Tailspin (Better Than You) (11 page)

              My next stop is Brody’s, but I have to be careful. I have to figure out a way to do this without blowing my cover. Keeping myself in good graces with the police department is the only way Danny will ever get what he deserves. When I knock on Brody’s door- a small house with grey shutters- I school my face into a mask of despair rather than the fury that’s raging through me.

              It’s Sam who opens the door, eyes puffy and bloodshot. She makes eye contact for a split second before searching the front yard behind me. “She’s not here,” I say. “I was hoping you could help me find her.”

              Sam’s shaking her head before I’ve even finished the sentence, her short blonde hair fanning out in disarray. “I don’t- I don’t know where she is.”

              “But you know where Danny lives.”

              “Not really. I mean, no. I’ve never been there.” She glances behind her. “Look, I can’t help you. Brody and Danny are friends.”

              The door starts to close. I shove my hand out to stop it. “Sam,
please
.”

              “I’m sorry,” she whispers, a bony hand pressed against her mouth. The door closes with a soft click and I’m left staring at the chipping wood, no answers and one last hope.

~~

              At first, I think I have the wrong address. I check the numbers twice and finally step out of the car; walk up to the door and knock softly because it seems it might disintegrate with the slightest touch. My heart is in my throat. There’s a fire in my stomach, whether from hunger or nerves, I can’t tell. Involuntarily, my right hand settles beneath my shirt, just on the hilt of the gun.

              After a few silent moments, I press my ear against the moldy wood and hold my breath. There’s voices, soft but clear. I knock again and still no answer. In desperation, I try the doorknob and it turns easily in my hand. The door squeaks as it slides open, revealing a tiny kitchen and an even smaller living room. A body is sprawled across a run-down couch. The only light is coming from the TV, casting everything in a bluish hue. Just in case, I leave the door open and walk towards the body.

              “Dave?” she questions, her voice hoarse, barely audible. The rest of her doesn’t move, and that’s the only word that spills out of her mouth. I stand in front of her, just next to the TV, and watch as her sluggish eyes finally see me. They furrow in confusion but then relax into indifference. “If you’re here to rob me, I ain’t got nothin’ for ya to take.”

              “I’m looking for Logan,” I say carefully. Her eyes snap to mine with the use of her daughter’s name, but still she doesn’t move from her slouched state.

              “She ain’t here,” she says.

             
Deep breath
. “I know. I was wondering if you might know where I can find her and Danny.”

              The most surprising thing happens then. Lena laughs; big, wet, heaves that spill out of her frail body and look like they might crack her in half. It lasts for a good ten seconds before, with one last rattling breath, she pulls herself together. “Ain’t seen them for years.”

              I can’t help but try to see past this broken woman to the mother underneath it all; to the one who gave birth to a little girl who might have looked just like her. Maybe, beneath the pale and cracked skin, the limp hair and the lifeless eyes, there’s a woman who brought a little girl into this world. It’s almost impossible to imagine.

              “She’s in trouble,” I finally tell her.

              “Always was,” she replies, her eyes again glued to the TV.

              I know that she won’t-
can’t
help me, but leaving right now would be admitting defeat. It would be giving up on Logan, just like everyone else, and I can’t bring myself to do it. “She needs help, Lena.”

              “Not from me she don’t.” Lena sniffs, wipes her nose with the back of her hand. “I think I’ve done enough.”

              The way she says it, it’s almost like regret, as if she’s admitting to fucking up Logan’s life. There’s a moment when her eyes shift, watching memories in her mind, but then they’re back to empty, her daughter again forgotten. It hits me then that I’ve done all I can do; that this shell of a person never cared before and can’t care now. Somewhere deep inside of me, longing for my own parents twists and turns. I wouldn’t be here if they weren’t gone, and I can’t get myself killed in this process of rescuing a girl I barely know. I’ve got Emily and Joshua to think about. They have no one left.

              Without looking back, I walk out of the dying house, away from the half-dead woman, and try my hardest to convince myself that I’m doing the right thing. Logan’s made it this long with him, and I have to believe that she’ll be okay again.

14

March 17, 2009

              Still no word from Logan. When I sleep, I dream that it’s me holding the gun to her head. She looks up at me, eyes full of tears and anguish, and says, “Not you too.”

              I wake up covered in sweat. I don’t go back to sleep after that.

15

March 20, 2009

             
She’s dead
. The thought is like a knife being pushed slowly into me, inching closer to my heart with every breath. Danny’s proving impossible to find. I’ve even got people helping me. But he’s like a ghost; was only ever seen by me. Brody was our main target, and Brody is still there. No one has any other reason to dig deeper. Except for me. No one has Logan on their mind except for me.

              I text Brody when I leave the morning shift at the bar, ask him if there’s a party tonight. It’s a few hours before he responds. The vibration scares the shit out of me, and I jump off the couch and dig into my pocket like it’s burning a hole through my leg.

             
Yep. Same house as last time.

              Almost instantly, my heart starts to pound against my rib cage. The phone vibrates again.

             
No Danny.

             
It doesn’t matter. They all know him. Someone might know where he is.

              But no one does. Or no one cares. Either way, it ends up being a useless search. Brody hands me a cold beer, claps me on the shoulder, and says, “She’s not yours to save, Nate.”

              He’s right, but it doesn’t make it any easier to forget. Only the alcohol does, and I make it my new mission to drink my weight in it.

16

March 24, 2009

              I called the station earlier but Crowley had no other news for me. Said that I should just wait until Danny resurfaces, because he definitely will. But it’s not that easy. Sitting here in this empty house, doing nothing but waiting- it’s killing me. Joshua and Emily are at school and the silence of the house is heavy, suffocating, like it was the weeks and months that followed Mom and Dad’s accident. It’s supposed to be my day off from the bar, but I jump in the car and head there anyway.

              Kait looks up at me, surprised, when I walk in. “What are you doing here?” she asks.

              “I can’t sit at home,” I say as I pass her, heading to the office. I hear her follow.

              “Any news?”

              I shake my head. I never gave her the details, but she knows something’s wrong. The other girls think Logan is sick, but it’s been ten days. Ten long, sleep deprived days. “No. Not yet.”

              “She’ll come around,” she says, and then she’s gone. My phone vibrates and I pull it out to see that it’s Chief. Before I can say a word, his deep voice resonates through the line. “You’re in too deep,” he says stiffly. “I knew you shouldn’t have used your real name. It’s messing with your head, isn’t it?”

              “No, sir. It’s not.” I should say more, convince him that everything’s all right, but I’m at a loss for words because I know he’s right. I’m lost.

              I can hear the breath he takes before he says, “What do you have Crowley doing? Whose address is he looking for?”

              “It’s a friend…of Brody’s. Close friend. I think he has more to do with the drugs than Brody does.” It’s not an outright lie; I’ve been wondering about his involvement in everything since I met him. Brody doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to head things up. Danny does.

             
I need air.
As I head out of the bar, I can hear papers shuffling from Chief’s end. “So you’re telling me you can still handle this?”

              “Yes. It’s insulting that you’re questioning me, Mitch.”
There
. That sounds more like me.

              Chief snorts. “Alright, kid. Don’t fuck this up.”

              The line goes dead the same moment I step outside. The hot air is barely a relief to the stuffiness I felt inside, but I take in a deep gulp of it anyways. Just as I’m looking up from the ground and letting it out, I see the most amazing and terrifying thing ever. It’s Logan’s car, and it’s moving, parking in the spot she always used to park in. I’m beginning to convince myself it’s just a hallucination, a mirage created by the heat rippling around me, when the door opens and her thin legs swing out. The sound of the door shutting brings my gaze up to her face and I can’t help but stare. Because, even from here, I can see the bruises, the wrongness of what used to be flawless. She’s still beautiful, despite what he’s done to her, and the urge to run to her like a fucking psycho is running through my head.

              She walks to me, so slowly I think I might die in the process, and stops just a foot away. And it hits me, right then and there. She’s alive, she’s living and breathing and here,
in front of me
, her melted honey eyes staring deep into mine. Slowly, like reaching a hand out to a wild animal, I press my fingertips to the curves of her face; her cheek, jaw, lips. I can feel the heat of her breath as I trace my fingers along the slope of her upper lip. The fact that she’s breathing at all still has me stunned into stupidity. The need to have her in my arms is too strong to deny, so I wrap them around her and pull. She falls against me, filling all the gaps I never noticed were there. Thin, shaky arms wind around my waist and it’s like they’re squeezing my heart, too, because in this hug, in her touch, I know everything I need to know. That she needs saving, and I’m going to be the one doing it. No matter what.

              Soon her body is shaking and warmth is spilling onto my chest. I hold her tight, close my eyes when I feel her fists against my back. It might be wrong, but I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have her against my bare skin, to have her fists clenching for a whole different reason. Trying to dispel those images, I shake my head, murmur into her ear that everything will be alright. That I’m right here.

              Eventually she tops crying. I push her away gently and take her small face into my hands. Stare deep into her eyes that I swear I could never get enough of. “I thought you were dead,” I tell her. She flinches slightly but doesn’t break eye contact. I try to convey with my eyes how much that idea hurts.

              Then she laughs, a sarcastic, empty sound. Her hand comes up to wipe away the moisture that’s collected underneath her nose. “Unfortunately, I am most definitely still alive.”

              Is she joking? She’s got to be joking. But I can see in her eyes she’s not. “God, Lo. Don’t say that. Don’t
ever
say that.” With a sigh, I let go of her face and step back. I run my hands through my hair, frustrated and angry and sad. “You gave me the wrong address on your application.”

              Logan looks down, pushes around a rock with the tip of her black converse. “Guilty,” she says quietly.

              “I went looking for you.”

              Her head pops up, something like anger in her eyes. But what she’s angry about is beyond me. “Why?”

             
Why
did I go looking for her? Is she serious? I stare hard into her eyes.
She’s serious
. “What do you mean,
why
? Your
boyfriend
hit you and then dragged you out of that house by your arm. Shit, Lo, I thought he was going to kill you.” I don’t mention the gun. She was too out of it to have seen that and I don’t want to scare her.

              She rolls her eyes. “He’s not a murderer, Nathan.”

             
Unbelievable.
Here I am, worried out of my fucking mind and she’s playing it like it’s not a big deal. She’s
defending
him. I feel like I’m going crazy. “Right, he just hits women for fun,” I say sarcastically.

              “He thought I was working, and then he saw us on the patio. He jumped to conclusions, got mad. He has a very bad temper.”

              The way she says it, like he’s inclined to temper tantrums, like a fucking two year old who doesn’t know any better, makes me want to punch a wall. Or him. “That doesn’t make it right and you know it,” I say, pointing at her. I lower my finger when she glances at it disdainfully. “Why are you defending him? Why are you
with
him?”

              “Because he’s all I’ve ever known. He’s all I have. I’ve told you this.”

              “I still don’t get it, Lo. Believe me, I’m trying to understand but it’s so fucking hard.” I want her to understand the lengths in which I will go to save her, but in order to tell her that, I have to lie. At this point it doesn’t matter. I need her to know
something
. “I called the cops,” I say, taking a step towards her and grabbing her elbows.

              “What’d they say?” she asks, voice thin and wobbly.

              “That there was nothing they could do. Wouldn’t even send out a car.” That much isn’t a lie, not all of it at least. “Of course, it didn’t help that you gave me the wrong address, that I could only find out your boyfriend’s first name,”
Lie.
“and that your mom was barely coherent enough to recognize your name.” Her body tenses after that last sentence and I know I’ve said too much, crossed an invisible line.