The Fall(31)

“You really think like a cop don’t you?” He smirked, eyeing me sideways as he kept his hands on the wheel.

“I am a cop.” I wondered how else I should be exploring this situation. “So they’ll find your car.” I continued extrapolating out loud, unable to help myself. “Know we were together. Considering we have no connection, it won’t be a stretch to guess I hadn’t come willingly. Then assuming whoever owns this,” my finger waved around the interior, “will discover it’s missing and flag it as stolen. We have maybe six hours before we’re in even deeper shit.”

“They’ll place you in the car but not me. I’m not worried about the cops.”

“Um how do you figure?” I choked back a laugh, finding it difficult to believe he could be so f*cking arrogant. “Your plates stolen? Surely the car is registered to someone. And I find it hard to believe someone like you doesn’t have a record.” The last part I hadn’t intended to say out loud, but it had slipped out nonetheless. My mouth had a mind of its own at the best of times, and when I was nervous or agitated—well, all bets were off.

“I would have assumed by now you would have clued up.” He shook his head, spearing me with a look. “Whatever shit you have in your head, you need to put it aside. Those rules don’t apply to me.”

“Those rules don’t apply to you?” I had been wrong; he wasn’t arrogant he was delusional. “Who do you think you are? Jesus Christ?”

“Jesus Christ was a f*cking * who believed that by allowing himself to die, he’d somehow be saved.” Each word dripped in venom. Back at the house he’d laughed at my need to pray but this more than that. It was deep-seated hate he was harvesting. “What kind of f*cked-up logic is that? Son of God? He was just a f*cktard in a pair of sandals with an identity crisis, and I will never understand how or why people believe that shit. Drink the f*cking Kool-Aid if it makes you feel better about yourself, but don’t put that shit on me.”

His words didn’t shock me. I’d heard a lot worse. It was the echo of emptiness inside of them that sent a chill right down to my marrow.

“It must be terrifying to be so alone.”

I wasn’t sure what I was hoping to accomplish, comforting him hadn’t been it. But I couldn’t even fathom what it was like to be so devoid of hope, to be so insulated from anything warm.

“You trying to piss me off?” There was almost a hint of amusement in his voice. He hadn’t known what I’d been trying to accomplish either.

“Probably,” I answered honestly. It seemed to be a habit for me, a coping mechanism, and I was still wondering how he was so sure he wasn’t going to be implicated in the mess we’d left behind.

“Well don’t,” was his only reply.

We drove the rest of the way in silence. Navigating the streets until we entered an industrial area. The large monochrome-colored buildings flanked both sides of the large street, their dark empty front lots giving me a serious case of the creeps.

The car slowed, pulling into the concrete driveway that fed directly into the mouth of a huge metal roller door. The heavy door lifted on command, a slight whine as it rose being its only protest as Michael held the remote he had activated in his hand.

As we drove through the opened space into the dark, the door behind us rolled closed. He didn’t turn on the headlights, seeming to know the direction on instinct, or maybe he’d driven through those doors so many times he could literally do it with his eyes closed.

“What is this place?” I looked into the dark. And when I say dark, I mean it was completely devoid of any illumination. Like we’d been caught in a vacuum.

“The warehouse,” he said, like those two words should mean more than they did. Michael brought the car to a stop, cutting the engine before opening his door.

The warehouse—as he called it—was in a mainly deserted industrial part of town, not far from O’Hare. The wide streets were lined with huge structures, some baring the logos of the companies they represented, some had been just as nondescript as the one we’d driven into.

He didn’t bother to wait for me, his door slamming as he walked away. I scrambled out of my seat, partly because I was done sitting in the dark and partly because I hoped I might get more information as to what the plan was from here.

There had to be a plan.

Or at least, I hoped there would be.

The large overhead halogen popped before I had a chance to decide which direction to go. The glow of the blubs blinded me, my eyes needing a minute to adjust even though the lights had yet to heat to full strength. One by one they flickered, brightening in intensity as they lit the complete interior.

The inside was stark, cavernous—large enough to house a 747 comfortably—and yet so immaculately maintained, I wondered if it hadn’t been recently repainted. The absence of paint fumes told me no, so I assumed he was either a neat freak or had one hell of a cleaner. I suppose you could find anything on Craigslist.

“There’s a living space toward the back.” He pointed roughly to the far left corner where drywall had been erected. “You should probably sleep.”

“What about you?” I had yet to see him do anything remotely human other than shower. Surely he needed to sleep and eat too.

“I need to find out who was in the Audi first.” He turned around, his eyes and voice completely void of emotion. It was something I had grown used to when it came to him but still managed to surprise me. The coldness and detachment so clinical and robotic. Like he’d been born without a heart.