FOREVER MINE Page 18

  I rifle through her drawers and find a cute set from when we went to Hersey Park, Pa. The shirt is pink and brown and says free kisses. The shorts are pink and brown with Hershey’s kisses all over them.

  “Ok. I got them, now you need to get dressed.”

  She sits up and sways a little. She takes off her shirt and throws it at me. She is wearing the sexiest gray lace bra I’ve ever seen. She giggles, “Brody, close your mouth.” She stands up and puts the shirt over her head, does something under her shirt and throws her bra at my face. It smells like vanilla. And lavender. OH MY GOD. She takes off her jean skirt, and is standing in front of me in a thong that matches her gray bra. I thought the bra was sexy, holy fuck was I wrong. The underwear set was made for sex. She shimmies her shorts up her long, lean, tan legs. Then she slides her thong off from under the shorts. I think I came in my pants.

  “I don’t ware underwear to bed. You gotta let her breathe.” She laughs like it’s the most common thing in the world to discuss her lady business with me. I realize how far in the ‘friend zone’ I am. At least she didn’t throw her thong at me. I may have attacked her if she did.

  She lies down on the bed and pats the spot next to her. “Come to bed.”

  “I think I should go.”

  She sits up, “Why?”

  “Well you’re pretty wasted and I don’t think its right for me to sleep with you anymore. You know, Mike might not like it.”

  “Please, Brody. Spend the night with me. I miss you. I just want you to be here with me.”

  I sigh; I run my hands through my hair and pull on the front. I have no will power with her.

  She giggles, “I like when you’re all broody and you pull on your hair like that. It’s sexy.” She whispers the sexy part. “Broody, Brody!” She taunts me with the nick name.

  I take off my shirt and shoes and tell her, “Move over and stop it with the Broody Brody.”

  “Not until you take off your shorts. They are stiff and uncomfortable.”

  Stiff. I cannot take my shorts off right now, or she will see how stiff I am. “Um, I really want them on, so deal.” I climb in next to her and lie down. She snuggles into me with her head on my chest. We have slept like this almost every night for years.

  “Good night Brody, I love you” Then she passes out.

  I hold her tightly in my arms not knowing when I will see or hold her again. I rub her hair, down her arm, and across her back. I trace the freckles on her skin, making patterns. I brush my lips over hers in feather light kisses. She stirs and snuggles into me closer.

  I don’t sleep that night; I watch her sleep and memorize her in this moment. I hate that Mike keeps her from me. I need her. She starts to talk in her sleep. She is twitching and trying to yell. She pushes away from me, “D-d-don’t touch me. I’m sorry.”

  “Charlie, wake up, you’re having a bad dream. Char...” I gently shake her.

  She wakes up, swatting me, “Michael, S-s-stop!!”

  “Ok. Ok. Charlie, it’s me, it’s Brody, come on focus on my voice.”

  She throws herself into me and cries. I hug her and try to comfort her. She falls back to sleep. The next morning she doesn’t remember anything from the night before. She remembers dancing. I can tell she is thinking about how she manhandled me by the way she is blushing. I tell her how she dressed in front of me and she hides her face. I laugh, but I can’t stop thinking about her matching underwear. She tells me she has to get ready to meet Michael in awhile.

  I leave and head to the mall. I stop at Victoria’s secret and buy a gray, matching two piece bra and thong set, in the size I think is right and head over to Jessica’s.

  Jessica is a girl I have sex with sometimes. She wants more; I don’t have it in me for a relationship. I knock on her door.

  “She answers wearing a bath robe. Her hair is still wet from her shower. “Brody? What a surprise. What do you want?”

  “I want to see what you’re wearing under that bath robe.” He smiles at her and quirks and eyebrow.

  “I am not wearing anything. Are you sure you want to see?” She looks him up and down; begging with her eyes for him to say yes.

  “Yes.” His voice is a husky whisper.

  “What’s in the bag Brody?”

  “A present.” He hands her the bag.

  “Why did you buy me this if you’re only going to take it off again?”

  “I’m not; you’re going to leave it on.”

  She giggles and pulls him in the house by his shirt. He spends the rest of the afternoon extinguishing the undeniable burn left behind by Charlie. It’s no cure, but it helps.

  **********

  Brody opens his eyes when he hears his phone ring. “Hey, I’m at my apartment.”

  “Oh, God, Charlie, I am so glad you called. I was so worried. Do you want me to come get you?” I feel like I could cry from relief, just hearing her voice.

  “I have my car. I don’t know if I want to leave yet.”

  “Is it because you don’t want to come here or because you are sad about having to move?” I want her to want to be here, I won’t force her.

  “I’m not sad.”

  “Oh. Well I won’t bother you. I know you need time. I can give you time, just don’t shut me out. Please.” I need her now, more than ever. I have had a taste of what it could be; I won’t lose that without a fight.

  “Ok. Please come get me. I want to come home.” Her voice cracks, I think she is crying, and my heart breaks even more.

  “I’ll be there as fast as I can.” I can’t keep the relief from my voice.

  “Ok.”

  “Charlie, I love you.” I have to tell her I need her to hear it.

  “I love you, too, Brody. Very much.” She sniffles, and I hang up rushing out the door.

  I call Patrick and tell him I’m going to pick her up at her apartment. He sounds as relieved as I am, and that he will meet me there, he is closer. I drive as fast as I can. I am going to get her, I am bringing her HOME.

  CHAPTER 50

  Patrick pulls up outside Charlie’s apartment, its dark inside and it looks like no one is home. The curtains, that were hanging yesterday when he was helping her, are now gone. Even from the street, it seems lonely and abandoned. With a sick feeling in his gut he climbs the stairs, two at a time.

  When he reaches the top of the stairway, he stops and pulls out his gun. He walks slowly to her door and pushes it open. He walks in and clears all the rooms and corners. He is alone. He puts his gun away and goes to the window. He is trying to find any clue as to where she could’ve gone, when Brody’s truck pulls up out front.

  “Fuck. This is going to be bad.”

  Brody comes up the stairs; he looks frantic, his hair is a mess, his eyes are blood shot, and he passed five o’clock shadow hours ago. He stops dead at the open apartment door. He looks expectantly at me, “Well, where is she?”

  “I’m not sure, I was hoping she left with you already, and then I saw your truck pull up out front.”

  “What do you mean? I don’t understand.” He looks a little paler if possible.

  “I just got here, looked around, and when I didn’t find her I thought she left with you.”

  Brody walks into the apartment and straight to her bedroom he looks in the closet, and turns to go into the bathroom. Patrick moves in front of him and puts a hand on his chest.

  “You are wasting time. I checked the whole apartment.”

  “Fuck you. I didn’t.” Brody pushes me out of his way.

  “Brody, you need to help me find her; not waste time doing what has been done, already. We cannot waste time. If Michael has her we need to find him.”

  Brody turns and lunges for me. He grabs my shirt and throws me against the wall. He slams my head and back into it a couple of times while he screams at me, “If Michael has her we failed. We did. I cannot live with that. He will kill her.”

  “Brody. You need to calm down and think. I know this is hard we need to
do as much as we can as quickly as we can. We have 24 hours until we can report her missing. She could be dead by then. He was able to move her to a second location; that is what we need to focus on, what we need to find.”

  Brody lets go of my shirt and sits on the bed with his head in his hands. He is breathing like he may hyperventilate. He is trying to calm himself but I don’t think its working. “I failed her. I always felt like I wouldn’t be there when she needed me. I never should’ve let her leave.”

  I walk over to him and place a hand on his shoulder “I think the best place to start is trying to trace her phone. You will feel better doing something, you can’t just sit around. Come on, I have some calls to make.”

  We leave the bedroom, and I call the station. I talk to the IT guys and place a trace on Charlie’s phone. If it’s on, or she tries to make a call we will be able to find out where the phone is; and hopefully where the phone is Charlie is.

  Brody is pacing the room. “What did they say?”

  “They will contact us when they have something.”

  “I hate this.” His voice cracks, I can’t imagine how hard this is for him. I have only known her a week and I already feel a connection with her; albeit friendly, but a connection none the less. Brody has known her forever and probably loved her for just as long.

  “I think before we leave here we should knock on some doors. See if anyone saw anything.”

  “I will talk to the woman next door; she is hard of hearing and loves me.” Brody embarrassingly admits this with a shrug.

  “Ok. I’ll go in the other direction. Let me know if you find anything out.”

  “I will. Patrick? I’m sorry about before. I shouldn’t have freaked out like that.”

  “Let’s just find our girl.”

  They go their separate ways down the hallway. Knocking on doors at 10 o’clock at night, hoping someone remembers something.

  CHAPTER 51

  I am numb. I feel nothing but emptiness in me where I think my heart should be. I did this to her. I hurt her, she left, and now Michael has her. How did he know she was alone? How does he always seem to be one step ahead? The flowers, the picture of Charlie at work with her friend, the visit at night when I was gone, all of it he planned to perfection.

  I knock on Mrs. Clinton’s door. If she can hear me is anybody’s guess. I wait an appropriate amount of time and knock again, louder. I hear moving around so I call out her name and bang again.

  “Mrs. Clinton, it’s Brody Harrison, I need to speak with you.”

  “I’m coming. Hold your horses.” She shuffles to the door and opens the locks.

  “Oh. Brody, why didn’t you say it was you, out here? I thought it was one of those religious types trying to help me into heaven when the end comes, ya know?”

  “At 10 o’clock at night? Isn’t that a little late for them?”

  “Yeah, well you would think, but I wouldn’t put anything past them.” She gives a little snort of a laugh. “What can I do for you handsome?”

  “Actually, I was hoping you could tell me if you saw or heard anything from Charlie’s place today?”

  “I heard her in there this afternoon, but I don’t know who she was talking to. Then tonight sometime it got kinda loud over there, but before I could bang on the wall or complain, it stopped. Why, do you want to know?”

  “Well I was supposed to meet her here; to help her move more things out and she isn’t here. I thought maybe you might’ve seen her.”

  “You weren’t here with her?”

  “No, why?”

  “I am positive I heard a man’s voice in there with her. You know now that I think about it, it sounded like she was yelling at someone.”

  “You didn’t hear any words that were said?”

  “Nope.” She is looking around and down the hallway. “You know it’s a shame that she has to move. I always liked her. She is so sweet. That man that came by last week to put in her security system should lose his job.”

  I freeze. My blood has turned to ice and is having difficulty moving through my body. “What security system?”

  “I never spoke with him but I watched him through the peep hole. He came when Charlie went to work, used a key and opened her door. He didn’t see me when I crept into the living room. He was installing one of those nanny cams, like on Super Nanny, in her books and throughout the apartment.”

  “Nanny Cams?” I think she is going crazy, maybe watching too much TV.

  “Yeah, like a hidden camera. I left as soon as I saw that.”

  “Do you remember what he looked like?”

  “He had brown hair, brown eyes, and he was a little chubby. OH! He had glasses, black rimmed, and plastic. Like the kind they give you in the army. Mr. Clinton used to be in the army, ya know? He was so handsome in his uniform.”

  “How tall was he?”

  “I don’t know, a little shorter than you?”

  “Was he old, young?”

  “I think he was between 30 and 35, no older.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Clinton. You have been very helpful. If I have more questions can I call you?”

  “Brody, you can do anything you want to me.” She winks at me when she says it.

  Um, ewww. “Thanks, you’re sweet.”

  She goes inside for a minute and comes back out with a piece of paper, “Here’s my phone number, don’t lose it.”

  “You got it Mrs. C.”

  I left Mrs. Clinton standing in the hall and went in search of Patrick. He needed to know about the security guy. Maybe we can call around and see if anyone was sent over to Charlie’s. If not, it is just another dead end, but at least we have a place to start. I have to find her, and when I do Michael is dead. I finger the bullet in my pocket. “I know just how I’m going to do it.”

  CHAPTER 52

  It’s cold. Why am I cold? I can’t move my body. I try to wiggle my toes, slowly they start to cooperate. Next I try my legs. They don’t want to move yet. I try my fingers, they twitch and spasm. I feel like I’m trying to move through mud. I finally open my eyes. The second I crack my lids I wish I hadn’t. The pain is instantaneous; and nauseating. I feel sick. Sweat is beading on my upper lip and hairline. I roll to my side and vomit on the floor, then nothing. The world is black nothingness.

  CHAPTER 53

  When I left Brody I went to Charlie’s next door neighbors, they are a young couple in their twenties. The man, Steven Young, is a cello player in an orchestra. The woman, Cecilia Best; or Cece, is an artist; she has her first art show next month. They are very sweet and they offer to help anyway they can. Unfortunately, neither of them knows or heard anything earlier today.

  I feel so frustrated. I pull out my cell phone, and call a friend I have at the bureau.

  “Hey Chris, it’s Patrick O’Connor.” Chris Fitzgerald and I went to the academy together; being the only Irish kids in class, we hit it off pretty well and stayed friends after graduation. We were involved in a shootout during an attempted robbery when we were just rookies. He got shot; I kept his heart going till EMT’s arrived. After that we were real close. We have gone to each other’s weddings, birth of his kids, and he was even there when I got divorced.