Chapter Seven
The question seemed to suck the air from the car.
I blinked at my best friend, the only man on this earth I'd truly come to adore. Having him sitting there, staring at me with chocolate colored eyes, a look of distain and confusion dotting his incredibly handsome features. Heat boiled through my skin and dashed up my neck, blossoming my cheeks into a bright red, heated charade. I swallowed hard and interlaced my fingers, messaging my knuckles with enough fiercity I thought they'd shatter beneath my skin.
It felt like the question had been dynmaite, hurled at me from out of nowhere and exploding in my ears. My head rang with the question, it echoed across the recesses of my brain. I swore I saw the world spinning out of control like a kaleidoscope; completely out of reach and unstoppable. Frantically I begged God for an answer that wouldn't be a lie. I looked at Bruce and reached to push up my glasses-sadly finding that they were replaced with my contacts.
We sat there, Bruce's foot on the brake, wasting time and daylight. I had a million and one things to do; not to mention get ready for work tomorrow at the hospital. My residency was calling and there was necessary preparation to get ready for. And Jonathan would be needed the updated medical records, which I had yet to work on. The blood work from County was probably finished, and I'm sure Riley Stern from the lab had left at least ten messages asking for me to call him back. I shook my head in confusion and crossed my arms over my chest. Yes, I'd get out of this with the "I'm-to-busy" bid.
"Bruce, I have things to do-" I reached to turn on the radio.
Instantly, as if magic, his hand swatted mine from the radio without taking his eyes off of me. My hand retreated to my side and I blinked at him, swallowing hard again. My mouth felt like a home of cotton-tails living in the Sahara. I was without hope, without escape. I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair. "Marty..."
"Okay," I said calmly. "Don't laugh," my mind frantically scrambled in every direction. I'd have to lie to get through this. He blinked, one wrist draped over the steering wheel, the other on the gear stick, waiting for my reply. Why on earth did I have to be so...pathetic? "I was..."
"Was what?" he demanded sternly.
What would I say that Bruce would believe? He knew everything about me. Well, almost everything. But, I did know he was an expert at seeing through my unplanned lies and schemes, like he always had. I puffed out a breath and thought about the night. A fight, Batman, and shooting...shooting! That was it. The words flew from my mouth before I could even stop them. "I've been mentoring a group of girls in the Narrows on how to use a bow and arrow," the lie slipped like honey from my lips, and so far it sounded pretty good. "I've been going down there a few times a week. They're really enjoying it."
His brows rose. "And where are you getting these bows and arrows? Marty, those things are expensive to be letting kids use them." he concluded. "You've been coming down here yourself?" he sounded disgusted and insulted. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"It's...a project," I shrugged a shoulder. Something sour began to bubble in my stomach. "Bobbie at the shop has been letting me borrow some of her old equiptment. And Dayton at the range has supplied some older bows and a few arrows for me. It's been going good."
He slipped on his sunglasses again and pushed them down on his nose to look at me. My chest constricted at this and I blushed slightly. "And where are you keeping these things, Mart?"
"At Leslie's," I continued my lie, kicking myself mentally at each word. My head pounded with an increasingly painful headache, but that didn't stop me. Heat flushed through my veins and painful throbbing continued to spread throughout my skull. "We got a little too rambunctious and one of the guys drew a gun to be funny," I whispered. "he thought it wasn't loaded..."
Quickly he whipped off his sunglasses and slipped the car back into park. "What? These kids have guns Marianne?" he sounded shocked, as if this were new to him. "And you're going down there unprotected?"
I raised my hands, "Don't worry, Bruce! I'll search them before we start practice, okay? Things like this happen. It isn't new down here." My voice trailed off as he glared at me. My stomach tied into a knot and without warning, he pressed the clutch and slipped the Camaro back into drive. I gripped the door's vinyl handle, mentally forcing the stress to slip into the fierceness of my grip and sink into the material of the car. It didn't work, and he continued on as we crept through the Narrow's streets, dodging by people and careful to watch for an suspicious passerby's.
"Marianne," he said somewhat calmly, "you can't keep coming down here without...muscle," he thought for the right word before saying it. Then he glanced at me and refocused his attention on the road. "This isn't okay. I don't want you coming down here without someone."
I snorted playfully and smiled at him. "You can't really stop me, Bruce. I'm a big girl. I can handle this-"
"Marty!" he snapped at me, slamming the stick into third gear as we hit the actually streets. We blended with traffic nicely and he navigated the city like a pro. I gripped the door handle harder, allowing my anger to seep through my fingers. The heat rising in my chest burned extensively, and I felt like a ticking time-bomb. He was not going to stop me from...Reacher. She was everything I had right now; besides my work and my dog. My family was gone, back to Colorado, and Rachel was into her law and whatnot. Bruce, well, he just came into the picture and tossed my emotions onto a roller coaster. I thought I'd gotten over my crush for him, but it'd come back, blazing glory and all.
"What!?" I demanded, throwing my hands into the air. "Bruce, you can't stop me from helping people!" I yelled at him, voice bouncing back into my ears like thunder. I couldn't believe my defensiveness! Even to my best friend. "People down here need to see that we care about them. This place is still rotting, just like it was, and there is nothing stopping it. A little light can pierce the darkness," I said, forcing myself to calm down. "someone has to do something. This place is smoldering..."
"Then let someone else do it!" he hissed back, "It's not your responsibility! These people are what killed my parents, Marianne." he jerked the wheel left and we pulled over at the curb, him slamming the stick back into park and the Camaro lurched after squealing a few times. It died out instantly and we sat dormant, staring at each other blankly. "How can you just overlook that?"
"Overlook that?" I asked him, disbelief flooding my voice. Tears welled over my lashes and his complexion blurred. "I can never overlook that, Bruce! You're parents were the most wonderful, gracious, God-fearing people I know! They gave everything for this city, for those people. How can you, as their son, just look passed the hurt that you're father tried to fix?"
He sat, silent. I swallowed a sob and breathed in deeply and dared my next words. "There is such a thing as forgiveness, Bruce. You're father possessed that trait as long as I can remember. He taught it to us, as friends! He'd be ashamed of you, knowing you'd harbored such...unforgiveness to those who need forgiveness." Glaring at him, I whirled my head around to look out the window, biting down on my nails and choking back a rough sob. Tears spilled over my lashes and I looked over my shoulder at him, hair slapping me in my face and stinging my eyes. Then, slowly looking away, I reached for the handle on the door and pulled it towards me. The door unlatched and I pulled it open roughly. Swinging my legs to step out, pain flared up my side and into my spine, but I ignored it. Then, swiftly exiting the car, I slammed the door and headed down the street.
"Marianne!" I glanced over my shoulder to see him leaning against the car, watching me go. I shook my head and swiped away at my tears, hurrying into the bustling streets of people before he could come after me. Stopping at the corner of one of the brick buildings, I ran my fingers over the rough, unfinished edges and cast a look back at him.
"Sorry, Bruce," I whispered, swallowing the lump forming in my throat. I rounded the corner and wrapped my arms around my stomach, not caring about the soaring pain in my abdomen. It didn't nearly hurt as much as the ache in my chest.
I'd finally made it home after hailing a cab, sobbing as I slid into the backseat. The driver flashed me a look, and I managed to choke out the words to my address. He nodded and jolted the taxi into traffic, allowing me to rest my forehead against the cool glass and let the salty tears trace a path down my face. When he stopped at my house, I looked at the apartment complex and sighed.
Jonathan Crane's car was parked out front.
"What do you mean she's not home?"
He sighed and pressed his pocket hankerchief to his forehead, dabbing at the perspiration beads lining his hairline. "I mean she's not home. Her car is parked in the lot, but the only person at home is the barking beast of a dog."
The man huffed and growled out the next sentance. "Do you know when she'll be back?"
"No," he interjected. "Why do you care anyway? The drugs were delivered just fine, and we'll go to the apartment later tonight. How do you want me to get rid of it?"
"I don't care! Just make sure the woman isn't onto anything. One of the guards said she was snooping around the hallway to the basement. Just...keep her occupied."
He rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Fine. I'll see you tonight."
"Don't screw this up, Crane."
He slapped the phone shut. "Scout's honor."
I rapped the glass of the SUV with my knuckles and the man in the front-seat jumped. Spindly Jonathan Crane pressed his hand to his chest and fumbled with the car's handle to pop the door open. I stepped back and allowed him to exit his vehicle and blinked twice, hoping I didn't look too pathetic to be in his company.
"Marianne, are you alright? You look disheveled."
So much for looking presentable. I waved the question away and tried to look attentive, busying myself with my wild curls. "I'm okay. What can I do for you, Jonathan?"
He smiled and folded his hands in front of him appropriately. Then, looking to the ground, he chuckled and drew his attention back to me. "I was wondering about the medical records. Have you finished them yet?"
"No," I said apologetically, "I haven't gotten to them. I had some business I had to take care of last night. I'm sorry." I side-stepped his stare and rounded around his SUV to the apartment complex. He followed as I punched in my code to enter the building. It buzzed obnoxiously and we entered inside quickly. "Why? Did you need them immediately?"
He shrugged a shoulder. "Not exclusively. I just wanted to make some notes in the psychological colums over the files," he wrinkled his nose and waved the thought away as if it were nothing to him, "but that's okay. When will you have them ready?"
We made our way to the elevator and stepped on, then I pressed the button to the above floor. My hands were somewhat shaky with the diminishing affects of the Lidocaine, but I covered it somehwat well. By the look of Jonathan's face, I knew he was hinting that something wasn't quite right with me today. "Oh, well, how about later this evening? I can start on them right away."
He nodded and smiled at me cheekily. "Wonderful. You can drop them off at the Asylum then. Is that okay?"
Okay? That was wonderful. It gave me the excuse I needed to stick around the Asylum and "reach" inside for any clues I needed to concluded my suspicion. And, not only that, it provided the perfect escape from Batman and my dear friend Bruce. It seemed in the ashes of my day came a ray of sunlight shining through. "Oh, that's great! I'll hand them off to your man there. That's fine, yes."
He clapped his hands together. "Wonderful. Shall I escort you back to your room, or can you handle it?"
I shrugged a shoulder. "I can manage. Thank you, Jonathan. I'll see you tonight. Somewhere around seven?" Seven was a safe time range. I'd be able to drop off his documents and then head to Leslie's and take it from there. It wouldn't be terribly dark by then, but just enough to know that a familiar bat infestation shouldn't be awakened.
"Seven then." he stepped off the elevator and his pocket vibrated. "Excuse me, Marianne." With that, he took the call and stepped back into the elevator, seemingly unaware that his ride up here was completely unnecessary. His form disappeared behind the doors of the car and I headed to my apartment.
As usual, Curley was excited to see me, jumping around and wagging his tail raggedly as he said hello. I comforted the poor animal and reassured him I was fine, then disappeared into the solitude of my bedroom to get cleaned up. A pair of yoga pants and a tank top later, I emerged with pen and files to get to work on Jonathan's documentation. I curled down on the floor to begin work.
I was just about to start when Curley appeared by the window, looking behind my overstuffed lime-green chair and began to bark hideously. I wrinkled my brow and slowly got up, minding my wound and quickly heading into my bedroom to retrieve an extra bow and arrow-in case the intruder was in the form of sometype of rodent. Pulling back and inching towards the chair, Curley came out and began to dance around my legs. Immediately this told me it was not a critter, and I set the bow and arrow down.
Pushing aside the chair, I gasped and fell to my backside at what the thing was. I hit the floor with a loud thud and screamed, clutching my side as fire hot pain exploded in my abdomen. Tears formed at the corners of my eyes but quickly receded as soon as I wrapped my fingers around the corner of the package. On the face of the box was a quick note, jotted in short-hand.
"No more favors. We're even." -B.
I scowled. Even? Since when did he owe me anything? I'd done nothing to help that miscrient, and that was fine by me. He was ungrateful anyway, and untrustworthy. I wrinkled my brow and ripped open the tape around the edges and flipped the flaps of the box open. There, staring at me, was a perfectly folded suit, with three interesting tools on top. Shuriken looking things, a deep purple color. They were in the shape of a perfectly designed and torched "R", with a sharp line jutting out into a point from the diagonal part of the letter. Anger over came me and I wrapped my hand around it and whipped it into the wall by the kitchen. It hit the plaster by the refridgerator and a tiny cloud of dust floated into the breeze.
"He was in my house!"
Quickly, I got up and repackaged the box, making sure everything was put back in its original place. Then, I furiously wrote a note back to him, anger overcoming all sense that I had. Taping it to the box, I quickly finished my files for Jonathan and changed into a pair of nice jeans and an appropriate shirt. Grabbing my purse and the box at hand, I hustled out the door and glanced at the clock. Twenty after six.
Hurrying into the hallway, I glanced down at note and a wicked smile painted onto my lips. We were even, that was for sure.
