Chapter Five #3
I give her a smile in return that I hope puts her at ease. “It’s my pleasure.”
Leading her towards a booth, I deliberately choose one out of Sterling's line of sight. I don't want his eyes on us or his inevitable questions. He’s the last person I want to explain anything to right now.
She slides into the booth, and I sit across from her, careful to keep my distance and give her plenty of space. I don't want to overwhelm her or make her feel trapped. I watch her as she settles in, her dark hair falling around her face, framing those delicate features.
Her slender frame gives the impression of a fragile bird who might break at the slightest touch. In the photos I found, there was no denying she was a pretty girl, but in person, without the heavy makeup, she's beautiful.
“What’s your name?” Charlotte asks .
“Silas Voss.”
“Silas Voss,” she repeats, drawing it out as if tasting it on her tongue. "So, Silas… Tell me, why are you buying me lunch? What's this about?"
“I don’t have a lot of time right now, but I was hoping we could set up a time for us to talk.”
“About?”
Reaching into the inner pocket of my jacket, I retrieve one of the photos of Charlotte I found at the Pearson residence. Sliding it across the table, I keep it face down, my fingers lingering for a moment. "I wanted to talk to you about this."
Charlotte nervously picks up the photo and flips it over.
Her eyes widen as she recognizes the face staring back at her as her own.
I watch the color drain from her face and her eyes shoot up to meet mine.
She stares at me for a few seconds, then without a word grabs her things and makes a dash for the back exit of the diner.
"For fuck sakes," I curse under my breath as I hurry after her. She's fast, and by the time I reach the back entrance, she's already cleared the back of the building and is rounding the corner, her backpack bouncing with each step.
"Charlotte!" I call out, lengthening my strides. "Wait!"
She doesn't even glance back. By the time I catch up to her she's almost to the front of the rundown building. Once I'm close enough, I reach out and grasp her forearm. "Charlotte! Will you please stop? I just want to talk."
Hearing Charlotte cry out an almost inhuman sound of pain as I grasp her arm makes me release her immediately. I watch as she sinks to the ground, cradling her left wrist against her chest.
I kneel down in front of her. "Charlotte, I'm so fucking sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I just wanted you to stop and give me a chance to explain. I would never intentionally hurt you." When she looks up at me, the tears spill over, streaming down her cheeks.
I've done unfathomable things in my 31 years of life. I've taken lives in the darkest, most ruthless of ways—a lot of them. But I've never felt like a bigger piece of shit in my life than I do right now looking into her tear-filled eyes knowing I hurt her.
"You didn't do this Silas. I hurt my wrist a few days ago.
" She brings her right hand up to wipe her eyes with the sleeve of her sweatshirt.
"Look, I don't know what you thought would happen by tracking me down.
I don't even know how you were able to find me.
But just because I do that kind of work online, doesn't mean I'm going to do anything in real life with you.
So, whatever fucked up fantasies you have playing out in your head, it's not happening with me. "
I'm royally fucking this up.
"Charlotte, I can see how you could have come to that conclusion. I'm sorry I didn't explain myself before springing that on you. That's my fault and I apologize. You have the wrong idea, that isn't what I want to talk about."
"It's not?"
"No, it's not. Can I see your wrist please?"
She keeps her arm clutched tightly to her chest, her right hand protectively shielding it.
"I've had some first responder medical training. I might be able to help you if you'll let me look at your wrist. I'm just going to look."
She hesitates, her eyes searching mine, and then slowly holds her wrist out to me.
I take it gently, her skin is cold against mine and I feel her flinch at my touch.
Carefully pushing her sleeve down to her elbow, I expose the damage.
That’s when I see them. Five perfect finger marks, like a bracelet, circle her delicate wrist. The skin is swollen and bruised in angry shades of purple.
Looking at Charlotte’s wrist takes me back to my childhood, back to the hottest days of summer watching as my mother tried to cover her own bruises with long sleeves.
Back to the pain and helplessness I felt seeing those same marks covering her arms.
"Who did this?" My nostrils flare but I try to keep my voice calm. I don't want her to think my anger is directed towards her.
"No one, I tripped on the sidewalk the other day walking home from school and landed on my wrist with all my weight trying to catch myself."
"The last time I checked sidewalks couldn't leave finger marks." I point out the five distinct finger marks. "Try again. Who hurt you?"
"What's it matter to you? You don't even know me. So don't pretend like you care just because you pity me."
"Trust me, I know the strength it takes to get through life when you have more people fighting against you than with you. So no, Charlotte, I don't pity you. I know you're tough and can handle yourself."
A rush of air escapes her like I'd punched her in the gut as she wipes fresh tears away from her cheeks.
Fuck, of course I said the wrong thing. I'm fucking terrible with women.
"Corey," Charlotte whispers, so low I can barely make out the name.
"What's Corey's last name?"
"I don't know. He's my mom's dealer. She owes him a lot of money and he thought he'd collect it from me."
I take a few breaths trying to calm the monster raging inside of me.
"Did he hurt you in any other way?" I grit out.
Charlotte shakes her head. "No, he tried but I threw up on him. "
I raise my hand to my mouth to try to hide my shit eating grin. "Atta, girl."
"Seriously? You think that's funny?"
"Yes, that's funny as hell, actually. He deserves a hell of a lot more, but it's a good start."
My smile fades as I continue. "What's not funny is your wrist. I'm not a doctor, but I think it might be broken. I was hoping it was just a sprain, and I could've wrapped it with what I have in the first-aid kit I keep in my truck. This is beyond what I’m trained to do."
Charlotte nods. "Thanks for trying. I should get going now." She begins to gather her things in her good arm.
"Wait," I say, putting a hand on Charlotte's shoulder, gently but firmly, to keep her from getting up. I’m not ready to let her go just yet.
"I have a few more hours of work that I need to finish up.
Why don't you meet me back here around 6:30?
We'll go get that wrist looked at, and we can finish the talk we need to have. "
She hesitates, unsure of what to make of me or my offer to help. "How do I know you're genuinely trying to be a nice guy and not a psychotic serial killer planning to kidnap me?"
I allow myself a small smile at her mix of humor and suspicion.
"You never know, Charlotte, I could be a little of both.
" It probably seems like I'm joking, but she has no idea how close she is to the truth.
I move my suit jacket slightly, revealing the badge on my hip.
"But in all seriousness, I'm a cop. I promise, I won't hurt you.
I just want to make sure your wrist heals properly, and there's a lot we need to talk about regarding what’s actually going on in that photo. "
"That badge doesn't mean you're a nice guy."
She's sharp, I'll give her that. "No, it doesn't. But it does come with a certain responsibility.
I swore an oath to protect and serve, and right now, I'm offering you my protection.
" I stand, pulling my wallet from my back pocket.
"And a little bit of friendship. I think we both know you could use some of that. "
I pull out a few crisp twenty-dollar bills and my business card, holding them out to her.
Her eyes flick down to the money, and I see the hesitation.
She's proud and doesn't want to appear weak or feel beholden to anyone. I understand that feeling all too well. She starts to shake her head, refusing the help I’m offering.
"Take it, Charlotte," I say with a little more force, urging her to accept.
"Please. Get yourself something to eat. There's enough there to last you a few days.
I want to make sure you're taking care of yourself.
And if you don't show up later, at least I'll know you aren't going hungry. My number is on that card. If you need anything at all, you call me. Food, a ride, someone is making you uncomfortable, your mom’s being a bitch…
Anything. You call me, and I'll take care of it. "
"Thank you, Silas." She slowly reaches out to take the money from my hand.
"You're welcome. Now, I have to get back in there before my colleague comes looking for me. Remember, meet me here at 6:30 to get that wrist looked at. If you don't show, I will come find you. Got me?"
"I got you."
I watch as Charlotte walks across the parking lot, towards the south side of town.
That area is like a black hole, sucking people in and spitting them out lost and broken.
It's saturated with poverty and drugs, a breeding ground for despair, where you find nothing good and nothing good ever finds you.
As she gets farther away, every instinct in my body urges me to go after her, to keep her safe. But I force myself to stay back. With a final glance over my shoulder, I make my way back around the rear of the building where I began chasing after Charlotte .
Just as I'm about to round the corner, I hear the irritatingly bitchy voice of Charlotte's mother. It’s like fingernails scraping down a chalkboard, instantly setting me on edge.
"I don't have the money, Corey. I don't know what you expect me to do. It's not like I work at this diner for money. I only work the minimum hours required to keep my public assistance, and I'm sure as hell not working any more than I have to."
I peek around the corner and see she's on the phone taking a smoke break.
"You can't be serious Corey. She's what you want?" There is a pause and then she continues. "And then I'm free and clear? I won't owe you anymore?"
No, she can't be talking about Charlotte. She can't be that bad of a mother.
"Deal. Charlotte is yours. You should grab her soon. She turns 18 on Wednesday."
Well, I stand corrected. The cunt absolutely can be that bad of a mother. Her and that fuck Corey just earned a spot on my list. I normally avoid getting personally involved with my kills. It's a rule I made for myself after my first kill.
Sometimes, rules are meant to be broken.
Rule Number Three: This is crucial —a void making kills personal at all costs. Maintain a clear head and a detached mindset. Feelings cloud your judgment and make you sloppy.