Chapter 42 Dinner for two
FORTY-TWO
Dinner for two
LILA
Eating in front of people gives me indigestion. Doing it while it’s being recorded by the FBI is akin to four-alarm heartburn, bordering on a stomach virus.
And don’t get me started on the pee paralysis I had in the bathroom out of fear I didn’t turn the transmitter off properly. It took me a solid three minutes to relax my bladder enough to get the job done. With any luck, I won’t need to go again until I get this equipment off.
If I have to work more than one shift like this, I’ll have a UTI and an eating disorder.
While picking at my turkey on whole wheat, I try to focus on anything else but this entire mess. Naturally, I don’t succeed. And since I’m indoors, I can’t get distracted by scanning the skies for birds.
If I’m not worried about the wire or fearing that I might have to burp, I’m mentally replaying that video Reed and his team showed me earlier. I only needed to watch it once to etch it into my mind. Not so much what I could see, but what I heard.
Those sounds will haunt me for eternity.
Evidently, the FBI found a recording from a motion detection camera in some hidden compartment at the scene of a murder. I assume it’s the bad, bad murder Reed mentioned. Of course, they didn’t tell me any of this, but it wasn’t hard to piece together.
They asked me to listen to see if I recognized the voices from the audio or anything else.
The video clip started with a hand moving past the camera to reach for a large container.
A dozen or so smaller vials were stacked beside it.
They paused the video when I excitedly announced the vials were familiar.
Silas had two of them when he would stop by to refill my rings with a syringe. One for each color dye.
I got a mood boost from being able to help the FBI so soon after signing my informal agreement.
They paused the playback again when I recognized the ink on the man’s hand as it passed by the camera.
Another jolt of pride filled me when I was able to confidently state where I’d seen the same tattoo before.
Although this person had a lighter skin tone than Silas, my slithery ex has an identical tattoo.
From that point on, all good vibes were smothered by the horror I felt as the video proceeded.
Despite the anguished sobbing in the background, the tattooed man’s voice was clear, given that he was near the camera at that point. As he started removing the small vials one by one, he mocked the victim.
“If you would have told us where this was to begin with, you wouldn’t be in all that pain, would you? But you had to be a greedy piece of shit.”
When he grabbed the larger container, the lid popped off, making the liquid slosh and spill. There was a lot of colorful cursing that would’ve made my uncle roll in his maggot-infested grave.
The screen went dark not long after. I suspect the compartment door was closed after he sloppily removed the container. However, the camera kept recording. And three distinct voices were captured on the audio.
It was obvious which one was the victim from how hoarse he sounded, probably from screaming for so long. Based on context, I assume he was tortured for the location of the liquid and the vials. Now that they had what they wanted, he was begging for his life.
The other men didn’t like that.
The man who grabbed the container did the majority of the speaking. It was all cruel taunting that I’m struggling to purge from my mind.
We can’t trust you anymore.
You went too far.
You’re already dead to us, and now we’ll make it official.
You wanted a bigger cut? Here’s a cut for you. And another. And another.
Adding insult to injury, he even implied that he couldn’t wait to comfort the victim’s girlfriend after she finds the traitor gutted like a fish.
The third man’s voice on the recording was all too familiar and guaranteed to keep me up at night. In fact, it’s already been doing that for weeks.
It was Silas.
Or whatever his real name is.
It wasn’t the same tone he used to tell me how beautiful I was or flirt with me, shamelessly begging for a date. Nope. It was the other side of him. The voice he used to threaten me into submission and throw my life off-kilter.
“Cut that mark off him, Riddick. He doesn’t get to die with that on his chest.”
The blood-curdling scream that followed has me itching to search the web for: therapist near me. And depending on how I sleep tonight, I might need to accelerate that search and go with one of those therapy apps with near instant access to a professional.
Truthfully, I should be in therapy anyway. As soon as this mess is behind me, that’ll be my first order of business.
When the wailing eventually stopped, leaving only silence, I assumed it was over. But there was one more thing Silas said.
The same exact sentence he said on the night he appeared at my apartment with that Polaroid of Kenzie.
As he was leaving, he threw a chilling look at me over his shoulder. “Pleasure doing business with you.”
Knowing Silas was part of this murder has amplified every fear. And it’s made catching him all the more important.
If Reed and his peers are right, I’m the one with the power to do it.
And I will, even if it kills me.
That monster must be stopped.
A loud clack of heels and a dramatic sigh echo around the break room, snapping me from the memory of that dang recording.
My earpiece finishes bringing me to the present.
Agent Dad Andrews comes through like he’s speaking to me from inside my head.
“Here she is, Lila. We got her in there; you can take it from here. Anything you get out of her can help us. Just play it naturally. Remember, you’re simply finding some common ground. ”
To confirm my understanding, I feign a throat clearing, just as I was instructed.
“Good girl. You’ve got this.”
That one was Reed, as confirmed by my stiffening nipples. And I’m suddenly a bit tingly down there. Especially with the good girl he tacked on.
How dare he? Right in front of my sandwich?
Ignoring the dirty-talking FBI agent in my ear, I beam a welcoming smile at Dana. “Hey. How are you doing tonight?”
She glances at me indifferently while retrieving her lunch from the fridge. “Same as always. You?”
“Oh, I’m fine. Mostly.” I let my cheery mask slip, hoping she’ll notice. “Things are . . . complicated, I guess you could say.”
Picking up on my atypical vibe, she moseys over to my table. “I could use a distraction if you need to talk.”
Yes. Mental fist pump.
We rarely speak beyond casual greetings in passing. Maybe this is a sign that things are finally turning around for me.
I pin her with a pleading look. “Truth? I really could use a friendly ear.”
Hope that didn’t come off too eager.
“Dial it back a little. Relax.”
Thanks, Agent Dad, also known as my conscience.
Dana takes a bite of what looks like a homemade Italian pasta salad. With her figure, she can handle the carbs.
She points her empty fork in my direction. “Go ahead and talk. I’ll listen.”
After releasing a calming breath, I flash what I hope looks like a grateful expression instead of a monstrously nervous one. In other words, I fake it.
I lean forward and whisper. “Actually, it’s this thing with my ex.”
She responds by emulating my body posture and volume. “What did he do?”
Reed comes through my earpiece. “She knows you dated Silas. Work his name in so we can see how she responds.”
Out of habit, I answer Reed. Out loud. “Okay.”
Crud.
I try to recover instantly, feigning I was addressing her. Thankfully, it was an innocuous phrase.
“So here’s the thing. We didn’t date for long.
And the breakup wasn’t good.” The more I talk, the more natural my voice sounds.
Probably because it’s the truth. “He ended up having a dark side. I’m still reeling from how it came out of nowhere.
I keep thinking I should have seen it coming, you know? ”
“Dark side?” Dana lowers her chin to her chest and stares at me from under her brow. “Did he get violent?”
Before I answer, I nibble my lip and feign being conflicted about what I’m about to share. “Well . . .”
She reaches her empty hand across the table toward me. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me. But if you need to get it out, I’m here. I just want to make sure you’re safe.”
Her vibe is motherly and feels genuine, making it easier to open up to her.
“He was more threatening than violent. And yet his threats were violent. That might not make sense.” I pause, shaking my head despondently.
“For almost two months, I’ve been absolutely terrified of Silas.
” My voice cracks as I admit, “I feel like he’s watching me, waiting for the right moment to attack.
It’s as if he’s lingering in every dark shadow.
Behind every bush. Under the bed. In the closet. I can’t escape him.”
The tears obscuring my vision aren’t an act. And nothing I said was untrue.
I dab my eyes with my napkin and muster the courage to look at Dana. Without speaking, she rises from her seat and glides around the table. She takes the seat directly beside me, scooting close to my side. A comforting arm is thrown over my shoulders.
And this virtual stranger comforts me.
A coworker who has barely spoken ten words to me in the years I’ve worked here is lending me her solace. Perhaps there’s hope for women supporting women in this world after all.
Instead of making my tears subside, her kindness spurs a few more.
“Easy, cookie,” Reed soothes. “You’re okay.”
Shoot. I almost forgot about the prying eyes and ears. It snaps me out of the depression fog.
My spine stiffens, and I sniffle back the emotion. “Sorry. Please don’t tell anyone what I said about him.”
After removing her arm, Dana shifts in her seat and takes my hand. “Sweetie, you obviously needed to get that out. It sounds so scary. You shouldn’t be going through that on your own. Trust me, I know how—” She snaps her lips closed, making a popping sound.