False Regret: Pikorua - Book 1 (19 page)

I
swiped a few bucks from the wallet of one of the policemen, happy he was a
heavy sleeper. After packing a few items in my purse, I was ready to make the
great escape. Most likely, no other agents were in the building since nothing
had happened in weeks, and it was a holiday. Just in case, I took the
stairwell, not the elevator, and slowly worked my way around the building until
I found a service entrance. Even though I had the choice to leave, I didn’t
want to be hassled about it. I opened the squeaky steel door just a crack to
peruse the sidewalk, but I didn’t see anyone. The cold winter air hit me like a
wall when I stepped outside the building. I hid inside my hood and pulled a
pair of gloves over my hands, having no idea where I wanted to go. With the
stealth of a panther, I crept out onto a small cement stairway and then took
off in a jog. The wind bit my face, but I ran until my legs were too weak to
continue, which wasn’t far. I was completely out of shape and still emaciated. My
lungs were on fire.

 It
was late and not much was open, but I found an open-all-night restaurant where
I treated myself to coffee and pie. I laughed out loud, proud of myself for
having so easily slipped out of FBI custody.   

After
my dessert and java, I walked until I came to the park the agents had let me
walk in during our outings. I gleaned it wasn’t safe to be there, not because
of my father, just because of the everyday thugs that probably lurked in there.
I was willing to risk it, though, and kept hiking. The sun began to rise, and I
realized I was dangerously cold. It was time to find a warm place to go before
I succumbed to hypothermia. At the end of the street, I found a small motel,
one that catered to prostitutes by the looks of the clientele coming and going.
After I rented a cheap room with the cash I had on hand, I cranked up the heat
and lay down on the old brown bedspread, free at last.

When
I woke, it was check-out time, and I couldn’t believe I’d slept so many hours
without a single nightmare. For the first time in weeks, I felt rested.  I
donned my hoodie and gloves, the only clothing I’d brought, before heading back
out into the frigid air. The agents were probably looking for me by then, so I
would have to be vigilant. I found an ATM and withdrew all the money in my
account. It didn’t seem to matter whether my house went into foreclosure or my
car was repossessed since I would be dead soon.  After hailing a cab, I headed to
the airport. With no particular destination in my mind, my plan was to take my
life in a place that held no memories for me, thinking it would allow for a
more peaceful exit. Cade was right, I was weak-minded, but I didn’t care in the
least.

 When
the cab pulled up in front of the airport, I saw two men in suits standing at
the entrance. Something about them gave me pause. Paranoia kicked in, and I was
sure they were FBI, so I instructed the driver to keep going. Instead, I went to
a four-star hotel, figuring if I waited a few days, the security would lighten.
Cade and the other agents had told me they were holding me as a courtesy for my
own safety, but I wasn’t sure anymore. I trusted no one. Everyone had an agenda
and would use me to their own benefit despite what I wanted.  I checked into
the swanky hotel and paid cash, though I had to put my credit card on file. It
was another flaw in my plot. They could trace me via the card, so I would have
to scrap the plan of traveling to my death. I needed to finish myself off
before they found me. My thought process and ability to reason, seemed lost
under the melancholy. I didn’t know what I was doing or why.

After
checking into a luxury suite, I visited the posh salon in the building,
catering to the elite. Frivolity was the name of the game. I had my hair
highlighted and trimmed, along with a manicure and pedicure. If nothing else,
I’d look decent at my funeral, even if no one was there but the grave diggers.
The next day, I ate an elaborate Thanksgiving meal in the dining room and
soaked in my private Jacuzzi for hours. Wrapped in a plush complimentary robe,
I drank two bottles of expensive red wine and took a handful of
over-the-counter sleeping pills. I was sure I’d never wake up, but the feeling
was perfect and peaceful. Nearly twenty-four hours later, I woke up screaming
from a nightmare and covered in vomit I didn’t remember spewing.  
Jesus,
Ellia, you can’t even kill yourself worth a fuck. You are such a loser.

I
cleaned up the mess and took a shower, positive my skull would implode. I
vomited bile on and off for an hour and had an extreme round of diarrhea before
I fell asleep again. The next morning, I woke just as the sun was rising over
the city with my head still throbbing and another nightmare fresh on my mind.  The
dreams always revolved around Cade. I still could not escape him, not awake or
asleep, and I hated him for it.

I
gathered a few belongings, and checked out of the hotel, with no plan in mind
at all. The wind could blow me where ever it chose. Shoppers crowded the
streets, taking advantage of after-Thanksgiving sales, and I blended in as one
of them.

I
strolled along, appearing as a normal person to the rest of the world, but feeling
devoid of humanity, internally. I stopped to look at a dress in a window. It
reminded me of the gown I’d worn to homecoming my senior year, but I was really
just seeing inside my mind to the memories that held me prisoner. The dress
looked nothing like that in reality.

The
reflection of a man standing behind me, caught my eye. He was staring right at
me. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and my gut said he wasn’t there
shopping for anything but me. I went inside the store to mingle with the customers,
hoping I’d lose him. Everywhere I walked, he seemed to be there, his bald head
gleaming in the florescent lighting. He was a big guy, dressed in black, and he
looked to be in forties or fifties. I was scared of his menacing presence, though
he’d not given me a legitimate reason to be. Regrets about my decision to leave
FBI custody surfaced. Maybe I wasn’t ready to die, after all. I should’ve kept
my ass in that apartment under the protection of those two sleeping dopes. Fear
had me in its icy hands, and I ran. He paced me, and I was in deep trouble.
Gone was all that bravado about facing death and not caring about my life. The
panic inside me proved I wanted to live. I entered a dressing room, thinking I’d
slipped him, and asked a woman to borrow her cell phone to call 911. The woman lent
me the phone, and I dialed in the emergency number. With no hesitation, the
operator directed me to an FBI line.

“Miss
Meyers, I am Special Agent Rodriquez, what is your location?” he asked.

“I
am in a big department store on Jefferson Avenue. I think it’s called, The
Emporium. There is a man chasing me. What should I do?” I asked, nearing a
frantic level of anxiety.

“Where
are you in the store?” He remained calm, but I sensed desperation in his tone.

“I’m
in a dressing room but …” I didn’t get the chance to finish my sentence. The man
found me, and we stood face to face.

“Hello,
Ellia,” he said. “Getting a little shopping done without your Bureau friends, I
see.”  He held the gun up to my face, and I dropped the woman’s cell phone. I
could still hear Special Agent Rodriquez calling my name. The woman whose mobile
I’d borrowed screamed, and the man turned his gun on her, shooting her between
her dark brown eyebrows. The silencer muffled the sound, but it still seemed to
pierce my eardrums. As if in slow motion, the middle-aged lady fell to the
floor, her open blue eyes accusing me. The man backed me up against the wall as
a shriek flew from my lips, echoing in the changing stall. He slapped his meaty
hand over my mouth.

“Shut
up, right now, or I will kill someone else. Do you want to live with that,
Ellia? Walk out of here nice and calm. Do exactly what I tell you so no more
innocent people have to die. Are you going to be a good girl?” I nodded.
“Excellent,” he said and removed his hand from my face. He tucked the gun back
in his jacket. “Let’s go.” I walked in front of him and could feel his breath
on my neck me as we exited the store. A car waited curbside for us, and he told
me to get in into the backseat where Dacks sat with his bulk filling up two
spaces. The bald man got in the front side passenger seat.

“Well,
here is our little princess,” said Dacks, laughing. “You did your FBI friends a
favor. We were coming for you, but you walked out on your own.” He chuckled,
revealing his yellowed teeth. “You probably saved a few lives. Does that make
you feel good, honey? What the FBI fails to grasp, is that we have people
everywhere—in every organization. It was just a matter of time before we found
your location.  In a world of technology, where information and surveillance
can be easily purchased, invisibility is a thing of the past.” He put his arm
around my shoulders and kept talking as I shirked away from him.

“We
have an update for you. We located your daddy on a beach, living the good life.
Such a shame he has no remorse for the pain he’s caused his family. We would
let you go, sweetheart, and your people, but your father is a stubborn fellow whose
love of money clouds his judgement.  He didn’t break when Beth, your sweet
momma, begged for mercy.  I think the sick bastard enjoyed seeing his ex-old-lady
nearly fucked to death right in front of him--who knows. Daddy still didn’t
break when your poor little brother had his fingers cut off one by one. That
young man wailed like a little girl, but your dad didn’t flinch.  Our sources tell
us he was closest to you, Miss Ellia, so now it’s your turn. I suppose if watching
you suffer doesn’t break him, we will have to kill you, too.” He said ‘too,’
which confirmed my mom and brother were already dead. My stomach clenched into
knots, and I considered jumping from the car to save myself hours of torture.

“If
we don’t get what we need from daddy dearest, I guess the consolation will be
in that his entire clan is wiped off the planet, and that makes me feel a
little better. Money can be replaced.”  Just as he uttered the last words, someone
hit the car from behind, sending my face into the seat in front of me, making
my nose bleed. Another blow to the car repeated the process. I put on my seat
belt, not knowing what was happening.

A
black SUV had pulled up beside us on the driver’s side, and I could see Agent Roberts
and Cade in the front seat. They directed the driver to pull over, but he
refused and sped up the car.  Roberts angled his vehicle in front of us and a
state trooper pulled up beside us. They had the car boxed in and Dacks’ driver
swore as he tried to maneuver around them. We were on the highway by then, and
the driver rammed into the cop car next to us, causing the officer to spin out.
We drove into the median and onto the opposite side of the expressway. Cade and
Roberts caught up to us, and Cade motioned for me to lay down in the seat as he
took aim into the car.

“Lose
these assholes,” screamed Dacks at his driver. The bald man from the store
rolled down the passenger window and fired at the SUV. With unexpected force, the
front tire of the car blew, but I didn’t know if it was bad luck or from an FBI
bullet. Dack’s driver lost control, and we were spinning. I remembered how the
last care chase had ended. Now I was a passenger in the ill-fated vehicle, and when
it veered for the ditch, I braced myself for impact. The nose of the car hit
the rise on the other side of the conduit, smashing the front in and putting
the engine in the lap of Dacks’ driver. The car flipped upside down and came to
rest. I hit my head and blacked out.

I
awoke in a hospital to the beeping of a pulse oximeter and tried to sit up, but
the pain that screamed across my skull and down my neck, stopped me.  I
squeezed my eyes shut and released an involuntary moan. “Relax, Ellia,” I heard
Cade say. “You’re in the hospital, and you’re safe; just rest.”

“Cade,”
I said, confused, thinking I was back in high school. I reached out my hand to
him, and he took it, but it wasn’t the hand of the boy I loved. It was the hand
of a man I didn’t know. I opened my eyes and looked at him, trying to pull away,
but he held fast to it. He sat down on the hospital bed, next to me. The tears
came as remembered what happened, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

“I
shouldn’t have run away, and I am so sorry. God, sometimes I am so stupid and
impulsive. Were any policemen or agents killed or hurt? Did that woman in the
store live?” I asked, knowing the answer to the latter question already.

“No,
all of the good guys are fine. The woman in the store didn’t make it, and
neither did Dacks. His driver is in critical condition, and the man from the
store is in police custody. Why did you leave, Ellia? We’ve poured so much time
and resources into protecting you from these people. Why would you take off on
your own? Do you want to die?” he asked, still holding my hand.

My
eyes found his. “I did … I do ... I’m not sure anymore because I’m already dead
in so many ways. I have nothing left to live for, so what is the point in
staying alive? You should’ve just let them take me. They caught my father, and
they’ve killed my family. He still won’t give them the money. It’s laughable if
they think making him watch me suffer will break him. He doesn’t give a shit
about me and never has. They can kill me, too, and then this will finally be
over for all of us.”

He
was quiet for a moment, studying my face. “This situation has been hell for you,
but don’t give up on your life. You will get through this. I have faith in you.
You got through a rough patch before and you can do it again.”