INK: Abstraction (14 page)

Detective Filson is
looking straight at my sketch pad. I close it. “Um yeah, he was
older, balding and about five ten.”

My brain erupts with a
terrible pain and I wince, closing my lids. My fingers massage my
temples. Dad comes closer to me. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

“My head,”
is all I can squeak out.

He presses the call
button then looks at Detective Filson, “Hey Justin, can we
finish this another day? I think it’s too much for her right
now.”

“Of course,
Harry.” He closes his notebook and stands. “If you need
anything, here’s my card.” He lays it on the counter.

“Thanks Justin,
we’ll give you a call when she’s feeling better,”
Dad says, never taking his eyes off me.

Eli opens the door and
sees Filson. He's instantly pissed off and brushes hard against his
shoulder. “Excuse me.” Eli meets his stare in some macho
battle of the balls.

“Certainly.”
Filson spreads a smarmy grin on his face.

Eli's good and pissed.
He looks at Dad. “What the hell was he doing here?”

“He came to
question Shayleigh about the kidnapping,” Dad answers, shifting
his gaze between Eli and me.

Eli sees me holding my
head and is immediately worried. “Are you okay?”

I nod. “I’m
fine, I just got a wicked pain my temple.”

“Should we call
the nurse?” Dad’s full of concern.

“No, it’s
getting better.” I lean my head back on the bed. “I think
I just need to rest.”

“Okay, honey.
Miranda and I have some things we are going to be working on today.
I’ll be back to check on you around dinner time.” Dad
puts his hand on mine and leans down to kiss my forehead.

“Okay, Dad,
sounds good.” I press out a weak smile.

“Harry, I’ll
walk down with you. I’m going to be meeting a courier in the
lobby,” Eli says, looking at me for permission to go. “I’ll
be back in ten minutes, is that okay?”

“Sure, I have
Carl.” Then it occurs to me. “Hey, actually while Carl is
here, why don’t you take a ride over to Glass’ house and
see if he has that garden shed.” I have to know, I just have
to. I tear out the pictures I drew of the shed and hand them to Eli.

“I don’t
know.” He hesitates. Dad and Miranda wait by the door for him.
Dad’s eyes are full of disapproval.

“I’m just
going to be closing my eyes to get a little bit of rest. I’ll
be fine,” I answer, exasperated. I’ll be able to rest a
lot better when Eli comes back and tells me he found the shed.

“Okay.” Eli
picks up his suit jacket, plants a sweet kiss on my cheek and starts
for the door. “If you need me, call me. Otherwise, I’ll
be back as soon as I can.”

“Be careful,”
I say as he’s walking out the door.

He turns and offers a
sweet smile over his shoulder. “I will.”

“I’ll see
you later, Doodlebug,” Dad says and then nods to Carl.

“Take care, Shay.
I’ll be back later.” Miranda lays it on thick, and then
primed with poison, “Carl.”

“Miranda,”
Carl answers without looking at her.

The door closes and
it’s just Carl and me. Exactly the opportunity I was hoping
for. “Carl, what the hell?”

“Which part?”
he asks, not looking at me.

“First, I want to
know how you did that. Or did I do it?” I ask, mixed with
excitement and apprehension.

“No, darlin’,
you can’t read minds.” A laugh grumbles in his chest and
he loosens up a little.

“Oh thank God.
I’ve got enough voices in here I can’t imagine trying
deal with everyone else’s thoughts.” I breathe a sigh of
relief. “But haven’t you done that before?”

He rolls his eyes at my
comment. “Since I streamed to find you, it created a stronger
bond between us. Now, when I want to have a private conversation, in
most situations I’ll be able to get through to you.” He
explains. He inhales and looks at me inquisitively.
At least I
hope she's not developing that yet, it's too soon.

“Well that’s
kind of cool, I guess.” Carl's voice rolls through my head,
strange. I’m not really sure if I heard that, but I’ve
got bigger questions. “So, what exactly did you mean by ‘not
everyone has my best interest?’”

“That cop is as
dirty as the bottom of my shoe.” He shakes his head. “He’s
coming after you for Aiden’s murder.”

“Awesome, so
we’ve just traded an asshole for an asshole.” I shrug.

“No, this guy’s
different. Glass actually believes you did it. This guy Filson
doesn’t care if you did. He just wants to nail you because
Glass couldn’t,” he warns.

“I can see the
difference there.” I nod, definitely concerned about how we’re
going to handle it. “What about that Miranda chick? What’s
her deal?” She was just plain creepy.

“Creepy is
right.” He squirms in his seat. “I’m just going to
tell you that you can’t trust her. If she thinks that she can
stop the murders by eliminating you as a threat, she won’t
hesitate.”

I blow out a breath and
the memory strikes me and his name rides out on a whisper. “The
Specter.”

“What about the
Specter?”

“He said
something like ‘she’ll kill you’ or ‘she’s
going to kill you.’” I’m amazed that maybe the
Specter was trying to give me a warning.

“Well, he’s
right, but his motivations will always be troubling.”

“So she would
just straight up kill me?” I ask.

“Yes,” Carl
answers simply.

“And my dad’s
okay
with this?” I can’t believe my dad would have
anything to do with someone who would operate that way.

“Your Dad…”
he inhales deeply as if fortifying himself, “I don’t
think he knows.”

“Of course he
doesn’t know. Dad would never be involved in something like
this knowingly, whether I was part of it or not.” I’m
offended at the implications.

“Darlin’, I
really don’t think he knows, but he’s in very deep.”
He pulls his mouth to the side in a grimace.

“What is the
‘organization?’ Are these the people he’s been
doing the freelance stuff for?” I need to know how deep in he
is.

“The organization
is a very rich, very powerful group of people that are on a mission
to cleanse the world of any ‘otherworldly issues.’”
He uses quotey fingers and his tone is frustrated.

“I really can’t
believe all of this, it’s a lot to swallow.” I lay my
head back on the bed. “My dad would never choose this
organization over me, you’re wrong.”

“When McNab gets
back from L.A. we’re going to have a talk with Harry about
Miranda and the organization.” He rubs the stubble on his head.
“If he doesn’t know now, he’s going to know when we
finish talking to him about it.”

A pang of guilt travels
through me at the mention of McNab’s name. “When will he
be back?”

“McNab?”
Carl asks. I nod and he sighs. “He’ll be back tomorrow or
the next day.”

“When you talk to
him, tell him I’m sorry.” I raise my eyebrows, hoping for
some form of forgiveness from Carl.

“I will,
darlin’.”

“So what about
the Specter and him being able to talk to me?” I stop and think
about it for a second. “Sort of like you do.”

“We need to get
you protected better than you are. We also need to start working on
your mental power.”

A sarcastic giggle
rises up. “Good luck with that.”

“You’re far
more powerful than you know.” He looks at me with serious eyes,
leaving me a little unsettled.

“Well I don’t
feel very powerful.” My gaze drops to my lap. “As a
matter of fact I feel incredibly small and helpless.”

His lips form a tight
smile. “You’re not helpless, trust me. You’re going
to be—”

Carl is cut off by the
nurse poking her head in the door. “Sir?”

“Yes?” Carl
answers, slightly bewildered.

“There’s an
issue down at security and they asked me to send you down,” she
says with a smile.

“Of course,”
he answers then looks at me, realizing his misstep. “Are you
going to be okay?”

“I’ll be
fine. Besides, Rebecca will be here.” I motion toward the
nurse.

“Okay, I’ll
back as quick as I can.” He passes the nurse.

“So let’s
get your vitals again.” She takes my temperature and pushes a
button on the blood pressure machine. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m
feeling better, sore and tired though,” I answer.

“Well that’s
to be expected.” She puts her hand on my forearm. “You’re
very lucky, you know.”

“I’m not
feeling very lucky and I’m sure I wouldn’t waste a dollar
playing the lottery right now.” I laugh.

“Well, you are
alive. There’s a lot good to say about that, and clearly you
have a lot of people that care about you. Look at all this stuff!”
She motions to the balloons, flowers and gifts that are cluttering
the entire room. “We still have some stuff out at the desk
because it just won’t fit.”

I’m feeling very
humbled. “Yeah, being alive is pretty cool.” I really
don’t believe the words when I say them. But looking around at
all the things I’ve received from fans leaves a sick feeling in
the pit of my stomach. Even though I know that I did the work to
create the comics, the root of my success is from the Specter and it
feels wrong being glorified for it. Also, the smell is overpowering,
almost like a funeral home. “Hey, um, is there a way I can send
this to other people here in the hospital?”

“What do you
mean?” she asks with a puzzled look.

“Like, can I send
some of this stuff down to a cancer ward or the balloons to the
children’s floor? Maybe to some folks who don’t have
family or friends sending them flowers?” I ask, hoping she gets
what I’m trying to do.

“I’m sure
we can, but do you really want to do that?”

“Yes, please.”
I hang my feet over the bed and slide into my slippers. I want to
keep the cards on the flowers and read the well wishes. Maybe even
track some of these folks down and send thank yous. I take the rest
of the cards from the flower arrangements and start loading them on
the cart. “Whoever doesn’t have something to brighten
their room, please give them these. If you find any cards in the
arrangements, take them out. I really don’t want folks to know
where they came from.”

“Sure thing, I’ll
make sure they all get a good home.” She wheels the last cart
out and I’m alone in the room again.

It’s very quiet.
I’m waiting for the Specter to talk to me again, but it doesn’t
come. I get back into the bed, pick up the pens and sketch pad and
start working on a dream I had while Glass still had me. My mind is
wandering wildly with rampant thoughts of Glass, the Specter and Eli.
I ponder what in the world my father could have gotten himself into
with this organization, whatever it is. All of the thoughts become
overwhelming and I know that all I’m doing is trying to fill
the loneliness like I did in the shed, when I was tied up. When there
was nearly no hope.

“Where the hell
is Carl?” It occurs to me that he’s been gone for quite a
while. I’m not expecting Eli back right away, but Carl should
be back by now.

The door creaks open.
All I see is a huge spray of flowers being carried by someone wearing
a “Fran’s Flowers” polo shirt. He puts them by the
sink and turns around. My heart stops beating, my mouth goes dry and
for a few seconds I’m absolutely paralyzed. I start pushing the
nurse’s call button frantically.

“Shay, aren’t
you happy to see me?” The words bleed from his mouth like a
threat.

“Bailey, what are
you doing here?” My voice is quiet and quivers with fear. I
feel all of the blood flow from my face.

“I’ve been
worried about you.” He walks closer to the bed and I continue
to press the call button.

“Really?”
Fear has tightened my vocal cords, causing my voice to be an octave
higher than normal.

“Yes, of course.”
His slow steps halt beside my bed. He takes up my hand and examines
the rope burns and tsks, shaking his head. “Such a shame this
had to happen.”

“Bailey, I need
the nurse. Can you get the nurse for me?” I ask, praying that
he’s really just a creepy kid and not really a stalker, or
worse.

“I can help you
with whatever you need.” He gently pulls my arm straight and
runs his finger down one of the cut lines. I’m too terrified to
feel shame, though I know I will later. “Did you need help
tending to your wounds?”

“No, I need some
water.” He walks to the counter, never taking his eyes off of
me, and pours a cup of water and brings it to me.

My hands are trembling.
I take the cup and sip from it. Terror is coursing through my veins
like venom paralyzing my body and my voice. He reaches into his
breast pocket and pulls out a pen. My pen, what the hell is he doing
with my pen? Bailey takes my arm again and begins to trace the cut
marks, leaving streaks of blue ink on my skin.

The feel of the metal
against my flesh brings everything back that I was feeling in the
shed. I reach to press the call button again, but he grabs my hand.
"Uh, ah, it's just us for now. I like it that way."

Bailey changes from
drawing simple lines on my arm to intricate swirls and symbols. My
trembling is making it hard for him, he can't hold me still. "Shhh,
it's going to be okay. I just want to make you pretty again."

Darkness threatens at
the corner of my eyes. I fight it with all that I have in me. Without
realizing what I'm doing I take a swing at him and land a stick-arm
punch square upside his head. It barely moves him physically, but the
fury in his eyes burns through me.

All of my training with
Sifu Adams becomes an unconscious part of me and I jump up, fighting
him, pushing him further back into the wall and bringing tables and
chairs crashing. I finally find my voice. "Why are you doing
this to me?"

His confidence leaves
him as though it were never there. He stutters a few times.
"B-Because I love you, Shay."