Chapter two:
"AWOL again? That little bitch." Art shoved Beth's chair towards her desk with his foot, kicking it away with anger.
"Something was on her nerves. You see her smashing her head in?"
"No, but I should be the one smashing it." Art picked up his desk phone once again, pushing the redial button with enough force to have broken it. That wouldn't be the first time he broke a phone either. Straight to voicemail. Where was his god damn partner, and why wasn't she picking up? He didn't have time for this shit.
"You'd better have a damn good reason for not answering this, Childs." The phone slammed into the receiver.
"Just turn her in. Beth needs to learn some responsibility." Angie was almost gloating.
"Do you think her car is still here?" Art managed to ignore her comment entirely, even though she was probably right.
"Maybe. Want me to send someone to check?"
"No, no. Keep this between us for now. You go and look, she always parks in the lot across the street, furthest row from the left, it's the Jag."
"Why can't you?" Angie almost came across like a child complaining they had to do a chore.
"Going to see if she found a lead or something on her computer."
"Fine."
The computer was in sleep mode, which Art almost had assumed it was off for the updates, but something made him not hit the power button first. Shit, she had many programs running. He almost didn't want to know why there were so many. But, he needed to know where his partner was. Curiousness or control? Each window was minimized, but that didn't stop him. It was her day off, she was only supposed to be in today to help Art search for a bit of lost information, but one thing led to another, and he accidentally had hooked her into working. Nothing too important open. Why didn't she just close this crap? The fourth was different. Her email, not work, but personal. Mostly spam, but one from Paul, dated today. Subject "urgent, Beth, please respond", he didn't have the time to look any further, to read what Paul mesnt- Angie was back.
"Car's still here, phone on the floor on the passengers side."
"Then where the hell is she?"
"I don't know, bathroom?"
"For the last twenty minutes?" A smile crept onto half of the detective's face as they laughed.
"She left in a hurry, wherever she went."
"What do you mean, you saw her?"
"No, I heard her, but she walked off quickly." Angie went to her own desk. "Like I said, she's probably out on a lead."
Beth's head was planted on the table, hidden behind her arms. She'd been crying again, undoubtably. Paul didn't trust her, but she couldn't think of a reason why he hadn't. The learning of her clones was probably the changing point. Although Beth could remember the lying began when they first had started dating; Paul probably had numerous reasons.
Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her second phone. No new messages. At one she was supposed to meet Katja, but didn't know where just yet. Katja liked their meetings to be discreet, in the open but hidden. Beth had to somewhat agree, if what Katja had been saying was true. Leaving some spare change on the table, Beth pushed through the door, heading back so she wouldn't be questioned. It wasn't any of her partner's damn business to know where she was at during all hours of the day, not even Paul. Her eyes burned, dry from the exhausting act of pouring her heart and soul out. Love made it hurt worse, the fight, arguing, and lying to get what was wanted. Beth loved Paul, wholeheartedly. They'd spent years together, since before he was drafted. Her chest ached at the thought of him, she was having pity, even if it put her through misery.
Pill after pill, she swallowed them down, hoping the feelings would drown themselves, disappear. That's what she told herself: they'll disappear in just a few more pills. Just one more. One more. Until finally the container was empty.
Just as the phone reached her pocket, it began ringing.
"Shit." She lift it, looking at the caller. Alison. Why would Alison be calling her?
"Hello, Beth?" The voice barely came through all of the static, the storm interfering on
"Alison? Hello? I can barely hear you." Beth waited on the line for a few more minutes with no response from the other end. The sound cut out continually before she ended the call and sent her a text:
"What's going on? Storms bad, no reception."
No response. A benefit to Alison calling was that it distracted her. That was exactly what she needed, what she was looking for, something the pills didn't help out with nearly enough, a good distraction. Taking care of Alison and her other clones was a damn good distraction, but it also was torture to her. To know someone had created her in a lab, they were probably keeping tabs on their subjects periodically, if not always.
"Katja's sick. It's serious. I'm worried."
Sick? Food poisoning or what?
"Meeting her later today." Speaking of which, Beth needed a car, preferably one that wasn't being tracked by Paul. Either a taxi or a black and white would have to do, both being an inconvenience. That would mean having to go back to work, if she didn't want to pay for a taxi. Pulling out some change, Beth payed for she coffee and went outside. Shit. There wasn't enough left for a taxi. Shit. Art would skin her alive- this meant she had to hightail it. The sidewalks were flooded where she was at, only adding to the list of why today was shitty, but it wasn't necessarily a bad thing to her, it just meant she'd be soaked before getting back to work.
Well that sucked, the rain couldn't have been pouring down any harder than it was when she make the journey back. Not only was she soaked head to toe, Art was standing with folded arms at her desk, a deadly glare which made her almost turn back around. Instead, Beth's feet dragged her forward, towards yet another hell.
"Shut it, Beth," he'd cut her off right as she tried talking, and Beth knew to obey. "I don't want to hear a fucking word out of your fucking mouth. You're coming with me." He marched past her, a vice grip on her bicep as he pulled her violently into the elevator. Why, why, why did she cast this upon herself?