Echo(8)

My door creaked open and Nicole poked her head in. I hadn’t even heard her come in. She glanced at the photo in my hands as she padded across the carpet and sat down on my bed.

“Is that Brayden?” she asked.

I nodded, a little caught off guard that she knew his name. I didn’t tell people about him because a part of me wanted to protect his identity. And now that I thought about it, I couldn’t recall ever telling her either.

“May I?” she gestured to the photo, and I handed it over reluctantly.

She studied it for a long time before handing it back, and when her eyes met mine they were distant and cloudy. “He doesn’t look like you.”

It was the only thing she said before she got up and walked out of the room.



***



Saturday morning greeted me with a loud knocking on the front door, followed by a disheveled Nicole entering my room.

Her hair was mussed from sleep, and her eyebrows pinched together as she leaned against the doorframe.

“Some guy says he has a package for you,” she grumbled. “And he won’t let me sign for it.”

I crinkled my own brows in confusion as I glanced at the clock beside me. It was only seven am, and I certainly wasn’t expecting any packages. Nobody even knew I was at this address besides Brayden.

I flung myself out of bed and walked to the front door in zombie mode. When I opened it, there was a guy standing there with a manila envelope in his hand. But he sure as hell didn’t look like any kind of delivery man I’d ever seen before. He was wearing all black, including leather gloves, and his eyes were shrewd as they appraised me.

“Brighton Valentine?” he held the envelope towards me tentatively.

“Uh yeah?”

He shoved the envelope into my hand without another word and stomped off. It was definitely not a professional delivery, and when I glanced down at the envelope, my curiosity was piqued.

I shut the door and made it as far as the sofa before I tore it open and pulled out a stack of papers. Nicole was in the kitchen fumbling with the coffee pot, and I was glad for it when I saw what the note said.

I have the evidence that could exonerate Brayden



I flipped through the stack of paperwork in a state of disbelief as I realized I was being blackmailed. Inside this file were more documents from Brayden’s accident than I ever even knew existed. Half of them were blacked out, and the rest were already a matter of public record.

There was a report from a private investigator, along with photos I’d never seen before. They had dates and time-stamps, and even though the faces were blurry, I knew right away that one of the men was Brayden. They were grainy and appeared to be from some kind of CCTV footage. But the date and time stamp were what drew my attention. Because that was the day the accident happened. Brayden wasn’t alone that night, and this evidence proved it.

Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to collect this information, and to make sure I couldn’t use it. As I read through the rest of the paperwork, a sickening clarity washed over me.

There was some sort of informal agreement in the back that stated the sender’s demands. As I read through it, all the blood drained from my face.

Complete control over your body and life for six months…

I read the words over and over again hoping I was somehow misunderstanding them. But by the tenth time, I knew I wasn’t.

“Are you okay?” Nicole asked, hovering over me with a furrowed brow. “You look pale.”

I shoved everything back into the envelope and nodded as she handed me a cup of coffee. Truthfully, I wasn’t okay. I would never be okay again.





Chapter Six

“Will you tell me what’s going on?” Nicole persisted through the speaker of my cell phone.

It was the middle of the week, and I’d called in sick to work this morning, but I couldn’t tell her why. Because what I was about to do was stupid and reckless, and the last thing I needed was someone trying to talk me out of it.

I’d already tried to talk myself out of it plenty of times over the last three days. I’d gone over every possible scenario in my head, making myself sick with worry. I could have taken the envelope to the police, but the chances of me getting any help there was nonexistent. I still remembered how helpful they were when Brayden turned himself in. They’d tasered him on our front lawn when they claimed he was resisting arrest. It was an image that was burnt into my memory, and one I’d never forget.

Since then, I’d done a lot of research of my own. I knew how situations like this worked. If there were no fingerprints, then there would be no way to trace this. And my blackmailer made a point to say this. If I went to the police, all the evidence disappeared. Whoever was behind this had been meticulous in their demands as well as their homework.

After sorting through the contents of the envelope in the privacy of my bedroom, I’d found a record of my entire life over the last five years. It made me sick how many times I’d been photographed without even realizing it. Whoever this was knew what they were doing, and I suspected they were watching me even now.

“I just have something I have to do, Nicole,” I croaked through the phone. “I can’t explain right now. But if I’m not home when you get here after work, please check the kitchen drawer beneath the microwave.”

I’d left her a note, on the chance things did go south.

“Brighton, you’re really giving me the heebie-jeebies, you know that?”

“I know.” I glanced at the clock. “But you just have to trust me.”

“Okay, well… ah crap,” she muttered. “Mr. Bennett is buzzing me into his office. I have to go. Whatever you’re doing today, be careful.”

“I will.” I lied.

I clicked off the phone and left it on the counter per my instructions. With a deep breath and nothing but a hotel key card in my hand, I closed the apartment door behind me.



***



It wasn’t as simple as I’d imagined. I thought if I told myself I was doing this for Brayden, it would help to ease my nerves. But that was a damn lie because my nerves were shot. I’d hoped I would be able to stay numb, to think about something else and get it over quickly. Like ripping off a band-aid. But that was naïve and childish and completely impossible in my situation.

Two hours had passed since I’d arrived at the hotel room. I’d done my part to hold up my end of the bargain, but my blackmailer still hadn’t showed. I wore nothing but a dress and a blindfold as instructed, waiting on the middle of the hotel bed for my life to be turned upside down. My body would soon be in the control of a complete stranger. Someone who held the next twenty years of my brother’s life in his hands. That’s what I had to keep telling myself every time my stomach churned.

It made me sick to think anyone could do this to my brother, and I hated this man already. But I could get through this for Brayden, and I would. I had to. And whenever I had second thoughts, I would conjure up the image of him the last time I saw him in prison. The gaunt face and blackened eyes that stared back at me. What the other prisoners saw as just penance for his crime. Except it wasn’t his crime at all. That was what I couldn’t wrap my mind around.

Whoever was doing this knew that. They knew about Brayden, and they let him spend the last five years of his life rotting in prison. And now they had set their sights on me, for whatever unknown reason. Leaving me to tremble as I waited for them to appear. This had to be by design. They wanted me to be afraid. My anxiety was rising by the minute, and I wanted to scream.

Almost as if on cue, the sound of the electronic lock in the door beeped, followed by a soft click. My entire world came to a standstill as my chest rose and fell in soft measured breaths. I tried to stay calm, but it wasn’t working. Tears stung my eyes as footsteps padded across the room towards me.

“Hello, Brighton.”

Goosebumps skittered over every inch of my body.

The way he said my name. I couldn’t describe it, but there was something off about it. The emotion he conveyed in that simple word was almost too much, and yet not enough. There was a certain inflection that sounded so familiar, and yet his voice was unrecognizable. Low and soft. Calm, but forced. As if there was anger boiling just beneath the surface and he was very practiced at hiding it.

“I see you’ve followed your instructions,” he continued. “Does that mean you agree to my terms?”

I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself. I wanted to tell him he was the most disgusting human being that ever lived. But instead, I swallowed my anger and responded as politely as I could muster.

“I have some questions first.”

“I thought you might.”

The bed dipped as he sat beside me, and I nearly jerked my arm out of the socket when he touched my shoulder.

“Are you going to hurt me?”

He hissed out a breath of air, and in that moment, I desperately wished I could see his face. To know what this stranger was thinking. What he planned to do with me. Knowing in my mind he was going to touch me and actually feeling it were two completely different things. Panic was setting in, but I couldn’t show him that. I couldn’t show him weakness.

“I don’t fuck women who aren’t willing,” he snarled. “I thought I made that clear enough. Did you not read the agreement?”