Secret Chord
Elle Greenaway stood alone in the darkness with her Glock 19 tucked away in the back of her pants. "The only reason he's walking is because you panicked." The previous words of her unit chief stung worse than an open wound. She needed to right a wrong. The sound of tires screeching on asphalt emphasized just the person that needed to atone. The rushing blue station wagon pulls into the corners of the complex's parking lot. In an instant, the slithering man steps out with his attention drawn downward. With determination in her eyes, Elle stalks from the shadows and walks up to William Lee.
"Is this what you do? You wait for them until they get home."
His breath hitches. He searches around for the impending ambush of cops tackling him to the ground. But there was none. She was alone. He focuses back on her.
"You're not supposed to be here."
The tips of her hands leave the record button on her phone, then rest at her side. "What? You can't talk to a woman without a gun in your hand?" Her face lacks genuine disbelief. Knowing the coward that stood before her. "You and I both know what you are and you're not going to hurt women anymore." Venom sprouted with each word as she insolently stood her ground.
An awkward smile encases his face, "I would never hurt them, you know that. That's why you let me go—"
"I didn't let you do anything."
The awkward smile he had, curls into a sickening one as he gawks at her figure. "You're very pretty."
Her hands shudder at the comment but she remains still. "What did you just say to me?"
There was a concern written on his face as he looks her in her eyes. But he didn't back down. "Why do you choose to do a job that is so dangerous? You should find a man to take care of you," Lee whispers. She hangs on to every word, not noticing him inching closer and closer.
"Like how you took care of those women?"
His smirk grew wider at her attempt to toy with him. "Now you're trying to interrogate me. You know you're not supposed to do that."
Elle frowns at the play, through gritted teeth: "I'm just here to let you know that I'm not going to rest until you go away."
He's taken back, but his smile doesn't fade. A whispered 'no' escaping his lips. "You're here because you want me to say thank you."
"You're sick."
He moves in even closer. "Really? Because. . ." he pauses, smirking at the jittering of her hands. "Without you, I would still be locked up."
"I didn't let you walk."
With a sly reply, he whispers "Thank you. You've made a lot of women very happy."
With a few words, she stands paralyzed at the revelation that a grotesque thing like Lee can stand tall with pride while women he scared had to cower in fear. He was no longer a person. 'It' lost the right when he drove a girl to suicide. Her hands clenched until her knuckles bore a pasty white. Only one thing needed to be done. Stop the recording. Before she could comprehend his movements; a hard pressure presses against the center of her head. Her body goes stiff as the familiar click of her gun echoes in her ear.
"Walk!" his voice flattens.
Her face flushes a soft red as her fist forms into a defensive stance. It was a gamble rather not he'd shoot her right then and there. Lee was either going to kill her or— she shudders at the thought of his slimy hands on her. The very thought keeps her halted in place. He groans at her resistance and places his large hand against her back. Elle shoots a hard jab to his exposed abdomen. Without a second thought, she whips around to face his hunched body.
He cradles the gun in his stomach as if the pressure would subside the throbbing pain. "You stupid—"
Before the insult can fly out, she digs her nails into his scalp, lifts his head with the strands of his hair; and with the force of unchecked anger, she swiftly slams his nose into her knee. Instantaneously Lee drops to his knees with muffled grunts.
The gun falls to the ground with a clatter, and in mere seconds Elle drops to her hands and knees, scrambling to reach it before him. The weight of it rests in her palm and with one simple click of the trigger came a thundering sound of a bullet firing from its barrel. It punctures a hole in a nearby trash container sending greasy trash to seep from the opening.
A wave of relief washes over like a stranded sailor sending out a flare. Then in an instant her forehead slams into the earth below her. Instinctively she uses her free hand to try and loosen his grip. With another yank of her hair; he slams her head harder, and harder, and harder until her arms drop limply without her safety net. Lee immediately picks up the gun, and pulls her up by the ends of her hair, causing her to let out a weak yelp.
He covers her mouth with one of his clammy hands, using the other to tuck the gun in his pants.
Just as quickly as Lee steps behind his car, a nosey neighbor turned his porch light on. "Freak'in kids and their firecrackers!" The older man came limping down his steps in a house robe and brown loafers.
Yards away, through trickling blood, Elle could see the beer belly man. The neighbor impatiently searches around for signs of where the pop came from. She tries to kick something, anything to get the older man to hear her. Unintentionally, her kick landed against the door of the car. Lee's hand tightens as the neighbor looks in their direction.
He stepped slowly to the noise, his shoes squeaking with every step. As he steps into the light of the nearby streetlamp, she could see the wrinkles on his face that presents his terrible anxiety. He squints as he looks around, stopping in her direction, his brows hunch. His eyes widen and his mouth parts to speak, but he's dumbfounded. Accompanied by valor, he steps forward.
With a thud, a scruffy alley cat came scurrying from the trash container nearby. It hisses at the overweight man attempting to pet him, then takes off in the opposite direction. The neighbor exhaled in annoyance, assuming the culprit for the ruckus came from the stray. "scrawny little cat," he says before turning back to his small apartment.
As she was lifting her foot to kick the car a second time, Lee whispers: "If you make a sound, I will kill him. His death would be in your hands. Just like those women. It would be your fault."
Her foot hovers over the vehicle. All she needed to do was ward herself of the guilt of the man's life, and she can save her own. Sighing at her selfishness she lowers her foot and watches as her rescue closes the door to his apartment.
"See, I knew you wanted this."
Lee walks them back to his house, clutching her to his chest with one hand, and using the other to rifle through his pocket for his keys. The object jingles as he uses it to unlock the door. Pushing the frame aside, he reaches out and turns off the alarm. Still, with a hold on her, he shuffles through the drawer of the entry table in search of a nylon cord. Once she saw the white synthetic, she threw her head back into the same sore nose.
"Ungrateful little—," spit flies with every prickly word as he scrambles to stop the bleeding.
The action intensifies her concussion. Her body sways in and out of consciousness as she stumbles on her feet. She tries to force her legs to take off towards the back door. However, her balance is screwed and ditzy. She grasps the adjacent wall for support. Saliva building up in her mouth. It felt as if she was going to belly over and expel the takeout Morgan ordered earlier. Her body tenses when she felt his hand on her lower back, "Don't leave," he whispers, grabbing the hem of her jacket.
She viciously struggles out the sleeves, dropping to her hands and knees. She turns to a sitting position and quickly crab-crawls backward until her back hits a wall.
"I promise I won't hurt you."
He tosses her jacket aside, then crouches to where she was sitting. He reaches out to touch her face but she snatches away.
"Don't touch me." She kicks out at him but misses. She looks around for an exit, but every vantage point Lee was blocking.
In her peripheral vision, she could see him beginning to unbutton his striped shirt motivating her to get out. However, the more weight she put on her arms, the weaker they got. In a swift motion, his shirt was off and his exposed chest stared her in the face.
"Get up," she begs herself. She groans as her arms wobble under the pressure. Barely levitating, she began to scoot to the side.
Lee shakes his head at her feeble attempt. He reaches out to grab her leg, wanting to pull her under him, but she reacts with as much force as her body could muster into a harsh kick to his leg. Sharp breathing notified her of the impact.
Using the support of the wall, she forms a shaky standing position. Her head throbs in protest as she makes her way towards the backdoor where safety lies beyond a black gate. Safety where she could get help. Free from—
Her feet snatch under her. She quickly reaches out her arms bracing for the fall as she collides to the floor like sluggish wet laundry. Before she could recover, another yank sends her dragging down the hallway. Rug burns the flesh of her stomach as she squirms to free herself. She claws at the carpet, embedding it into the bed of her nail.
"Lee, you don't have to do this. Please, don't do this. Just— Let go!" demand only evident in her words.
Every maneuver, every squirm, every yell, meant nothing. It didn't stop the inescapable. Once she realizes this, her eyes instantly shut. She didn't focus on the sound of a belt unhinging from its loops. Or the eerie creaks the bed made at the shifting weight; not remembering how she got on top of it in the first place. She forces her thoughts on anything else. Her dad. The team. Morgan. She shakes her head at the idea, settling on her father. The idea of the middle-aged cop floats in her mind, presenting himself with a warmth she wanted so badly. She wanted him to be here. For him to stop Lee. Focus on my voice, Peanut. Nothing else. Her mind centers around her father's voice. Gently her father calms her.
She opens her eyes to Lee getting dressed.
"That wasn't too bad, was it?" His genuine concern made the bile in the pit of her stomach slowly rise. "Are you hungry?" she stares through him. "I'm going to get us something to eat, okay?"
She doesn't respond, so he leaves with a sigh. He takes the gun from the nightstand and closes the door on his way out. Once she hears his steps descend into the kitchen she brings herself to a sitting position. She chews on her lower lip at the sight of the perfected knots. It would take hours to get through the rope, and yanking on it would simply tighten them around her wrists. Every scenario was pacing through her head. One of if he kept her, taunting her with the freedom of death only to hurt her all over again. Or he would kill her and dispose of her body in a river, never to be found again.
Her teeth begin to chatter at the unwelcoming cold of being pantless. The sound of creaking floorboards alerted her to the man standing before her. Her stomach mumbled but the only thing in his hand was her Glock 19. After tucking it in the back of his pants, he walks over to her and starts undoing the knots. He was silent. When she stares at him he averts her gaze.
He was here to kill her.
His hands tremble at the thought as if he was afraid to commit such an act. He helps her off the bed, then picks her pants and boots from the floor before handing them to her.
"Put-put it on."
She obeys for the sake of not wanting to be exposed any longer. Once she zips the zipper of her boots, he was wrapping the nylon around her wrist. In and out the rope went. On the third loop; a crash came from outside his bedroom window, stunning them in place. They both look up with the same idea. Someone or something was out there. In a rush, he drags her out until they reach the barricade. The front door separated them from freedom. Either his is going to be taken away or hers is going to be given back. Her tongue graces her lips in anticipation. Either way, once she leaves this house, it'll finally be over. He holds the gun to her back as he opens the door.
They were met with the frigid temperature of midnight. But the previous clattering of noise had stopped. The one sound being emitted came from Lee's shallow breathing. Elle looks around for someone, anyone. But the parking lot was desolate. She was alone. She was going to die alone, and no one was coming to save her. Her eyes well up at the fact. She scowls at the weak thought of self-pity.
He digs the gun into her spine. "Move!"
As her foot was raising a loud clunk came from the right of them. The same cat from earlier hunched its back at the uninvited visitors.
"Screw off you little—" was the only words Lee could get out before an elbow went to his gut.
The rope loosens after the blow which only persuades Elle even more. Her eyes narrow at the pathetic creature bent over, gasping for air. She then picks up the gun he mistakenly dropped. Without hesitation, Elle aims it at the center of his head. He sheepishly looks up at the slight click of the safety turning off. Slowly he stands up. He extends his hands out in protection as he backs away from her, towards the center of the parking lot.
"Please, don't do this," he begs, stuttering at every word.
She replies with a stoic emotion. "Funny," she scoffs, "I asked the same thing."
Her aim went to his chest. With a violent roar, the man's cries cease, and she is finally alone.