Reality (The Girl in the Box Book 52), page 29
“I don't think she did, exactly.” I was frowning in concentration, trying to work my way through to the answer of how I had gotten suckered into this game. “I don't think she can make me do anything I don't actually want to do. Remember, she tried to pair me up with the guys like she did you–”
“And I bought right into them,” Eilish said, shaking her head. “Snapped down on that bait like a fish.”
“I think...at least part of me wanted to do this,” I said. “A little because of Augustus and the money, but maybe partly because...I do want to feel alive again. And part of being and feeling alive is doing things that are outside your comfort zone, that are maybe a little crazy, the things that make your stomach twist with that hint of fear. So, I don't think Heidi moved me with her mind. I think she just...” I stared into the fire, let it flicker in my vision. “...I think she just listened to me, was nice, and made me feel like it was a good idea for me to do the show.”
“You talk about her like she's some kind of friend of yours,” Eilish said. “Appealing to your reason rather than shoving you into it. But she shoved me into it.”
“I know,” I said, the fire crackling, casting Eilish in its pale orange glow. “Maybe she was just being nice and charming the whole time because she knew she had to be with me. I don't know; she's not like one of my traditional villains. There was no violence from Heidi, other than making Andrew soak his balls for a couple days. No bodies turning up, other than from that Chinese snatch team.”
“Um, can we talk about that for a second,” Eilish said, “now that we're back on calm speaking terms? Because that was quite a mess you made. More than usual, I would say. Maybe more than necessary?”
“Maybe more than necessary,” I said quietly.
“What were you doing there?” Eilish asked. “Were you that offended on my behalf that you had to go and slaughter 'em all? Because, in truth it reminded me of something else – that fella from Nashville, when I burst into his house and found you all burnt and wading back in for more blood.”
“I've become accustomed to doing bad things to terrible people,” I said, almost whispering into the quiet of the cave. “I feel like it's been my bargain with the world. There is just a segment of society, a percentage of people who are malicious, who are here and present and happy to harm others, mostly innocent others. I am a garbage disposal for these people, incarcerating when possible to take them out of circulation – the penal system calls it 'incapacitation.' But when they can't be stopped by those traditional means or they're just too far gone, I have been the system's executioner.
“And I was willing to do it,” I said, staring into the middle distance. “To be Death, swift and sure, to those who weren't able to be rehabilitated, whose certain recidivism meant pain, harm, and death to their future victims. I could do it impartially, be the vengeful right hand of a society whose interests were in decadence and self-indulgence, in bingeing Netflix and losing ourselves in mind-altering substances and projecting our chosen image on social media. I never hated the people I killed. I just viewed them as a service I was doing to others, making sure they never murdered or raped or hurt another soul.
“But I hate them now, Eilish,” I said, and now my face was dry save for a single tear that welled in my eye and streaked its way down my dirty cheek. “I hate them for what I've done to myself to become the person who could do these things to other humans. In disposing of this human garbage I feel I have become garbage myself. They are people who lack love for their fellow man, who view others as objects to be pushed and hurt and prodded to deliver the thing that the criminal wants, whether it's carjacking or robbery or casually killing or whatever. And I hate them because it's so easy to see the damage they do, that their lack of regard or respect for their fellow human spreads so much harm into the world. I see it, I live it, and I have been the avenger of these wrongs.
“And I hate them for making me do it,” I said. “I hate them because I feel like every day I bask in their hate, the hate they sow in the world and the hate I feel when I reap them – it drains a little bit more of my capacity to love – and be loved.
“I did it for love in the beginning, Eilish.” I blinked back another tear. “When I threw myself to Wolfe as a sacrifice, it was because I felt the pain that he was causing...and I knew it was my fault. My little time in the world had showed me that dammit, it was a wondrous place filled with people just trying to do their best to live their lives, build their lives – and a few assholes who'd rip it all away from them in a callous, uncaring moment. We're all shit to each other on some scale, but the people who are the biggest, most vicious assholes...I wanted to make them pay. And I have. But this hate in my heart...the love's gone, now it's all anger and vengeance and fury, the stuff of a Valkyrie, not an angel.”
“I don't think you're utterly bereft of love, Sienna,” Eilish said. “It's easy to get isolated and cut off, especially when you're coming out of alcoholism and you know that there's no easy relief for the pain and suffering out there, and you're going through more than a bit of it yourself.” She bowed her head. “Speaking from experience, it's easy to find a way to fool yourself into numbing the pain, even selfishly, even short-sightedly. But I don't think you're empty of love. I think you've pushed it away because you're afraid. Afraid of what it might do to you.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I haven't been actually facing my demons. I've been sleeping with them every night in a rough truce, keeping them just enough at bay to say, 'Hey, I'm grappling with them,' but not enough to make progress. I'm cuddling with them.” I ran a hand through my hair. “I'm not sure I should have come back after Minneapolis, Eilish. I don't know that I was ready for it. I'm not sure I possess the tools to handle this life – this lifestyle – anymore.”
“I wish I could grant you the peace you seek, darlin',” Eilish said. “But I don't know how to get you there. This work we do, this burden you've taken up...it's hard on the soul, no lie there. I wish I could tell you how to get back to being a happy warrior, to feel that impartiality, because sometimes you know the bad guy's got to go down hard and there is no other way. Sometimes...you can bring 'em in, you can save 'em, give 'em a chance to at least try again. And that's on them, if they choose to throw it away.” She sighed. “Which brings us back 'round to Heidi, I suppose.”
“I don't think she's worthy of death,” I said. “But I don't know how to stop her, either, short of killing her.” I sniffled. “I do know that I broke her world, so naturally she's pissed.”
“In spite of it all – and I am furious with her,” Eilish said, “I'd rather not see her die.”
“Then I'm going to have to figure out how I broke you out of her 'love' spell,” I said.
“You made her slip,” Eilish said. “But how?”
“Clumsily, I would say.” I thought about it. “It's her. Her, personally, being offended that I...overcame love? I don't know.” I shook my head. “I don't understand Heidi. She seems so sweet; it's so at odds with the personality of every criminal and psychopath I've ever faced.”
“Then maybe,” Eilish said, “we should start by understanding her. Figure out who she is, what makes her tick. She's from around here, isn't she?”
“So the chief said.” I wiped my face. “But who knows if that's true?”
“Well, if it is,” Eilish said, “why don't we start there? Maybe if we can figure out why Heidi's so obsessed with love, we can figure out how to break her hold...by breakin' her.”
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINE
Scott
“...And then she says to me, 'Well, what did you expect me to do? Let him live?'” Scott felt the redness in his face. He hadn't had that much to drink, but he felt the burn nonetheless – in his cheeks, in his belly. They'd switched to whiskey, and it felt good.
“Classic Sienna,” Traverton said, laughing and shaking his head. He didn't seem any worse off than after his first beer, but then he'd also been making frequent trips to the restroom for fairly long intervals. Scott wasn't sure what he was doing in there, and also did not want to know. “Y'know, she's really an amazing person. And I say this as someone who lost years of his life to her when she put me in prison.”
“Pretending to be her dog for money was kinda low, man,” Scott said, his head whirling in the background.
“Yeah,” Traverton said, grimacing. “I've been pretty low some times in my life, but I do believe that one might take the cake. But it does give me the authority to say: she treats her animals well, and that, to me, is a good measuring stick for judging a person, you know?” He sniffled. “Living with her as her dog – and I'm a little ashamed to say this, because obviously it was shitty on my part – but it might have been the best time of my life. If you can believe it.” He hung his head.
“I have very little trouble believing that, sadly.”
“I should hit the restroom,” Traverton said, and staggered off the stool.
“Did you forget to transform your bladder back to human size from bird mode?” Scott asked. Traverton chuckled and waved, wobbling toward the hallway that led to the restrooms.
Scott groaned and stretched while he was gone, shifting around on the stool. He pulled out his phone, and unlocked it, debating what to do to entertain himself until Traverton came back.
“Hi,” came a soft, sensual voice from his elbow.
A woman had slipped onto the stool next to him. Blond, with a bright smile, and shining blue eyes. Her lipstick was the perfect shade of red, and Scott found himself looking right at her. “Hey,” he said. “How are you doing?”
“Fine,” she said. “I'm Cherry.”
“I would never have guessed that,” Scott said. “I'm–”
“Do we really need to pretend I don't know who you are?” Cherry asked, grinning at him. “Can we just drop the pretense?”
“I'm fine with that,” Scott said, nodding, his phone warm in his hand. “What brings you in tonight, Cherry?”
“You.” When he furrowed his brow, she added, “I heard you hang out here sometimes. And I wanted to meet you.”
“Well, now you have,” Scott said. “I'm just making dreams come true for people left and right today.” He smiled, waving the bartender over. When she showed up, he said, “Two more whiskeys for me and my friend, and the lady would like a...” He looked to Cherry.
“Gin and tonic,” Cherry said.
The bartender confirmed their order then faded into the background haze, reaching for the whiskey on the top shelf.
“What are you doing in here tonight, Mr. Byerly?” Cherry asked with a lazy smile. “Just get back from some amazing place, some astounding case?”
“Just hanging with my friend,” Scott said, glancing over his shoulder to see if Traverton was on his way back from the restroom yet. Nope. The alcohol brought out a little more honesty than he intended. “Trying to get over a girl.”
Cherry's perfectly sculpted eyebrows recoiled in surprise. “Hm. I might be able to help you get over a girl – or under one, depending on which you prefer.”
“Yeah,” Scott said, fire heating his cheeks. “Wow. You are just going right after it, aren't you?”
Cherry laughed, a breathy sound deep in her throat, and leaned in next to his ear, warm breath brushing against the side of his neck. “I'm just here for a good time, Scott. You don't have to get all self-conscious in front of me – though it is kinda cute.”
“Heh,” Scott said, pulling back to see her smiling at him, the suggestion now obvious and out there. Would he accept? That was the question. Go home with her now, leave all thoughts of Scarlet behind, leave his whiskey on the bar and just–
He froze, a deep discomfort writhing in his stomach. “Yeah, I, uh...why not?” He put on a brave face, smiling, feeling a little pained. Why did things have to be so complicated? Why did he have to catch stupid feelings over a starlet who wouldn't even really listen–
Listen.
The word tripped a trigger in his head, and Scott shifted on his stool uncomfortably. “Would you excuse me just a second? I just remembered a work call I have to make.”
“Your work's important,” Cherry said as the bartender reappeared with her drink. She pursed her lips suggestively around the little straw and sipped, making heavy eye contact with him the whole time. “I'll be waiting right here...just don't make me wait too long.”
“Just be a minute,” Scott said, and retreated toward the bathroom hallway to leave the ruckus of the barroom behind. He scrolled his contacts as he went, looking for one he'd absently placed in there a few days earlier, that detective from the Miami PD, and hit the button to dial.
“Davis,” came a gruff voice on the other end of the line. “And make it quick, cuz you caught me as I was about to walk away from my desk for the night.”
“This is Scott Byerly,” Scott said, “I'm running the protection detail on Scarlet Sahara, and I just wanted to follow up with you about that potential threat found at her concert venue the other day.”
“Byerly,” the detective mused. “I already followed up with you, remember?”
“Uh, no, you didn't,” Scott said. “I haven't called you at all.”
“Yeah, you did,” Davis said, sounding annoyed. “I told you we managed to trace the purchase of the box and the paint supplies to that local art store, and that the credit card receipt was in the name of a Thomas Rolniak.”
Scott felt the world stop around him. “Tommy Rolniak? You mean Scarlet Sahara's chief of concert security sent her that threatening package?”
“Whoa,” Davis said, “I don't know anything about it being threatening, or the guy being one of yours. Far as I was concerned, I handed it off to you after we spoke. I got other problems to deal with, y'know.”
“Well, congratulations, moron,” Scott said, feeling an irrational amount of anger piping out of him, “because you couldn't be bothered to actually confirm you were doing your job, you probably spoke to the perpetrator himself. Idiot!” And he hung up, because what more needed to be said. “Shit, shit, shit,” he muttered under his breath. Pounding open the men's bathroom door, he shouted: “Traverton! We got a problem!”
An animal growl from the farthest stall was followed a moment later by grunts, and then Traverton's voice, lower than its usual register adding, “Sorry – what? What?”
“Miami police dropped the frigging ball,” Scott said. “That threat we got the other day – it came from Tommy Rolniak.” He felt a scowl creep across his face as Traverton popped out of the stall, looking a little furry around the neck and ears. Had he been a bear? Sure looked like it, but it didn't matter at the moment. “We need to have a conversation with him – right now.”
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TEN
Heidi
“What if love can't overcome all?” Heidi mused aloud, curled up on the couch, her head in Sarah's lap. “What if I was wrong?”
“You're not wrong,” Sarah said, rubbing Heidi's scalp. It was so soothing. “You have a vision of the world as it should be, with love at the center of everything. Sienna's just...she's hateful, that's all.” Sarah shook her head.
“She's the most stubborn person I've ever met,” Heidi said, languidly staring up at the ceiling. Sarah's scalp massage was soothing, but she knew she needed to get up, send Sarah back to work. She'd been reminded that Sarah had been waiting for love, that others, too, in this town had been. That there were people well beyond here that needed it, that cried out for it in their loneliness, their isolation, their disconnection from others. She lowered her voice, a little shame creeping out. “I told her she was unworthy of love.”
“You don't believe that, though, do you?” Sarah asked, slowing the scratch of her fingernails across Heidi's scalp.
“I don't,” Heidi said. “She's just...bent and broken, as this world does to people.” She sat up, leaving the soothing comfort of Sarah's fingernails and their sensory effect behind. “I can't fix her, Sarah. But if I'm right about the world, she's still worthy of love. Just like you are. Just like Eddie is.”
Sarah nodded, her eyes brimming with tears. “You make me so proud. You can do this. I believe in you. In your vision.”
“Okay,” Heidi said, getting a little teary herself. “Tell the crew to get ready. We can't just wait for Sienna to do whatever she might do. In the meantime, there are people who need to find love. And we'll go about our business and just do what we do while we wait for this hammer to fall.”
Sarah swallowed visibly. “What do we do about Sienna? If she comes back?”
Heidi drew a deep breath. “We show her love. Because it will triumph over all that anger in her, that hate that's consuming her heart – or else I'm wrong.” She tried to put on a brave face and smile. “Or else I'm wrong.”
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED ELEVEN
Sarah
Sarah left the interview room inspired, like there was a glow in her heart that told her she was alive, that she was doing something transcendental, something worthy, with her life. It had been a tough slog these last few years; she hadn't had a lover since almost high school, and had begun to feel that life was passing her by before Heidi had come along.
Now she believed. And as she stepped outside to tell the crew that yes, they were going forward, yes, they were going to continue to fight for love, yes they were going to be shooting this afternoon–
There was a flash of light like lightning and Sarah felt her arms forced down to her sides. Something grabbed her and lifted her up, into the clouds as she screamed, screamed as she was carried away, away from love–
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWELVE
Heidi
“Sienna just came out of the clouds and snatched up Sarah!” Eddie burst into the interview room as Heidi was readying herself, going through all the minds in her grasp, thinking about what needed to happen based on suggestions from Chief Cordle and the others in town.
