After hanging up, Austin got on board and took some time to think. This was a time sensitive matter and it was essential he figured out exactly where Allison was headed. Something told him she might be in danger.
No matter how much it made his brain hurt, he kept digging and digging. It was the hardest riddle he ever had to solve; Who was Allison Dawson? After finding the answer to that question, he was one step closer to finding her location. So, he takes out his notepad and starts writing.
Allison Dawson. Receptionist and lead singer. Spends her free time... He didn't know. Most of her free time she had spent with him. He had no idea what she did for leisure before he met her. He draws a question mark after 'Leisure' and skips to the next line.
Allison Dawson. Intimate with Keith. Sister of Phil. He pauses. Not for a second had he realized just how narrow her social circle was. Never, she'd mentioned being in touch with anyone else on or off the ship. Her life revolved around the band. He underlines the last sentence.
Allison Dawson. Loves music. Loves people. Correction, loves studying people. Loves messing with his head. He crosses that out. He must stay objective. Loves... He leaves it open for now.
Allison Dawson. Experiences mood swings. Shows attitude alterations. Refrains from talking about her past. Is co-dependent. Articulates disinterest in romantic relationships, though displays short moments of affection. He taps his bottom lip with the end of his pencil. He's hitting a dead end.
Allison Dawson. Wants... What does she want? That might be the hardest question to answer. She never specifically told him, so he'd have to read between the lines. He thinks back to the many conversations they had. What did she talk about? What subject did she keep circling back to? What was a dream, a desire she just couldn't help mentioning? A lead shows itself.
Allison Dawson, wants love, no matter how much she claims she doesn't. Allison Dawson, envies people who move on with their lives since she can't seem to do the same. Allison Dawson, wants things to stay the same. Allison Dawson, loves her brother.
Her brother. Phil. Throughout this whole week, there's one thing she succeeded into making clear to him, one thing that was absolutely, undoubtedly true; her love for her brother, her interest in his life, her envy for his progression. Austin writes vigorously, not wanting this possible trace to slip.
Her friend, her, more or less, partner was killed. She saw his body. She's in shock. Where does she go? To whom does she go? There was only one answer.
Closing his notepad confidently, he gets up. Taking out his phone out of habit, he's about to ring Walter when he stops his tracks. Allison trusts him, at least a little bit. She doesn't know Walter at all, let alone trust. No, to increase the odds of this to work, he must do this alone.
Now, to track down Allison, he only needs Phil's location. He thinks back to the night Phil confided in him and remembers the reason Phil ended the conversation. He checks the time. Fair chance that he was speaking to his fiancé on the phone right now while circling the ship's deck, as he told him he did daily. That's where he should find him and, therefore, Allison, too. There was no doubt Keith's killer was looking for her. And, since she was with Phil, she might put him at risk, also. He had to hurry.
The wind had picked up and helped the temperature drop a few degrees. Austin shivers, pulls his jacket tighter around his body, and moves his fringe out of his eyes. The deck was long and he wasn't quite sure where to start. He had this strange sensation that every second could count. After deciding on starting at the backside of the ship, since that's where the band's dressing room verges on, he begins his search.
Following the cold steel of the railing, he's careful not to make any noise. Though the sound of waves breaking fills the night, the lack of other noises creates a certain tension that Austin can feel in his veins. Every corner he turns, he expects a figure to appear. To grant him some kind of secure feeling, he keeps his hand on his holster. All of a sudden, he regrets the decision to refrain from notifying Walter of his plans. It's too late now, as he shouldn't talk or focus on anything other than where he's going.
He arrives at the very end of the ship and immediately recognizes the area. The partly transparent door leading to the dressing room on the right shows the room dark and abandoned. He remembers sitting there, viewing Keith and Allison standing outside. One thing differs from the image; where the couple had stood then, now appears to be a figure alone. Completely dressed in black and with their back turned to Austin, he could not tell their identity. One thing was apparent, though. Holding a bag with dozens of small packages, all wrapped very thoroughly, the person's intention was clear. The person is whistling a tune, a slow one, but still very unfitting for the situation.
"Drop the bag," Austin yells while aiming his gun at the figure. The body freezes, though it does not comply. Austin continues nevertheless, "Put your hands in the air and turn around slowly."
Austin hears a soft chuckle. The individual shakes their head slightly and moves to only follow one demand. As they turn around, very slowly, Austin notes certain things about the person. The below average height, the slim legs. That's when he manages to place the song they whistled. It was a nursery rhyme. Austin holds his breath as the figure finally faces him.
"Well, well, well," Allison cocks her head, still clutching the bag stubbornly, "If it isn't hotshot." She sighs in disappointment, a grin spoiling the fact that, in reality, she enjoys the moment. Her eyes are glazed over as if she's not fully present. "And to think I was this close to getting away with it."
Austin's brain goes haywire. Everything he once believed was true, even the small things he had convinced himself of their purity had proven to be false. This new revelation stood directly opposed to the rest, which made him question his own eyes. But the evidence stood in front of him, laughing at him, making him feel more foolish than he had ever felt.
"This is," he stutters, the grasp on his pistol weakening, "this is not true." He shakes his head, trying to get his thoughts in order, but it's simply impossible. There she was, Allison Dawson, the person he had confided in and, simultaneously, the person he'd been looking for all week. Nothing was true, nothing she'd ever said, showed, had been even slightly genuine. He was played. With pleading eyes, he makes one final, desperate attempt. "Please be lying."
Allison laughs in response, maniacally. After a few seconds, she gives him a look, a look that a mother could give to her toddler. She looks ten years older, suddenly. Just then, there is no doubt in his mind that she was partly responsible for Keith's death. "Are you shocked, Austin?" She asks. "Are you?"
"I'm..." Austin can't speak, can't move. His body seems frozen. Even in his state, he could see that there were no things he could do, he could say that would fix this. He had messed up and there was no way to turn the tide.
"Cat got your tongue, boy?" She mocks his stutter before rolling her eyes. She checks the watch around her wrist and purses her lips. "Now, I'd appreciate it if you'd lower your gun so I can finish this," she says in an unimpressed tone, vaguely gesturing at her bag. Austin's eyes land on the pistol in his hand, having forgotten he was even holding it. Allison chuckles mockingly, "You're not actually planning on firing it anyway. If I'm not mistaken, you're not even allowed to."
She was right and Austin wasn't even surprised she knew this. She probably knew more about him than he knew about himself. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to stand tall, gripping his weapon tightly. "I will if I have to," he says, repressing the vibrations in his voice.
Allison smiles, her eyes scanning him openly like he's beneath her. "I hope you noticed how deliciously unthreatening that sounds."
"Why?" It's the only thing he can ask. It's the only thing he cares about, it's the only thing he might get an answer to.
"Why?" Allison repeats the question and laughs. Then, her face turns serious. "Why not? There's really no downside." For the first time, she takes her eyes off of Austin and stares in the distance. Austin could do something, try to overpower her, but he feels like the information she's about to give him outweighs that option. "You were completely right. My life," she starts, "it's a bit dull." She shrugs, studying her nails. Her pout turns into a grin. "Besides, the money is a big plus. Don't tell me you honestly thought I could afford all the dresses and jewellery with my mediocre band salary."
He thinks back to the dressing room, dozens of dresses with sparkles and glitter, boxes with jewellery, fancy looking shoes spread across the room. It makes sense.
"You said I could trust you." He can't help sounding betrayed, even if it makes him look weak.
"Funny thing about that expression," Allison says, a satisfied smile rested on her lips. "I said you could. I never implied that decision would be a wise one."
There is not a single aspect of Allison's behaviour, speech, or appearance that he recognizes. He knew Allison had a complicated personality, but it seems like she had transformed into a completely different person. Though, deep down, he knew better. This had always been a part of Allison, moreover, it was the real Allison. The information he thought he collected about her seemed futile now. The person who really mattered was the one standing in front of him.
"Who are you?" He'd asked her the same thing just a few hours ago and the meaning hadn't changed, though she responds in a different manner. While she'd avoided the question then, it seems to only boost her confidence now.
"I'm part of something bigger and stronger than you could ever imagine, Austin." She sounds powerful, her slight wide leg stance amplifying the signal, though Austin feels something is off. Even though everything pointed at Allison being in charge of leading the drugs operation, he didn't trust those leads. He'd been with her all day. She didn't kill Keith, at least not with her own hands. Wouldn't a leader want to handle things like that themselves, or, at least, be there to make sure it happened rightly? No matter how twisted Allison's identity was, the emotions she showed when finding Keith were real. He was sure of that more than anything, he sees now.
"You're not in charge," he says, making Allison raise her eyebrows in surprise. "You didn't kill Keith. Who do you work for?" She keeps her mouth shut, so he repeats himself, slightly raising his voice. "Who do you work for?"
Allison shakes her head. She doesn't even try to convince him otherwise. "I'm disappointed," she replies. Gesturing to herself, to the bag, to their surroundings, she looks at him with disbelief. "Isn't it obvious?"
"I want an answer," he persists. The fact that the answer might be right there, glowing bright red in front of him, yet he cannot see it, angers him. To urge her, he removes the gun safety, making the weapon ready to be utilized. Allison's eyes widen, but he can tell it's not because of his gun. "Now."
"Austin," Allison whispers and Austin is almost sure he recognizes the Allison he thought he knew in her voice. It makes him lose focus for a short second. You see, removing the gun safety releases a soft 'click', a sound that can be mistaken for many other noises. But, since he'd only heard the sound a second ago, the source of the repetition, now right next to his head, was unmistakable.
"I don't think so, boy," a voice speaks, resting the metal against his temple, "I think this is the part where you hand over your gun." Threatened by the gesture, he lowers his gun but holds it tight for now.
Austin can't move his head, forcing him to keep viewing Allison. Her eyes are not on him, rather focussing on the person holding him at gunpoint. He sees her nails digging into her pulse once again. Her powerful stance has disappeared, a submissive, weak posture having taken its place. She seems to be completely ignoring him, forgotten his presence, like the only person that mattered, was the one next to him. And that's when he realises it was obvious. The answer was there all along.
"Phil," he whispers, more to himself. In response, Phil scoffs, pushing his head with the barrel.
"Keep packing, Sunny," he orders, in which Allison continues prepping the bag. For a second, Austin loses hope. He held no power over the situation. That was until he realized he was still holding a weapon, a weapon he was not allowed to use, though he would use if he had to. It gave him control, even if it was a tiny bit, it might be enough to turn the scene around.
"No," he objects and aims his gun at Allison again. She stops her movements, her eyes pleading Phil, silently asking what to do next, like a dog waiting for a command. A dead silence arrives, in which no one is sure what is the best move until Phil speaks.
"Very well," he concludes, lowering his gun and Austin is hit with a wave of victory. He'd won the match, might even win the battle. But then, he's proven wrong, all with one simple movement. "We all know you're not even risking the possibility of hurting Sunny tonight, or ever for that matter." In a second, he turns his body and moves the gun until the barrel is pointed at his sister. His face shows no bluff and Austin is convinced he would fire it if it would mean he could get away with everything. The fear on Allison's face shows him he's not wrong. "Someone else might, though." He raises one eyebrow as he gives Austin a second chance. "Would you kindly reconsider my suggestion now?"
"You wouldn't shoot her," Austin attempts, though he knows the truth. Allison's hands are shaking.
"What's that?" Phil asks, his eyes wide with faked disbelief. "Do you question my conviction, agent?"
"She trusts you," he continues, the view of two pistols aiming at Allison sending aches to his brain.
"Please," Phil scoffs. "Of all people, Allison knows me best." With his weapon, he gestures at the girl. "And doesn't her face speak volumes?"
It did. She looked terrified. "She's your sister!"
"She's disposable," Phil shrugs. Austin knows it's true when Allison looks down, gulping. His efforts were futile. He lowers his arm and hands Phil his pistol. "There we go," he accepts, satisfied. He shoots a cold look towards Allison. "Keep going."
With a shock, Allison kneels down and zips up the bag filled with packages before opening one of the crates next to her and revealing two more bags. It makes Austin think how long they have been in there and how many there are. Phil has now walked towards her and is holding the gun to her temple like he had done with Austin. He raises himself up the railing and sits down, ignoring the danger of the fast-moving propellers just below him. Austin wonders if this man has any fears.
"Now, this is a bit awkward," Phil laughs as if he's not holding life and death in the palm of his hand. He's not even looking at Allison, though she could easily take his gun from him. Instead, she keeps working. Austin's chances are getting slimmer with every passing minute. Allison was under Phil's control now. "It's not every day that the person you love has a gun to her head, is it?"
Austin doesn't even argue with the statement. All energy has left his body. "How long have you been forcing her to be a part of this?"
Phil purses his lips. "'Forcing' is a strong word. I prefer the term encouraging." He hops off the railing and starts pacing the deck, his gun still aimed at Allison, though Austin feels like it's a needless gesture. She will oblige him, whatever the situation. "You see, there's an art to making people do anything you want. An art I happen to master. And you can't even imagine how influenceable kids are when you have the right attitude. Little Sunny was practically begging for endorsement, weren't you?" Phil chuckles joyfully. Using the barrel of his gun, he brushes the hair from Allison's face, Allison cowering in response. "And who was I to decline?
"It starts off small. Toys she loved that I made her throw away. Playdates I didn't approve of," he sums up casually like he was going over a grocery list. "She was so desperate for someone to tell her what to do, how to behave. And I was more than glad to take up that role," he speaks. "I couldn't let my father's business leave the family. And the blood that we share is not nearly thick enough to wash away that promise." Raising Allison's chin with the metal, he shoves it away right after. "Our mother was the only one that stood in the way of complete control." He shrugs lightly. "The only logical step was to pull out the plug."
Allison whimpers, so silently that Phil doesn't notice, but Austin does. From her reaction, he understands this was new information to her, too. Phil killed their mother. For a second, she meets his gaze. Her eyes are filled with so many emotions that Austin has trouble reading them all. Confusion, desperation, fear, anger, all mixed up in two glazed eyes that had lost all character of the girl he'd fallen for.
"After that, Allison was merely a body. A corpse without a soul, a little rag doll, if you will," Phil continues unknowingly. "And I've been waiting for the perfect moment to sacrifice her in order to finish what father started and finally make him proud." With the tip of the gun, he traces the side of Allison's face. She closes her eyes, her lip trembling, and inhales deeply. Austin knows it's now or never and reaches into his pocket. Phil seems plenty occupied with Allison for Austin to take a chance.
With his finger hovering over Walter's contact, Phil notices his movements, forgets about whatever he was planning to do to Allison and aims his gun at Austin. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."
Mission accomplished; the focus wasn't on Allison anymore. She was out of danger, momentarily. To extend that time period, he needed to take action. Desperation taking over, he taps on Walter's name. Phil runs over and slaps the phone out of his hand. The screen cracks as it hits the wooden floor. Phil lets his heel land on the device before picking it up and throwing it overboard.
Breathing heavily, he touches Austin's forehead with the gun. "You just made a huge mistake, agent."
"Lewis will be looking for me at this point," Austin speaks, reading a hint of panic in Phil's eyes. Things might turn around after all. Phil looks at him, probably thinking of the best possible scenario, in which he could escape with the batch. Austin reckons Allison wasn't that much of importance anymore, which worried him. Keeping her safe was a priority, at least to him. He needed to find a way to increase her survival rate, though he held no power over the next few moments. "One shot and the police will be swarming the ship."
Phil's eyebrows rise, a plan settling. He looks at Austin with a wicked smile. "You're right." Austin steps back frightened. "Goodnight, Austin."
He raises his weapon and, for a second, Austin thinks he might fire it into the air, for some reason. As Phil moves it down swiftly, the real plan is revealed. Just before the metal hits Austin's temple, he catches Allison's eyes. Her hands are covering her mouth and tears are rolling over her cheeks. He wishes he could comfort her one last time. A second later, his body bounces on the wooden deck, like a corpse without a soul, a rag doll, if you will.
The idiot almost ruined everything.
The icy wind makes my face hurt, but I keep staring forward stubbornly. I was smart enough to gather contacts in every city the ship passes. It took only one phone call for a speedboat to arrive ever so inconspicuously. Across from me, Allison is sitting, crouched, her gaze at the floor. Her eyes are still wet. I roll my eyes.
"Guess your expiration date has been postponed for a bit," I say to her, in which she raises her head. "You've got blondie to thank for that."
She stares back blandly. I take the time to study her. One hand is wrapped around her pulse. She might've shown some emotion tonight, but, behind her eyes, she was just as empty as always. Besides, I wouldn't have to put any more effort into controlling her soon. Then I notice something is missing.
"Where's the key?" Allison blinks once like my words don't reach her. I reach forward, grabbing her throat with one hand. "I said," I grit through my teeth, bringing her closer, "where is the key?"
Allison puts a hand on her chest, where her necklace once rested. Before she took it off to let her spirit be read. "Austin," she whispers.
"Speak!" I demand and tighten my grip.
"It's in his pocket," she chokes and coughs once I release her with a shove. "I forgot to put it back on." She touches her neck with trembling fingers.
"Imbecile!" Her cheek colours red in the shape of my hand and she cowers instantly. I shake my hand to get rid of the sting in my fingers. "Useless," I mutter while quickly sending a few text messages. I look back at the ship.
Guess we will meet again, agent Moon.
Now that we've got that covered, only a few more chapters left. Be a dear and tell me your thoughts?
Sweetgirl2711 chapter 9
Thst stinks about Keith. Ally is confusing. Its the captain isnt it? - So close!