Wicked Girl (THE FIRE Book 1) Read online

  “That’s if they aren’t dead ends.”

  “They can’t be. I believe in you, El. If you continue like this, I tell you Grace shall be home before month end. And I tell you, you did great by forgetting about the police and suspending your praying schedule. If not, probably, she would never be found. Continue, you are doing a great job. Only if she knew how much you love her.”

  “Amy Wong! 4565 Hamilton Ave, Bronx.” I jerked to my feet, throwing the chair backward. It hit the wall with a bang.

  “Why don’t you eat before you go? I can fix something quick.”

  “No. Thanks.” I ran out to the cab. I had asked Carla, the cabbie to wait for me. I jumped in and handed the address written on a paper to her. She stamped on it. I had told her I was looking for my missing wife. Not only did she sympathize with me verbally, but she demonstrated her sympathy. She really felt the fear and stress Grace was in wherever she was. At times, I had to remind her to slow down. She had forgotten about the police and accidents. She only thought of another fellow woman who was about to be a statistic too.

  “You know, I know what you are going through. I had a glimpse of it when I was still in high school.”

  “High School?”

  “Yeah, our grandfather went missing. Every mind, everything in the house came to a standstill. He was found after two long weeks.”

  “Alive?” I gazed forward and noticed we were heading to a junction at a high speed. “It’s red. It’s red. Reeeeed.”

  With a squeak of the tires, the cab came to a standstill. If it wasn’t for the seatbelt, I would have penetrated the windscreen with my head. I sighed and gazed at her, trying to slow down my breathing.

  Carla gazed at me, laughing. “Don’t worry. Relax. You’re completely covered. The road is my office. I’m here sixty hours a week.” With a squeak of tires it took off. “Yeah, my grandfather was alive. Due to old age, he would lose his mind. So he kind of got lost in that way. It’s our colleague here who was found dead after being missing a week. She was found raped and stabbed twice in the chest.”

  I stared at her, terrified for Grace. I was not even sure which tragedy was better between rape and murder. At times, I felt it was better to find her dead than raped. Other times, I felt the other way around. But for some reason, rape seemed worst to me. I viewed it as some type of slow poison that torments the heart and mind before killing the body after many years of inescapable suffering. Murder kills the body instantly.

  Carla glanced at me.

  “That was horrible,” I said.

  She took a right turn and slowed down. “If she is held captive at this address then we are a few blocks away from her.”

  “Okay,” I said and sighed. “Please stop two houses away from the address.”

  “Not a problem. Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”

  “You can ask.”

  “Are you fully armed?”

  “Not really. You know, I don’t want to create war with dangerous people. My plan is to pay out the hitman.”

  She pulled over in front of a small double story. The neighborhood looked decent – upper middle class. “Here we are.”

  “Ok thanks.”

  “I don’t know, but I think you better be armed or call the police. It’s very difficult to negotiate with such people. They trust nobody. If they suspect you are part of a sting operation, you’re dead.”

  “I agree. You have a point.”

  She lifted up her jacket and said, “Look.”

  I saw a pistol in a gun holster on the right hip. “I can go in with you, you know.”

  “Oh no, I wouldn’t want to drag you into my mess. You have helped me enough. Tell me the bill. I’ll pay and you go.”

  “I will not charge you even a cent.”

  “But you have to –”

  “Forget the bill. Let’s talk about the mission here. I’m thinking – if you don’t want me to go inside let me wait for you here. If you have to run, you will come running and we can speed off. But if fifteen minutes elapse, and I see nothing or hear nothing from you, I will follow you.”

  I gazed at her. “Thanks. But please don’t follow me, I will be fine.”

  I opened the door.

  “Good luck.”

  “Thanks.”

  10:17 AM

  I was hardly breathing when I slotted the master-key I had obtained for the mission. I squinted around, ascertaining if no one saw me. Yes, it was the back door, but I had to be sure no suspecting neighbor was watching. I even feared there were vicious dogs. A stunning home with a heart shaped swimming pool and a lovely backyard must have had a dog. I was relieved when the key turned without difficulty.

  Slowly, I pushed the door and sneaked into the living room. The house was amazing – pinkish sofas with colorful pillows – a black screen mounted on the wall – a state of the art circular fireplace – built-in shelves with books and feminine magazines – and it was squeaky clean, even the floral plush carpet was inviting. Nothing screamed murder or kidnapper. The dead end fear hit me again.

  I checked all the rooms. There was nobody. But there was one bedroom that was locked. I didn’t even try the key since it was a completely different locking system. I thought of kicking the door but quickly aborted that because it would probably scare away the house owners when they returned, and I would lose the lead entirely. But I was really torn in two because I also wondered how I would feel if I left Grace in the locked bedroom, and she got killed later.

  I searched around the house, looking for something like a crowbar so I could at least open the door without breaking it. I got a spade next to the frozen pool. I lifted the door with the spade and pushed hard. It worked. The door flung open. But there was nobody in the super, girlish bedroom.

  Confusion and disappointment started building up in me. The house seemed to belong to two neat women. Even the other bedroom was neat, feminine and well perfumed. The only difference was it was dominated by red and purple. The one I was in was dominated by pink. I sat on the silky smooth bed, afraid I was chasing a ghost.

  However, there was a painting on the wall of some man who looked almost like me – at the beach, playing, splashing water and laughing with someone not appearing on the painting. His beaming happiness and the glory of the setting sun made the painting adorable.

  I almost jumped with both feet on the bed when the telephone in the living room rang. I dashed to listen if the caller would leave a message. And yes, she did. It was Karen, “Why don’t you pick up your cell, girl? Argh… you are frustrating me. Time is of the essence here.”

  I walked up and down terrified by the time factor. Whatever they had to do to Grace was to be done urgently. I grabbed my head with both hands, deep desperation menacing me.

  Also, I was unsure what to make of what I had heard. Yes, Karen was indeed in contact with those people. I became a little hopeful that my lead was not dead as it had started looking. But I couldn’t tell how Karen was connected to the owners of the house. Or if the hitmen were actually two neat hitwomen. The idea of two female hitwomen relieved me a bit because it kind of canceled the risk of being raped. Even negotiating with women would be easier than male savages. At some point, they would believe me, take the cash and give Grace back to me. Turning against Karen wouldn’t be a problem. They would probably even refuse to refund her. But men wouldn’t reach a point where they trust me. They would quickly conclude I was a detective in a sting operation and kill me before even hearing my story. If I am lucky, they would break me until I forgot my name.

  However, I recalled that Rodger was indeed the hitman, not some two women. So the false hope about female hitwomen went through the window and left me feeling awful inside. Indeed, the rape risk wasn’t deleted.

  I froze when I heard footsteps about to come in through the back door. And it was wide open. “Jesus,” I whispered. I forgot to close the door when I came back excited I had found the spade. The shadow suggested that whoever was searching for me ha
d a gun drawn, ready to kill. I hesitated to hide in one of the bedrooms or the kitchen, but I ended up sneaking to hide behind the back of the living room door. I held the spade with both hands, ready to strike him down before he pulled the trigger. I hated that my investigation had to be tainted by blood. But I had no choice because if I didn’t hit him, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill me and Grace. I detested my own mind again. It was such a huge liability to me. I had planned to make the operation as seamless as possible. Being discovered by someone in the house was not good at all. I tightened my grip on the spade when he was about two steps away from the living room door.

  10:36 AM

  I kicked off the gun and swung to finish him with the spade. But I stopped just before hitting him…her. It was Carla, my cabbie.

  I frowned. “Jesus, my God, I’m sorry. It’s you. I had forgotten you were waiting for me outside.”

  Carla glared at my face. “Waiting outside? I had told you I will come after fifteen minutes. Are you crazy?” She screamed and blew her hand, jumping all over.

  “Sorry, I didn’t tell you I have amnesia. I completely forgot all that.”

  “What would I be if I shot you? And you almost killed me with the spade.”

  “I’m so sorry, Carla.” I inspected her hands and squeezed them. “Besides the pain, are they okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. My hands are fine. Probably it’s my gun that may be broken or something.”

  She took the gun and scanned it. “It looks fine.” She put it back into the gun holster.

  I sighed, relieved we didn’t hurt each other for it could grossly derail or even end the investigation if she shot me dead.

  Again, I hated the fact that my mind was betraying me again. Carla had told me she would follow me just a few minutes ago, but it decided to forget all she said, thus putting her life and mine at risk. It was indeed disturbing that some of my mind’s inefficiencies were life threatening. At times, I even wondered if Grace was, indeed, a real person or some fine figure my mind invented. Then for some reason failed to visualize and concluded she was missing.

  No. Grace is real. Even my neighbors knew and loved her, my mother loved her and more importantly, I had a child with her. If the child existed then she too was real. My marriage was real. And I was real. Real enough to love her with my life.

  “Anything here?”

  “Nobody. Nothing.”

  Carla inspected the entire house, room by room. I heard her talk to herself, admiring the beauty of the bedrooms.

  I sat on the squishy sofa vividly seized by mixed feelings. I was afraid and hopeful at the same time. But I pushed myself to hope that I was indeed closer than ever to finding Grace alive. Not dead or raped, but well and good as ever.

  I didn’t know how, but I believed the two women were the only link between me and Grace. Whether Rodger used them to keep his female victims or they were a contact Karen gave to Rodger, I had no idea, but I knew they were an important link to Grace. One thing I wasn’t sure of was whether I had to make myself known to them or follow them at a distance. I kind of favored the latter move since the former could put Grace’s life in danger if they panicked and report me to Rodger.

  Carla came back to the living room and sat opposite me. “So it means we wasted time coming here. No one, no clue, nothing.”

  “No. It means we have to wait for whoever stays here. That’s where our clue lies.” I stared at her. “You know what Carla? I appreciate your help. But you have to go back to work. The cab ain’t yours.”

  She nodded. “You’re right. But I also wish to see you through. I’m a huge fan of good endings. I hope and fantasize seeing you embrace her in front of my very eyes.”

  “That’s really kind of you, Carla. But go back to work. I will update you. Even on TV Grace’s updates come in every day.”

  “Oh, your wife is one of the three ladies they are showing these days.”

  I nodded. “Yes, she is the one in the middle.”

  “Oh my gosh! Such a beautiful woman. I hope –”

  I gazed at her. “You hope what?”

  “No. Forget it. It’s a stupid thing.”

  “It’s not stupid. It’s a possibility. She could have been trafficked for slave prostitution.”

  “Are you a mind reader? How did you know I almost said that?”

  “I’m not a mind reader, but it’s a fact. It’s a booming business for some evil people.”

  Carla shook her head.

  Our eyes bulged when we heard a car pull over at the gate and two doors clicking open.

  10:59 AM

  “We have got to hide,” I whispered, pointing at the bedroom with a pinkish appeal.

  “Why don’t we go out?” Carla whispered.

  “Too late.”

  Carla ran to the bedroom whilst I closed and locked the back door. I heard them at the door already taking out the keys from the handbag. I hurried to the bedroom. However, before I closed the bedroom door, I saw the spade leaning against the sofa. “Jesus.” I dashed and grabbed the spade. When the front door swung open, I also closed the bedroom door.

  Swiftly, I slid under the bed with the spade in my hand. Carefully, I put the spade between Carla and me on the fluffy carpet. When I drew air in to sigh softly, the bedroom door flung open. I held my breath, hoping I would not forget I was hiding and was not supposed to be seen or heard.

  “Look. Even today, I forgot to lock,” the bedroom owner said.

  I was astonished by the familiarity of her voice.

  “Me too,” the other one shouted from her bedroom.

  She said nothing more but moved up and down in her bedroom humming When I Need You by Rod Stewart.

  “I hope we don’t receive emergencies today. I can’t handle even a minute of overtime,” she said.

  “Say that again. I’m super exhausted too. I even wish Vincent could postpone our date tonight. I might sleep on the food in front of him. He might dump me and I’d have to chase him with a sword all over the city.”

  They giggled.

  “I’m happy for you, friend. It’s always a pleasure being dated by the guy you dig so deeply.”

  “Nothing beats that. I will take selfies so you can be jealous and go out and find a man.”

  “I told you I have a soul mate. And by summer I will be carrying his baby. I don’t have time to waste, meno is already knocking.”

  The other one laughed. “I mean a real man, not a painting,” she said, her voice drawing closer. “Girl, I’m done. Let’s go.” She stood at the bedroom door.

  “Being us, friend, is a disaster.”

  “Us?”

  “I mean us girls. We left work rushing to get our bank cards, but here we are busy in front of the mirror, titivating ourselves. I even thought of fixing a sandwich but my right brain kicked in and screamed no. At times, I wonder how men manage to live with us. When I was in my teens, I thought I would ask my man how they viewed us, but I gave up when I discovered they are a mess too.”

  They giggled again.

  “We were made girl. But I’m better, you’re the one who messed up more. I mean you’re even sitting down – the whole makeup kit wide open.”

  “Yeah, we’ve got to go before we miss out. The agents gave us thirty minutes.”

  “I hope you were joking you’ll go on holiday with Elijah.”

  My stomach froze. Promptly, I recognized the voice. It was Carol, my ex-girlfriend.

  “Joking? I’m telling you, I will be with Elijah in Honolulu, friend.”

  I frowned, looking at Carla, asking me questions with her eyes. She heard my name but couldn’t understand the puzzle.

  Carla laughed quietly. She found it funny I was the main subject of the discussion, but I had no idea what it all meant. It was already scheduled that I would impregnate Carol in a few weeks’ time, but I had no idea I would embark on such a big project. Let alone, I was a married man.

  Carol saturated the air with her perfume. Then she rose from the dres
sing table and took her stuff, preparing to move out.

  I lifted the comforter slightly as they departed. And I confirmed that it was, indeed, Carol, my ex-girlfriend, except she had put on a lot of weight. She looked almost double what she was at college. The nice figure was gone. And the idiocy that she still wanted me back confused me a lot because she was the one who dumped me and left me hurt beyond measure. I cried until I healed completely. Then I moved on.

  So I didn’t understand any bit of her comeback. I thought she had seen green pastures and left the desert that I was to her. It’s great that I had told her green pastures always look green and appealing when you observe them from a distance; once you get close they turn khaki.

  11:27 AM

  Carla pulled me when I swung to smash the painting on the wall with the spade. I stumbled and the spade dropped on the carpet. I glared at her. She shook her head, staring at me, “Don’t.”

  But I was sure that that painting had to die. No matter how expensive it was, it had to go. I failed to understand the reason behind capturing useless memories. The Long Island Sands holiday as we called it was great in its time. We enjoyed volleyball on the sand. We chased each other on the sand. We swam in violent waves. We basked in the sun. We strolled and kissed under the moonlight and stars – the night was glorious. We thoroughly enjoyed the moment.

  Yes, we were not fully compatible, but I decided during that seductive holiday that I would marry her. Whether it was a stupid or wise move, I had no idea. The only reality that kept whacking me inside my heart was that I loved her and she loved me. I was prepared to ignore that she did not complement me, but competed with me.

  When I engaged her on one knee, on the sand, the incompatibility bothered me deeply in my heart. However, I pressed on. She screamed, “Yes, yes,” and knocked me off my knee to the sand with a supercharged hug; I completely forgot our major challenge. We rolled on the beach, under the fading sun, laughing and kissing.