Page 44 of Help Me Remember

Once I’d counted approximately two minutes, I stepped out of the bathroom and looked around. Seeing Fitz wasn’t in sight, I moved to the main work floor, passing through without looking around. Once more, no one bothered me, but I knew if I kept making an appearance, someone would start asking questions.

I was glad that whatever brain damage I had from my accident hadn’t left me unable to remember new things, and I navigated toward the part of the building where I’d seen a sign for stairs leading down. The door was shut, and when I tried the handle, I found it locked. Grunting in frustration, I glanced around, scanning the ceiling and finding only one camera at the far end of the hallway. My heart skipped a beat when I realized it wasn’t facing down the hallway but was sharply turned so the eye in the sky would be blind.

“Fuck this,” I muttered, grabbing a fire extinguisher. I paused, listening to the sounds echoing down the hallway, and then brought the extinguisher down. It took two blows, but the door handle crumpled and popped off with a dull clatter onto the carpet. I snatched it off the floor and returned the extinguisher to where I’d found it.

No one called out, and I heard no footsteps coming my way, so I quickly bent and checked the lock’s interior. A smirk broke over my face when I saw the other handle had fallen as well, and I could grab the circle where the knob had sat. I waited a moment and gave a yank. There was a sharp crack as the door frame gave way, and the door swung open.

“Don’t need a lockpick when you can brute force your way in,” I said, feeling as though I’d done something like it in the past. I left the door open a crack before turning to face the dimly lit stairwell leading down.

Resisting the urge to call out, I descended the stairs, careful not to make too much noise. The room at the bottom would have been wide had it not been for the clutter. Shelves and stacks of boxes were littered all over the place. I had no idea what they were full of, but apparently, the basement was used for something, even if Officer Fitz hadn’t known specifically what.

Still careful not to make too much noise, I maneuvered around the stacks of objects. Everything looked one slight touch away from collapse. It took me longer than I’d have liked to move around as quickly as I dared, but I froze when I spotted several boxes and papers spilled out on the ground at the far end of one of the rows.

Darting down to the end of the stack, I glanced around. If it hadn’t been for the bright green among all the beige and brown in the room, I would never have spotted him.

“Eric?” I asked, moving toward the bright shoe on its side. There was no response, but I saw the shoe twitch and hurried over. I found him sprawled on the floor, his arm stretched out and a pair of handcuffs connecting his wrist to a vertical pole. “Jesus, Eric?”

I crouched, placing my finger against his neck and finding a steady pulse. There was a smear of blood under his head, and I gently pressed my finger into his hair until it came back sticky. That handy bit of knowledge I’d kept reminded me he was probably alright and any wound to the head always looked worse than it was because of all the capillaries. The rest of me, however, had a very good idea who had done this to him and was busy contemplating all the ways I could make Patterson regret his choices.

“Don’t,” Eric moaned out of nowhere, startling me. “Hurts.”

“Shit,” I said, breathing out in relief. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“Head hurts,” Eric groaned, trying to pull himself up and then freezing when his arm didn’t move. Finally, he glanced up, eyes widening when he saw the cuff. “What the fuck?”

“I think you’re under a very illegal arrest,” I said, glancing around once more to find something that could help. My brow rose when I saw another bright red box on the nearby wall.

“This had better not be your way of trying to initiate kinky sex,” he said groggily, and I heard him pulling on the handcuffs. “I’m all for a little bondage, but I’d rather have sex with you normally first.”

I wasn’t proud to say that despite the circumstances, I felt a wave of heat wash through me as I reached the red box to find another extinguisher and an ax. “I wasn’t with you, remember?”

“Fucking hell,” I heard him mutter as I heard the sharp jangling of the cuffs again. “All I remember is coming down the stairs, irritated with that asshole cop who insisted on keeping an eye on me and then…”

“And then?” I asked, turning to angle my elbow toward the glass.

“That motherfucker,” Eric hissed with a vehemence I was surprised he could manage. “He fucking hit me, didn’t he? And then chained me to this fucking—”

My elbow hit the glass, forcing it to shatter. “Yeah, pretty sure he’s in league with our suit-wearing buddies. I don’t think Fitz knows what he’s up to either.”

“What the hell are you doing?” Eric asked. Apparently, being ambushed, chained up, and left with an aching head brought out the foul mouth on him.

I shifted the glass aside and yanked the ax out. “Getting us the fuck out of here.”

“And go where?” Eric asked, his eyes widening when he saw the ax.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I figure most places are better than sticking around here where we clearly aren’t going to be safe from the guys after us,” I said, coming to a stop in front of him.

“What are you doing with that?” he asked, eyes wide.

“Do you trust me?”

“That…is not making me feel much better, and I kinda feel enough like shit right now.”

“Do. You. Trust. Me?”

“Oh, God. I’m gonna say yes, but I swear if you make me regret it—”

I repositioned my hands on the handle, taking a readied stance. “Good, pull your hand away from that pipe. Make the chain nice and taut for me.”

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