Can't Go Back » Stilinski [01]

Chapter Nine: Perishable

Headache and hands bound.

It's the only thing Deputy Jordan Parrish felt as his eyes began to flutter open. There was a dull throb in his head, it felt like he could hear bouncing off his ear drums. How did he end up in this predicament? Parrish listened in closer. Splashing heard as if water was hitting whatever he was currently bound to. The young deputy may not have known what was going on, but Parrish knew he needed out of this situation and fast. Pulling himself up into a sitting position, Parrish knew he was at least in a chair, his hands were bound to something, yet he didn't know where he was. Parrish started to blink his eyes rapidly, trying to get the haze from his vision when he saw his hands, plastic zip tied to a steering wheel. How did he end up in this predicament? What happened in the between time he can't recall? There was that splashing noise again, the one that sounded like water hitting the car. Was his head injury that bad?

His vision cleared, his blue hues noticing the droplets of liquid all over the windshield. Jordan knew he had to get out of this situation and fast.

"Hey!" Parrish shouted from his spot in the car. His vision still blurry, yet he felt if he rationed with the person, whoever they may be. "Hey! What are you doing?" It seemed like his words were falling upon deaf ears. "Listen...listen to me. I'm a deputy with the Beacon Hills Sheriff Department-"

Finally, the person spoke. "Damn, I was hoping you'd be out longer."

Jordan Parrish couldn't believe his eyes. "Haigh?" he asked, most definitely shocked. "What the hell? What are you doing?"

"You're a good guy Parrish, but the list says you're worth five million dollars."

"What? I don't know what you're talking about!" Parrish tried to ration with his partner-the one currently trying to kill him while he was trapped inside the patrol car. "Haigh, listen...I mean, I barely make $40,000 a year!"

Haigh stopped tossing the gasoline on the car, Jordan felt a small moment of elation. "I only make 36."

Damn.

Haigh began to pour the gasoline over Parrish's bound frame, the young deputy's heart racing, yelling and trying to avoid getting gasoline in his mouth. "Haigh, please! Just stop!" Liquid running down his face, his breathing shallow. Jordan Parrish considered this the worst day of his life and in this moment, he was praying this wasn't the end of it. "You don't have to do this. Look, if you're having money problems—"

"You're worth five million dead, Parrish. Sounds like you've got the problem." Haigh circled around to the front of the car, his eyes never leaving the figure he bound to the steering wheel of the car. It's not that Haigh wanted to exactly do it, his mortgage was almost criminally late every month, car notes were getting higher and student loans were drowning him. Haigh needed a way out and one morning when his printer just seemed to print out this weird list, he found the answer. Sure, there were names of people that had recently been killed and maybe one or two he actually recognized, but once he saw Jordan Parrish, the man who was his partner and probably the easiest to get to, Haigh knew this was the easiest target.