Page 22 of Warped

Chapter Twelve

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When I woke, the weakness I’d experienced had gone. For a moment, I had no idea where I was, but then I remembered Harvey Baglione had brought me back to his apartment. I tried to search my memories farther back than that—reaching beyond me waking in the hospital and the events that had followed, but still there was nothing.

I half sat and looked toward the window. The drapes were open, just as they’d been when I’d fallen asleep—or passed out, I wasn’t quite sure which—and it was daylight outside. How long had I been asleep? It felt like longer than an hour or two. Had I slept through the evening and following night?

I swung my legs out of bed and walked out into the rest of the apartment. Where was Harvey? Was he sleeping? It felt strange to be in the home of someone I barely knew. He said we’d known each other before, and I’d killed someone for him, but of course I had no memory of those events.

If I killed for a living, I assumed that meant I had money. It wasn’t something I imagined I’d do purely for the love of it, though I assumed I must have some affinity for the act in order to take up such a profession. If I had money, I’d be able to rent my own apartment, though I wondered where I’d go about getting references and other paperwork. Perhaps that was why I didn’t have a home to speak of.

I padded through the apartment, looking out for Harvey. It didn’t appear he was home. I stopped in the bathroom to relieve myself, and then washed my hands and splashed cold water on my face. The staff at the hospital had been kind enough to find me some toiletries—a toothbrush and a razor, a small canister of shaving foam, and some deodorant. I guessed they’d felt sorry for me. The items were in a clear plastic bag, so I used the toothbrush to rid myself of the bad taste in my mouth, borrowing some of the toothpaste which stood in a holder beside the sink. After I’d brushed my teeth, I stood, my hands rested on the basin, as I took in my reflection. I lifted one hand and smoothed it down over my face. A light brown, scruffy beard covered my chin, jaw, and above my upper lip. Above that, my cheekbones appeared sharp, my cheeks hollow. The effect made my eyes stand out, darkened bruises of shadows beneath them.

I could have passed for a homeless man. No wonder the staff at the hospital felt sorry for me. Despite the credit card and driver’s license, that was probably what they thought I’d been.

I debated shaving off the beard, but thought I would leave it for the moment. If I should be hiding from people, it might give me that extra bit of disguise they wouldn’t be looking for. Whoever those people might be. I ran my fingers through the beard growth, the blunt edges of my nails scraping through the coarse hair and against my skin beneath. It wasn’t long yet, not too far past some stubble. Maybe I’d keep it. I thought perhaps I liked it after all. The new me.

Leaving the bathroom, I headed back out into the kitchen. I was starving and craving coffee. I spotted a note on the side, and picked it up to read.

Had business to attend. Make yourself at home. Do NOT go looking for the girl alone. H.

The girl. The girl with the dark eyes and hair. I had to find her. I knew it with every inch of my being. I wished I had the slightest clue where to start. New York was a big place.

Ignoring what Harvey had said, I started putting the possibilities together in my head. The most sensible place to start was where she’d stopped me in the street. She must have been in that area for a reason. I just needed to figure out what that was. Did she live or work nearby? Had she been there for something else? I had no intention of sitting around this apartment waiting for Harvey to get back. He might be hours, and in the meantime I would have driven myself crazy.

Before I could do anything, I needed to sort out the hollow ache in my stomach and inject some caffeine into my system. I’d be able to think more clearly then. There was already some lukewarm coffee in the pot, which made me think Harvey hadn’t left the apartment too long ago—so I emptied that out and put on some fresh. Then I opened his refrigerator and stared at the contents. I’d had my meals brought to me since I’d first woken up, and now the idea of preparing my own breakfast felt ridiculously daunting. Part of me was tempted to cook the contents of the fridge, while the other part was nervous about making toast.

“Stop being such a fucking pussy,” I muttered to myself. I didn’t like feeling like this—as though I wasn’t comfortable in my own skin. I got the impression I was a man who knew exactly what he liked, and yet now I didn’t even know if I preferred the peanut butter or jelly on my toast. It was disconcerting, not knowing the simplest facts about myself, and it made me feel as though I hovered on the edge of madness. Trying to remember things was even worse, reaching back in my head, fruitlessly searching for things that remained just out of reach.

With a yell of anger, I smashed my fists down on the kitchen counter. The rage was always there, barely concealed beneath the surface. Was this what I was always like, or was this a result of my accident and loss of memory?

I ended up eating toast—I preferred the peanut butter on its own—and gulped down the coffee. I needed more clothes, so took both the credit card and my license with me, and let myself out of Harvey’s apartment. I told myself I was going shopping, but I knew I was heading back to the place where I’d seen the woman.

Her face, her body was imprinted on my mind, but I didn’t think it was a memory. I’d just ingrained the few seconds I’d spent in her company on my brain.

I flexed my hand. My fingers had been around her throat. The thought sent a thrill through me, condensing in my balls, my dick responding. It was the first time I’d really thought about fucking since I’d woken up, and I liked how it made me feel.

I longed for this woman I couldn’t remember, somehow felt her absence like someone had removed an organ and I was hollow inside. All I could think about was finding her again, as though she would solve the frustration and anger I felt at myself.

I walked the couple of blocks back to the area where she’d stopped me. I found the exact same spot and stood there, looking around, trying to figure out what reason she’d had for being there. There were several office blocks in the area, combined with a number of residential apartment blocks as well. Interspersing these were a coffee shop, a small convenience store, a barber shop, and several restaurants. People hustled around me, everyone busy and on the move, pushing past as I stood in one spot trying to figure out where to start. Did she work around here? Live around here? Yet the way she’d acted hadn’t been someone comfortable in their environment. She’d had a slightly wild look to her eyes, had glanced over her shoulder as though frightened someone was after her. A man had shouted, and she’d made her excuses and left. So if she didn’t live or work in the area, what other reason could she have had for being here? Perhaps she’d been meeting someone? If so, the most likely choice would have been one of the restaurants or the coffee shop.

I wished I had a photograph of her to carry around and show people, ask them if they’d seen or knew her. Instead, I would just have to use my description of her. She was striking in appearance, and I felt sure someone would remember seeing her.

Deciding to try the coffee shop first, I pushed open the door and stepped inside. People were lined up at the counter, waiting to order takeout, and so I joined them and impatiently waited my turn. When it arrived, the young barista asked me for my order.

“Actually, I’m not after coffee,” I said. “Were you working here yesterday afternoon, at about three o’clock?”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “Are you a cop or something? You don’t look like a cop.”

I laughed, the sound cold. “No, I’m definitely not a cop. So, were you working then?”

“Yeah, I was.”

“Good. I’m looking for a woman who was in the area yesterday. She’s about five feet eight, with long, straight black hair, and almond shaped brown eyes. She’s very beautiful, striking, even. Did you see her here?”

Her lips twisted as she thought, but then shook her head. “Nah, sorry. It’s not ringing any bells.”

I’d have been lucky to get a hit on my first try. I left the coffee shop and went to the store next door, and repeated the process. Then did the same to the Italian restaurant down the road,

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