Chapter 27
Twenty-Seven
She couldn’t run any more.
Her hands landed on her knees as she staggered to a stop and tried to draw air into lungs that felt like they were being crushed. The intersection where she stood was the same as dozens of others in this bright, colorless, featureless maze.
What’s the point? she thought, eyes prickling with tears, as she slid to her knees in hopes it would ease the shaking in her legs. There was no way out, just one endless hallway after another. She should just lay down here on the floor and stop.
A small part of her wanted to keep going.
Knowing something, or someone good, was waiting at the end to make all of this endless searching through a soundless, beige nothingness worth it.
But that part was so small. Under her knees, the floor was invitingly warm, as if the stone, or concrete, or whatever, was heated from underneath.
It would be so easy to just curl up. So easy, that her hands reached for the floor and she started to list to one side.
A sound from her right froze her in place, a loud electric click of a light being doused. She caught herself on one elbow and turned her head and sure enough, the shadowy darkness at the end of the corridor seemed to be growing as if someone was turning off the lights one by one.
It started off slowly, another click as the light farthest away went out. Then a few heartbeats later, the next. And then the next, the darkness gaining speed, the clicking rising in volume as it grew nearer, until it seemed to be cascading toward her in a wave of darkness.
She didn’t know what would happen if it caught up with her. So, she scrambled to her feet and staggered off in the opposite direction. Almost immediately, her skin began to tingle as if she’d run through an electrified spider web. It clung to her skin, growing in intensity as she ran.
There was nowhere else to go. The darkness nipped at her heels.
She whimpered as her heart pounded in her throat, choking off her breath.
On and on she ran, her skin burning with crackling energy.
Her feet skidded out from under her, sending her hard into the wall.
She shrieked, the wall searing her skin like a hot iron.
She stumbled away, clutching the injured side, trying to keep ahead of the sweeping darkness.
On and on she ran, half-staggering. Looking behind, more than she did forward.
She was looking back when the hallway made another abrupt turn and she collided with the wall. She fell to the floor in a heap, every inch of her skin searing with pain… and the darkness swept in.
Jal struggled up out of the dream, pushing against the blackness that was reluctant to release its grip.
She swam to the surface and realized that the pounding in her ears was not her heart, but pounding on the door.
She kicked at the covers, which had become tangled around her legs in her sleep. She was back in her own bed, and alone.
Ciaran had offered to drive her home, thinking that she would want her own space after all of the emotions of the day.
He’d been right, of course. A shower and a good night’s sleep should have done the trick.
But their encounter with Andy had shaken memories loose.
No wonder she’d had a nightmare, the details of which were quickly fading as they always did, but the emotions lingered, despair, exhaustion, and then pure panic.
She finally managed to free her legs from the twisted mass of sheets and blankets as the pounding at the door grew louder. Grabbing a hoodie from the hook on the back of her door, she shrugged it on as she padded across the living room.
“Couldn’t help yourself, could you?” she called through the door, smiling as she worked the locks.
“Miss Morrow?”
Jal froze, hand on the knob. Definitely not Ciaran. “Yes?” she called cautiously.
“Open up please, it’s the police.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to take a deep breath. “Can you hold your badge up to the door?”
“Of course.”
She pressed her eye to the scope in the door to see a gold shield with all the right engravings and emblems. The officer turned the leather holder to show an ID and though the words were blurry through the scratched glass, the face of the man holding the ID matched the photograph.
A second officer in a deep navy coat stood behind him, a radio raised to her mouth.
Jal gave the room a once over, and opened the door, putting it mostly between her and them. “Can I help you officers?” she asked, pleased that, though her voice was a little higher than it should be, at least it was steady.
“Are you Jal Morrow?” The woman asked from over her companion’s shoulder in a no-nonsense kind of way that made Jal dislike her immediately.
“Yes.”
“Can we come in, miss?” the man, who couldn’t be more than three or four years older than her, asked. He had short black hair, brown almond-shaped eyes and a mouth that seemed to always try to smile even when he was being as serious as possible, as he was now.
“Uh, sure,” she replied, tugging the zipper up to her chin.
The two officers came in once she opened the door wide enough and Jal watched nervously as they stood in her living room and looked around.
The apartment was as neat and tidy as it had ever been, not a book or piece of furniture out of place.
As for the places she’d rather stay hidden?
She just had to hope that the cops didn’t find them.
“Can I get you anything, officers?” she asked, drifting toward the kitchen, not only for refreshments, but to where her phone was plugged in charging on the counter. “I can put on some coffee, or tea, maybe?”
“Thank you, coffee would be nice.” he said, the woman looked at him with a raised eyebrow, but ultimately shook her head. Her dark eyes were searching the room as if she could see through the walls and floor directly to where her stashes were, and was just chomping at the bit to be set loose.
“My name is Detective Derek Takeda. This is my partner Detective Breanne Ward.”
“Nice to meet you,” Jal said, keeping her voice as polite as possible while she reached into the cabinet and pulled down coffee and a filter with one hand while unlocking her phone with the other. “I was wondering what it is that I can do for you?”
Jal: Cops are here.
Ciaran’s response was almost immediate.
Ciaran: I’m on my way!
Ciaran: I’m so sorry. I had to give them your information for the report.
Jal’s heart lifted as she locked the phone again and went to the sink to fill the pot, even knowing that it would take a while for Ciaran to get uptown.
“We have some questions about an altercation that happened at Washington Square Park yesterday,” Detective Ward said in her brusque Brooklyn accent.
She reached into the inside pocket of her jacket and pulled out a tri-folded piece of paper.
“We also have a warrant to search these premises.” She said solemnly, though there was an undertone that belied her eagerness.
“We received an anonymous tip that there is a large amount of stolen goods hidden in this apartment.”
Jal took the paper and studied the few lines of stark black lettering authorizing a search that could end in her being led away in handcuffs. The flourish with which the judge had signed the order turned her blood to ice. She sent up a prayer that Ciaran arrived sooner, rather than later.
She nodded in agreement and Detective Ward spoke into her radio, then got to work. A uniformed officer appeared at the door a moment later and stood just inside to observe, and to guard the door. Against her trying to run away, she supposed.
Ward started with the kitchen, searching drawers and cabinets, opening anything she couldn’t immediately see inside. Jal was surprised that she put things back in more or less the same place, though she seemed to relish in the racket she made pushing items around on the shelves.
Detective Takeda gave her an apologetic look and gestured to the sofa. “We can sit in the living room while my partner works.”
Jal nodded and sat down, her hands twisted in her lap, watching the detective search her kitchen and waited for her world to come crashing down, to feel the cold bite of handcuffs around her wrists.
“Miss Morrow?” Detective Takeda called her name as if he had called it several times already.
Jal looked his way. “Hmm? Oh, I’m sorry.” She replied, realizing she’d zoned out watching the other officer. “What was the question?”
Takeda gave her a kind, patient smile. “I was asking if you could tell me, in your own words, what happened at Washington Square Park yesterday?”
Jal swallowed and nodded. She told him about her relationship with Andy and how it had ended without mentioning that she had changed her name after it did.
That she had found out recently that he was out of prison and was looking for her.
She released a shuddering breath that was not at all fake.
“We had just gotten to the park when Andy showed up out of nowhere. And then he grabbed me, tried to drag me away, tried to say I still belonged to him.” She wrapped her arms around her stomach.
“Ciaran punched him to get him off of me. They started fighting and Ciaran told me to run, so I did.”
“Ciaran?” The detective studied his notes. “Ah yes. And what is your relationship with Mr. Gray?”
There was a commotion by the door before she could answer. She looked up to see the uniformed officer standing with his arm braced across the door. Ciaran called her name from behind him.
Jal called across the room. “It’s okay, let him in.” She looked at the detective. “He’s my boyfriend.”
Detective Takeda gestured to the officer, who removed his arm. “Come over here, please, Mr. Gray.”