But they did, because they released Marty and slapped him with a few fines. Strangely enough, he had all the proper permits for his gun. I’m guessing Sean did that after the fact.
I roll back onto the bed and stare at the watermarks on the ceiling.
Constance or Black?
I have to choose an ally. Now. I’ve waited too long already. Logically, I should go to Constance. I still don’t know who Miss Black’s boss is and with my luck, Black actually works for Constance. But every time I almost make up my mind to go with Constance, I feel this horrible premonition that going to Sean’s mom will end with blood—and not mine. I wouldn’t put it past her to shoot her own kid. That’s the reason I’m still here, wearing three-day-old clothes. I’m too afraid to change or to shower, afraid to be caught off guard. It’s too risky.
My head is telling me to go to Constance, but my gut is telling me not to go to either of them. So I’m stuck in an endless loop with no way out. If I try to do anything with those documents on my own, I’ll get pushed in front of a train. I need someone powerful to stand with me, and I need to act before Sean finds me.
“I can’t wait anymore.” I make an aggravated sound and jump off the bed. I’m playing the ‘lesser of two evils’ game and I can’t find a way to win! If it’s Black, then I have to go to Constance, but if it’s Constance, I have to go to Black.
Before I can blink something slams against the door. Startled I swallow a yelp. They found me. I can hear two male voices, maybe more. One is saying to hit it again. That door won’t hold, so I bolt to the bathroom and lock the door. Pulse pounding, I look around, trying to find a way out. This place is an old craphole, but I see a place to hide. I climb onto the sink and then push up the drop ceiling tile. I stick my head up there and glance around for the cable holding the ceiling up. It’s two tiles over. I lean over, and can barely reach it.
There’s another bang and the sound of wood splintering. Male voices shout, “Find her!”
Fuck! My palms are a sweaty mess, but there’s no time. The bathroom door is a piece of crap and I already hear their footsteps. I barely manage to pull myself up, slicing my palm open in the process. My ass is hanging through the ceiling tile over the shower stall when the door gives way. As it shatters below me, I slip the tile back in place with my foot and see nothing but blackness. The tiny space stinks, but I’m too frightened to care. I bite my lip to keep from screaming.
They’ve entered the bathroom. Their voices are louder. “She’s not here.”
“She didn’t fucking fall off the face of the earth! She’s not one of us and Ferro isn’t with her!” The guys mutter ideas, but it just makes the man angrier. “I don’t give a shit!”
Two seconds later another male voice chimes in. “You cannot do that!” It’s an older voice that’s near hysterical. “Who is going to pay for this damage? You can’t just come in here and bust the place up.”
“Call it a remodel, old man.” They laugh.
The old guy doesn’t. “I’m calling the police and then we’ll see who’s laughing.” Before he finishes the last word there’s a scream and a sickening thud.
“I’m laughing now, you son of a bitch.” There’s complete silence.
I feel sick. I’ve been hanging onto the wire with my eyes closed tight, my body curled into a ball. My legs are up into my chest and my sneakers are resting right on top of the ceiling tiles on the wire, but I know I have to keep my weight off that ceiling or it’ll fall. I’m lucky the wire is holding me at all.
Frozen in place, my hands start to slip. I don’t realize why until I see blood dripping onto the tile below—the wire is cutting my hands. My feet slip into the ceiling. I can’t pull them up any more and my entire body is sliding down.
Don’t scream. Don’t scream. Don’t scream.
Wildly, I try gripping the wire and pulling up. It slices my hand deeper and sends a shooting pain up my arm. I bite my tongue to keep from crying out. Blood flows down the wire from my palm, dripping rapidly onto the old tiles. They soak it up swiftly, but in a matter of seconds there’s going to be blood in the bathtub.
After a few more loud bangs, their voices quiet in favor of Police sirens bellowing in the distance.
The same man says, “Move. Now. We have to find her before Ferro does.”
They’re gone. My heart thumps wildly in my chest as I hear tires screech. Relieved, I touch my head to the wire and let out the breath I was holding.
That’s when Marty’s voice booms from below me. “You can come down now.” A ceiling tile shifts below me as if it were poked. “I know you’re up there and you’re hurt. The ceiling is turning red.” Marty sighs when I don’t answer and I hear him step into the tub.