FOREVER MINE (23 page)

I am at home looking through her things, again.  I can’t find anything that looks like a camera.  I have looked through books, and all the little knickknacks she had on various shelves in her living room.  I don’t know what I’m looking for.  I need help.

“Patrick, I don’t know what I’m looking for.”

“I just called my captain, he wasn’t too happy with me for going over his head, but he is on board and sending over some help.”

“What kind of help?”

“The Techie kind.”

“I’m a Techie guy.  I know computers, why am I having such a hard time with this?”

“You’re emotional over this.  Your head isn’t in the game.”

“I guess.  Anyway, it’s late.  When is everyone showing up?”

“He is sending them now.  It’s going to be a long night.”

“I will make coffee.”

I head into the kitchen to make coffee; I can’t help but feel like I have failed her.  I can’t get rid of this feeling.  I can’t stop thinking about what he is doing to her, right now, while we sit here looking through books.  I have to get a grip, as Patrick
says,
get my head in the game.

While the coffee brews I sit at the kitchen table and bring up Google search.  I type in Michael’s name and wait.  It comes back with a few things on him; one interesting article in particular, written in a medical journal.  It was about the medical profession needing more doctors.  It interviewed a few top graduates around the country. 

Michael was the top graduate from Columbia University, in NY.  He was asked what he was going to do now that he graduated.  He answered; that he wanted to do emergency medicine.  He liked the fast paced work environment, and maybe one day get into family medicine. 

“Patrick, I have something here.”

Patrick comes in the room and reads the article.  “Ok, well it definitely helps that he has medical training.  It gives us something else to look at, but I don’t know if it means anything.”

“I knew he had medical training, we all did.  I never knew he was a top graduate from Colombia.  That changes the kind of smart he is.  He is crazy smart.  There’s another article, it says that after he graduated he received a lot of money from a trust fund.  He parents died in a murder, suicide, when he was 15.”  I look at Pat and tell him, “We didn’t know him then; he always said his parents were dead but never how they died.  He lived with his grandmother, she seemed really nice.  Does that mean anything?”

“What did he do after school?”

“He worked at the local hospital for awhile, then he and Charlie had their falling out and he disappeared.  I don’t know I didn’t really keep track of him.  The times I talked or saw Charlie I didn’t want to, we had other things to talk about.  Even all the times I would know she was calling because he did or said something, I would steer the conversation to something to make her think of other things.”

“I will have Chris’s computer expert look into it.”  He gets out his phone and sends a text to Chris.

I walk out of the kitchen and go to my room.  I need a few minutes to myself.  I take the bullet out of my pocket and roll it around in my hand.  “It all is connected, but how?”

As I sit think about how it all could fit together, the door bell rings.  I get off the bed and make my way downstairs.

I grabbed some towels out of the bathroom and cleaned the puddle of water up on the carpet where Michael threw it earlier.  He wants me to clean it, so I
will,
anything to keep him from hitting me again.  I have another towel wrapped around my naked waist.

My face is throbbing.  My lip feels twice its normal size.  My cheeks still sting.  I walk back to the bathroom and hang the towels.  When I come in the room he is sitting on the bed, with a pile of clothes next to him.

“I took the liberty of picking out what you will sleep in this evening.”

I look at the sheer night gown he is holding in his hands. It is black; of course, it has tiny straps attached to two tiny triangular pieces of fabric; that are gathered tightly below the breasts, making a top.  The skirt part is loose and flows, just below the butt where there is a little ruffle around the bottom of the skirt.  Both sides have a slit that goes all the way up to the tie around the breasts, leaving it very revealing.  He is also holding a pair of matching underwear.

“I hope you like it.  We will put it on you after you shower.”  Placing everything on the bed, he stands, and walks over to me. He touches my lip and my cheeks.  “Let’s not have to do this again, ok?”

I nod my head.  He takes my hand and leads me to the bathroom.  Just outside the door, he unlocks my ankle and directs me inside the room.  He enters next, closing the door and locking it behind him.  He sits down on the counter top of the sink and says, “Just pretend I’m not here.  There is shampoo, conditioner, and soap in the closet with the towels.”

I walk over to the closet and get out everything I need to shower.  My ankle feels so much better without the extra weight on it.  I set everything in the tub and look at Michael confused; I don’t know how to proceed.  “Are you going to leave?”

“No.”

“Please, Michael, I just would like a little privacy.”

He gets down and walks to me slowly, “I don’t care what you want.”  He pulls my t-shirt over my head and removes my bra.  He cups my breast and squeezes it.  Then he removes the towel around my waist.  He takes a shuddering breath and kisses my shoulder.  “You are magnificent, Charlie.  I have wanted to touch you and kiss you for so long.”

I just stand there with tears running freely down my face.  At least he is being gentle, not hurting me.  He is good at hurting me, always knowing right where to slap me to do the most damage.

He stops fondling me and turns around to start the water.  He then motions for me to get in.  There is no shower curtain, no shower door, not even a towel to hide behind.  I get in the water and close my eyes.  I let all the pain wash down the drain.  I reach for the shampoo and wash my hair.  Put the conditioner in and wash my body while it soaks.  I wish I had a razor to shave my legs. (And slice his throat.) I rinse the conditioner out with my back to Michael.  When I turn around he is smiling at me.  He has his dick in his hand and is stroking it while I shower.

I stare at him.  I am so shocked I don’t know what to do.  “You turn me on so much Charlie.  I love watching you get yourself clean for me.” He gasps and licks his lips.  “I want you to wash your breasts again, and make sure you really get them clean.”

“NO.”  I whisper it, knowing I will do what he asks but I have to fight first.

He opens his eyes and looks at me, “Do you want me to do it?”

“No.”  I pick up the soap and wash myself again.

“Yes, Charlie, just like that.  God, you’re beautiful.”

I wash myself, I can’t think about what he is doing or thinking.  I close my eyes and do as I’m told; if it keeps him from touching me.  I take my time, the longer it takes,
the
longer I’m alive. 

“Now touch yourself.”

I cannot do what he asks.  I don’t care if he hits me.  I don’t care what he does to me; I am not going to touch myself with him watching.  It’s too intimate.  I shake my head no.  I let the anger show on my face, while I cross my arms over my breasts to make my point. 

He stands, drops his pants, takes off his shirt, and walks to me.  “I told you to touch yourself.”  He growls at me through clenched teeth.

“I said no.”

He grabs my hair and pulls it.  I cry out, but I am not giving in.  He turns my body and pushes me against the wall, spreading my legs with his feet and rubs me from behind.  I try to clench my legs together to keep him out but he is so much stronger. He slides his hard shaft against by butt while he fingers me roughly; sliding himself along my skin as he works his fingers in and out of me and cums all over my back.  I am
crying
so hard I can’t breathe. 

I press my face into to the cool tile wall; he is still leaning against my back, breathing heavily into my hair.  I can still feel him against my butt.  I want to close my legs but his feet won’t let me.  He turns me around and pins me against the wall with his body, grinding into my pelvis. 

“I can’t wait to cum inside you.”  He gives and extra thrust when he says it, and I can’t control the panicked reaction; as I throw up all over the front of him.  He rinses himself off, “This could’ve been so much easier on you.  I’m trying to take it slow with you, and you keep forcing me to hurt you.  This is your fault.

I just wanted to watch.  Did you know I’ve watched you before?”  He slides his hand to my hip and drags me into the water with him.  “I have never been too far from you, Charlie.”  He rinses my face and rubs my lips.  He turns me around and washes his mess off of my back.  His soapy hands glide all over me, like he is allowed to touch me.

“Stop.”
  I don’t say it loud, but he stops and looks at me.

“What, did you say to me?”

“Stop, I don’t need you to wash me.”

“Yeah, well, I am.”  He holds my arm in his soapy hands.

I step away from him and rip myself out of his grasp.  I jump from the tub and race for the door.  I get to it and throw the lock.  I sprint through the bedroom and out the door.  I am not in a bedroom; I am in a basement with a finished room to look like a bedroom.  I don’t know where to run.  I just head straight and hope there are stairs around here, somewhere.

I hear Michael laughing behind me.  “Are we going to play a game of cat and mouse, Charlie?”

I am hiding in a dark corner at the end of the room.  I am naked and I can’t find the stairs.  I don’t think there are stairs.  It’s dark outside; I can see a tiny window up high on the wall in front of me.  An entire day must have passed since I’ve been taken.  Twenty four hours and I don’t know how much more I can take.

I move along the wall away from the sound of his voice.  I back myself into a corner, now what?  “Come out; come out where ever you are.”

They came in and took over.  There are people in the dining room, in the kitchen, and in the living room.  I am grateful for every one of them, I just don’t know where I go or what I do, and so I sit quietly and wait for someone to ask me something. 

The dining room is occupied by two FBI agents Sarah Keller, a white woman in her late thirties.  She is tall with brown hair and blue eyes.  She is all business.  I couldn’t get her to crack a smile for anything, and I was using all my good stuff. 

The second agent is a female also; she goes by the name MJ.  Her full name is Mary Jane French.  She is medium height, medium weight, medium looks; with brown hair and eyes, but her personality is not medium.  She is compassionate, and tries to joke any chance she can get.  She says laughter isn’t the just the best medicine, it’s the only medicine.

Agents French and Keller are doing background on Michael.  Trying to find what ties him to the other victims.  So far they have a lot of facts but can’t figure out how the pieces fit together.  Then Keller notices the name of one of Michael’s patients.  His name is Shannon O’Rourke.  He was arrested a year ago for forging documents, counterfeiting, and money laundering.  He is going away for a long time.  Apparently, he came into the ER with a gunshot wound and Michael stitched him up, it was reported as Shannon getting caught in the cross fire of a drive by shooting. 

“MJ, look at this, Shannon O’Rourke came in to the ER Michael was working at.  What if they got to talking and he mentions that he can make him someone else for the right price.  Michael just getting a lot of money from mommy and daddy likes the idea.”

“That is a really good idea.  We should stop by and pay him a visit later.”

“You got it.”

They take notes and talk about questions to ask O’Rourke.  I leave the room and head to the kitchen where Chris Fitzpatrick and Patrick O’Connor are sitting at the table.  Computers are everywhere.  The pictures of me and the unknown brunette are scattered on the table.  I feel sick when I look at them.

“We were just e-mailed the results of your blood test.  There were very small traces of
GHB
, which
is short for gamma hydroxybutyric (GAM-muh heye-DROX-ee-BYOO-tur-ihk).  We were just discussing that it was probably slipped into the drink she bought you.  The liquid form wouldn’t even make your drink look or taste any different.”

“At least I know now that none of this,” pointing to the table, “is real.”

“Yeah, with what was left in your system all those hours later, you were most likely passed out, cold.”  Patrick says to me.

“Agent Fitzpatrick, do you have any idea how this woman is related to any of this?  Are we any closer to finding Charlie?”  I have so many more questions but I will start with these.

“Please, call me Fitz.  The whole thing is a mouthful.  At this point I can only tell that she seemed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.  We will find Charlie.  We have only been here for a few hours; give us some time to get all our facts organized.  Have you slept in the last 24 hours?”

“No. I can’t imagine sleeping, now.”

“Well, you need to.  You will do her no good if you can’t help us because you’re too tired.”

“Come on, Brody.  Go upstairs and rest.  If you can’t sleep, fine, just shut your brain off for a few.”

I walk upstairs and lie in bed and close my eyes.  I feel like a trader if I sleep, like somehow I’m not doing enough to help find her.  I can’t help right now anyway.  I sigh and roll to my side.  I clutch the pillow that is Charlie’s and inhale.  I can feel the stinging in my eyes but refuse to acknowledge the tears that are falling.  Men don’t cry.