Chapter 14
Jude
I'd never had to say goodbye to anyone before, no one I cared about anyway.
I felt strangely empty driving away from Amy, like a part of me was suddenly gone. I mean, Jesus Christ, I'd only known her for a few weeks, so why the hell was I feeling like this?!
Pull yourself together Jude and man the f*ck up. She's just a girl, there are plenty of them out there. And maybe I'll see her soon....maybe?
I was cruising along now in Amy's hire car, driving back to the lot where she'd rented it to drop it off. I glanced in my wing mirror and saw a black car pulling up close to me. Its windows were blacked out so I couldn't see the driver.
It revved its engine and suddenly lurched forward, pulling right in front of me and blocking my path. I hit the brakes and tried to swerve round it, but it moved with me, causing me to bump into it with a heavy thud as the car came to a halt.
My heart starting pounding as I put the car in reverse and prepared to shoot backwards. I arched my neck to look behind me and saw another black car drive in and block my path. I gunned the engine and shot back, bumping this time into the oncoming car behind.
I was locked in, nowhere to go.
Before I knew it men starting jumping out of the cars and rushing forward towards me. They opened the door and hauled me out, violently pushing me up against the side of the car.
“WHERE'S THE GIRL,” one shouted, “WHERE'S MR O'BRIEN'S DAUGHTER?!”
He punched me hard in the stomach, causing me to bend forward and splutter.
“ANSWER ME!” he shouted again, grabbing at my neck and pushing me hard against the car.
“Gone,” I gasped, “and out of his reach.”
The man let go of my neck and stepped back, pulling a phone from his pocket. He dialed quickly and then spoke.
“Boss, she's not here. We found her car but she wasn't inside. It was the guy, he says she's gone.”
I saw him listening intently and nodding slowly.
“Yes sir, of course.”
He shut off the phone and clipped his fingers to the men holding me up against the car. They thrust me back, dragging me along the road towards the back car. I tried to struggle and resist but they were too strong, throwing me into the back of the car and shutting the door.
I fell into the seat and immediately jumped forward to open the door but it was locked. There was a divider blocking the view to the front seats. I punched at it but it was solid.
Then a man stepped into the driver's seat and the engine began rumbling. I shouted at him but he couldn't hear, my voice contained within my moving prison.
I was trapped, and I knew exactly where they were taking me.
….
The car pulled to a stop outside a grand mansion on the outskirts of town. The place was huge, as large and intimidating as the man who owned it.
I heard doors opening and shutting quickly and suddenly a man appeared at my door, reaching in and grabbing me to pull me out. I didn't resist. I knew there was no point. I was in the lions den now, and there was no escape.
I stumbled out into the sunshine outside the mansion and was dragged up the steps towards the main door. The door opened and I was forced inside, dragged through a large hall, and down some steps. I was being taken under the building, down into a cellar, dark and cold and lifeless.
We continued down a corridor, the walls built of bare stone, and towards a metal door. A guard opened it with a heavy metallic creek and I saw a single chair, fixed to the floor in the middle of the room. It looked like some sort of torture or interrogation room, wrist and ankle locks built into the chair.
I was thrust down into it, my arms and legs locked down. I didn't struggle, I didn't cry out or scream for help. No, I knew there was no point. I knew no one could hear me, no one could help me.
The guards finished fixing me to the chair and then stepped back, out of the room, shutting the door, and leaving me in pitch darkness. I sat in the black, the steel cold against my wrists and ankles, and tried to control my breathing.
Moments later I heard the sound of footsteps walking down the corridor towards me, and then the door creaked open again, spilling light back into the room. I saw a silhouette appear, but quickly merge back into the darkness as the door was shut once more.
I was struggling to breath normally now as my pulse began soaring. Then, suddenly, a light flickered above me and lit up, a spotlight trained right on the chair. I squinted my eyes as the man ahead of me came into focus.
Before I even recognized him, I knew who it was.
Conor O'Brien stood before me, his face full of rage, his fists clenched tight at his sides.
“Where is my daughter?” he growled, clenching his teeth like an animal.
“I don't know sir,” I said, “she's gone.”
He stepped forward, coming close to me, an energy pulsing out of him. “You've f*cked everything up. Your father took my wife from me, and now you've taken my daughter.”
“I haven't taken your daughter Mr O'Brien,” I said, trying to look him dead in the eye. “Whatever my father did, I'm sorry, but it's got nothing to do with me. I....care about your daughter sir, I'd never want to take her from you.”
“You care about her?” he said, laughing sarcastically. “You don't know her....”
“I know her better than you.” I spoke quickly, regretting the words immediately.
His fist swung quickly at my face, cracking me against my already bruised cheek. I felt my brain rock inside my head, my vision blurring briefly before coming back into focus.
His eyes were burning even more fiercely now as he crept close to me, so close I could smell his breath.
“You...know...nothing. You're just a stupid kid. You feel infatuation, nothing more. You don't know what it's like to be a father, a husband, to have your own family.”
His eyes were deep with memory, with regret. For a split second, I almost felt sorry for him, sorry for how his life had turned out. He was rich, powerful, feared – but at the end of the day, what did he really have. Nothing.
I kept my mouth shut, not wanting to aggravate him any further. I had no idea what he might do in this state. He looked like a man who'd lost it all, and who had nothing more to lose.
He whispered again, his voice a growl: “where is my daughter?”
I had no reply. I just shook my head and looked him deep in the eye.
He swung his fist at me again, punching me in the stomach this time, the air busting out of my lungs.
“Where is my daughter?” he repeated slowly.
“I don't know sir,” I gasped. “she left town, she didn't tell me where.”
He began breathing more heavily, pacing around the room, before coming back and hitting me again.
“WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER?” he spoke again, his words getting more and more intense.
“I don't know!” I spluttered.
He walked behind me and I heard the clanging of metal. I arched my neck to see a table, tools and other instruments of pain lined up along it. I felt my heartbeat go wild in my chest as he appeared back round the side, a short knife in his hand.
“You remember what I said Jude,” he said, “when I met you at your poker club? I told you'd I'd kill you if you went near her. Tell me where she is, or I'll kill you right now.”
He held the knife out in front of me, the blade sharp and shining under the light. My eyes were locked in fear at the sight of it, at the thought of the cold metal sliding into my flesh.
“Please Mr O'Brien,” I whispered, “don't do this. I swear to you, I don't know where she's gone.”
He looked at me for a long time, watching me cower in the chair, my eyes growing wider with fear.
“I believe you Mr Logan,” he said. “But that won't save you.”
With that he moved forward again and swung at me. I closed my eyes, expecting to feel the sting of the knife in my chest or neck. I waited for the searing pain and sensation of blood gushing from my body. This was it, my life was over before it had really begun.
But the knife didn't strike. No. I felt a dull hit to the side of my head instead, the butt of the blade cracking against my skull.
The impact sent my brain rocking in my head once more, my vision this time blurring and growing darker and darker until, suddenly, everything turned in on itself and my mind went blank.
….
Amy
I sat in a roadside cafe, a warm cup of coffee sitting on the table in front of me. I felt completely drained after the previous couple of days' events, an exhaustion slowly rising up through me as I sat in the comfortable booth.
It was hard to determine exactly how I felt. Sad to be leaving Jude, sad to think of what might have been. I'd made a connection with him, the first close bond I'd made with anyone in years. But now....now that had been severed, the fates cutting our time short.
But then, I'd see him again, I'd see him soon. Maybe he'd come visit me in Las Vegas, as he'd said? Maybe we could spend some time together, away from everything, just the two of us alone.
Perhaps I was being foolish to believe any of that would happen. Perhaps it was just a silly girl's fancy, a daydream that would never materialize. But I didn't care right now. I had to hope. It was all I had.
Mingled amid my sadness and hope, however, was a deep regret. A regret that I'd failed, that my intention of building a relationship with my father had broken down so quickly. I tried to think of where it had all gone wrong. We were getting along well. He was, for the first time, being a real father; supporting me, showing interest, spending time with me alone. We'd laughed and talked and I'd almost forgotten who he was and what he did. I'd almost forgotten the past.
But he couldn't keep it down. His own life of paranoia and power and control had once again shown him to be who he really was. I regretted that things didn't turn out differently, but I didn't regret my decision to leave. No, it was the only thing I could have done.
I turned to look out of the window at the mountains that shaped the landscape. It was the last I'd see of them for a while. I was heading to the arid climes of Nevada, to the City of Sin, a return to the life I knew. There was comfort in that thought: no one to hurt me, no one to try to control me or manipulate me or tell me what to do. I'd return to the poker table. That was the world I lived in.
I picked up my coffee and took a sip of the quickly cooling liquid, just as my phone buzzed loudly on the table in front of me.
My phone. I'd need to change my number, get a new one. My dad knew the number, he'd be able to trace me. My car too. That would have to go, just in case he knows about it. A fresh start, that's what I needed.
With my thoughts running quickly I reached for the phone as I stood to leave. I stopped still, standing next to the booth.
It was dad. The message was from dad.
I thought about deleting it without looking at it. He'd just be telling me to come back. Maybe he'd beg, maybe he'd order; it really depended on what mood he was in. The way he'd been earlier, though, it was sure to be the latter.
I hovered my finger over the button to open the message. Did I want to look at it? Did I want to hear him out? Did I even care any more? And why hadn't he called me? If he wanted to talk, surely he'd call, not send me a message?
Too many f*cking questions Amy, just open the damn thing.
I pressed my finger down and the message loaded. No, it wasn't a text message...it was a picture message, an image.
It took a moment to load up, but when it did I lost my legs and dropped straight back down into the booth.
Jude, no...what has he done...no.
I could feel my hand shaking as I held the phone, the image burning into my eyes. I wanted to turn away but couldn't. This was all my fault. I should never have left. I should have made sure my father understood before I left. What had I done.
Jude was sat in a chair, his wrists and ankles fixed by metal locks. His head was hanging down, blood dripping down the side of his ear. I couldn't tell whether he was dead. He looked lifeless, sat alone in the chair in the middle of a stone-walled room.
I scrolled down the image to see that there were two words below it, yet another order coming from my father.
Come back.
That's all he said.
Come back.