Page 59 of Ruthless Riches
Sascha bit her bottom lip before speaking up again. “I keep thinking… what if it was the Butcher who drugged me? What if he’s messing with all of us?”
“I don’t think that’s part of his MO.”
“But he did it to you,” she said. “He drugged you and left you in that parking lot.”
“That was only so he could take Alexis without a fight.”
“Oh. Right.” She slumped back into the seat. “I just can’t stop thinking about it. He’s on my mind all the time. It’s driving me fucking crazy.”
“Trust me, I understand.” I gave her a tight smile. “But don’t worry. We’re going to get him, and we’re going to get Alexis back.”
“I hope so.” She turned to stare out the passenger window, but I didn’t miss the tears slipping down her cheeks.
When we got back to the apartment, I steered her into the living room and told her to sit on the couch. “I’ll get you some water and a blanket,” I said. “You can lie here and watch TV while you drink the water. Then you should probably go to bed and sleep.”
She nodded and smothered a yawn. “I wish I could just go to bed right now,” she said. “I feel so fucked up.”
“I know, but the doctor said you need to stay hydrated, so you have to finish the water first.”
I went into the kitchen and filled two tall glasses with cold water from the fridge. When I returned to the living room, I set them on the coffee table in front of Sascha. As she sipped at one of them, I cast my eyes around the room and noticed all the mess on the floor again.
“I’ll clean up a bit,” I said, stooping to pick up a pile of food wrappers.
“You don’t have to do that,” she replied, shaking her head. “You’ve already helped me so much today.”
“It’s fine. Gives me something to do.” And helps me feel close to Alexis, because this is her apartment too, I added silently.
Sascha gave me a weak smile. “Thanks.”
After that, she finished her first glass of water and lay back on the sofa, resting one hand on her forehead. I got to work on the floor, clearing up all the empty bottles, wrappers, boxes, and takeout bags. Once I’d gathered it all in one big pile, I stuffed it into a plastic bag, tied it up, and left it by the front door to take out to the garbage chute later.
When I returned to the living room, Sascha was asleep on the sofa, snoring gently. I quietly stepped past her and into the middle of the room so I could do another quick scan of the floor to see if I’d missed any trash.
A painting on one of Sascha’s easels caught my eye a moment later, mostly because there was a Post-It note attached to the base which said ‘For Alexis’ with a little scrawled heart under it.
I stepped closer to admire the painting. It was a Renaissance-style piece with three different levels. The bottom level was dark and shadowy, with swashes of crimson and murky images of glum-looking people on their knees. The middle level showed people with rapturous expressions, holding up other people on the top level and kissing their boots. The people on the top level were dressed in ornate clothing in brilliant jewel tones, and they were glaring down at those who were propping them up.
“Do you like it?” a soft voice said near my ear. I turned to see Sascha standing next to me. I hadn’t even heard her wake up and cross the room.
“It’s great,” I said. “What’s it called?”
“I was thinking of calling it American Gods. I started working on it after the Golden Circle scandal broke,” she said. She pointed to the top level. “That’s them. The Golden Circle. They’re sneering down at the lower classes even though they’re only on top because they’re being held up by everyone else’s blood, sweat, and tears.” She pointed to the swashes of crimson on the lower part of the painting. “Mostly blood.”
I nodded slowly. “Alexis will love it. She’s really into dark stuff like this.”
Sascha’s face suddenly crumpled. “I know. That’s why I painted it. It was going to be her Christmas present,” she said in a choked-up voice. Tears were welling in her eyes and spilling down her face as fast as she could wipe them away. “Fuck, Nate… what if I never get another Christmas with her? What if she never comes back?”
“She will.”
“But what if she doesn’t?” she said, chin trembling. “No one wants to talk about this with me. They all keep telling me everything will be fine. But it’s not fine. It’s been so long, and we all know what happened to the others the Butcher took.”
I led her back to the sofa and helped her sit down. “We can’t think like that,” I said gruffly, putting my hand on her shoulder and rubbing it in slow, soothing circles. “She’s coming back, Sascha. I promise.”
She dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve. “You can’t promise that.”
“I can. I’m going to find her,” I said, steeling my jaw.
Sascha winced and put a hand over her forehead again. “Shit. My head,” she muttered.
“Lie down again.” I got off the sofa so she could stretch out. Then I picked up her second glass of water. “Try to drink this. It’ll help.”
Fifteen minutes later, she was asleep again. I put a blanket on her and went into the kitchen to load the dishwasher for her. Then I wrote a note on a Post-It to tell her I was heading down to Central Park to see if the police search team had any updates.
On my way back down to the car, I replayed the events of the last several hours in my mind. Ever since I drove Sascha to the hospital earlier, a strange feeling had taken root in my brain, and it wouldn’t stop nagging at me. It felt like I’d missed something, but I had no idea what it was.
Frowning, I tried my best to figure it out before it made me lose my fucking mind. Was it something I saw earlier? Something Sascha said about her hallucination of Alexis? Something the doctor said at the hospital?
All of a sudden, everything in my mind transformed with a click, as if a puzzle piece had dropped from a great height and fallen directly into place.
I knew exactly what I’d missed.
