An Angel Wears Hightops [A Sequel to The Devil Wears Girl Jeans]

An Angel Wears Hightops (Chapter 18)

“What do you mean he's not with you? What?... Yes, I called Doug already, who else is there?...No, no. That's useless... Fine, yes, I'll call him again... Alright, yeah. Thanks for your time.” Blake growled into the phone, his patience wearing thin after what was probably close to his 12th phone call. I didn't blame him, really. He'd spent the last hour calling every contact he knew, trying to figure out who Mickey could've gone to for help, but so far no one within a 75 kilometre radius had heard from him.

I, on the other hand, had been instructed to take care of Poe, and figure out what had happened. About 20 minutes after we'd walked into the crime scene in the kitchen, two friends of Blake's had showed up, and then disappeared minutes later, taking the body with them at Blake's request, since it was becoming more and more apparent that Blake was the man in charge. Poe had just sat there, unblinking and unmoving as they came and went, looking like a complete zombie.

I'd eventually convinced him to get off the couch though, and he'd miraculously let me lead him to the master bedroom which wasn't covered in blood like the kitchen and living room. That was where we still sat, me sitting cross legged at the foot of the bed, Poe stretched out across it, his head on my lap. I had spent the last half hour stroking his hair comfortingly, not wanting to try and make him talk before he was ready. Ten minutes later though, and my leg had completely fallen asleep. That's when I knew that he needed to start talking so we could get out of there before either A) my leg fell off due to lack of circulation, or B) one of us had a mental breakdown.

“Poe?” I asked gently, peering down at his face. Slowly, his eyelids fluttered open, and he stared at me as if he'd never seen me before, his lips turning down slightly at the corners. Uh oh. “Do you know who I am, Poe?”

“Obviously. I just don't get why you're crying.” he said, staring at me intently, his eyebrows still furrowed. I brushed my cheek quickly, and just like Poe had said, my hand came away wet. Weird, I hadn't even noticed.

“Yeah, well. You haven't responded to anything anyone has said since we found you, I thought maybe, I don't know. I thought something might be wrong.”

“Wrong is the understatement of the year.” he muttered, rubbing his eyes with his fists. He was still in the same plaid shirt that he'd gotten kidnapped in a week ago, but now I noticed that there was something in his breast pocket, something that hadn't been there the day he'd left. So, of course, I snatched it away from him quickly, before he even had a chance to stop me. And boy, was I in for a surprise.

“Hartley, no.” he said half halfheartedly, sitting up and watching me with an uneasy expression as I looked at what was in my hands. It was a series of about 12 Polaroids, all of them of me. Me looking over my shoulder to make sure no one was following me. Me jumping over that fence, minutes before I'd gotten attacked. Another one of me and Grant, that day I'd tried to find Seth. One of me sleeping on the couch, taken from less than two feet away.

Not only had I been getting stalked, but they'd been able to get into the apartment the entire time. I'd never even been safe in the first place.

“Poe... What are these?” I asked, my hands trembling as I flipped through the rest of the pictures. Poe was silent for a long time, before eventually he sighed and put his head in his hands.

“It's how he got me to cooperate. Proof that he knew where you were, and that he had no problem hurting you to get me to do what he wanted. At first, I thought he was bluffing, so I didn't do what he said. He came home later that night, told me that he'd gotten one of his flunkies to rough you up. There was another picture he'd taken from a fire escape or roof or something, of you laying on the ground with some hooded guy standing above you. You were bleeding, and I flipped out. That only made it worse. Yesterday, he told me that they'd shot you when you were walking down the hall in our building, and that's when I just lost it. I couldn't... I couldn't control myself. There was a knife on the counter, and I saw him reaching for it, and I just.. I just...” Poe trailed off, staring at the wall. I had a pretty good feeling that I knew what he was going to say next: I just got to it first.