Chapter 27 - Liam
TWENTY-SEVEN
LIAM
Five days, Ryker had said.
It’s day four. I only have one day left of this suffering.
Every time I go to bed, every time I shower, every time I fucking piss, I think about jerking off and being done with it.
He’d never even know.
I’m a good liar… usually.
Ryker always seems to be able to see through my bullshit, though, and I don’t know what he’d do if he found out I’d gotten off without his permission. Would he make me go even longer without coming? Or would he disappear from my life for good?
I can’t be that easy to walk away from.
It would probably be more ball spanking or days without orgasm, but neither of those sound particularly appealing.
So instead of hanging around at home where I might stick my hand down my pants, or even going out to a club where I might get tempted to go for an unsatisfying fuck, I’m walking along the waterfront.
I doubt I’ll get lucky enough to see some other idiot climb onto one of those lower docks and fall to his untimely demise, but a man can hope.
The moon is only a sliver in the sky, and the nearby streetlight flickers on and off.
I stop and lean against the fence, glancing over the water in hopes of seeing something interesting. A boat about to crash. Somebody jumping from the bridge in the distance. Maybe some skydiver who really misjudged his landing.
The only thing I notice is a silver car slowing down close to me.
For a split second, I think it might be Ryker, but the car is too shiny and new to be his. Both of his cars had been beat up and non-descript, and I doubt he would have traded in for something new.
I dismiss it as irrelevant, assuming it’s someone who wants to walk along the river like I do.
At least, I do right until the man steps out of the car. I narrow my eyes as I recognize the man, portly and older than I am by several years.
Redding, I think.
I’d thought the FBI goons had thoroughly gotten the message about harassing me. But it seems like at least one of them is willing to throw his career away, because the car parks nearby and the door to it opens.
Redding closes the door to his vehicle and approaches me. “What are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be whoring it up in some club?” he asks with a sneer.
“Shouldn’t you be harassing someone else?” I retort. “I thought Representative Landau made it pretty clear that you were supposed to leave me alone.” I let out a dramatic sigh. “I guess I need to call Ms. Lockheart again, huh.”
“This isn’t official business,” Redding says. “I’m off the case. Be glad, kid. We aren’t allowed to consider you a person of interest anymore.”
He leans against the railing next to me. I can practically feel the displeasure wafting off of him.
Weird, how his anger does nothing for me. If he were Ryker, I’d probably be getting hard, or desperate, or both.
Instead, I imagine the railing giving way and Redding falling into the river behind him, swept away and out of my life.
“Anymore,” I repeat. “Wow. You guys really are allowed to lie, huh?” I shake my head. “Anyway, I didn’t do anything, so don’t worry. Your real killer is still out there… for someone else to catch. That’s gotta suck for you.”
Redding turns to face me. The light flickers again, casting eerie shadows across his face.
“I know you did it, you fucker,” Redding growls.
Unlike when Ryker does it, the sound does nothing for me either.
“Isaac Kutchner, Reid Bertrand, and Tim Pollard too. I might not have concrete proof, but you like seducing gay men and killing them,” Redding continues.
I tilt my head to the side, considering him. He’s probably wearing a wire or something, hoping to trip me up and bring evidence back to the feds. It’s so tempting to toy with him, but Ryker would be furious if I did anything to bring more attention to myself.
Besides, I still don’t want to go to prison.
“Do you hate me because I’m gay?” I ask him, partially out of curiosity. “Or is it because I’m rich? Is that why you want to try to frame me for a couple of murders?”
Redding sneers at me. “I don’t care who you fuck, you little shit. I care who you murder. But yeah, I got an issue with rich pricks like you thinking you’re above the law.”
He takes a step closer to me.
I edge away. “Someone’s pissed that they went after the wrong person and got smacked for it,” I remark, unable to stop myself from taunting him even though I know I should keep my mouth closed.
Redding snarls and reaches for me. I instinctively back away, then when he lunges, I back away several feet.
“What the fuck?” I demand, my eyes flicking to his balled-up fists.
“I’m going to take you in,” Redding growls. “I don’t give a shit. You’re coming with me, and we’re going to have a good, long chat.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you, you psycho,” I snap at him.
Pot, kettle.
Whatever.
He grabs for me again, and this time, I take off because I’m not letting him get his grubby paws on me.
For some stupid fucking reason, he follows me.
I take off running, trying to remember the layout of this part of town. I can get back to the main road and grab a cab.
Are there still random cabs in NB or is it all rideshares these days?
But it’s late, and I’d picked an isolated part of the city because I’d wanted a nice, calming, untempting walk.
“Get back here, you little shit!” Redding shouts.
I have no intention of doing anything that stupid.
He’d already told me he’s off the case, and if he’s willing to do this when he’s probably already been read the riot act, there’s no telling what he’ll do if he gets his hands on me.
Of course, he could’ve lied about being off the case, too, but I don’t think that’s it.
I must’ve gotten turned around, because instead of reaching the main stretch of road, I end up in front of a building in the early stages of construction. It looks like it’s been here a while, so chances are that it’s a project that’s never going to be finished.
Either way, that doesn’t matter.
What does matter is that I’ve effectively cornered myself.
I duck into the skeleton of the building and try to find some place to hide. Maybe I can lose him in here.
I hear Redding climb over the same loose piping that I had. I have about a second’s worth of time to duck behind a half finished wall before he enters that same main floor.
It smells like piss in here. I wrinkle my nose, but I swallow down my disgusted sounds.
“Why’d you do it? Do you get your jollies off, strangling those guys?” Redding calls out into the darkness.
I don’t see anywhere else to go. There might be somewhere to hide, but I can’t see much.
Bright light suddenly blinds me as he turns the corner, and I yelp. I can’t get a good look at his face past the flashlight, but I can imagine the anger that has to be twisting it into something ugly.
Uglier than usual.
“Why don’t you back off, and we pretend this never happened?” I suggest, my voice high and thready.
I think I’m afraid.
It’s a funny time to be scared, but if he’s already pushed this hard, what will he do if he gets a hold of me?
I take a quick, desperate glance around me, and the light glints off of an old copper pipe. I grab it, holding it aloft. “Get back,” I warn him.
“I’m arresting you,” Redding says, but the tone implies something darker than arrest.
“You can come by in the light of day and arrest me,” I tell him. “I’m not going anywhere with you right now. You’re fucking insane.”
“You’re the insane one!” Redding calls back. “Strangling those men in their own homes. Where’d you get the drugs you dosed them with? You rich brats always got a nice steady supply.”
“I didn’t do it!” I shout, my fingers tightening around the pipe.
I can’t murder an FBI agent. It would be beyond stupid. There are a lot of things I can get away with, but that wouldn’t be one of them.
But I don’t trust him to simply grab me and drag me in, either. I can’t see his eyes in the low light, but I imagine that if I could, they’d be wild and feral, reflecting his voice.
I need to find my way out of this, get in touch with Ms. Lockheart, and ensure that Redding understands how thoroughly fucked he’s going to be for coming after me at night without a warrant or something official backing him up.
Redding approaches me, and I make my decision.
I slam the pipe against his knees.
Redding cries out and falls, the flashlight dropping onto the ground. I grab it, turn it off, and dash away while he’s still crying out in pain.
Once I’m clear of the abandoned building, I throw the flashlight away and fumble for my phone.
I should call Ms. Lockheart, or my parents.
I dial Ryker.
He picks up on the second ring, while I’m still running.
“What? I told you I’d be there tomorrow,” Ryker huffs.
“I need help,” I tell him, breathless with exertion and what I think is fear. “Redding… One of the agents just cornered me at the docks.”
“What are you talking about?” Ryker asks. He sounds pissed off.
I huff impatiently, ducking around a corner and lowering my voice.
“I was out on a walk, and one of them tried to arrest me. Except he’s off the case, and he was acting like a psychopath—” rich words coming from me, I know, though from the podcasts, I think I might actually be a sociopath “—and I ran, and he chased me, and I hit him, and I think I lost him but now I don’t know what to do. ”
“This is one of those FBI agents who questioned you?” Ryker asks. “What are you calling me for? Fucking hell, you’ll get me pulled into your crap.”
“Because I don’t know what to do!” I say, desperation in my voice as I try to keep it low. “He’s lost his fucking mind, and I’ve never… I’ve never had to deal with anything like this before. I just need help. Please. Please, please, please, tell me what to do.”
“No! I don’t need this shit! Not after…” Ryker makes a disgusted noise, and before I can follow up on that, he hangs up on me.
I stare at my phone in disbelief.
What the fuck? What the actual fuck?
The one time I think I can actually count on someone, he gives up on me when I need him most.
I’m still staring at the phone when I hear footsteps.
“I found you, you little shit,” Redding calls out from behind me.
I yelp and start running again, but Redding’s footsteps are closing in behind me.
I glance around, hoping to find a street with cars and witnesses, but I’ve somehow managed to wander into an even more abandoned part of the city. Where the fuck am I?
I spot somebody lying near a building. He’s dirty and wearing torn clothes. When I approach, breathing hard, he shakes his head.
“Sorry,” he mumbles. “I can’t help you.”
Of course he can’t.
No one can.
If Redding gets his hands on me…
This wouldn’t be pain I’d enjoy, not from some middle-aged fucker who doesn’t know how to let well enough alone.
I turn, darting down another alley. I’m still clutching the copper pipe, and I wonder how much damage I can do without going too far. I wonder how much the cops will accept, or if this will finally be the thing that has them looking too closely at me.
Fuck.
I rush into the closest building, the darkness closing in on me. It’s another one of those recent construction sites that was abandoned when money dried up, originally intended to be some luxury high rise but now serving as a nest for rats.
Something skitters in front of me, and I really hope that isn’t one of the rats.
The beams and loose boards have clearly not kept other humans out of this place either, judging from the empty bottles I nearly trip over.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Redding calls out behind me. “I’m going to find you and take you in!”
I inhale sharply and shake my head. I’m not going to answer and give away my position.
All the running has exhausted me though. I lean against one of the dirty walls and check my phone.
10:34 p.m.
I can’t risk it ringing or even buzzing and giving me away, so I set it to silent.
Could I call someone else for help?
The cops? They’d side with the FBI agent.
Ms. Lockheart? I don’t know what she can do now. She’d probably tell me to sit tight and let Redding arrest me.
I’m on my own.
I’m always on my own.
The question is, what the fuck am I supposed to do now?