Tanked: TANKED (18 page)

“Sure,” he says but something sounds off. He isn’t his normal chipper self.

“Something wrong?”

“I have a headache is all. This extra work is wearing on me I guess.”

I feel bad, I want to say something but what could I say?   I wish I could tell him to go home.   I guess I can call Tank and see if he’ll come back or can get somebody else to sit with me
.
I have to fight the mother in me to not go feel his forehead for a fever.
He’s not Jessie
, I remind myself then say, “Hunter said there’s a stomach virus going around right now. Maybe you got that.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he mumbles.

Prima jumps up on one of the lobby chairs and I stare at her a second. “Prima! How’d you get up here?”  I quickly pick her up to take her back downstairs. I make it to the door of the kitchen when my phone rings.  I sigh and I double back.   I grab my phone out of my purse. Tank reads across the screen, “Hey, I was just fixing to call you—”

“McKinsey, where are you?”

“At your office wh—”

“Who’s with you?” he asks, cutting me off.

“Cootie.”

I looks over at Cootie and he’s now standing, staring at me, his back hunched.   His eyes                                                                                                                                                 are glazed over and I’m not sure he’s even really looking at me, I feel like he’s in some sort of trance.  He rakes his hands through his hair then starts slapping himself on his forehead.  He doesn’t look like himself at all anymore.  “Cootie, are you alright?” I ask with a shaky whisper.

Tank shouts on the phone that’s still pressed to my ear, “Get to the safe room!”

I try to back up but my foot catches the corner of an end table causing me to stumble. Prima jumps out of my arms and scurries away.  The phone flies the other direction. Cootie takes a step toward me and says, “We have to go now.”

My heart is racing, and I’m confused by his change in appearance and demeanor. My subconscious is screaming danger!  I try to contain the fear in my voice and I reply, “Go where?  I think we need to stay here. Tank's already on his way.  Why don’t you go home and get some rest? You really look like you’re coming down with something.”

I take another step back toward the hallway. I know I’ll never make it to Tank's office or be able to figure out how to open the safe room.  I’ve only seen him open it one time. And I don’t think I can make it to the front door either without him catching me.  I only need a few more minutes for somebody to get here, which I realize I don’t have when he pulls out a long knife. “I’m going to need you to come with me. It’s the 46
th
day, time’s up.”

“Cootie list—”

“My name’s not COOTIE!” Spittle flies everywhere when he screams.

I take another step back but this time he lunges forward, I turn to run down the hallway but he catches me by my shoulder and I feel instant pain. “You’re. Going. The. Wrong. Way. Ma-kin-zey.” I can’t help it. Tears burst from my eyes.  He pulls me back against his body, wrapping an arm around me and the hand that’s holding the knife runs it over my front down between my breasts.  He holds me tight with that hand and wraps his other around my throat.  “You’re too late; you already had your chance to run. I told you to run my little gingerbread.”

I reach up pulling at his hand trying to release his grip from my throat.  He uses his weight to force me back to the kitchen. “This is all your fault; if only you would’ve left it alone,” he says. My eyes burn as I gasp for air, “Open the door,” he orders.

I try to reach up with both my hands to pull his hand away while I mouth, “I can’t breathe.”

He let loose a little and I suck in a big breath of air. My head is pounding and I reach for the door with a shaky hand and open it.  The sun hurts my eyes but there sits the old gray car that Tank had taken a picture of that had been sitting in my driveway. It has been him the whole time but I don’t understand, I don’t understand why he’s doing this to me.  I start thrashing around trying to break free knowing it’s my only chance to get away. He has to let me go to readjust his hold. He grabs my hair then presses the knife to my face. “I already told you, you already had your chance to run. Now come on.”

“No!” I scream over and over, and then beg, “Please don’t do this you don’t have to do this.”

He slowly runs the knife across my face then down to the back of my neck. I can hear the sirens in the distance. “Let. Her. Go,” comes from behind us. Cootie spins us sideways toward Tank who’s standing at the corner of the building, his gun locked in on Cootie.  I want to crumble to the ground and cry, so thankful he’s here and I’m no longer alone.
He made it
.  Tank frowns as he says, “It’s over now and you know it. Now let her go.” I can see a fire burning in Tank’s eyes. I try to focus only on him and not the knife that is now putting pressure at the back of my neck, sliding up my head.  Tank begins walking toward us. He stops and says, “This is the last time I’m asking you, Let. Her. Go. You know how this ends. Either way you’re a dead man.”  First the pressure of the knife falls away, and then his grip loosens a bit.  I yank as hard as I can to break free,
BANG
!

I freeze but only for a second and that’s long enough for me to realize I’m free, I try running to Tank but I trip and fall. I begin to crawl. He jogs to me and scoops me up in his arms and hugs me tightly to him.  I don’t know how long it is until everybody arrives. It feels like one second we are alone in the alley behind his building and the next people in uniforms are swarming everywhere.  Tank and I sit in the middle of the back alley for a long time. People approach us and he wave them away.  I don’t want to move. My head is tucked under his chin and his arms are wrapped around me and I am safe. He has saved me, like he said he would and he did.  I raise my head and look into his eyes; he leans forward and kisses my forehead.  I close my eyes and begin crying all over again. He begins whispering, “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you—”

I lift my head again. This time I place my hand over his mouth.  I search his eyes. I know he feels the same thing I’m feeling and I can’t help myself. I reach up and touch the long scar on his face, and run my finger the length of it. I pull his face to mine and plant a soft kiss on his lips and begin crying again. When I finally look him in the eyes again, I can see different emotions and they aren’t all good. I’m not ready for the rejection, not right now, so I ask, “It’s over isn’t it. Swear it’s all over.”

He pulls me to him again. “Yes. It’s over and you’re safe.”   I nod and put my head back on his chest. He asks quietly, “Do you think you’re ready to talk to an officer yet?  All you have to do is tell them what happened and then you can go home, or to your parents or even stay here until you’re ready.”

I reach up and rub my throat. The contact with my fingers against my skin burns. “Will you stay with me?” comes out a little desperate but I don’t care.

He kisses my head then rests his chin on top of it. “I have nowhere else to be.”

CHAPTER NINE

Harry, Jessie and Excuses

I sit curled up in the corner of Tank’s couch, Prima purring comfortably behind my head on the back of the couch.   There are people everywhere, lots of noise and chatter, and I have to talk to more people than I expected. I have to tell my story over and over and it’s mentally exhausting.  Even though I’ve said the words my brain still hasn’t fully wrapped around everything that has happened.  I still have a lot of questions with one being, why me? But I’m too exhausted to ask and too heartbroken to hear the answers.  All I want to do is to take a shower, go to a quiet room and try to sleep.

Tank squats down in front of me and lightly places his hand on my leg. I look down at it. The warmth feels nice. I look back up at him and his kind eyes stare at me. “Do you want me to call your parents?”

I continue to stare at him trying to think of what to say to my parents, but I can’t think of anything. The numbness overtakes my body. I nod and come up with something quick. “Tell them I’m okay and that I’ll call them in a little while, and tell them it’s all over now.”

He gives me a sympathetic nod, grabs my hand and squeezes it.  Hunter comes and sits by me for a long time.  We don’t speak but he seems as confused and devastated as I am. Except I imagine his are for different reasons. He wasn’t hunted or attacked like I was, but he was betrayed.

I close my eyes when I hear my mother’s voice.
Of course she wouldn’t stay away, and I was a fool to think she would
.  When she descends the stairs and we lock eyes, I feel a rush of emotions sweep over me and suddenly I realize I’m glad she came.  I immediately stand as she hurries down the stairs, we meet, hug, and cry together.   I pull away. She rubs my cheek with her hand and then pulls me to her again, hugging me tighter. 

After she practically pats my entire body making sure I really wasn’t injured, we sit down together on the couch.  I put my head in her lap and she rubs my head and then runs her fingers through my hair. While doing this she speaks softly, “We’ll go get this fixed tomorrow okay?”

I roll back toward her to look at her, “Get what fixed?”

I see the realization in her eyes and she says. “Nothing honey, I was just talking out loud.”

I’m immediately alarmed. “Momma, what?”

I reach up and feel my hair.  Then I shoot up when it feels different in the back where I can feel short pieces sticking up.   “He cut my hair?” I start to panic, I jump up and run to the bathroom; I had already been to the bathroom and I know I look like holy hell but I didn’t think to look at the back of my head. I run my fingers through my hair while standing looking in the mirror.  I see there is a huge chunk missing and there are shorter parts on the back of my head.  I see my mother’s reflection in the mirror as she stands behind me with tears in her eyes, “Why didn’t anybody tell me?!”  I murmur.

“Honey, they may not have known or realized.”

My temper starts to flare but my feelings are hurt worse. “How could they have not realized that I have a part of my head that has no hair?!”

My mother wipes her face as she firmly replies, “Your hair will replace itself,
you
cannot be replaced.  I’m sure it wasn’t on the list of priorities with everything going on.”

“Momma, in a few hours everybody in this city is going to know what happened to me. You know how gossip flies in this town, and I can’t walk around with my hair like this!”

She takes a big breath. “McKinsey calm down. We’ll go to the hair salon tomorrow and put it to rights.”

Calm down?
  “Calm down! I don’t want to calm down! I want my hair back like it was! I want my life back! I don’t want to be the person that everybody whispers about, poor McKinsey almost got killed and managed to get her head shaved by a psychopath serial killer!” I scream and I instantly regret it.

Tank comes and stands beside my mother. I look at him and point to my head, “You don’t think you should’ve mentioned this?”

He replies, thinking he’s going to help, “It’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be.”

“Oh boy,” my mother chimes in and shakes her head. “You have got a lot to learn.” She turns and walks away.  My mouth falls open at her departure. 

Tank leans against the door frame. He rakes his top teeth over his bottom lip trying to figure out how to deal with me, finally he says, “I need you to talk to one more person and then you’re done.” 

I turn away from him and look at myself in the mirror again, and then at Tank’s reflection. “This is why I need Jessie.  He would know why this is important, I know it doesn’t seem important in the ranks of having a serial killer after me but, he would get it.”

Tank walks up behind me and put his hands on my shoulders. “I swear I didn’t notice until a little while ago, and I don’t think anybody else has noticed either so please don’t freak out. I know you’re not going to want to do this but it’s got to be documented, any cuts or bruises and your hair; they are going to have to take pictures to document everything.  That’s the last person you’re going to have to see, I swear.” I look at him standing behind me as he pulls on my shoulders to spin me around.  I don’t think or care what type of relationship we have or don’t have right now. I wrap my arms around his waist and put my head on his chest.  I feel his arms wrap around me and his chin rests on top of my head.  We stay like this a few moments, and then he lets me go but puts both his hands on my cheeks and lifts my head and our eyes meet. “She’s a very nice lady who has to take pictures of any cuts or bruising, stuff like that, and she might ask you some personal questions.  But I promise you the pictures will be sealed, meaning they won’t ever be seen by the public.”

I slouch in defeat, I know how silly I sounded worrying about my hair and that’s not the point really. “Will I have to get naked?” I ask, worried.

“I wouldn’t think so.” His face turns tender and he carefully asks,   “Did he touch you in any sexual way?” I shake my head no.  “Okay then, I think they just need to look for any cuts to verify and document our side of the story.”

“Even though it’s all on camera?” I whine.