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THE HOTEL ROOM SEEMED to be dwarfing. The walls were closing in and the ceiling was bellying toward the floor. Linsey’s head ached, and her eyes felt too big for their sockets. After a night of crying she was like a drunk with a hangover. In the bathroom she tossed cool water on her face. Under the cold tap she held a cloth and wrung it out. She held the cloth over her face and inhaled the cool scent of the hotel seeping through the fibers. It was refreshing.
She had to get moving, needed to get to her office. Months of planning had been flushed down the toilet last night before she entered a stormy sleep. Now she needed to reset the clock and plan.
The mirror above the sink was just an enemy who would gladly taunt her unrested face, so she didn’t bother to look up. Instead she dropped the cloth in the sink and made coffee in the kitchenette. According to the coffee maker it was seven thirty. A hand full of sleep wasn’t cutting it for Linsey. If she could just lie down and rest and let someone else take over. That’s what she was thinking as she entered the shower.
The shower plunged a little life back into Linsey and the hot coffee took care of the rest. She turned the TV to the early morning news. She sipped her coffee, dressed, and sipped more hot coffee. She eyed the screen. The anchors looked glum as they reported, “No word on the coach yet.” Hmm, she thought, he no longer has a name. He’s just the coach. She scanned her cover ups in the closet and thought, Maybe it’s time to fold up the camp and move on, but she knew she couldn’t. Too much time, too much money, too much of herself had gone into the get her son back and take down the coach campaign. “So,” she said to the bedroom, “he’s still hiding out.”
Cup in hand, Linsey ambled to the window. The sky was clear and the sun shone bright, just the opposite of what she felt, a tropical storm moving inland. Outside, the place she has been calling home for months was in full hotel mode. People were toting luggage to their cars. Others were in shorts, tanks, and sneakers, carrying water bottles, and heading for a brisk walk or run. Cars were coming to life after being tucked away for the night. She let out a long sigh, went to the little kitchenette sink and rinsed her cup and left it on the counter. She flipped the coffee maker off. It told her she had dawdled away a whole hour.
She joined the tourist in the lobby. Was she still one of them? She had been here so long roots had to be sprouting by now. She walked through unnoticed. No one seemed to know her. Silly me, she thought, they don’t know me without my costume. Today she was Jillian with flowing, blonde hair, sapphire eyes, skinny jeans, with a heather green, square neck tunic, and navy peep toe Mary Janes. As she slid through the revolving door like a stranger, she slung her paisley purse over her shoulder.
Outside the heat fell on her like a heavy sandbag rupturing and all of its contents coating her skin. A few steps past the door and she already felt her shirt sticking to her back and the sweat dribbling down her chest between her breasts. She hurried to the car where the air conditioning would offer relief.
She drove to her office with only the sound of the blowing air conditioner breezing freezer cool air in her face. Her thoughts were boisterous. She tried to fight them, knock them out so they would quiet. No such luck. By the time she parked, the thoughts were screaming—he’s won again. Her head met the steering wheel and she lay there; thinking about the day ahead, the plans that had to be made. Starting from square one. She had a vision of banging her head on the steering wheel until she passed out. A sharp knock on her window jolted her up like an alarm.
Her finger pressed on the window lever and the window slid down. Linsey couldn’t be happier to lay eyes on her brother.
“Jake, what are you doing here?”
“You promised me a blow by blow and I’m here to collect.” He was beaming, ready to hang on to her every word about the night’s events.
Linsey gave Jake her sad eyes and drooping head. “We have to talk.” She struggled to get those four words out.
Jake reached in through the open window and unlocked the doors. The click of the locks made Linsey flinch.
“What happened?” Jake was opening the door and motoring the window up. “You’re like a Mexican Jumping Bean.” Jake helped Linsey to her feet as if she were a delicate flower that would lose its petals if bumped.
She let Jake take control. She needed the guidance, no matter how small. Jake locked the car and steered Linsey from the parking space on the street to the steps of the building holding her office. The gray building was a bulky, brick structure sharing walls with its bulky neighbors on each side. The buildings on both sides of the street stretched toward the sky, blocking the sun and giving the block a terminal shady appearance as if the stretch of land was wearing a wide brimmed sun hat.
Pausing to admire the buildings, she thought back to their first meeting. There had been instant admiration between the buildings and Linsey. When she first saw them, she thought they looked quite stately and emanated elegance. When she had stood on the pavement that first day scanning the stately buildings, her eyes had drifted from the steps upward over the gray bulging bricks and the tall slender windows. The air resonated serenity, something she couldn’t remember ever having and would give a limb just to taste it, if only on the tip of her tongue.
The affordable rent cinched it and now it was hers as long as she dealt the paper to the landlord. Sweat trickled down her forehead in the heat of the morning. The stately buildings were serene and buttoned up as if holding centuries of secrets. Jake led Linsey up the four stone steps to the door. He pushed the door open into a hallway with mailboxes on each side lining the walls. Linsey dug around in her purse for a key and checked the box. “No mail,” she sighed.
Three flights of groaning wooden steps and they were at the office. She used her key to let herself and Jake inside. Jake looked around. It was cozy, an outer office with two folding chairs, a round, squat table with magazines, and a door leading to another room. Linsey pointed at the door. “My office.”
They went in. An old wooden desk with a black leather executive chair faced them. In front of the desk were two comfy, leather, wingback chairs. On the floor was almond Berber carpet, and on the walls bright flowered pictures. The wall directly behind her swivel chair, a poster of the coach smiled at Jake.
“Why is he hanging on your wall?” Jake was staring at the alien ornament. “It’s in here with you every day reminding you how he stole your life.”
“No, Jake.” Linsey grasped Jake’s hand. “It’s a prop, a conversation piece.”
“For who?”
“My clients.”
She led Jake to one of the wing chairs and gestured for him to have a seat. She took the seat behind the desk. Jake continued to stare at the picture.
“You see, Jake, it evokes a response from someone he has hurt. When the girls come in, I watch them to see their expression when their eyes meet the poster.
“How in the hell did you come up with that?”
“It’s simple really. One of my appointments was out in the waiting room flipping through a magazine. She dropped it and gasped loud enough that I heard her inside my office. When I rushed out to see what was happening, the magazine was at her feet and she was staring down at the coach’s picture. That’s when I got the first idea to look for other victims.” She rested her chin on her praying hands. “When appointments came in I’d watch their faces and body language when they saw the poster.”
“Any other victims show up?”
She shook her head. “Just me having to sit in here with that monster looking over my shoulder.”
Jake launched himself at the poster and ripped it off the wall, shredded it, and tossed it in the trash. “You don’t need it anymore. You’ve found enough of his victims.”
At that Linsey’s tower tumbled down. Her shoulders shook as she heaved out all of her anguish and anger. The tears came in a rush with words choked out. “He’s won, Jake. He’s beat me again.”
“No, Linsey, he hasn’t.” Jake was on one knee in front of his sister as she sat hunched and weeping loud sobs. To someone passing by he looked like a man proposing marriage.
“He has Jake. All of my planning went to hell last night.”
Jake stood next to Linsey and wrapped her in a warm, strong, brotherly hug. “Take some breaths, in and out. Breathe.” He passed her a tissue from her desk. She dabbed at her eyes. Jake took a seat in his wing chair. “Tell me what happened last night. Blow by blow as you promised. That, I’m holding you to.”
Blow by blow Linsey delivered the night’s events, and Jake listened intently.
“I let him go because my son asked. It was his eyes. They were pleading and I couldn’t deny him.” Linsey’s head and shoulders fell in defeat. “So, you see, Jake, he’s won. I can’t fight him. I’m running out of money. That hotel is costing me a fortune, and this office is another hand in my pocket.”
Jake scraped his hands through his hair. “Sis, that’s why I’m here. The day you confided in me, I vowed I would see you through this thing. I have savings. It’s yours. Whatever you need.”
“I want him dead!” Linsey banged the desk as she squealed out the words, startling Jake. “I want to slice him up and toss his body pieces in the dirt face down!”
“No, you don’t, Linsey.” Jake’s voice was velvety. “You yourself said death is too good for him. Look at me, Linsey. He needs to pay. Death is not payment. It’s an easy way out. It’s a pass. One he’s not going to get.”
She was nodding her head, tears tracking down her cheeks. “I know, I know. You’re right.”
Jake reached across the desk and wiped Linsey’s tears with his fingertips. “He hasn’t won. We’ve just had a little bit of a setback, but everything is in motion. Those cops, they’re not fools. The toothpick one that irks you, he has his finger in the dike right now, but he’s going to pull the plug. And that string bean that was following you, he’s hungry. He wants something and he won’t stop until it’s his. You’ve hit all the right notes. Give it some time to sing.”
“I know you’re—”
The phone rang out like an intruder. Linsey dabbed at her eyes and took in some deep breaths. Another ring. More dabbing and breathing. Another ring. Linsey answered.
“Linsey Logan, how may I assist you?”
Silence.
“Hello,” Linsey repeated.
Silence.
“I’m hanging up now.”
“No... Don’t. Please.” It was a frail, frightened voice.
“You have my attention. What can I do for you?”
“I need to talk to you.” The voice whispered. “I was raped.”