Blood and Bone(65)
I turn and look at the door as it opens. He points at the spot where my key slides from. I shake my head. “I don’t need it anymore.”
He winces in the smoke. “I gathered.” He nods at the large black box next to me. “It’s a burn box.”
I shrug and follow him from the room. “How do I know you?”
He glances back at me, sighing. “Again?” I nod, making him wince. He holds a hand out to the right, not the hallway we came down. “Come this way.” He offers me his arm. “You and I met five years ago when he was starting something he referred to as the escape hatch. He placed what he called an emergency file into the safety-deposit box and got two keys cut. One for you and one for him.”
“Who are you? Are you a doctor involved in all this?”
He chuckles. “No, Sam. I’m a banker. I just know him because of some business a few years ago.”
“Who am I?”
He shakes his head. “Someone who means a lot to that man.”
“Do you have answers for me?”
He shakes his head. “But I have a bag, a satchel that he left here last year. It will get you to where you need to go to end all of this and find your way back.” He leads me to the back door and enters a small office. He opens a filing cabinet and hands me a man’s satchel. He steps toward me, hugging me. I don’t know what to do about it all or what to do with it, but I don’t fight him on the embrace. He pats my back and nods. “Run, Sam. Run as fast as you can.”
“I feel like a contestant on a game show. I feel like everything is a maze and I’m running through it, trying to survive, but I don’t get answers, only more questions. I’m running in circles, lost in the maze.”
He pulls back, running a hand down my cheek. “I can’t imagine how that must be. I am so sorry, but these are the only answers I have for you.”
“Well, thanks for the satchel.” I have to assume there’s a bomb in it, or worse. That’s just the way my life has been going lately . . .
When I climb the stairs he presses a switch, and I hear the doors unlocking so I can walk out into the alley next to the large stone bank.
I lean my back against the door and sigh. The trip has been a waste in so many ways and a disaster in others. I don’t have any clear answers. I don’t know what aspects of my life are true or false. I don’t know anything. Clinging to the satchel, I walk the alley to a small coffee shop. I go inside, walking straight to the bathroom, and close the door. Kneeling down, I lift the lid from the bag, and I’m confused by its contents. There are stacks of euros and several passports, each containing a birth certificate to a different country and a driver’s license. There are three cell phones, all turned off completely. A set of keys on a key chain with a boat on it. The boat’s name is Thackeray Binx. I don’t know how I know that but I do. My insides twist, reminding me I need to go get my damned cat back. The final thing is a notebook. I open it, finding handwritten notes about progress reports and dream analyses. They’re in my writing.
I close the bag, wondering how the hell I will ever get away from all of this. I turn on the three phones, but only the white one comes up as having messages. I turn off the other two and press the voice mail button. I enter the code that I always use, and of course it works.
“Hi, Jane, it’s Derek. Meet me in Paris at the place you remember. All will be revealed then, if it’s safe.” I scowl at the phone, not recalling a single place until he says the words “I will set you free.” Then an image bursts into my head of an explosion, freeing up space and burning away old images as if I am watching a picture burn slowly. The haze of memories, lies that tell me I remember who I am, starts to clear away. The images are confusing, of course, but also enlightening. Suddenly, I’m alone on a pier, watching a sunset. A man is next to me. He watches the sunset too, not looking at me. For some reason I can’t clearly see his face.
“I killed the doctor,” he says like he is telling me it’s Thursday or he likes sandwiches. I nod, not caring that another man is dead. He turns. His face is still hazy, but I know his voice. “Dash is dead, and I’m going to set us free.”
“What if you can’t free us both?” My lips move without thought or understanding, because it’s a dream.
“Then I’ll sacrifice myself so you can get away.”
I shake my head, but he grins and I can see the vampire tooth through the haze. I love his grin. It’s so lopsided and odd. It’s a lie, though. It’s boyish and sweet, but he’s a monster.