Page 41 of Mind

One step, two, three and I can see blond hair. The face is turned away from me but the blond hair looks exactly like Bree’s, only it’s coated in a ruby substance.

No…no…no.... I’m not sure if I’ve spoken because all of the air has left the room. In its place is a dull roar. The sound of a faraway train with a whistle that sounds like some sort of scream. The train gets closer, the blaring scream louder as I take in the giant gaping hole at the base of the swanlike neck in front of me. The clawing screech of metal and heavy machinery rips through me as if the train is running an inch from my head. I can almost feel the violent windshear as it passes at the speed of light.

It’s not a train. It’s the blood-curdling scream that is drawn straight from my soul.

I can feel that I’m being lifted in the air and carried, Bree’s form getting further away as if in a tunnel. At this angle, my nightmare comes to life in front of me, and I am now able to see the message that could only have been left for me.

The words are smudged and swirled, written in my best friend’s blood.

Two down. Two to go.

Gillian

“Where is she!” someone bellows. I’m barely able to hear anything. That sound, that train still echoing through my head.

“My fiancé. Where the fuck is she! Gillian Callahan. Tall, beautiful, redhead. You can’t miss her!” Ah, my love. That’s the sound of a man who loves his woman. Only this woman doesn’t deserve to be loved She’s a killer. No, I may not have held the knife, but I may as well have signed her death certificate. And the baby, oh my god.

The baby. Phillip’s baby.

I’m huddled in between two warm bodies just outside the building being looked after by the paramedics. Both women next to me are breathing so fast and hard it’s as if we just ran a marathon. In the little cave of our three heads touching water seeps, pouring down onto our clasped hands in the center, making the air in our space thick with humidity. Two arms encircle me from behind, but I don’t let go. I can’t let go. If I do, he’ll take them too.

“Don’t fucking touch them!” I scream. “Take me…just take me!” comes out in a banshee wail of terror and grief.

“Baby, it’s me; it’s Chase,” his voice is like cold water over a burn. I turn and claw my way into his arms. They encase me and it’s instant relief. Cool lotion over a sunburn. As long as this man is holding me, nothing else exists. It can’t. His presence is too powerful, too large to infiltrate. Like Fort Knox. The only place I feel safe.

Behind me I see that Carson is pulling Kat into his arms. I don’t know how he got here or why, but it’s right. The only thing missing is…

“Maria!” I hear over my shoulder. Tommy’s large frame and booming voice is barreling along with him until Maria jumps up and dashes into his arms. “Thank God you’re okay,” he whispers kissing her.

Chase places a thumb under my chin and shifts my face until his blue eyes come into focus. “Talk to me,” he whispers then kisses my lips lightly.

Tears rush down my face. “She’s gone. B-bree. He killed her.” The words leave my lips but they sound wrong, twisted, and laced with acid.

Chase’s eyes turn hard, glacial. His nostrils flare and he clenches down. “Thomas. A word,” he says. Maria’s boyfriend pulls back after another quick peck and a hand squeeze. “Where’s the body?” he asks.

I shake my head back and forth. “No, no, no, you can’t see. You don’t want that in your head,” I cry and crumble to my knees. Maria and Kat both sit on the ground and hover around me once more, also deep in their own grief.

“Baby, I have to see what happened. I’m sorry. I’ll be right back. Thomas, get me access,” he grates through is teeth. “Carson, Austin, keep an eye on the girls. Jack, you’re with me,” Chase says to his bodyguard. I hadn’t even realized those men were here.

Thomas nods. “I actually haven’t been in there. Got the call from Austin just after you.”

An eternity goes by but I don’t care. Even though I’ve lost feeling in my legs from being in the same position for so long and my eyelids feel like they are stuck together from crying so much I’ve lost the ability to generate tears. Literally every tear I have went to Bree. My soul sister. The sour taste in my mouth swirls and rumbles like a volcano ready to erupt. Instantly I jump up and run over to a nearby trash can spewing the contents of my stomach. My body heaves until there’s nothing left but the putrid taste of bile on my tongue.

Carson hands me a bottle of water along with a shoulder pat. He doesn’t say anything. I don’t expect him to. What do you say to someone when they’ve just found their best friend murdered. I swish the liquid and then spit that into the garbage can, too. Once the nausea calms, I walk back to the wall where Kat and Maria are leaning. They both look as wrecked as I feel.

There’s nothing I can think of to say to either of them, so I just lean against the wall and wait. Chase and Tommy both walk briskly to us, their faces set in grim lines. Only Tommy is holding out his phone. “Maria, look at this,” he holds out the phone. The three of us girls look at the picture. It’s an image of the top of two bare feet. Only I’m unable to focus on the feet only the blood pooling around them. It’s sticking to the sides of one foot, turning brown in color as the blood dries. A shudder, ping pongs through me ramping up that nausea once more.

“What’s missing on her feet?” Thomas says as Maria holds a hand over her mouth but leans closer to the image.

“Dios mio! It’s not her,” chills skitter up to the surface of my skin at those words.

Kat pulls the phone into her hands and looks closely. “No tattoo…our trinity. It’s not there.” Kat chokes as her voice clogs with emotion, tears slipping silently down her face.

Chase pulls me into his arms. “Gillian, it’s not Bree. I don’t know who that poor woman is, but it’s not her,” he whispers as my knees buckle and I cling to his strong shoulders. Bone-deep relief surrounds me. Slowly I get a wild idea. I pull back and dig into Chase’s pocket and pull out his phone. It’s locked but with a thumb, I move the cursor over and bring up the keypad.

I type in the word that means so much to my guy.

I-N-F-I-N-I-T-Y

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