CHAPTER TWO
…..
The sun was setting behind the backs of the houses as Roma pulled the car into her driveway. Getting out, she opened the garage door and then drove inside, shutting it behind her. She could enter the house from a door that led from the garage to the kitchen, rather than from the front door where anyone could see her carrying Don.
He was still out cold and she checked his pulse again, just to be sure. The house phone rang shrilly in the silence and she ignored it. Maybe it was Arjun calling to see if she was all right, after all she had told him she would be going shopping. He was probably worried.
Grunting, she pulled Don into a seated position and then somehow into her arms. Then she lifted him. Her adrenaline had died down considerably (and worry was starting to set in) and it was harder to move him, but she managed it. At the bottom of the stairs she set him down to catch her breath. Her house had not come cheap and there were two bedrooms, but out of those two only one was set up. The other she used as a study.
Taking a deep breath, she picked him up again and began a slow ascent.
"I really hate you," she muttered, sure that he was being heavy on purpose. After all, he looked small and relatively light, so why did she feel like she was shifting two tonnes of cement.
When she reached her bedroom she deposited him carefully on the bed, quickly removing and hiding her nightgown. She would have to call a doctor or someone, and it would have to be someone that wouldn't talk.
But first she had to clean herself up and then get rid of the car.
As she entered the bathroom the phone on her dresser rang and she answered it, clearing her throat as Arjun's voice sounded frantically across the line.
"Roma! Oh, Roma! I was so worried! Did you see the news? You told me you were going to look for…"
"I changed my mind," she interrupted. "I stayed at home instead and…I saw the news." She began to wipe her face with a wet towel, grimacing as it came away gray in her hand.
She hadn't realised what a mess she was, but looking in the mirror above the sink she could see that her hair and clothes were covered in dust and her lip was split. She must have bitten it when the blast threw her back.
"Do you want me to come over?"
"NO!" she cried, much too loudly, before catching herself. "I mean, I'm tired, there's no need." She tried to direct the topic away from herself. "Do they know what caused it? Do they have any leads?" Guiltily she thought of the man she had heard counting, but she couldn't tell anyone about him without implicating herself in a lie. Plus there was no reason really to suspect him. Counting wasn't a crime.
"Well," Arjun paused and she heard paper rustling as if he had been writing notes. "A lot of people are crying terrorist, but Hardwick," he named their superior, " isn't convinced. Neither am I."
"Hmmm," Roma turned on the shower. She would have to wash herself entirely. "Do they want me back?"
"No. Don't get mad, but Patel thinks you'll just try to pin it on Don."
"I don't…"
"I know," he said hurriedly, "But you have to admit, you are a bit obsessed."
"He killed my brother," she said flatly, staring though the half-open door at the motionless figure on the bed. "He's killed hundreds of others. He does what he wants when he wants and makes us all dance to his tune. Are you saying I should just let him go?"
Arjun sighed the way he had a million conversations before. Somehow all their arguments were about Don. "I'm going to have a bath," she said, "I'll call you later."
Then she hung up.
Stripping, she balled her dirty clothes up and tossed them into the tub. Then she stepped under the spray and washed herself as quickly and thoroughly as she could, wetting the clothes as well. When she was clean she got out and pulled on the t-shirt and jeans that had been left to dry on her towel rack. Then she took her now wet clothes down to the washing machine and stuffed them in.
As she turned the dial the thought occurred to her that she would have to wash Don's clothes as well. And to do that she would have to take them off him.
"I'll find out about a doctor first," she muttered.
The most important thing was the car. Once that was disposed of she could see about him. But she would have to leave the house to do it. What if he escaped? He wouldn't get far, dragging himself on two broken legs, but knowing Don he would damn well try. Either that, or he somehow had an escape plan set in motion already.
She began to laugh, leaning against the washing machine and pressing the back of her hand to her mouth. What was the penalty for abducting a wanted criminal?
There was a ball of twine she used to hang clothes out in her miniscule back garden. She had to secure him somehow. Grabbing it, she ventured back upstairs and paused at the door to her bedroom. He still wasn't awake. That was somewhat of a relief as she took his hands one by one and bound them to the metal headboard. Then, donning gloves and covering her hair, she went to clean the car of any prints or fibres they had left behind.
She drove it to as rundown a neighbourhood as she could find, hiding her face beneath a hat and scarf, and left it there, taking the bus home. This time she entered through the front door, removing her disguise a block or two away. The clock in the kitchen read 8.00pm and she collapsed at the table, her head in her hands.
She had searched for Don for so long and now she had him as she had always wanted him: completely at her mercy. So the question she had to ask herself was – what was she going to do with him?
And the truthful answer was that she didn't know.
And if she had been thinking rationally when she had found him, she probably wouldn't be asking herself such as question. But when had she ever been able to think rationally around Don? Despite her protests she found herself too easily manipulated by him. It was hard not to be, because what sounded like lies became truth when she looked in his eyes, and sometimes she doubted if even he knew the difference any more.
Maybe, now that she had him, maybe now was her chance to understand him finally. Then, after she had decoded every code and knocked down every wall, she could decide what she wanted to do.
She yawned, exhausted. The clock now read 9.00pm. Had she really been sitting there for an hour? Checking the doors were locked, she retired upstairs. There was a mattress in the study-bedroom that she could sleep on, but she would have to make it up.
Entering her own bedroom, she sat on the edge of her bed. It was more than big enough for two and she was so tired. She lay down, careful to keep as much space between them as she could, and then began to study him.
His hair was long again, as long as it had been when she had taunted him about his prison uniform. Why had she ever thought she had won? She looked closer and saw that his hair, and the stubble that covered his chin, was flecked with silver. His face was relaxed in sleep, much softer than she had ever seen it, even when he had been pretending to be Vijay. There was an old scar high on his left cheekbone, and a few more lines around his eyes. She had to touch him, just to make sure he was real and solid, because suddenly it seemed so very impossible.
As she trailed a finger down the curve of his nose, she noticed something buzzing in his pocket. Carefully, she pulled out a phone and flipped it open, answering the call.
"Don?" a female voice said, sounding worried, "Where are you? I waited for hours with the car. What happened?"
Roma didn't answer.
"Hello? Don? Who is this?"
She hung up, switching the phone off and tossing it across the room. It landed in her laundry basket, sinking amongst the clothes.
"What were you doing?" she murmured, "Why were you there?"
There was no answer. Wearily, she lay back against the pillow and fell asleep.
….
The sunlight was streaming in through the open blinds, making her blink as she opened her eyes. Stretching, she sat up and yawned. Her alarm hadn't gone off but, she realised, that didn't matter as she was on holiday.
Deciding to sleep for a little longer, she turned to lie in a more comfortable position and then froze, meeting the eyes of the man she had tied to her bed.
"Good morning, sweetheart," he said, his mouth curling in amusement. But his voice was strained; he had to be in a tremendous amount of pain.
Roma struggled to speak as his eyes burned into her, reducing her words to nothing.
"Would you mind telling me where I am, Officer?" he asked. How long had he been awake, watching her? She felt violated and yet, hadn't she done the same to him?
"You were injured," she finally managed to say, "I brought you here to…"
Suddenly he yanked his arms forward, tugging forcefully at the twine. She jumped off the bed, a little afraid, and then remembered that, even if he broke free, he couldn't go anywhere.
"Your legs are broken," she said a little more confidently, "I found you. I brought you here…"
"To…take…care…of…me," he enunciated each word, "thank you very much, sweetheart. Wouldn't a hospital have been more appropriate? Unless, of course, there's another reason you wanted to tie me to your bed?"
Roma blushed furiously, glaring at him. "There's no other reason," she spat. "If I had taken you to a hospital they would have realised who you were."
He raised an eyebrow, "I would have thought you would welcome a chance to put me back behind bars?"
"I would," she jutted her chin, "If only you would stay there. But bars can't hold you. You taught me that yourself."
He tugged at the twine again, only lightly this time. "And you can, can you…sweetheart?"
"Yes," she said flatly, staring him down. Maybe, just maybe, she was the only one who could.
…..
TBC!