Courdelion
"So I assume you're not dead," I say, when mumbled swearing occurs rather than a proper answering the phone.
"Why would I be dead?" Robin asks, in a voice I haven't heard; oh he must be with his girl.
"I don't know. A building blew up presumably with you in it. Your vigilante detective boyfriend is missing presumed dead, all major news outlets and two police stations got a very polite letter saying that Declan Fox was going to attempt to murder Harrison Naples, and Naples cabin exploded early yesterday evening. You tell me Robby. Everything good?" I ask, pacing the cabin and nearly hitting my head on a low beam.
"What—Bash is missing?' He asks, more awake now.
"Yeah, he disappeared from the hospital a couple of hours ago I was assuming that was to do with you, considering the last time you both went missing you were found together doing extensive studies in human anatomy on a pile of frozen human meat. So you know, this time, yes if you're both not dead I figured you would be together, so sue me," I say, breathing heavily. It's been a very stressful evening, very stressful. "I found out all this a couple of hours ago. I've been trying to call you."
"Sorry, sorry my phone died I didn't think anyone would think I was dead! I didn't even figure you'd find out what do you mean Bash isn't in the hospital?"
"Just that —he disappeared from his hospital bed considering how many serial killers the boy baited the police suspect foul play I suspected you, I take it he's not with you?"
"No, he tried to kill me," Robin says, there's mumbling as he tells Marianna what I'm telling him.
"Like—recently—,"
"He sent me to the cabin! He tricked me into thinking Naples had killed him so I'd kill Naples but really someone else prior had killed him and he wanted me to kill Naples then be arrested," Robin says.
"I may need that again," I sigh.
"Point is Bash set me up, he tried to get me killed/arrested—but I don't know what his next plan is or who else he might have contacted. I don't know how many letters he sent out— fuck I'm putting you on speaker," he sighs.
"Hi um—so yeah the files in his drive that I could get were only up to six cases—he called them lives? He had them all labeled, life 1-6. But that was clearly all stuff he expected me to see there were other files I couldn't unencrypt," Marianna says.
"Brilliant, all right, can you send them to me, when you get a chance? I have easily bored people who might have stronger software than you—I say software I don't know how computers work—,"
"Is your crazy ex-boyfriend still helping us?" Robin asks.
"Wow so your crazy ex-boyfriend's stuff is what we are trying to get into almost like you can't comment at all," I say, as I turn on my laptop.
"I'll never admit defeat but that's fair—,"
"It completely is. And yes Philip is still helping because apparently his inner bastard is absurdly entertained by the USA not being able to catch you or your crazy-ex-boyfriend so he's helping in that he's morbidly fascinated and wants to know what's happening because like, he doesn't have a very good life not a lot funny things happen to him and he cancelled his streaming services because I kept guessing the passwords so he doesn't have a lot of entertainment anymore, in fact this is it. So."
"Does he want to get me a new identity while he's at it?" Robin asks.
"He says it might take a while and not to go through them so quickly," I say, looking at the text which just came in and contained a couple of insults targeted at me as well as that. "Don't worry this is like, me adopting you and you being who you are and meeting Bash, is like the funniest thing that has happened to him since that time I got kidnapped."
"You got kidnapped?" Both kids, surprised.
"Skipping, we're focusing on you and not something that neither my law enforcement brother or law enforcement boyfriend helped at all with just my mum, all right, ah—Robin you need to lay low till we get your identity and a new school sorted I'm sending you possibilities. Marianna I just got your email, great, I'm gonna send you what Philip sent me on Bash, I'm sure it's same as what you have but," I cradle the phone against my ear as I type on the laptop. "You're not hurt, Robby?"
"I'm fine," Robin sighs, like I'm a pain and he didn't blow up a building and nearly die. "I'm rubber you know that. I don't get injured."
"That belief will never make me feel better, all right sorry to wake you kids up," I say, rubbing my face.
"Don't be sorry you moron you thought I was fuckin' dead."
"I love how affectionate you two are—thank you Mr. C, we do appreciate it sorry I left my phone in my room," Marianna says.
"Yeah you have twenty missed calls, um, yeah it's fine, we'll figure this out. But until they find Bash or his body, you kids be careful. He's already nearly killed you once there's no telling what he'll do," I say.
"Noted," Robin says, "After this whole week I'm probably going to sleep for a year."
"We'll keep an eye on each other," Marianna says.
"Get some sleep then, we'll work it out, just, like I said, be careful," I sigh.
"We will," Marianna says.
"Night, or morning, or whatever, I'm not dead, I can't actually die! But your concern is noted," Robin says, then hangs up.
"Love you," I say to the dead phone, then put my head in my hands. Someday I'm not going to get him to pick up. And I'll be calling and calling and calling and calling and I will slowly realize that my boy is dead. That he didn't get out this time. That it's over. And that everything I did wasn't enough.
That didn't happen tonight. He picked up and sassed me and I heard his stupid ever changing wonderful voice. But someday it won't. And I'm not ready for that day. And I don't think I ever will be.Rose Blake
The police call me. The police. They call me about about Bash. I'm at work but it's an Oak Harbor number so I think it's his group home. And they get me off the sales floor and I'm standing in a cement locker room when they say the words.
Critical condition.
Poisoned.
Suicide.
He killed himself. He killed himself. And all I can see is him hanging his stupid head off the bed and grinning as he squeezes his eyes shut. They give me the particulars I don't want them. It was another serial killer he was baiting. This time it got him killed.
I should not be allowed to drive but I mumble an excuse to my boss and grab my keys and go. I drive so recklessly through the dark and the rain. I do eighty where I can, passing people on the right, driving in HOV lane. All I can think is that if they lose him I have to be there. I keep trying to call the hospital but I lose signal once I get off the main land. I make the two hour drive in an hour and a half and it's still not enough. You'd think I would have cried my tears out then. I haven't. I can barely see and I park in handicapped spot and run in.
"Where is he?!" Police have swarmed the hospital. I walk right past them to the FBI agent. Courdelion, he's there of course. This was his case after all.
"You killed him! You knew this was gonna happen you let them fucking kill him! He's my best fucking friend," I sob, just hitting him as he tries to hold me back.
"Your nephew is currently at large. An hour ago he woke up. Not much later nurses found he was gone from the hospital room," he says, unemotionally.
"No," I sob, shaking my head. What is he thinking?
Nothing good.
They take me to his group home. His room. I and Dickhead FBI agent person get to go through it. Fucking murder boards everywhere with the red string and pictures. A poster board, calculating the odds of his survival. And the benefits of his death. Apprehended murders, positive environmental impact, not taking up space. Oh Bash.
And his things.
Already labeled in boxes for donation. His little tiny dying plant, set up neatly with a list of care instructions and suggested greenhouses if I am not comfortable with the responsibility of caring for a plant of unknown origin.
"Ma'am, you can't take anything—this is a crime scene—ma'am—,"
"Fuck you," I say, walking past them carrying Plant.
I sit down in my car and sob. The sun is just coming up. And I don't know where he is. And I don't know how to protect him. Clearly I never did.
YOU ARE READING
The 9 lives of Cats and Gods (Merry Men Book 1)
Mystery / ThrillerWhat if you had nine lives to get it right? Sebastian Blake, a veteran of the foster care system and isolated genius, is weary of a cruel world where crime goes unpunished. So he hunts serial killers in his spare time, picking out details the police...