets. By choices that pulled us apart, and fate or bad luck that will bring us back together.

“Do you want to talk or not?” I finally ask, breaking the silence. “Because I have a secret to tell you.”

“I want to arrest you.”

“Meet me in the middle and see if you still feel the same way after.”

“I will. You’re not going to get away with what you did.”

“You can believe what you want, and I might be an asshole for last weekend. But it’s the things I did fifteen years ago that count. And I did keep you safe. I never raped you. And I never wanted to hurt you.”

“No? So coerced drugging isn’t hurting someone? What if I was allergic to that drug? What if I was—”

“You’re not.”

“Don’t interrupt me, asshole. You don’t know anything about me.”

“Go left,” I growl back. “Then take the first right, go past the second alcove, and then turn right again. I’ll meet you there.”

Chapter Seventeen - Molly

I stand absolutely still, listening to his fading footsteps as he walks away. He’s crazy. Insane. What to do?

1. Run. Any man who would drug a woman, take her home, wash her off in the shower and then dress her up like some doll—well, I don’t have a strong enough word for how goddamned creepy that is.
   
2. Go meet him. Because any man who does all those things just to keep a secret… yeah. That’s some secret he has.
   
3. That fucking cave.
   

It’s all coming back to me. The gate in the side of the mountain. The dark tunnel with the red running lights. The… lab? Holographic woman? Guns.

I swallow hard. I’m not new to danger. Hell, I cut my teeth on things far more dangerous than standing in a hedge maze at night with a creep. But… he’s so very,
very
creepy. Serial killer kind of creepy.

I shudder and look down at my gun. I do have this. And if I don’t go meet him then I’ll have to try to backtrack my way out of this damn maze. I can still hear voices—people might be in the maze. But will they find me and let me follow them out? It’s a lot larger than I originally thought. I counted the longest path and it was forty-two steps. And that wasn’t even the entire length of one side.

I could scream and someone would come rescue me. But how the hell would I show my face at work tomorrow?

So… I walk forward and take the first right, go past the second alcove, and then turn right again.

And simple as you please, there I am. Standing in the center of the maze.

“What a letdown, huh?” bike boy says from the other side of a huge statue of a satellite dish. It’s fifteen feet in diameter and mounted on a pedestal ten feet high. Spotlights on the ground point up at it, highlighting the greenish copper patina.

“I expected more from Thomas. A Greek god or something. A fucking minotaur, maybe. But this piece of shit?” He stops looking at the disappointing sculpture and drags his gaze to meet mine. “He’s let me down before, though. So what’s new?”

“You know Mr. Brooks?” Brooks doesn’t look like the kind of guy who hangs around serial killers. But then again… I have no idea. God, I wish I knew the people of this town better. Having no history sucks.

“Damn,” bike boy says. “I didn’t get a chance to look at you inside.” And then he looks me up and down like he’s a wolf and wants to eat me up.

I swallow down the apprehension I have about being alone with this man in the middle of a giant puzzle and start with the basics. “What’s your name? And why did you… do all those terrible things to me?”

He gives me half a smile. And when I say half a smile, I mean only half there. Like he’s at war with himself and good and evil are the same thing. “How much do you remember?”

“Most of it leading up to the…” I was just about to say kiss. I grunt and shake my head. “Drugs. What were they? Memory inhibitors, obviously. But what exactly? So I know whether you’ve damaged me permanently in some way.”

“Well,
obviously
”—he laughs, repeating my own word—“I’m not telling you that. I’m not telling you anything, in fact. If you want to know, well, Detective, you’re gonna have to put in a little more effort. Come find me. You made me that promise and I’m gonna hold you to it.”

“I did find you,” I remind him, spreading my arms wide. “And what makes you think you’re going anywhere but jail tonight?”

“Jail for what? You have evidence?” He takes a step forward and I have to force myself not to instinctively step back at his approach.

“I’m sure I could muster some up.”

“Aha,” he says, tsking his tongue and pointing a black-gloved finger at me. “I see you’re catching on already. If the CCPD doesn’t have any evidence that’s what they generally do. Just muster some up. Well, I’ve got a pretty good lawyer, gun girl. So take your best shot.”

Gun girl.
“In this case it would be true. I don’t need to fake it.”

All this time he’s still inching closer and everything in my body says to run. Run, run, run. As far away from this man as I can get. But the fight in me doesn’t give up so easy. The fight in me likes to stand and give it my best. The fight in me can be stupid at times.

“So arrest me, gun girl. Is that who you are? Their gun girl?” He winks. “Or mine?”

“I’m no one’s girl.”

He smiles a charming smile, his eyes bright with possibilities. “You sure about that?”

“Why come here tonight? Feeling guilty? You’re some kind of psycho who wants to play a game? Am I your opponent? Do you really want to play with me? Because I assure you—”

And then here he is. Right in front of me. Standing so tall and ominous, I have to look up and take a gulp of air.

“Who says I’m playing?” His face is shadowed, but I can picture his features. That unruly dark hair, wet from the rain. The cold wind whipping it up around his face. His equally dark eyes with that spark of amber in them. His lips, brushing against my neck in that cave. His breath, tickling me and fooling me into thinking he wasn’t going to hurt me.