5. Avery
AVERY
“You should be grateful for my little rescue,” Hedda tells me as our feet touch the concrete floor of the elevator shaft, and I remove the hook and grab the box with the hat that fell all the way down when that stupid agent shot after me.
I say nothing to Hedda. Her smell reminds me of what happened, and I am one second away from shooting her right here, right now. But if I do, Shaw will know it was me, and I am not going to add murder to my rather extensive catalog of rule-breaking.
No.
I will kill Hedda in a moment when she doesn’t see it coming. Right after, I made her life a living hell.
I slip into the hole in the ground and into the sewage, crawl through it, and twenty minutes later, we walk out of the underground of New York back into the streets.
“The hat,” Hedda says and holds out a hand.
“When I got the letter out,” I say. “Let’s get to my studio.”
The way to my studio is only a few minutes, but I take several detours, first and foremost to evade CCTV detection so no one can follow me to my home. I also need the time to figure out how to ditch Hedda, because she can’t have the hat. I need it, and she can’t have it.
It is that moment that I am pushed forward. I smash onto the ground and spin in an instant. I grab for the gun I took from Shaw. But it is gone.
Because Hedda is that good.
She took it from me in a moment of distraction.
Fucking bitch.
She smiles from above at me.
“You don’t mess with me, kiddo,” she says in her arrogant tone.
She grabs the hat, hits me full in the face with the gun.
The street lights blur with the night sky, and I can’t fully distinguish the world.
But I need to get up and away before anyone finds me.
Sirens blare from far away.
I slip around a corner and another into a rare, small cobblestone alley between red brick wall houses with their black fire ladders in front. It’s dark, and no one is to be seen.
I crouch into an entrance and breathe.
It’s when I fully realize what happened.
That fucking woman.
First, she forces me to—
I can’t even think the words.
Then she pretends to save me.
And then takes the one thing I needed.
The hat.
She has the hat.
Tears flood down my cheeks because I can’t contain my emotions anymore.
Because everything is fucked.
So fucking fucked, because Hedda took the hat.
I give myself five minutes of crying.
Then, I wipe them away, swallow down the emotion, and try to focus on something else. Something that doesn’t make me feel powerless.
Okay. What can you do? I ask myself when I stand up.
You already stole from Hedda. She will expect you to come for her.
Meaning she needs to be gone.
And I need to hit her with something she does not expect.
Something that is so far out of everything I have ever done, that she won’t see it coming.
I take my burner.
My thumb hovers over the keys.
But then, I press them and dial the number.
“Shaw,” she answers coldly when it stops ringing.
“I am offering you a deal,” I say.
“A deal?” she asks. “Don’t you think you are beyond deals?”
“I don’t think so,” I say. “Because I am going to give you Hedda Lagner and everyone else on your list. I am going to be your CI.”
There is a moment of silence.
“For your freedom,” she says.
“Yes,” I say. Shaw doesn’t need to know about the hat. If I have my freedom, and they get Hedda, I will get it anyway.
“You are already surrounded,” she finally says.
“I know, but I am offering what you will never get without me.”
“Be cooperative, and I’ll see what I can do,” she says as she walks around the corner. Walking up to me with a team behind her.
“Hands behind your head, and on your knees,” she shouts. I felt them before I saw them.
I do as told.
She walks up to me.
I stare into her eyes as she grabs my arms, and then break my gaze as she brings them behind my back, and handcuffs me—again.
I am lifted up, quite roughly.
She pushes me out of the alley to where several black GMC full-size SUVs are blocking the sidewalk and parts of the street.
The door is opened for me.
There is one moment where Shaw leans in on me.
I turn my head over my shoulder and whisper to her.
“19 Prospect Park West, do it now, or she’ll be gone.”
I glance at her over my shoulder. It is one look. One nod with her eyes alone.
And then, I am shoved in the car.
I am taken into holding.
There I wait.
I count and wait.
And wait.
And wait.
In my mind, I am already checking out the circuits, the system, and the possible ways to break out. There aren’t many. The only thing I am left with is the paperclip in my shoe and the USB drive I got for my contact, which is safely stored in my bra—at least for the time being.
Finally, the door opens.
Reid Shaw enters.
Her look tells me everything.
My face falls in horror.
“No,” escapes my mouth. Because the hat—I need the hat.
“Sit down,” she tells me, and points at the table in the interrogation room.
But I can’t sit down.
My mind is freaking out.
My head twitches unwillingly.
I need to remove the sensation. The feeling. The images—
But it doesn’t go away.
My chest heaves up and down, and the falls feel like they are closing in.
I don’t know what’s happening—
“Hey,” Shaw says suddenly, appearing directly in front of me with a hand on my shoulder. “Breathe.”
I stare at her.
She is so close and yet so far away.
My breathing is flat and fast.
“Breathe in with me,” she says, and breathes in deeply. “And out.”
I can’t.
Everything in me tingles.
I need to run.
Run far away.
Only I can’t.
Because I am caged.
“In,” she says again. “And out.”
When she says it a third time, it finally reaches me, and I breathe in. And out. Following her lead.
It takes ages, where we just stand there and breathe.
I have become more aware of my surroundings again.
The room I am in. The smell of it. The touch of her hand on my arm.
And she, as a person, stares into my eyes and I into hers.
She looks tired, and her eyes—they have a presence.
They are hazel; a green base and a brown crown around the iris.
Her longer, wavy blond hair brings the color out even more.
I have never registered her this close.
“Sit down,” she says again.
“Tell me you got the hat,” I whisper as I sit down.
“We arrived thirty-five minutes after you gave me the intel with a tactical team of eight at the address,” she begins.
My body screams to finally tell me the only thing that mattered.
“We did not find Hedda present, but what we did find were numerous artifacts and relics we have on our list of stolen goods. However—“
“Did you find Lincoln’s hat?” I blurt out.
“We did not find the hat that was supposed to be in our evidence storage, and I believe it was the object you went for tonight.”
I say nothing.
If Hedda wasn’t there—
And the hat wasn’t there—
She’ll broker it—
And I—
I failed—
My breathing flattens again.
“Why do you want the hat?” she asks.
But I can’t tell her.
I can’t tell anyone.
I need to focus.
I need to get out of here and then find Hedda and get the hat.
And the easiest way to get out of here is with a deal.
“I’m not telling you anything until the deal is signed,” I say, trying to switch back into my calculating nature.
“I have talked to the US Attorney’s Office. They are very hesitant due to the extent of your crimes—“
“Alleged crimes,” I interrupt her, and she scoffs.
“They are uncertain about your honesty, which I have to admit, I am hesitant about, too.
“Therefore,” she continues, “they might offer a deal under the following circumstances: you will be wearing an ankle monitor at all times, you will not be able to move away more than five miles from your home, unless you are with me or any other officer I advise you to. Any felony taking place during this time will revoke the deal, and you will be prosecuted immediately for all alleged charges by full force.”
I swallow. Hard.
Because hunting Hedda with an ankle monitor? Bringing her down with legal ways? Absolutely not happening. But I am also not walking out of here without it, either. Unless I break out.
I mean, I could sign it, cut the ankle monitor, and vanish. I can take on a new identity just as easily.
“And what is it I will do in return exactly to get this muzzle deal?” I say sardonically, because I can’t just agree. It would be too suspicious.
“You will help me solve the cases as a consultant,” she says plainly. “Meaning, you will give me insights on everything we don’t have access to.”
“You are asking for an awful lot for something quite small,” I say. “You are aware I could already run free if I wanted to.”
She chuckles slightly, and a soft grin appears on her face.
“You could, I am sure,” she says. “But you’d always have to watch your back. Always. Always be on your guard, always pretending, always becoming someone else, always hiding.”
A heavy feeling appears in my stomach.
“I was born for that life,” I say.
“Just because someone was born into something doesn’t make it their destiny.”
I stare at her.
She knows too much about me.
And I can’t have anyone know me well.
“Give me the paperwork,” I say, knowing that I will cut that ankle monitor the moment I have prepared everything for me to vanish.