Jack and Djinn Page 9

  * * *

  She woke up to the smell of antiseptic. She felt an IV in her arm, and there were bandages on her face and wrapped around her skull. Hospital. Shit. Miriam hated hospitals. She had no health insurance, so this would ruin her financially. She moaned and tried to sit up. The attempt sent knives of pain throughout her body, and she slumped back to the bed.

  “Don’t try to move,” a familiar and welcome voice said. Jack. She felt relief course through her at the sound of his voice.

  She pried her eyes open, saw his face next to hers, worry etched on his features. “Is it really you?”

  “Of course it’s me,” he said. He brushed her arm with his fingers, a touch gentle as a breath of wind.

  “How are you here?”

  “I went back to your apartment—I had a bad feeling. You weren’t there, so I talked to Larry. He said you’d been in an ‘accident.’” Jack made air quotes on the last word, rage in his eyes. “Apparently you have him listed as one of your emergency contacts, so the hospital called him when you were brought here.

  “Jack, it’s okay—”

  “The hell it is! It’s not okay! He nearly killed you, Miriam. What’s it going to take?”

  “I was trying to break up with him, and this is what happened.”

  “You did? You broke up with him?” Jack was holding her hand, fingers twined in hers, an intimate gesture that she found deeply comforting.

  “I told him were done. He got pissed off, and then I got mad at him, and then he just…snapped.”

  Jack didn’t seem to know how to respond. He let out a long breath, and then Miriam felt a finger brush away a tear. His lips touched hers, almost too gently to feel. She hesitated, confused, feeling the walls wavering, wanting to believe what she felt but unable to. His hand curled around the back of her neck, just below the bandage, pulling her to him, and she couldn’t help but kiss him back.

  Jack broke away after a moment and his eyes pierced hers, full of understanding and something frighteningly like love.

  “It’s not over, Jack.” She’d seen the flash of love in Jack’s eyes, and it scared her to death. She didn’t know how to deal with that. She wanted it, but felt terrified by it at the same time. Her fear spoke through her. “He’s going to come here. He’ll apologize and be all charming. And, besides, telling him I’m breaking up with him doesn’t mean he’ll just go away. It won’t be that easy.”

  “So have him arrested! Tell the hospital he’s the one who beat the shit out of you and you don’t want him in here.”

  “It’s not that simple, Jack. He’ll spend one night in jail, if that. Then he’ll be even more upset. And PPOs aren’t worth the paper they’re printed on when it comes to actual protection. I know, I’ve looked into it. And besides all that, I have to leave the hospital. Like, now. I don’t have health insurance, and every moment I sit here is costing me thousands of dollars I don’t have, and will never have. And he’ll find me, and…I don’t have anywhere to go, Jack. I have no family, no friends except you. If I move, he’ll find me. He’ll follow me, and it’ll start all over again.”

  “So you’re just gonna stay with him? Just like that? You’ll just let him beat the shit out of you? He’s going to kill you eventually, Miriam. The beating he gave you last night should have killed you, according to the doctor.” Jack was pacing, frustration eating away at him.

  “I know, Jack. I know. I wish I had the answers, believe me. You think I like getting the shit beat out of me? You think I don’t want—god, more than anything—to just run away with you? You’re amazing, and you…you deserve someone who can love you back. I don’t know if I can. Not with Ben in the way. And he’ll always be in the way.” She wanted to reach out to him, to touch him, but she didn’t. “There’s nothing you can do, Jack. This is my choice.”

  “It’s the wrong choice!”

  “I’m sorry, Jack. I really am.”

  Jack slumped down to the chair, frustration coming off him in waves. He took her hands in his. “So let me protect you. I can, and I will. I can take care of Ben. He’s a bully, and he doesn’t scare me. I can take him.”

  “No, Jack. I don’t doubt that you would, or could. But I won’t have you getting hurt over me.”

  He hung his head, cursing in a stream of hissed words under his breath. “You’re determined to make this impossible, aren’t you? You’re afraid of what we could have, so you won’t even try.” The last was a statement, resigned and troubled. He met her gaze, squeezed her hands, kissed her lightly. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, Miriam. I’m not giving up. There is a way for this to work, I know there is. If you’d just give me a chance….” He was nearly pleading, but silently. His eyes were begging her to give him the answer he wanted.

  “Jack…please. Just stop.”

  All she could see was Jack in this same hospital bed, bruised and bloody and broken. She was already healing, she could feel it, but Jack wouldn’t have that, and she couldn’t deal with him being hurt because of her. She looked away from Jack’s gaze, shook her head. Tears dripped from her chin, and she refused to wipe them away.

  Jack did it for her, taking her face in both hands, wiping the tears with his thumbs, kissing her lips with a trembling intensity, struggling to be gentle but wanting to crush her with passion. Her cracked heart broke further when he walked away without looking back. When she opened her eyes, Jack was gone.

  Alone, Miriam wept until there was nothing left inside.

  * * *

  Ben arrived at the hospital as she was pulling out the IV a few hours later. A nurse was standing at the doorway, looking on disapprovingly. Miriam had explained that she couldn’t afford to stay, and that she was feeling better. Her doctor had come and examined her after Jack left, and was puzzled by how fast her bruises were fading. Her ribs were still cracked and sending lances of pain through her at every breath, but she refused to stay.

  “Miriam,” Ben began, “Look, I’m—I don’t know what happened—”

  She whirled on him, eyes blazing. “You don’t know what happened? You fucking snapped is what happened, you bastard!” The nurse, still watching, gasped and scurried away, calling for security.

  Two overweight security guards appeared at the door a moment later. “Is everything okay, ma’am?” one of them asked.

  Miriam took a deep breath and waved them away. If she tried to have them remove Ben, he’d flip out, and Miriam was too tired and sore to deal with that kind of scene right then. “It’s fine. It’s not what it looks like.”

  The nurse, a middle-aged black woman, gaped in disbelief. “That’s a bunch of bull, honey, and you know it. This A-hole here worked you over but good, and you can’t try to tell me otherwise.” Ben rounded on the nurse, and Miriam grabbed his arm, pushed him out of the hospital room, following behind him.

  “It’s none of your business, lady,” Miriam said, wanting nothing more than to stay and make them take Ben away.

  “Your funeral if you go with him,” the nurse said, following them. “Foolish girl! He’s gonna kill you sooner or later. I saw you when you came in, sweetheart. You were half-dead, and it wasn’t no accident, neither.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Miriam knew it was lie.

  “Your funeral,” the nurse repeated. She didn’t seem surprised, though. Perhaps she’d seen more than her share of battered women come through the hospital and leave with the men who’d put them there, denying the whole thing had ever happened.

  Once she was out of the hospital and in Ben’s car, Miriam felt the reality of what she was doing rush in on her. Ben was still seething, deep down. He was here because he felt bad on the surface, but she could sense his anger. She was being stupid, and she knew it. But she didn’t care. It didn’t matter. She was back to what she knew. This was familiar. This was easiest.

  “I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Miri. Really. I overreacted. I’m sorry.” Miriam huffed a laugh but otherwise stayed silent. “Okay, fine, then. You don’t have to
talk to me. Are you hungry?” Miriam just shrugged. Ben rolled his eyes and checked his phone.

  “Fine,” he said. “Be that way. I said I’m sorry, didn’t I?”

  “Like that fixes it?” Miriam knew better than to expect true contrition from him.

  “Well, what do you want from me? I said I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, I promise.” He was heading up I-75 toward Troy, going ninety-five in the fast lane. Miriam felt a wave of disgust as she realized where he was taking her.

  “Whatever,” she said. “Can we go somewhere else, please? Anywhere, literally anywhere but there.”

  “You love Ruth’s Chris, don’t you?”

  Miriam wanted to laugh and cry. This was not the conversation she wanted to have. She was still fighting the agony of bruised ribs, and her eyes were still purple from his fists, but all he could think about was steakhouses. Nothing had changed, and nothing ever would.

  Jack was gone, and she was back where she started.

  She just shook her head, choking back a sob. “Whatever, Ben. Whatever you want is fine.” The sense of entrapment washed over her, making her want to jump out of the car. It’d be so easy, wouldn’t it? She watched her hand inching toward the door handle, helpless to stop it. This was one way out of this mess. Her fingers found the cool metal of the handle, and she pushed the door open. Blacktop and yellow lines blurred in the crack between door and handle; she heard Ben yelling next to her, but his words were buzzed and muddled and distant. All she had to do was jump, and she would be free. There was nothing between her and the freeway. The freeway. Free.

  Free.

  Miriam pushed the door open wider and leaned out, feeling the wind buffeting at her, snatching and tangling her hair. Freedom would come quickly.

  Chapter 9

  Carson

  Present Day

  Carson sat across from Rhonda Grimes in the cafeteria of the Detroit Mercy Hospital. The Styrofoam cup of black coffee was hot in his hands, and he listened carefully as Rhonda spoke.

  “She was beat senseless, Detective. I ain’t kiddin’. I was just startin’ a double shift when she was brought in.”

  “And when was this, Mrs. Grimes?”

  “It was exactly a week ago today. I remember because it was my birthday.”

  “Can you tell me who brought her in?” Carson asked.

  “Just some guy. I don’t think she knew him. He said she’d just collapsed in front of his car, bleedin’ all over the place. He said he thought she was gonna die in his car on the way to the hospital.

  “Well, honestly, she shoulda died. Most of her ribs were broke, both eyes black, cheekbones cracked, back of her head busted open. She had a concussion, for sure. We were gonna do an MRI once she woke up, but she had to okay the procedure since she had no next of kin and no insurance. She was bruised all over, and I mean all over. I remember thinkin’ when I first saw her, man, whoever done this to her hated her. I seen a lot in my thirty years at this hospital. I seen boys gang-beat and curb-stomped and hit with bats and stabbed and shot…shit, you’re a cop—you know what happens. This girl was beat to death, only she didn’t die.”

  Carson nodded, a grim expression on his face. He’d seen his share of awful things, of course. He’d seen a woman beaten to death by a jealous boyfriend before, and the image was one he would never be able to banish from his mind.

  “Did anyone visit her while she was here?”

  Rhonda nodded. “Mmm-hmmm. She had two visitors. The first was a nice boy. Handsome, too. Big blue eyes, lookin’ at that girl like he couldn’t get enough of her. Never left her side until she woke up.”

  This was new. “Do you know who he was? Can you describe him for me?”

  “Maybe six feet tall, brown hair. He had a motorcycle jacket and helmet. Jack, I think she called him. That boy loved her something fierce, although I’m not sure either of ’em knew it yet. Or maybe they did, but they didn’t want to believe it.” Rhonda wiped her fingers on a napkin and stood up. Carson followed her, fitting a lid to his coffee cup.

  “Did they have an argument? Did she leave with Jack?”

  “Oh, I think he was tryin’ to convince her to, but she wasn’t havin’ none of it.” Rhonda shook her head sadly at this. “They didn’t argue, not like they were mad at each other, but eventually he did leave by himself, and he wasn’t none too happy about it. She cried for a long time after he was gone. Of course, this is just what I could see from across the hall. I wasn’t tryin’ to pry none….”

  “Of course not.” Carson took a sip of bitter, burnt coffee. “So then Ben showed up?”

  “Ben’s the other one, right? Yeah, he came as she was gettin’ ready to leave. She was healin’ faster than anyone understood. She didn’t have insurance, like I said, and she was determined to leave. Don’t blame her, poor girl. Hospitals are awful expensive, any way you slice it.

  “Well, then the other guy showed up and was tellin’ her how sorry he was, but she didn’t believe him none. Neither did I. I been in her shoes, years past. They come to you with them sad puppy-dog eyes, actin’ all sorry, buyin’ you flowers and tellin’ you how much they love you, but shit, you can’t believe ’em ’cause they’ll just do it again next time they get drunk.” Rhonda fell silent for a moment, lost in bad memories of days gone by.

  “But she left with him? Voluntarily?” Carson pulled a business card from his wallet, handed it to the nurse.

  “Yeah, she did. I don’t think she wanted to, but she didn’t want a scene. That’s as much of it as anything, you know. You don’t want to draw attention. You don’t want ’em to get mad in public, because they’ll blame you for it when you’re home, and that’ll make it even worse.”

  “Well, I think I’ve got what I need for now. Thanks for your time, Mrs. Grimes.”

  “Oh sure, honey.” Rhonda seemed lost in her thoughts, and Carson felt bad that he’d brought up memories she’d obviously worked hard to forget.

  Carson knew all about memories that were best left forgotten.

  Chapter 10

  Miriam

  One week earlier

  Ben grabbed her by the hair and yanked her back in the car, holding her down as she screamed and thrashed. The car swerved, and Ben was cursing, trying to hold Miriam and drive at the same time. The exit appeared, and Ben pulled off the interstate, the car door swinging open, Miriam’s leg dangling out, inches from the ground. Ben yanked the car over to the shoulder, slammed it into Park, leaped out, and circled around. He knelt in front of her.

  “What the hell was that?” He was whispering, looking utterly baffled.

  Miriam was numb, cold and rigid. She heard Ben speaking, felt him shaking her shoulders, trying to get her attention, but she had no energy to respond, no emotion left. She wouldn’t fight, she couldn’t. She felt Ben latch the seatbelt across her, close the door, get in, and continue driving. He got back on the freeway, but he took her to his place. But she didn’t care. She followed him blindly, felt him lay her down, strip her clothes off, and cover her with a blanket. She felt completely empty. Nothing mattered now. She’d sent Jack away, and that was it.

  She slept deeply without dreaming.

  Hours later she was woken by Ben’s hands exploring her body. Dim gray light filtered through the blinds, and Ben’s lips kissed her shoulder, her neck, her ear. The fires within her remained banked and cold. His fingers caressed the curve of her hip, slid up her belly and tender ribcage to the swell of her breasts, cupping them, crushing them with unthinking strength.

  This was his way of apologizing. She wanted to scream—she wanted to roll away and run. Part of her wanted to bash his skull in and watch him bleed out onto the pillow. Miriam was startled by the violence of that thought, but she let herself taste the idea, mulling it over in her mind. It didn’t scare her the way it should. It excited her a little. It was the idea of fighting back that excited her, she realized, not the actual violence itself, and for that she was relieved. She remembered how free she had f
elt speaking her mind to Ben. The beating had almost been worth it for that brief moment of freedom.

  His fingers were down between her legs and his mouth was on hers, and she let him do what he wanted, not resisting, not engaging. Numb and empty. Ben didn’t notice the difference. He grabbed her hand and guided it to his semi-rigid manhood, and she did what he wanted. The sooner he finished, the sooner she could go back to sleep. The thought of another fight filled her with dread and exhaustion and fear: She wasn’t ready to face him. Not yet. She retreated into the numb center of herself, letting the coldness wash over her as Ben straddled her, hands by her shoulders, his weight pressing her into the mattress. She focused her gaze into the middle distance, staring at the white expanse of the wall beside the bed.

  Jack’s face filled her thoughts, and she tried to push it away. The memory of his hands on her skin filled her, creating a breath of catalyzing wind on the banked fires inside her. No. She fought against it. If she let herself respond to the memories of Jack, it would encourage Ben. She refused to think of Jack when Ben was above her, grunting, every thrust bruising her pelvic bones with blind force. He neared climax, and the pain of his forceful thrusting sent Miriam deeper into herself. Her only escape was Jack, his face, his kindness the only positive memory she could summon to blanket the pain.

  At that moment Ben pressed a palm against her broken ribs, leaning on her as he climaxed. The agony of his weight ignited her rage, took the fire inside her from warm banked coals to a burning inferno in an instant. She shoved him away with sudden strength, sending him flying off the bed to slam against the wall.