CHAPTER 29 #2
"It’s Kane," a voice answers. "Thomas. Open the door, Ivy."
She gets up. She walks to the door. She undoes the chain.
She opens it.
Detective Kane steps inside.
He looks frantic. He is wearing his cheap suit, but he has abandoned the tie. He looks like a man on the edge. He scans the room, his hand hovering near his hip holster.
"Are you alone?" he asks.
"Yes," Ivy whispers. "He doesn't know I’m here. He thinks I’m at the studio."
She backs away from him.
"You said you had evidence," Kane says, closing the door and locking it. "You said you found the gun."
"I did," she lies. "It’s... it’s in the bag."
She points to a duffel bag on the floor. It contains a gun—a Glock with the serial numbers filed off, unregistered, wiped of prints. A throwaway.
Kane walks over to the bag. He unzips it. He sees the gun.
He looks up at her. His eyes are burning with a savior’s zeal.
"This is it," he says. "This is enough for probable cause. We can bring him in."
He stands up and walks toward her.
"You did the right thing, Ivy. I know you’re scared. I know what he does to people."
"He’s a monster," Ivy says, tears spilling down her cheeks. "He watches me. He tracks me. Look."
She lifts the leg of her jeans. She shows him the platinum anklet.
"He tagged me like a dog."
Kane stares at the tracker. His face twists in disgust.
"I’m going to cut that off you," he promises. "I have a bolt cutter in the car. We’re going to get it off, and then I’m taking you to a safe house. He will never touch you again."
He reaches out. He puts his hands on her shoulders.
"You’re safe now."
I grip the edge of the laptop. Don't touch her.
"Detective," Ivy says, looking up at him with wide, wet eyes. "Thomas. If I leave with you... he’ll find me. He has people everywhere."
"I’ll protect you."
"Will you?" She steps closer to him. She places her hands on his chest.
On the screen, I see Kane stiffen.
"I need to know you’re with me," Ivy whispers. "I need to know I can trust you."
She slides her hands up his chest to his neck.
"What do you want, Ivy?" Kane asks, his voice hoarse.
"I want to feel safe," she says. "I want to feel... like I’m not his anymore."
She leans in. She brushes her lips against his jaw.
"Help me forget him."
Kane freezes. He looks down at her. He is fighting a war inside himself. The white knight versus the man.
"Ivy, we can't... this isn't appropriate."
"Please," she begs. "Just hold me. Just touch me."
She takes his hand. She guides it to her waist, under the hoodie.
"You want to save me, don't you?"
"Yes," Kane breathes.
"Then save all of me."
She kisses him.
It’s a soft, desperate kiss.
Kane hesitates for one second. Then, he breaks.
He wraps his arms around her. He pulls her close. He kisses her back.
I watch on the screen, my vision tunneling.
He’s kissing my wife.
I know it’s the plan. I know she is baiting him. But seeing another man’s mouth on hers, seeing his hands on her body... it tears something loose inside me.
The beast is clawing at the bars.
Wait, I tell myself. Wait for the incriminating moment.
Kane’s hands move down to her hips. He pushes her back toward the bed.
"I won't let him hurt you," Kane murmurs against her mouth. "You’re mine to protect now."
He pushes her onto the mattress. He climbs over her.
That’s it.
Soliciting a victim. Compromised integrity. Sexual conduct during an investigation.
We have him.
"Ivy," I say into the microphone that feeds into her tiny earpiece. "Enough. Pull the plug."
She puts her hands on his chest. "Wait," she says.
Kane doesn't stop. He is kissing her neck. He is lost in the fantasy of saving her, of possessing the woman he couldn't save twelve years ago.
"Thomas, stop," Ivy says louder. She pushes him.
He doesn't move. He pins her wrists.
"It’s okay," he says, his eyes glazed. "It’s okay, Ivy. We need this."
My blood freezes.
This wasn't in the script. He isn't hesitating. He is crossing the line from unethical to rape.
"Silas!" Ivy screams. It’s not acting.
I rip the headset off.
I don't bother with the door.
I grab the sledgehammer I left leaning against the wall—just in case.
I swing it at the plaster wall between the rooms.
CRASH.
Dust explodes. The drywall crumbles.
I swing again. CRASH.
A hole opens up, big enough for a man.
I step through the wall like a nightmare emerging from the fog.
Kane spins around on the bed, shock plastered across his face. He reaches for his gun.
He is too slow.
I am on him before he can clear the holster.
I grab him by the back of his cheap suit jacket and yank him off Ivy. I throw him across the room. He crashes into the dresser, shattering the mirror.
Ivy scrambles back against the headboard, clutching her hoodie closed. She is shaking.
Kane groans, trying to stand up.
I walk over to him.
I kick him in the ribs. Hard. I feel the bone snap.
"You touched her," I snarl.
I kick him again. In the face.
"You put your hands on my wife."
Kane spits blood. He looks up at me, one eye swelling shut.
"She... she wanted it," he wheezes. "She asked me..."
"She was acting!" I roar. "And you fell for it because you’re not a saint, Kane. You’re just a man. A pathetic, lonely man who wanted to fuck his dead sister’s ghost!"
The words hit him harder than my boot. He freezes. The fight drains out of him.
"You know," he whispers.
"I know everything."
I reach down and grab his hair, pulling his head up.
"Look at the smoke detector, Detective. Look at the lamp."
Kane looks. He sees the blinking red lights of the cameras.
"We have it all," I say. "You pinning a witness down. You ignoring her when she said stop. You losing your badge, your pension, and your freedom."
I let go of his head. It hits the floor with a thud.
I turn to Ivy.
"Are you hurt?"
She shakes her head. She slides off the bed and runs to me. She buries her face in my chest.
"I’m okay," she whispers. "I’m okay."
I wrap my arm around her, glaring at the broken man on the floor.
"Get up," I tell Kane. "Get out."
Kane drags himself to his feet. He holds his ribs. He looks at Ivy, then at me. He sees the way she clings to me. He sees the truth.
"She’s a monster," he whispers. "Just like you."
"Yes," I agree. "And she’s mine."
"This tape..." Kane says, wiping blood from his mouth. "If you release it... I’m done."
"Then disappear," I say. "Resign. Retire. Move to Florida. I don't care. But if I ever see your face in New York again... the tape goes to the Times. And then I come to finish what I started."
Kane nods. He looks defeated. The crusader is dead.
He limps toward the door.
He opens it and walks out into the night, leaving his career and his obsession behind on the dirty carpet of Room 105.
I look down at Ivy.
"He didn't stop," she says, looking at the door. "I said stop, and he didn't stop."
"Men like that never stop," I say. "They think their intentions justify their actions."
I lift her chin.
"You did good. You destroyed him."
"We destroyed him," she corrects.
I look at the hole in the wall. I look at the camera.
"Let’s go home," I say. "I need to burn this hotel down."
We walk out, leaving the evidence of our victory recording the empty room.
The Untouchable has been touched.
And the Monsters are the last ones standing.