Coldness Unraveling – Autumn
Coldness Unraveling
Autumn
K ylie is pacing in front of a car when I pull into the parking lot.
My headlights wash over her, revealing a new version of the woman I last saw years ago.
Dressed in a dark grey sweatsuit, her auburn hair is chopped shoulder-length with bangs; her once-hot pink ends are tinged in a soft green.
I slide my car next to hers, and she rushes to the driver’s side once I open the door.
“Oh god, I thought you’d never arrive!” She pulls me into a much-needed hug.
The familiar scent of her juniper perfume brings a smile to my lips, and I suddenly remember the times we stuffed stolen bottles into our winter coats.
“You look so good, Autumn.” She hugs me tighter. “So damn good.”
“Thank you, Kylie.” I smile. “You, too.”
“Okay, well…” She slowly lets me go and looks around. “We’ve lost too much time already, and we need to go ahead and switch cars.”
“Huh?”
“This lot doesn’t have any bushes or tree lines like the bar,” she says, pointing to a cement building in the distance. “There’s a parking garage over there. Can you follow me, so we can make the switch?”
“What are you talking about, Kylie?”
“I didn’t want to scare you too much, but I rented this car and bought everything inside it for you.” She walks to the trunk and pops it open. “I have everything you could possibly need for wherever you decide to go next.”
An assortment of black and grey duffle bags, Tupperware containers, and magazines are neatly arranged next to a small suitcase. A shiny metal gun gleams from inside a clear tote.
“It’s not registered to anyone, don’t worry,” she says, taking it out and running a finger along its barrel. “My dad has always sworn by this model for me and my mom.”
I stare at the gun as she checks the chamber.
It’s fully loaded…
“Kylie, I’m confused.” I pick up the top magazine, The Best Hidden Places in America . “I thought you insisted on driving all this way to tell me whatever words you couldn’t say over the phone.”
“I’m doing that, too, but you’ll need to hit the road right after. Trust me.”
I stare at her, waiting for her to reveal the punchline.
She’s always been a comedienne, but her humor was usually self-deprecating with hints of truth. Outlandish takes were never her forte.
“I got you this, too.” She pulls a pink and coral tube from her pocket and presses it into my hand. “It’s a blade on one side and nearly lethal pepper spray for whenever you can’t get your gun fast enough. Put it on your keychain and never let it out of your sight.”
“Okay.” I laugh. “You got me, Kylie. Now, be serious and drop the act.”
“Not wanting you to die isn’t an ‘act,’ Autumn.” She looks into my eyes. “We both have a lot more life left, and I’ve already missed out on enough of yours as it is.”
“Every person who is unlucky enough to stumble into Edward Rochester’s world—every single person—falls off the face of the planet or finds themselves in a grave.”
“You don’t really think he’s a murderer, do you?” I say the words as a balm to my nerves, unable to believe that the man who pushed my body to the pinnacle of pleasure minutes ago could inflict the worst type of pain.
“I highlighted a date called ‘Black Thursday,’ in one of his files.” She pushes aside a stack of containers and picks up a creased manila folder. Then she throws it at me.
“They had seven witnesses scheduled to testify before a grand jury, so they could press charges against him.”
“What type of charges?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Her voice is suddenly cold. “Do you want to know what happened to those witnesses?”
I swallow, shaking my head.
“They’re still looking for them, Autumn,” she says. “They all vanished the day before the hearing without a trace.”
Before I can ask how certain she is, she steps closer and flips the folder open, bringing me face to face with a large photograph of a burning mansion.
Ryder’s estate…
“The FBI and the ATF find it quite interesting that his main house burned down when they were in the middle of investigating him for those missing witnesses.” She forces me to flip through more photos, showing me firemen carrying a body bag amidst a wall of flames, a mountain of ash atop his grand water fountain, and charred cars sporting crime scene sashes.
The final picture is a faint image of a shadowy figure looking at the damage from a distance. The note under it reads, ‘Mr. Rochester’s location at the time of fire still not confirmed.’
I shut the folder and toss it into the trunk. “He told me about the fire.”
“I highly doubt it was the truth.”
“He said it was an accident.”
“There’s nothing accidental in this man’s world, Autumn.” She rolls her eyes. “Except you crossing paths with him, probably. Then again…”
“How does he know Nate?” I ask, remembering that she’d mentioned it.
“Banking somehow,” she says. “I have a theory, but I need to go through everything one more time, so if you don’t mind…
Follow me to the garage so we can switch,” she says.
“I made copies and you can look through the rest of that stuff when you get someplace safe. Call me on one of the burner phones.”
“Kylie, I can’t just abandon everything that I have here.”
“I’m sorry, what exactly do you still have here?” She crosses her arms. “You and Nate are supposedly done, you didn’t make any decent friends, and you hate this city.”
“It’s not just that.”
“I can arrange to have your apartment cleared out and your stuff from storage sent to wherever you go. Somewhere he’ll never find you.”
He’ll definitely find me… “Right.”
“Autumn, you asked me to look into this guy, and I’m telling you to run away. Are you hearing me?”
“I hear you.”
“Then allow me to save you from inevitable danger ahead of time.” She gives me a sympathetic smile. “This doesn’t need to be another Canadian situation, you know?”
I nod, fixating on the word danger.
I never told her—never told anyone, but I’ve tasted danger before Ryder.
And I liked it.
Sweet as syrup, it still lingers in my memories from time to time. It beckons me like a moth to a flame but I never minded getting my wings tinged or burned… As long as I knew what I was getting into.
Ryder’s brand of danger is the unknown, but a part of me can’t resist wanting to see if it’s even sweeter than what I had before.
“Do you remember that, Autumn?” Kylie asks. “You got sent home from our senior symphony trip early because you didn’t properly prepare for customs.”
I nod, not willing to travel down that road with her; I wasn’t sent home from Canada for not preparing. I was fucking deported for breaking the law…
“I can’t switch cars with you,” I say, stepping back. “Even if I wanted to… I appreciate the research, truly, but I think we’ll be fine if you just follow me back to my place.”
She narrows her eyes. “I didn’t drive here to have you waste my time, and I… What do you mean ‘even if you wanted to?’”
“Nothing.” I shake my head. “Come on, follow me.”
“You didn’t agree to work for this man, did you?”
“No, Kylie.”
“Are you sleeping with him?”
I say nothing.
“I see.” She shakes her head. “He’s probably stalking and following your every move already then…”
“Can you please just?—”
“Stop warning about a dangerous ass crime boss who will probably kill you once you’ve served your purpose?”
“He’s not following me, Kylie.”
Or is he?
A chill rolls down my spine, though the night air is still. I glance toward the corner of the lot, suddenly hyper-aware of the shadows swallowing its edges.
A faint click echoes from behind a nearby pillar—too sharp for rain, too intentional for wind.
“Okay.” She picks up the gun again. “So, if I shouted, ‘I’m about to kill you, Autumn!’ nothing would happen?”
I raise an eyebrow, tempted to call 9-1-1 and get her head checked for damages.
The only sound between us is wind and faint raindrops tapping on our cars.
“Anyway…” I reach for the gun, but she doesn’t give it to me. Instead, she steps back and shouts her weird phrase again.
She shouts again—louder this time.
Silence.
Then, the unmistakable crunch of gravel underfoot.
Before I can tell her she’s lost it, a figure detaches from the shadows—tall, expressionless, his grey suit clinging like second skin. His eyes flick to Kylie, then to me, calculating.
Another man moves behind her in perfect sync, like they’ve been stationed here all along.
“Is there a problem here, Miss Jane?” he asks. “Do you need any assistance?”
Kylie drops the gun to the ground.
Ryder’s associate immediately picks it up, and he remains close by, watching and waiting.
My pulse thunders. How long have they been here? Watching? Waiting for a signal?
“If you do manage to remain alive…” Kylie’s voice cracks as she unlocks her car door. “Feel free to write to me from your prison cell.”
“Kylie, wait.”
“Word of advice from a former friend… Don’t ask for help when you don’t really want it.” She slides behind the wheel without another word, and then speeds away.
End of Episode 8