Kiera's frantic. She's pacing the length of her apartment, her blonde hair swishing in her wake. She looks crazy. I've spent the last five minutes watching her chew on the thumb nail of her left hand. It's a nervous habit of hers, she's done it for as long as I can remember and today she's chewing her nail to the quick because she's finally going to confront the man she suspects murdered her family.
It's a big step for her, she doesn't know what to expect.. It's kind of ridiculous considering how many times she's actually done this and just doesn't remember it. We've been hunting these false leads for almost three years now, and every single time she drives herself out her head with worry over the confrontation and then nothing ever comes of it. She usually forgets it by the next morning and then we're back at square one. It's almost cruel to keep letting her do this but it keeps her going, so it's better this way.
She turns to me, suddenly "Ate you sure you've got it all handled." She asks with wild panicked eyes, she sort of resembles a rabid squirrel.
I fight down a sigh, sometimes this cab get really old. "Yes, K. I've got it. I've done this before, remember?" She gives me a scathing look at that and I have to bite my lip to stop the smile. Sometimes I forget she isn't the same now as I remember her.
"I just want to make sure everything goes according to plan, I want to finally nail this guy." There's so much passion and determination on her voice. If only she knew. "I have a good feeling about this." Clearly, she didn't get her instincts from her dad, he was a great detective, Kiera is so easily fooled its troubling.
I nod, and she spins back around to the table at the corner of her apartment. She adjusts some of the pieces of information; scraps of paper with names, dates, and addresses scribbled across them all pinned up and connected with red yarn. It's her little version of a murder board; she says it helps her see the case more clearly, follow the leads, remember. All I see is another clean up job for me once she inevitably spaces on the details of this case too.
"Listen, you just go to work and I'll make sure everything is set up. No worries." I try to make my voice as soothing as possible, somehow it still sounds exasperated. She nods, once and then again, a little more reassured.
It takes me about an hour to pack everything I need once Kiera leaves for work. I grab the ropes I got yesterday and stuff them into my duffel bag on the way out the door. I hate this part, I'm always the one making sure Kiera never makes too big of a mess. Haider likes to throw around how he has to make sure my meddling never gets Kiera in trouble but if it weren't for me only God knows what kind of hole she would've dug for herself.
It's going to be another long day of micro-managing Kiera and all the drama that tends to follow her around. She's my best friend and I'd do anything for her. I love her but god; I just really can't deal with this today. She's been antsy lately, and I'm not sure what's going on with her. I think she might finally be getting over this 'vigilante vengeance for my family's murder drive' she's been on for the last three years. That might be for the best, it would explain the erratic behavior recently, the evasiveness, the lying. Oh yeah, she thinks I don't notice the way she's been running off on her own more frequently, hiding things from us. She's never kept things from me before and the distance between us is glaringly obvious, to everyone except her.
When I finally get to Joe Rollins' house I'm more annoyed with Kiera and this whole situation than anything else. I just wanna get this over with. Sighing, I cut the engine and make my way up to the front of his apartment building. It's cold out today, usually I hate the rain but it will be helpful in keeping away prying eyes. I ring the bell next to the name J. Rollins and wait, he's clearly a late sleeper because I've got to ring it three more times before he finally responds. He doesn't even check who it is, just buzzes me in. I hope that doesn't mean that he's expecting company because guests could complicate our little interrogation.
The building is shoddy, decrepit and musty. It's dark for the middle of the day, and the few lights that do work flicker. It's ominous… and disgusting. So, is Joe Rollins. He's short, stocky and he looks like he hasn't seen soap since the 80's. "Mr. Rollins," I smile through my distaste. "You don't know me but I think we need to have a conversation."
He gives me a confused look and it occurs to me that he might be high or hungover, or both. Actually, from the looks of it he probably hasn't been sober in a while. "Can I come in?"
After giving me a very slowly, and quite frankly sleazy, once over, he steps aside and pulls the door open wider. Stepping inside, I wrinkle my nose at the dank smell, like mold and dirty laundry. This guy is a gem, I think we'd be doing everyone a favor pinning this case o him. I'm sure his neighbors would thank us.
"What do you want, sweetheart?" he leer at me. Jeez, this guy is an absolute garbage fire. I shudder in disgust and have to fight down the bile rising in the back of my throat. Plastering on my best, most fake, smile.
"I'd like to ask you some questions, if that's okay with you?" I gesture to the table in the middle of the kitchen; it looks filthy, cluttered with old dishes and boxes. He gives a sharp jerk of the head but his expression is suddenly more alert. "You live alone?" I throw out casually as I settle myself onto the very edge of my seat so my clothes make a minimal amount of contact with the grungy surface. He grunts what I assume is an answer in the positive. Oh God, it's sticky, why is it sticky? My skin crawls and I force myself to push through.
"This will only take a minute; you're not expecting anyone are you? I could come back later…" I offer injecting a polite hesitancy to my tone.
"Let's just get this over with, I'm a busy man." He tells me in a gruff voice that lets me know his busy schedule probably involved being passed out on the couch. I nod.
"Okay, then." I look at him dead in the eyes, keeping my hands firmly in my lap so I don't accidentally touch anything. This entire apartment feels like a bacterial infection waiting to happen. "Look, I have a friend that needs to talk to you about something. She's going to come by later." I start and he opens his mouth to object. He's definitely more awake than he was a moment ago and I can see the wheels turning behind his eyes. I cut him off before he begins; "You're gonna tell her exactly what she wants to know, do I make myself clear?"
"Who are you?" He asks suspiciously. Boy, his self-preservation instincts are trash. He's only just now thinking about getting my name. I could've been a serial killer and he just let me in. He definitely deserves what's coming to him.
"Not important," I shake my head slowly, "What is important is that you play along, got it."
He stands abruptly, "Get out," rude. "Whatever crap this is, I don't wanna be a part of it. You radiate crazy and I'm not interested." Well, maybe he's not as brain-dead as he looks. I nod, standing up too. He turns to the door; the moment his back is to me I grab the baseball bat in the corner of kitchen leaned up on the wall next to the table.
'Oh, one more thing Mr. Rollins…"I say and swing as he begins to turn. I throw every ounce of strength in my body into my arms. When the bat connects with his skull the force of it sends vibrations through both of my arms. They tingle with the aftershocks of the hit, it makes a sickening crack and I grit my teeth through he whole thing. It needed to be done, I knew coming in here that he would be less than co-operative. They always are. He stumbles a step and then hits the ground hard. I hoped his neighbors didn't hear that. The fact that he lives in an apartment building is less than ideal, too man witness and I know he isn't going to be quiet when he finally comes too. I have to get him out of here.
I search the living room and find a dirty sweatshirt; it's got some kind of stain that I hope is ketchup on the sleeve. I force his heavy, uncooperative arms into it before yanking it over his head and pulling the hood up. That should keep him safe from any prying eyes. Pulling him up into sitting position is much harder. Joe, you should really lay off the beers and burgers man.
After a shit ton of maneuvering, I finally get him standing and use the wall to prop him up one handed while I grab my things that I'd dropped to the floor. Then I lean all of his weight against my side, and man, oh man, does he reek. The things I do for Kiera, I swear I should be given sainthood.
It's a great deal more difficult to walk him to the elevator and thankfully, we don't encounter anyone else on the way there. I manage with great difficulty, to practically drag his big sweaty body into the lift and then down the little corridor at the back of his building. I'd already foreseen having to make a discreet escape so I parked right in front of the back alley, took me twenty minutes of circling the block for that space to open up. I tow his hulking frame the last few feet and stuff him into my back seat.
Let's just pray he doesn't come too while I'm driving. Once I've got the door shut behind him, I haul ass out of there as quickly as I can. Texting Kiera on the drive to the meatpacking district, it takes about eleven minutes to get to the warehouse I found on Google last night. It's supposed to be abandoned. Apparently, the nightlife in the area and the less than stellar safety situation caused the owner to jump ship. It's up for auction now which probably sucks for the owner but it's lucky for us because this place is perfect for what we're about to do. Mercifully, it's quiet at this time of day. The nightclubs around these parts tend to make it a ghost town until about five p.m. The moment I get my car inside, I start mentally calculating how long I have before he's up.
I've got to get him situated and check the surrounding area for anyone that could overhear. It doesn't look like there are many people around here, obviously the clubs and restaurants could pose a problem but I doubt it's going to be loud enough to alert them to anything being amiss. My heart races as I think of what's to come, I know we've done this probably more than a dozen times by now but it never gets easier. I'm always an anxious mess watching Kiera go up against violent offender, criminals. Hell, even when they're just regular people I worry for her safety. It's my job to protect her, that's what I promised her dad all those years ago and I intend to keep that promise; whatever it takes.