Page 28 of Dark Knight

Affixing one end to the bars holding the window open, I drop the sheet groundward. I have no idea if anyone on the floors below can see what I’m about to do or what they’ll do if they can, but I can’t care about that. Not right now. I need to get out of here.

There’s something in my gut screaming at me to leave, and I have to listen to it. I must. If I don’t, the consequences could be dire. I’ve been feeling it for days now.

“Here goes nothing,” I mutter and climb up on the windowsill. Throwing my legs over the side, I turn to grab the sheet and slowly repel down, but with each movement, I feel the flimsy bar bending. It’s only a matter of time before it’ll break under my weight.

Moving faster, I grit my teeth and stifle the scream I want to release when I feel the bar give a little more. At the top of the window below my room, I say a quick prayer that whoever is in there doesn’t care about me.

Lowering farther, I notice a man sitting on his bed, playing cards when he turns to see me. At first, he’s shocked, but I keep moving; I’m not even going to attempt to silence him. I barely catch him get up and come over before he pounds once on the window, and it startles me enough that I almost lose my grip.

Grinning, he gives me a thumbs up and keeps watching until I reach the ground. Tugging the sheet until it breaks the bar, I don’t want to leave any evidence of what I’m doing behind. The window slams shut, and the sheet and bar fall. Grabbing them both up in a bundle, I wave to the man and make a run for the trees I now see in the distance.

A swift glance around shows no one has been alerted to my escape yet, which spurs me on to run faster. As soon as I hit the tree line, I shove the sheet and bar inside a hollowed-out trunk and throw some loose foliage on top of it so it won’t be noticed.

I’m already soaked from the rain and probably partly from the exertion, but I don’t care. I must keep going. I don’t know where I am or how close a road is, so I hug the tree line as tight as possible and run along the property's edge. My legs burn, my lungs are on fire, and when I finally hear cars from the road, an extra burst of speed propels me faster until I run smack into a barred fence.

Knocked to the ground, my head stings where I hit the wrought iron bars. “Crap, crap, crap.” I knew it was too easy. Turning around, I recognize the building in the distance, lights illuminating the property, and I feel defeated.

Sliding to the ground, I lean against the bars and fold my knees up to my chest, dropping my head. I take a minute for a pity party. I just need a minute.

One minute.

But I don’t have it.

* * *

Nolan

Bursting through the doors of Hamish Plantation with Holden, Bishop, Hendrix, Saint, and Easton flanking me, I almost feel bad for the lady sitting behind the reception desk. At our abrupt entry, her head whips up, and I’m sure what she sees is from a nightmare.

We’re soaked to the bone, ready to commit mass amounts of violence, and each of us holds a weapon in a hand or two. Holden and I stop at the desk. “Evening, ma’am.” Saint goes left, Easton goes right, and Bishop and Hendrix go straight. “I’m looking for a girl.”

“We’re closed to visitors for the evening. All residents are in bed for the night.” She swallows, and a bead of sweat pops out on her forehead.

“Don’t much care. The girl I’m looking for is Bean Daley. She’d have been brought here a few days ago. Likely drugged on arrival. Probably checked in by her parents.” Parents who are now in the hands of the Petrov-Corelli twins. I almost feel bad.Almost.

“I can’t help you.” The words squeak out like she forced them past her now-chapped lips.

Knocking my knuckles on the desk, I respond, “Try again,” my voice less cordial and more deliberately deadly.

“I’m sorry,” she chokes out.

“Not yet,” Holden tells her, “but you will be.”

Tears hover on her eyelids before spilling over. “What’s your name?” I ask her. We’re generally not in the business of hurting women, but if this one won’t help me in my quest to find Bea, all bets are off, and I won’t suffer a moment of guilt for it.

“C-c-c-c-indy Hamlin.”

“Got any family, Cindy? Kids, husband, parents, siblings?” She nods. “I will end them quicker than I do you.”

Her face contorts before the tears start spilling as heavily as the rain. “You would hurt children?” She’s horrified.

I roll my eyes. “My girl is pregnant, so I suppose the same could be said for you.” I don’t know if it’s true, but I also don’t know it’s not. “Bea is mine. And I take care of what’s mine, no matter the cost and whom I have to ruin in order to get it. Understand?”

I’m unsure what changes for her, but she agrees and begins typing away on her computer. “There isn’t a Bean Daley in the system, but sometimes, they just get numbered.” Her gulp is audible.

“And?” I roll my hand, my patience quickly fading.

“Dr. Crosby admitted one female patient this week.” She scrolls some more. “Third floor.” I’m already on my way to the stairwell. “Room 318!” she calls after us.

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