Chapter 54
FIFTY-FOUR
Blakely
The door opened.
“Fuck,” Devon hissed, stepping toward the car at the same time Jason staggered back. His hand moved to cover his mouth as he mumbled an expletive.
I was moving before I’d decided if I wanted to see, my body making the decision for me.
“Blakely, no, I don’t think—” Jason said, but it was too late. I stopped next to the trunk and peered inside.
Laying on the dark fabric, with her hands bound and shaking like she couldn’t possibly remember being warm, was…me?
It was a fleeting thought, but it rattled me all the same. Dark, wavy hair was in a messy mass around her, and her features—at least the ones I could make out behind the smudged makeup and silver tape over her mouth—bore a striking resemblance to mine.
A woman who looked so much like me was bound and gagged in the trunk of our car.
Devon looked from me to the woman. Pain was all I could read in his expression, and I was positive mine was the same .
He took a step toward her, and she immediately cowered, pushing herself the best she could toward the back seat. Devon raised his hands in the air and stopped.
Her eyes were wide and bloodshot. Muffled sounds emanated from behind the duct tape over her mouth, and I took a ragged, fortifying breath before I moved.
“Let me,” I said, touching Devon’s arm and gently nudging him backward. His unsure eyes met mine, but I wasn’t giving him an option. Not too long ago, I was that terrified woman.
I didn’t expect Devon to go far, and he didn’t. He took another step back and stopped. He was close enough that he’d be able to jump in if necessary, but far enough away to give her some space.
“I promise none of us are going to hurt you. We only want to help,” I began.
Underneath her torn and disheveled gray top, her chest was heaving with labored breaths. Her jeans were stained and hung off her body like they were at least two sizes too big. Sturdy rope was twisted around her wrists and ankles. I could already see the angry, red marks forming from where the material had scraped and bruised her, around the same snake tattoo I had inked on my wrist. I was sure if I examined the rest of her, my other tattoos would be there, too. Hers just looked like they’d been drawn with a black marker to perfectly match mine.
An acute sadness pinned me in place and made my next words come out a little broken. “I’m Blakely, and I really want to take that tape off your mouth and untie your hands and legs. Would that be okay?”
She hesitated, likely weighing her slim options before she nodded.
“I’m going to need some help, though. This is my boyfriend, Devon,” I said, motioning to him. He was a statue behind me, and I realized Jason was several yards away now with his phone at his ear, probably calling the cops. “I promise he’s not going to hurt you, but he’s going to use his pocketknife to cut that rope. It’ll be quicker than trying to untie it.”
The knots looked complicated, and I knew that although it was scary, the quickest way out was often preferable. Even if it meant trusting a teenager who had just stumbled upon you to use ancient bolt cutters they’d found across the basement to remove the chain from your ankle.
Another pause, and she inclined her head again.
Devon took two cautious steps until he was standing beside me. All his movements were slow and intentional, and he explained each step before he did it.
“I’m going to step up next to Blakely.”
“I’m reaching in my pocket for my knife. It’s a small knife—my best friend, James, actually got it for me last Christmas.”
“I’m going to open the blade now.”
She tensed, a whimper slipping through the tape. He stopped then and looked down at me. “You can do it. Use my knife to cut the rope.”
I shook my head, wishing that I could, but I held my shaking hand toward him. “I don’t want to risk cutting her. I wouldn’t forgive myself.”
He squeezed my fingers and gave me a longing, understanding look that nearly broke me. But he took pity on me and quickly turned back to the woman.
He continued talking her through each step before he made it. He leaned into the trunk and efficiently cut the ties on her ankles first, then her wrists. Angry red marks gave way to broken red skin beneath the binding.
My stomach lurched, remembering the last time I’d seen marks like that. What she’d been through…
Free from the rope, Devon returned to his place just behind me as the woman struggled to sit up on her own. She rubbed at her wrists, then recoiled when the pain I knew all too well shot up her arms .
“Cops will be here in two minutes,” Jason said from several feet away.
She sat up and reached for the tape over her mouth. It looked new, the edges were still flat against her skin and the silver was shiny. She cringed when she pulled it off. Remnants of the glue stuck to her skin. She whined but tried to suppress it.
Familiar features—features I’d only ever seen in the mirror—made me take a step back. Fair skin, gray eyes, and higher cheekbones, her cheeks were slightly sunken in, and her full lips were chapped.
She wetted them before she said, “You’re—” She had to clear her throat several times before she continued, her voice still hoarse. “You’re Blakely.”
Not a question but a confident, definitive statement. All thoughts vanished from my mind as she took my silence as confirmation.
“How do you know that?” Devon asked quietly for me. His hand settled softly on my lower back, and I startled at the touch before I could suppress the reaction. I knew it was him, but telling my body that was something different.
The woman shook her head, eyes bouncing between me and Devon. “Because that’s what he called me. He—he—” She shivered, and I momentarily ignored her statement. It wasn’t cold, but it was cooler than a normal night.
“We have a blanket,” I said, opening the back door and retrieving the blanket we’d forgotten about after a picnic date Devon had planned a few weeks ago. Slowly, I walked back around to the trunk and set it on the edge. She reached for it and tentatively hung it around her shoulders. “Do you want to get out or…?”
“I’ll…umm…sure.” She scooted to the front and took Devon’s offered hand to help her down. Her legs nearly gave out, but she caught herself against the side of the car.
When she stood, I realized that without the help of my two-and-a-half-inch-tall boots, we would’ve been the same height. Then she stepped into the yellowish glow of the streetlight above us, and I could see her much lighter brown roots didn’t match the black dye streaked through her hair. Like it was haphazardly painted in the easiest-to-reach places.
It was all intentional. It was a message to me.
The thought had been sitting, unacknowledged, at the back of my mind since I saw her for the first time, but suddenly, the realization was all I could think about. And my mind shut off. I was still there, at least for the most part. Physically, I was there, I could feel my body—my legs trying to hold me up and my arms hanging limply by my sides. But it was like I was watching it all from somewhere else, and the entire world was on mute.
Things were happening around me, but I wasn’t part of it.
Devon guided the shivering woman to sit on the curb as red and blue lights came speeding down the street and careening into the parking lot. Two cars worth of cops descended upon us with an ambulance a second behind them.
The paramedics tended to the woman first, and the cops separated me, Devon, and Jason. I jumped when the female cop tapped my shoulder and motioned for me to follow her. She was saying something, too, but the world was still silent.
She led me to the other side of Devon’s car and away from the major commotion. I saw Devon as we passed, already in what appeared to be the throes of the story with the cop who’d been assigned to him. But his eyes still found me, even in the middle of everything.