Chapter 32 – The Weakest Link
By the time we arrived back at West Union Anastasia was fast asleep between Ray and I. Neither of us wanted to wake her up, so I carried her to the elevator, into the apartment, and as Ray pulled back the blanket in her bedroom I gently placed her on the bed and pulled off her shoes. All we could do is hope she'd get a decent nights sleep and be back to herself in the morning.
Ray and I sat in the living room with Taylor and Ryan, while Reynolds debriefed over the rest of Ana's New York trip. We only found out about her early return right as they took off. Reynolds wanted to ensure total privacy at touchdown. Frankly, while I didn't like that I wasn't part of that decision, I begrudgingly get it. I did however, find out later that Sawyer was aware of the change, as it was his idea, and approved it. He also had made the arrangements for Ana to meet with the detective at Grey House later on.
Other than the original misunderstanding when I left, the New York trip was quiet. He explained Ana's growing anxiety, but otherwise she went about her business with Harper Collins, Random House, and SIP. It was nice hearing from Reynolds that in the end, she turned down all three. My girl was staying in Seattle. He did mention that Roach tried to pull a fast one on her and fed her incorrect financials, on which she corrected him. He explains that the best part of the meeting was in fact her take on what's wrong with SIP creatively in great detail. Watching Reynolds be so animated in the retelling, you can tell he was proud of her. After hearing the entire meeting details, we were all proud of her. Who'd have though that my Anastasia had a good head for business? I should have known. She was a 4.0 GPA student after all.
It's almost four a.m. when we all finally turn in for the night. If I'm exhausted, I can only imagine how Reynolds feels. He's been on the clock for the past two days.
By seven a.m. I find myself awakened by a nightmare. Not my usual nightmare of the time with my birthmother and her pimp, but a new one – the one where no matter how much security I put in place, Stephen Morton wins in the end. It makes me want to throw more security and investigators at the problem. Once I see Taylor this morning that is exactly what I'll end up doing. Not doing so isn't an option.
After a quick shower and getting dressed in a pair of jeans and t-shirt, I'm surprised when I enter the kitchen to find Gail and Anastasia laughing as they look at stupid pictures on a laptop and enjoy breakfast together. My body instantly relaxes at hearing Ana's intoxicating giggle. I'm even more thrilled when I see she's half way done with a vegetable omelet, toast, and bacon. After Reynolds mentioned that at her dinner with SIP she did little more than push food around on her plate, and then seeing her mental condition when she arrived home, I was extremely worried about her.
"Good morning ladies," I greet them before giving Ana a kiss on the lips when Gail turns to get me a cup of coffee. "I'm glad you're home."
"Me too," she whispers before kissing me again. "I missed you."
"Are you okay?"
She smiles sadly before replying, "As okay as I can be under the circumstances. I've been up since four just thinking about everything. Then Gail stumbled across me puttering in the kitchen and we talked. Okay, really, we talked and sobbed our eyes out. Then we pulled ourselves together and basically decided not to let any assholes get us down. What are the plans for today?"
Reluctantly I explain her meeting with the detective investigating the Escala incident later this morning at Grey House, followed by a meeting of the minds here in the afternoon, including Flynn, to build some type of psychological profile on Morton. I brace myself for her reaction, which I expect to be emotional. Leave it to Ana to surprise me when she sits up a bit straighter and replies, "Okay. I just want to get this over with because if it helps end this mess, then I'm all for it. I know it's going to be difficult, but as I said, I'm not allowing this asshole to win."
"We aren't going to allow this asshole to win," I corrected her.
Our trip to Grey House was thankfully uneventful. It helps that we are traveling in Range Rovers and not Christian's standard Audi SUVs and we entered the building through the private underground parking garage on a non-business day. The caravan of SUVs made me feel a bit safer, along with having three of my fantastic four surrounding me – Taylor, Ryan, and Reynolds, I had my dad and Christian. I was excited to see Luke, who was due at Grey House at eleven for the meeting. I just wanted to give him a hug and make sure he was taking care of himself.
It felt weird to be sitting in Christian's office again. It felt like an eternity since I'd been in here. I can't help but glance at the doorway and tried to imagine what I must have looked like to Christian as I did my heading into this room for the first time. I couldn't help but giggle. Naturally, dad had to ask.
I point to the doorway and smirk. "The day I came down to interview Christian, I tripped through that very doorway. It didn't help that I had no idea who he was. I thought I was coming to interview some middle-aged snooty businessman. Little did I know."
Ray laughs. "You were always so graceful."
When Taylor walks in a minute later with a tall gentleman wearing a suit, followed by Dr. Flynn, Carrick Grey, Ryan, and Reynolds I can't help but wonder what Flynn is doing here. I can see even Christian is surprised by the unexpected additions of the good doctor and Carrick. It was Carrick who explained that Sawyer called them both last night and invited them to Grey House this morning figuring we could kill two birds with one stone and have the detective in on our attempt to build a psychological profile of number three. It was actually a good idea in my book because it helped me avoid having to do this twice.
"Where's Luke?" I ask.
"He's probably running late," Taylor informed me. "He's still moving on the slow side and had a doctor's appointment this morning."
Detective Jake Cochran seems like a decent enough fellow. I know he and Luke go back a long way from what Taylor told us on the way over here. This makes me feel a bit better about talking to him. After introductions the detective asks me about my time living in Texas. The more I talk and tell him about those months, the more detached I feel. The words come out mechanically, though I feel numb. When I finish, Ray fills in the gap from my time in the hospital to my return and recovery in Montesano.
"If you had to pick one word to describe how you felt while living with him in Texas, what would it be?" Dr. Flynn asked.
"Terrorized." I can she the shock on everyone's faces. I think they expected just plain fear or creeped out, so I try to explain. "I didn't care for number three from the moment I met him and he knew it. There was something off about him. The entire situation began with little things – mild sexual innuendo, threats, and muttered remarks. I never knew what I was coming home to after school when it came to him. He searched my room regularly," I pause for a moment trying to find the right words; finally I blush and stammered, "he masturbated in my room to as he put it, mark his territory before telling me I was next, that in time I would be his to do as he saw fit. The threats stayed only at the house until the second month, when I'd find notes in my locker at school, in my books, and as notes left in the office at school for me that were supposedly from my parents. I wasn't allowed to go out other than school, and it continued escalating until I was afraid to sleep at night because he'd come into my room and say lewd things and invade my personal space. I felt terrorized because even though I tried to hide all the notes from him, so I could prove to Mom or Ray what was going on, but he'd always find them in his daily searches. It didn't help that my mother didn't believe me at first. I had been at the point of thinking I'd be better off dead. So yes, I stand by my use of the word terrorized because it felt like my fear brought him some type of perverse pleasure."
"That's understandable Anastasia," Flynn states. "In your experience, do you think he's a smart guy? Is he methodical? Anything you can provide for us in terms of his behavioral patterns will help."
"He can read people," I mutter. "He's one of those people who can look at someone, accurately guess their insecurities and weaknesses, and then exploit them. He's smart, manipulative, and yes, to a great extent methodical. It felt as if he got off more on my fear than anything else. He seemed to get aroused from my constant panicked state and the fact that my mother was oblivious. I felt like his personal puppet to terrorize and exploit."
"Exploit?" Detective Cochran asks curiously.
"There was more than one time over those months where he'd have his so called friends over while my mother was out and he took no greater pride in fucking with my head in front of them for their pleasure. It's bad enough having one asshole tear you down verbally and then degrade you physically, but to have all his asshole friends on deck helping out didn't make things any better. My last day conscious day in Texas, it was out of control. I managed to get out the back door as he yelled at me to get my fucking ass back up here and take care of us men like a good whore should. I walked five miles to where my mother worked and waited for her shift to end. She dropped me back off at the house like nothing was wrong before heading back out to the grocery store. Thankfully his asshole friends had left by that point. That was my last night in Texas, when he beat me to within an inch of my life and my mother finally realized what was going on."
"According to the police report, he threatened you after his arrest," the detective commented.
"No shit," I stammered. "Nice to see you can read a file detective. Once I headed back to Montesano, he spent a few months in prison before getting out with an ankle monitor. That kept him in Texas for a while, until he was rearrested on child pornography charges at which point during his sentencing he denied his crimes. Then the great state of Texas paroles him after a few years in prison with no ankle monitor, no notice to my family, and the first thing he does is start terrorizing me all over again. It's a major fucking fail of the Texas judicial system." I can't help it, I'm pissed off beyond belief. "Now my friends, along with the SPD are being sucked into this mess by a raging psychopath and his psychotic buddies. So excuse me if I sound bitter, but I've pretty much hit my limit in terms of the amount of bullshit a human being can handle in less than a year, so if that asshole gets anywhere near me, I'll make sure I'm armed and I'll put the first bullet in his crotch and the second in his head so the blight on humanity that is Stephen Morton will be banished from this earth forever. I'm done being meek. I'm done being his fucking puppet to terrorize at will."
The shock on the faces around me would be amusing if the situation wasn't so dire. I meant it though, I'm done with the bullshit. I'm taking control of my life back.
"Is there anything else you can tell us?" the detective asks.
I think for a moment. "He considers himself a leader, not a follower. He's an avid sports fan. When he'd go out in Texas, he'd hit the closest dive sports bars and drink until the doors closed. It was the only peace I had while down there, those times when he drank himself to the point of passing out." I'm restless, so I get up and walk around the office. "He's also mechanically inclined. He also seemed to pull money out of his ass because though he didn't work for more than the first two weeks we were down there, he always had cash. I never saw drugs in the house but unless he was robbing stores or breaking and entering, I'm not sure where he came across that money other than drug dealing or some other illegal activity."
I watch as the detective scribbles my comments in his notebook. "The Seattle PD would like to offer our protective services under the circumstances. I know you have Mr. Grey's security looking after you, but given your status as Mr. Grey's significant other, the Commissioner would like to assign you an around the clock detail."
"You'd assign me a detail, but for someone who is not dating Christian Grey, well, they'd just get a restraining order and be left to their own devices," I snap at him. He almost looks embarrassed. "I know you are just the messenger Detective Cochran. Mr. Taylor and Mr. Sawyer are coordinating my security. I suggest you coordinate your efforts with them as they know more about security than I ever will. I trust them implicitly."
Before the detective leaves, he thanks me and hands me his card. Christian and Taylor spend a few minutes discussing the case with him and when they SPD will release Escala from being a crime scene. I barely hear the detective's reply of Monday morning, while I plant myself in one of the big cushy white chairs, close my eyes, and rest my head against the headrest. As Jackson, who has been standing outside Christian's office the entire time, escorts the detective out, I send Luke a quick text asking him where he is.
Once we're all seated in the office again, Taylor asks me a few more questions about Morton ranging from his taste in music and movies, to gambling habits, to taste in women. Once again I answer mechanically – classic rock, action movies, poker, and women who get paid by the hour.
"You said he was mechanically inclined," Christian asked as he held my hand. "Can you elaborate more on that?"
"He was good at fixing things in terms of home repairs. He was handy around an electrical box and decent with computers," I paused for a moment before adding, "he liked to go to custom car shows and gatherings. He liked hot rods – the flashier, the better. That's where he met my mother, at the custom car show in Montesano."
I see Taylor, Christian, and Dad exchange glances. I'm too tired to really give it more thought than that. My brain just wants to shut off at this point, it's either that or apathy set in. I'm not sure. I hear Welch enter the room and greet everyone. I don't even think I manage to greet him before I hear him discuss with the others what Luke found out when he reached out to the Texas parole board.
"When did Luke reach out to the parole board and how did he get in contact with the right person?" Taylor asked.
"From what I understand, he reached out to MacKenzie Donaghue's father for a name. Mr. Donaghue was respected during his years in Texas in the oil industry, so he had some influence and called in some favors," Welch explained. "Apparently there is a internal disciplinary hearing going on already reviewing how certain inmates were all paroled. They are all people known to have had significant contact with Stephen Morton. Rumor has it there were payoffs involved. There is an active investigation under way by the internal affairs unit into these unlikely paroles. Barney managed a brief glance at some of the bank accounts of those who were on Morton's parole committee and found more than half of them had significant sums of money deposited into their spouses or children's bank accounts and the money has been electronically been tied back to Seattle, but he was locked out of the system after that."
"Just fucking wonderful," I hear Christian swear. "Where's Luke when you need him?"
Carrick finally chimes in. "Taylor, call Sawyer and check when he'll be here. In the meantime, I'll reach out to my contacts at the courthouse here to see if they know anyone on the Texas Parole Board." With that, Carrick leaves the room dialing his cell phone.
"The call went straight to voicemail Sir," Taylor informs Christian. I see Ray start to dial his phone. I know he's calling Sawyer too. A few seconds later, his call also went to voicemail. I glance at my phone and he hasn't answered my text yet, which is unlike Luke.
The mood in the room has shifted from frustrated to tense. I can see a hint of concern underneath the forced impassive look on the security team's faces. I watch as Christian dials and asked Grace if Sawyer made his appointment this morning. A moment later he thanks her and hangs up.
"Sawyer never made his doctor's appointment this morning," he informs Taylor, who immediately dials Detective Cochran and brings him up to speed before providing him the code to Luke's front gate.
Seconds later we are on our way out of Grey House on our way to Luke's townhouse. Flynn and Carrick are riding with Reynolds. Ray, Christian and I are with Taylor, and Ryan and the rest of the security team are in the third SUV. Everyone is edgy as I hear an emotional Taylor inform us that we protected everyone important to Ana except Sawyer. In his condition, he's not able to competently defend himself and he's the one member of the security team directly linked to Ana outside of GEH, which puts a big, fat target on his back. It's all I can do to not have a panic attack. In my head all I can think is don't over-react, don't over-react, but I'm failing miserably because what's really running through my head is Luke's in trouble, Luke's dead. It's like an endless, horrifying loop.
All I can think is, I fucking failed at my job. You failed at your fucking job Taylor, I scold myself in my head. I should have known Luke, my best fucking friend in the world, would have a target on his back due to his friendship with Ana, but I never thought to protect him. I never even considered putting a CPO on him. Not in a million years because Luke Sawyer, for as long as I've known him was indestructible. I can't help but beep the horn at the slow driver in front of me. I want nothing more than to get to Luke's townhouse and make sure he's okay. I venture a glance in the back and both Ana and Grey are pale, though Ana looks like she's about to lose her breakfast from sheer nerves. My failure caused those looks. "Pull yourself together Taylor," I mutter to myself and to Ray, whose riding shotgun. "You're no good to anyone in this state of mind. Fuck, now I know what Ana feels like when her panic attacks start. This sucks." Ray doesn't look like he's feeling any better than I am at this particular moment.
When we turn the final corner to the townhouse, I can see the detective's car and three patrol units beat us here and are parked in the driveway. We park behind them, but I can already see the yellow crime scene tape going up on the front steps. Fuck! The front door is open and all I see is the cream-colored main hallway wall is a bloody mess and the detective deathly pale. His shoes are covered with crime scene booties that are stained with blood. Before I could push the child lock buttons so Ana wouldn't get out of the car, she launched herself from the SUV and ran toward the house screaming for Luke. Ryan got to her before she made it to the steps and she fought him viciously to get through, but failed. Finally she just fell to her knees sobbing, and he followed by sinking to his knees and just held her.
One look at Detective Cochran's distraught face said it all - I fucking failed Luke.
Author's Note: Yes, I too hate me right now - Ana