Chapter 6
Chapter Six
J
I watch Bailey “run into” Shawn in the stairwell. The hospital surveillance system isn’t equipped with speakers, but it’s simple enough to access Shawn’s mike through his phone.
“I lost my grandmother’s necklace, and I can’t find it.” Bailey is wailing and pointing at the elevator. “Can you help me?”
Shawn looks uneasily at the elevator and then at Bailey.
“Come on, Shawn,” I mumble to the camera. “Get in the elevator.”
He hesitates a few more seconds. His claustrophobia must be awful if Bailey’s flirting isn’t enough to get him in there.
“Please?” Bailey throws herself at Shawn and clings to him, making sure her body flattens against his chest. “I would be sooo grateful.”
She bats her eyelashes.
Wow. The money I transferred to Bailey’s account was decent, but not this decent. I get the feeling her flirting is organic. Poor thing. She’s blinded by Shawn’s beautiful face and chiseled body. She has no idea that he’s a prick who beats his wife.
Sliding her hand down his shoulder to his arm, Bailey whispers so low that Shawn’s phone barely catches it. “I’d do anything.”
The word “anything” is paired with her guiding Shawn’s hand onto her butt where he squeezes it tightly.
I’m watching their risqué little show from my computer, and I know that Shawn’s a goner. His shoulders—that had been tense the moment Bailey suggested he get on the elevator—loosen, and he sways toward her, bringing his face close to hers.
“Okay,” he says hoarsely.
One corner of my lips tilts up, and I relax against the back of my chair in victory.
It’s done.
He’s not going to question why this random, beautiful woman is suddenly throwing herself at him.
He’s not going to think about his wife, with her fractured ribs and bruised eyes and her hospital bag, waiting to go home.
He’s not even going to weigh the cost of getting in a small, enclosed box when he suffers from claustrophobia.
Nothing else matters but getting between Bailey’s long, toned legs as fast as possible.
Men like Shawn, who have no self-restraint, make it far too easy for people like me.
Pawns on a chess board.
Shawn skips behind Bailey into the elevator when the doors open. My signal weakens.
Oops.
I need to tap into the elevator’s control system—which is a different interface entirely.
My fingers clack on the keyboard, moving swiftly as I open a new tab.
When I get visuals again, I see Bailey getting a phone call. “What? She’s going into shock? No, I gave her the right dose! Okay. Okay, I’ll be right there.”
Bailey rushes out of the elevator just as the doors close on Shawn.
Bailey is bailing.
The irony.
I smile as I focus on my next task—getting control of the elevator system. It won’t take me long.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
“J.” Kelly’s voice startles me out of my thoughts.
She’s standing in front of me in the empty hallway. I retreated here after my transaction with Bailey.
“Kelly.” My voice is breathless with surprise. “W-what are you doing here?”
“I’m about to be discharged, but I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye to you.”
“Oh.” My attention skitters to the laptop that has the elevator code sprawled out like an open book. Kelly doesn’t know code, but I still feel exposed. I twist the laptop away from her. “D-do you have to leave now? Did the doctor say it’s okay?”
“Shawn needs me.”
My lips turn down. He’s the one who put you in here. Screw him. But I can’t say any of that because I, technically, shouldn’t know what I know.
Plus there’s that very annoying statistic about battered women returning to their abusers at least seven times before they leave for good.
I don’t know if Kelly’s ever tried to get away from that scumbag, but I do know that her returning to Shawn now means she needs more strength to break free.
It’s a good thing I’m her friend and will be that strength for her.
“Kelly, you don’t have to go,” I say, keeping an eye on one specific piece of code—the elevator numbers.
As long as that keeps moving, Shawn is still inside the elevator.
But if it stops…
I have no idea how long he’ll be able to hold out with his claustrophobia. There’s a good chance he’ll exit the elevator soon, and I’ll miss my window.
“My husband can’t function without me.” Kelly tries to pass it off as a joke, but her lip’s too busted to laugh properly, and I know too much about her life to force a laugh out of pity.
She sees my stony expression and reaches out to touch my arm. “You’ll find out when you’re in love and get married. You don’t live for yourself anymore. You want the other person’s happiness more than your own.”
That will never be me. I live for my own happiness, and I will never sacrifice myself for a man.
Ever.
“Go if you have to go,” I say, unable to keep a lid on my frustration. I want better for her. She’s like me. Someone trapped. Someone forced to feel small. Counted out.
Powerless.
I rub the bump in my collarbone and my stomach roils.
No one should be made to feel like this.
Kelly’s lips curl up in a sad smile. “I’m sorry if I upset you. I didn’t mean to. I just… I just wanted to say thank you. It’s been a long time since… I’ve had a friend.”
She turns with her bag and leaves.
I want to call Kelly back. I want to give her a big hug and tell her it’s the same for me. That I’ve been lonely for a long time and she was a really nice friend to me.
But something on the screen catches my eye.
The elevator stopped.
The doors are about to open.
Shawn is leaving.
I scoop up my laptop and patch into the elevator’s exposed interface. Little known fact: modern elevators are more connected than people think. And it’s not just elevators. I could shut down this entire hospital if I wanted.
But that’s not what I’m after right now.
With one line, I stop the elevator doors from opening. Next, I pop my earbuds in and connect to the elevator’s surveillance system.
A giant video of Shawn clawing at the elevator doors pops up. I laugh at the panic in his face. His eyes are wide, pupils dilated. He looks absolutely terrified.
A dark head bobs in the corner of the elevator.
Is someone else in there with Shawn?
I realize that I didn’t specify to Bailey that I wanted Shawn in the elevator alone.
Oh well.
The head of dark hair keeps swiveling as if he’s looking at Shawn and then at the elevator buttons. From his urgent movements, he’s probably tapping the emergency button, but nothing’s happening.
The hospital is busy, and they don’t have dedicated staff watching the elevators. Why would they? It would be a waste of resources.
No one is coming to save them.
The helpful stranger seems to be making things worse. Shawn, by now, has realized that the emergency button is a dud. He’s crying loudly and clamoring like an animal at the doors.
“Please! Please!” Shawn bangs against the door. His entire face is red. “Let me out! Let me out!”
“No, Shawn.” I speak calmly to the laptop.
“Please! Someone help! Let me out!”
“Your parents should have taught you that you shouldn’t hit girls. But since they didn’t, I have to teach you now,” I lecture the screen.
You know, now that I think about it, it must have been Shawn who deleted the pictures of Kelly’s dad. From the way she teared up today, I doubt it was Kelly who lost those photos on her own. She treasured them.
Ugh. Disgusting, Shawn.
It’s really very fortunate that man crossed paths with me. Who knows how long he would have gone without learning the proper way to treat a wife?
“I can’t breathe.” Shawn gasps like he’s drowning. “I can’t…” He stumbles to the back corner of the elevator and slides down to his knees. The stranger leans over Shawn, blocking him from sight.
Even though I can’t see him anymore, Shawn’s heavy breaths fill my ears. He sounds like a fish out of water. Desperate. In agony.
I search deep inside myself for empathy and find none.
Especially when I imagine Kelly begging Shawn to stop hitting her. Which he obviously didn’t if she has fractured ribs.
I close my eyes, enjoying the sweet music of Shawn’s desperation.
Just then, I hear another banging sound. Shawn?
I look at the screen.
No, it’s the other guy. From this angle, all I can see is the side of his face and his fists that are raw and torn, as if he was spending his evening punching undressed cement.
“Hey!” The stranger bangs the door again. “Someone needs help!”
“Oh, relax,” I tell the stranger. “He won’t die. I don’t think.”
I actually don’t know that much about claustrophobia. Do people die from that? Isn’t it just like an anxiety attack?
The stranger takes out his cell phone and dials a number.
Uh-oh.
My watch chirps.
Don’t get nervous, J.
I inhale and exhale.
The watch remains yellow.
Okay. I’m nervous. Which means I have to act now. I can’t let help get to Shawn before I do.
I tap a quick message and press “SEND.”
Shawn doesn’t look at his phone at first. What if he never does?
My watch chirps again.
The yellow lingers for longer before settling into green.
Time is not on my side. I need Shawn to get my message before I open the elevator or someone else figures out I’m in the system.
Look at your phone, Shawn.
I wish telepathy was a thing. I could sync my thoughts with Shawn’s through Wi-Fi.
Come on. Come on.
Finally, the scumbag takes his phone out of his pocket. He reads my message, and his eyes widen to twice their size. He shoots to his feet in a panic.
The stranger sees Shawn getting up, ends the call, and rushes to help him. But Shawn shoves the guy back so hard that he crashes into the wall and the elevator teeters.
“Okay!” Shawn looks into the elevator camera. It’s like he’s staring into my eyes. “Okay. I swear. I won’t do it again. I swear. I swear. Just let me out!”
Satisfied that my point has been made, I log out of the elevator’s interface and type another message.
If you go back on your word, I will find you. And I will bury you alive in a tiny, little box. Somewhere no one will hear you scream.
SEND.
Shawn reads the message, and his eyebrows climb to his hairline. He looks up at the camera in abject horror.
Good.
The other man sees where Shawn’s attention has gone, and he looks up too.
My eyes widen, and my laptop nearly drops out of my lap. The stranger has almond-shaped eyes, a sharp jawline, and shoulders so broad they could carry a building.
But it’s not Elevator Guy’s violent good looks that send my watch screaming with yellow, warning codes.
It’s who he is.
And who I am.
My fingers reach out to touch the screen as I breathe in horror, “Finn?”