He doesn’t believe me, but I’m beyond caring.
After tossing a bundle of bills over the seat, I crank open my door and peel out of the cab. It’s almost winter, so the chills racking my body should be from the cold. Regretfully, they aren’t. I’m both burning up and shuddering like I am in an ice bath.
The unusual duo hitting me doesn’t slow me down, though. Once I’ve ensured the cab driver has left, I cross the road, then head toward the back entrance I spotted Rocco sneaking out of many times the past week.
The secret passage could be lit up with surveillance, but I’m okay with that if it’s being viewed by the man I’m endeavoring to spark a reaction out of. I still don’t know Dimitri’s cell phone number, and Smith is being as ignorant as my body begs for me to slow down.
Once the sweat beading my top lip has been wiped away, I push open the heavily weighted door in the far righthand corner of India’s home. It takes everything I have to get the rusty hinges to budge, and even then, I have to squeeze through the gap since it barely opened a few inches.
“Smith…” I keep my voice low, hopeful my unexpected return doesn’t startle the lady of the house. India isn’t a fan of mine. I can’t say I blame her. Audrey is more approving of my ‘relationship’ with her husband than her best friend. I can’t help but wonder if that’s because she’s scarred from her ordeal. There’s a pain in her eyes when she peers at Dimitri. It just seems more regretful than sad. “Smith…”
I get an answer this time around.
It isn’t who I’m hoping, but mercifully, it also isn’t India.
“Audrey, are you okay?” My last three words come out in a hurry when she stumbles forward at a rate too fast for me to catch her. She lands on her knees with a thump, her skidder exposing the cause of her fumbling state. Her wrists have been slashed. “Oh God, what did you do?”
I drag her into the open, positive if my screams don’t reach Smith’s ears, he will spot me on one of the many cameras Rocco pointed out late last night. “Help! Somebody, please help!” As I rip my shirt to make bandages for Audrey’s gushing wounds, I choke out, “It’s okay. You’ll be okay. I promise.”
My pledge should slacken the worry in her eyes not double it. The color drains from her face as quickly as it oozes out of her wounds. She looks truly panicked she’s about to die, which is odd considering she attempted suicide.
“Finally,” I push out with a relieved breath when the patter of footsteps racing my way sounds through my ears. “Call an ambulance while I lay her flat. If I raise her arms above her head, it should lower her blood loss.” I’ve just got to pray she hasn’t sliced an artery. If she has, help may not get here in time.
After removing my jacket, I place it under Audrey’s head, then raise her arms as high as I can. It helps to lower the amount of blood gushing from her wounds, but she is still on death’s door.
“Help me compress her wounds.” When nothing but silence is heard for the next several seconds, my mood gets snappy. “Quick!” The shortness of my demand doesn’t weaken the intensity of it. I’m beyond annoyed the person I hear creeping up on me isn’t assisting me in making Audrey stable. “I get it’s scary and that there’s a lot of blood, but Audrey will die if you don’t help me.”
When a snicker overtakes the thud of the pulse in my ears, I crank my neck in the direction it came from. India is standing at the bottom of the stairwell that leads to the main part of her residence. Her hand is clamped over her mouth, and her eyes are fixed on the fading pulse in Audrey’s neck.
“If you don’t want your best friend to die, you need to help me…now!”
Unease melds through my veins when she remains standing at the foot of the stairs. She took charge last week when Audrey’s injuries were much worse than this, so why is she acting like she’s terrified of a little bit of blood?
When Audrey gargles out my name, my eyes jackknife back to her so quickly, my head gets a rush of dizziness. Her lips feebly move as she fights to warn me about the imminent danger I’m in, but not a sound seeps from her lips. She isn’t just sinking into the blackness calling her name, someone hacked up her tongue as poorly as they did her wrists.
“Who did this to you, Audrey? Who hurt you?”
While searching her pockets for her phone, hopeful as fuck she has Dimitri’s new number stored in her contacts, the shadow above my head doubles in size.
I duck with barely a second to spare, sending the vase India was attempting to knock me out with into the brick wall Audrey’s forehead collided with when she stumbled to her knees.
As my sluggish head struggles to click on to what is happening, Audrey finally voices the name she was trying to get out earlier. “Fien.”
Fien is not my child, but I love her father enough to wish she was, so I’ll do everything in my power to protect her from the deranged woman attempting to kill her mother.
With a roar, I charge for India like Dimitri did Officer Daniel almost two weeks ago. My shove juts her so fiercely, a butcher’s knife stained with blood falls from her back pocket. I snatch it up before racing up the stairwell as if my stomach isn’t screaming with every pump of my legs. My plan could be a woeful waste of time, India could finish what she started with Audrey since I’m no longer in the room, but my intuition is telling me this is the right thing to do. India wants Audrey’s death to look like a suicide. She can’t do that without the weapon I’m clutching.
When I reach the top of the stairs on the third floor, I scan my eyes over the dozens of doors branching off the corridor. They’re all identical, and there are far too many to search every one of them.
“Fien?” I call her name on repeat, unsure which room is hers. I only got to watch her connection with her father from afar. I was never invited into her inner circle. It wasn’t just Dimitri shunting me from the festivities, it was India as well.
Now I understand why.
“Fien, honey, where are you?”
My heart races a million miles an hour when Fien sheepishly peers at me from behind a carved wooden door partway down the corridor. Her eyes are sleepy, and her beloved teddy is closer to the floor than her chest.
“Hey, baby,” I say, optimistic she won’t just recall how I ripped her out of Maestro’s arms when he succumbed to a bullet. I helped her meet her father for the first time. Fingers crossed that gives me some additional brownie points. “Do you want to go see Dada? I’m sure he’s dying to see you. I can take you to him.”
