Marry Screw Kill(51)
“Let me think,” Harlow says.
James and I are approaching downtown. I can see The Clinic on the horizon standing out like a beacon of the city. It is Rochester. Remove the doctors, nurses, and staff from the community, and the businesses catering to them would never exist.
“Somewhere private,” I interject. “Just to play it safe. James works tomorrow, right?”
“Yes,” Harlow says. “He works every day, Monday through Friday, and is on call for heart transplant surgeries. He’s always gone.”
I imagine her reading poetry or writing a few lines in her cheap spiral journal while she sits alone in James’ mansion. The vision makes me see red and I vow it will change—no matter the cost. To hell with this clerkship, Harlow comes first. I may have Elliot blood flowing through my veins, but I am not my uncle or my father. I have a chance to prove it with Harlow and nothing will stop me.
“I know a place. My mother and I used to go to a small lake outside of town. We can meet there. I’ll text you the directions.” I can hear the shift from sadness to hopefulness in her tone and relief washes over me. I want her to trust in her decision and believe I am going to be there for her.
“Can you meet me at eleven?” I remember having a late morning break until about one.
“Sure,” Harlow says. “And thanks, Sin. I can’t tell you what your help means to me. I don’t want it to come in between you and your uncle, though.”
“What happens between me and my uncle will never be your fault,” I say through gritted teeth. “From here on out, I will only think about what is best for you. It’s time someone did.”
We end our call as James slows in front of a large modern building and signals to turn with his blinker. The architecture doesn’t match the surrounding tired and old buildings. It appears to be a tear down and then rebuild. The shining glass windows and balconies remind me of the upscale high rises in New York City, like my apartment building, where the human eye can scan the glory of the skyline, see all the manmade wonders. I wonder why James doesn’t live here versus his remote fortress surrounded by open spaces. My guess is the country serves his purpose to keep Harlow away from others. The house and gated grounds have made a beautiful and deceptive prison, until now.
James turns his car toward the underground parking lot and I continue behind him, entering the secured entrance after he speaks to the attendant in charge. We wind around a couple sharp corners, then James parks his Mercedes in a spot marked “Penthouse 13A”. I pull into the empty space next to him with the same sign.
I climb out of the car and circle around to the passenger side door. I open the door and gather my belongings lying on the passenger seat, the only place I can stow my luggage. Trunks in this sports car work if you have a bottle or two of wine, along with a small order of takeout. I am not sure last night’s pizza box would fit inside it. The car may be worth more than the average house in this town, but it is for show over function, that is for damn sure.
“Need any help?” James stands a few feet away while I unload everything on the gray concrete.
“All good.” I force a half-smile.
I notice several files the size of a legal pad in James’ hand. He tucks them under his arm when he catches me eyeing them. They’re not completely hidden, but I don’t think he plans on sharing their contents with me.
“The elevator is against the back wall.” James heads away from the car and me. Instead of walking beside me, he has me tagging behind him. He gets off on being the lead and controlling the situation. I hold back a smile when I think about him discovering Harlow has left his sorry ass. Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.
Ahead, I spot a pair of shiny elevator doors and see a warped version of my reflection in the buffed silver. James arrives ahead of me and pushes the up button. As I walk to meet him, the silver door parts and we enter into a cherry wood lined lift with glossy marble floors. Every inch of this place reminds me of Manhattan so far.
“Once we get upstairs, I’ll give you a tour of the penthouse.” James underscores the last word as he inserts a white key card and pushes the button labeled PH. “I think you’ll find the place more to your taste compared to my home in the country.”
“I’m sure.” I won’t though, because someone is missing. “So, do you spend much time here?”
James has kept his life closed off, hidden away like the damn folders he’s clutching under his arm. Even my grandmother didn’t know he was acting obsessive again. Who would expect a renowned physician to need more help than his patients?
I’m trying to pry any details out of him—ones that seem innocuous, though I hope I can find a path to lead them to Harlow. I still can’t wrap my head around their relationship; or more, his side of it. She was at the lowest point in her life with no one to help her. Lost and afraid, she was the perfect victim for him to abuse. I can’t frame it any other way. James appeared in her hour of need like a white knight, but how did he know? And why would he care about a woman nearly half his age?
“I used to live here full-time. You’ll see why soon. It’s like a piece of the Big Apple in Rochester.” He gives me facts, but nothing more. What made him leave? Was there a dark motive behind his move to the country estate? Getting information out of him is harder than catching a cab in Manhattan on a rainy day. I will go with his flow and hope he slips me a morsel or two. No need to get him suspecting I’m not on his side. He will find that out soon enough.