27. Cain

Chapter twenty-seven

Cain

F or the first time in my pathetic life, I was considering a vacation. I'd think I'd fucking earned one at this point. My presence caused an absolute shitshow at the police station, and it became apparent as I watched the back and forth of the officers who'd arrested me with their supervisors, and then with each other, that Jake hadn't done a thorough job this time. He'd fucked with my clients' money somehow, and then he'd tricked the officers into arresting me, that much I could figure. He hadn't covered his bases, though. There was no fake paper trail, or actual evidence that I'd done anything but try to help my client find the money that had gone missing. So nobody knew what to do with me.

I waited, growing more and more irritated as I sat on my ass in the musty little cage, shooting glares at the drunk sleeping it off next to me. Sleep was never going to happen for me, and I must've been up for close to forty-eight hours straight at this point. There had been two shift changes since I'd gotten here and still, I hadn't been processed or even told what was happening. I'd called my lawyer, Harold, with my allotted phone call, but he was stuck in court today and wouldn't be by until later. Meanwhile, my family was being targeted by a psychopath and I was just sitting and doing nothing. I clenched my fists and took a deep, calming breath. No, I couldn't get mad. There were cameras, and people who would ask questions if I randomly started a fire in here.

I saw one of the arresting officers walk past the cage and I stood up, shoving my hands in my pockets to look less… I don't know, murderous? "Excuse me?" I called, and he stopped, shooting me a dirty look. "Can you please tell me what's going on? How long am I going to be held here?" I asked, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice.

This is not the time for anger. They will fucking Taser you.

"Just sit and wait for your damn lawyer, alright?" he snapped back in response, and I raised my eyebrows.

"I just… I've been sitting and waiting for nearly twenty-four hours. My wife is pregnant, and I'm worried about her. Can I call her at least? I haven't been processed or anything yet, and I don't know what's going on." I tried appealing to his humanity, as Addy routinely encouraged. He scowled at me, stepping up to the bars.

"Listen, I know what you did, alright? You're a fucking swindler, and you aren't getting out of here." He spat at my feet and stalked off, leaving me stuck in the cage. So clearly, he was the one Jake had talked to. That was good to know. I sighed and sat back down, resting my head against the brick wall behind me.

"Gonna be a dad?" the drunk across the room piped up, still sprawled across the bench. I closed my eyes, blocking him out. This was my hell. Stuck in here, forced to make small talk. I was officially in hell.

Hell, it seemed, had stale ham sandwiches for its inmates at least. I begrudgingly ate the thing, desperate for a cigarette or a cup of coffee. My drunk friend was clearly sobering up, and he tore into the sandwich like it was a four-course meal. He kept trying to talk to me, and I just gave him grunts and one-word answers, trying to dissuade his friendliness.

"Do you know what you're having yet?" Grunt.

"Are you and the missus doing birthing classes? My girlfriend wants to do one, but I ain't needing to see no pictures of afterbirth." Angrier grunt.

"Think you'll circumcise if it's a boy? If you do, make sure to get someone legit. My cousin had a botched one and it loo-" I raised my eyebrow at him, scowling and standing abruptly. He trailed off, eyeing me wearily, and I raked my hand through my hair, looking out into the bullpen and trying to find someone I could flag down and talk to. My blood was burning hot, making me feel restless. I needed to get the fuck out of here, right fucking now.

I paced up and down the length of the cell like a tiger in the zoo, clenching and unclenching my hands to try to dispel the feeling in my gut. Something was wrong, I just knew it. I was mid-step when it felt like someone hooked a fishing line into my heart and just… yanked. I stumbled and dropped to my knees, clutching my chest as a groan bubbled out of my throat. O h my god, was this a heart attack? Had they poisoned that awful sandwich? Just my luck, of course I'd die in a cage thanks to tainted sandwich meat.

"Hey, what's wrong with you, man? Are you having a heart attack?" My ears were ringing, every atom in my body shifting with the need to run, and in only one direction. I was tethered to something, and it was calling to me. The whole room spun around me, and my drunk friend started yelling about something. I swear, if I had to listen to one more story about circumcisions, I would turn this building to ash around me.

"Mr. Collins? Are you with me? Mr. Collins?" The fishing line in my heart relaxed, and I gasped for air as it resumed beating as normal. Fuck, I was dizzy. I grabbed the bars next to me for support as my chest heaved, and people were still yelling around me.

"Did you touch him?"

"No, honest, he just dropped!"

"How long has he been here? Who is this man exactly?"

"Someone get Officer Hendrix on the phone, right fucking now."

Addy, I needed to find Addy. There was a hand on my shoulder, and someone flashed a penlight in my eyes, making me wince. "Sir, can you hear me?" I blinked as spots filled my vision, nodding grimly. "Get me some water, now," they snapped, and a dixie cup of water was suddenly thrust into my hands. "Drink this." I nodded again, draining the little cup in one shot. "Come on now, let's get you sitting up here." Small hands hooked under my armpits and pulled, guiding me up onto the nearby bench. I blinked and saw a short, fierce-looking plain-clothes officer staring at me, her brows pulled together as she studied my face.

"Alright, Mr. Collins, can you tell me what you're in for today?" she asked.

I shook my head. "Honestly, I don't know," I replied hoarsely.

She scowled and put her hands on her hips. "Andrew, did you get a hold of Hendrix? I don't give a shit if he's sleeping. He left a guy in my cell with no fucking paperwork!" She looked back at me, studying me carefully. "I don't know what you did to piss my colleague off, but we're going to get to the bottom of this, alright? Now you just stay here, take some deep breaths, and I'll come back with some answers in a few minutes." She patted my shoulder, and I gave her a weak smile, feeling drained after… whatever the hell that just was.

Officer plain-clothes wasn't fucking around. She tracked down my friend Hendrix, who apparently woke up from a nap with no recollection of who I was or why he'd arrested me. Since I hadn't been processed or even admitted properly, they just… opened the cell door and let me walk out. I didn't wait around for them to change their minds. I just grabbed my stuff and bolted, heading in the direction that the tether had been pulling me toward. My phone was dead, of course, so I had no way to get ahold of Addy or the others and make sure they were alright.

The tug I'd felt took me close to home, and I paused at a corner a few blocks away, conflicted. I wanted to go straight to the studio, but there was some invisible destination plotted out in my brain, pushing me to turn and walk down a different street instead. Instead of fighting it, I just let it pull me because this witchy bullshit smelt too much like Piper to safely ignore, and I ended up in front of an abandoned building. I had a nagging sense of dread as I wrenched open the front door and walked inside, following a path of footsteps in the dirt that led to a door.

The smell of blood hit me like a kick to the teeth when I walked inside, but nothing could have prepared me for the bloodbath I walked into. Body parts were strewn across the room, and blood was everywhere, even the fucking ceiling somehow. Corpses of people I didn't recognize were scattered in a circle, guns on the floor beside them, and there was an upturned chair in the corner with duct-tape still stuck to the arms. The last body I found was Jake's, somehow recognizable even with all the burns and lacerations. Someone had jammed him through a wood-chipper, or something similar, the way he was mangled and left in a heap. I guess in death, the lies he'd told no longer held true, it would explain why officer Hendrix had woken up with no memory of my supposed crime.

I checked his pulse this time, but there was no way he could be breathing in this condition. I wasn't even sure his heart was still intact enough to beat. With my hand still pressed to his neck, I let out the anger that I'd been keeping at bay for these long months. His skin began to crackle and twist, turning black as he burned underneath my hand. The fire grew, eating away at his remains, turning them to ash before the heat began to spread outwards, the carpet igniting under my feet. I backed toward the door, letting my fingers drag across the drywall, paint bubbling as flames licked up to the ceiling. By the time I reached the door, the whole room was ablaze, and I watched for another moment before I made my exit, letting the blaze clear away the rest of Jake's evil.

Fresh out of jail and now having committed arson, I quickly headed back to the studio to find a phone charger, or better yet, someone who could explain the pile of bodies I just incinerated.

The door, unsurprisingly, was unlocked when I got home, because even with a murderous psychopath hunting us down, no one bothered to lock a damn door. I burst inside, locking it behind me, and spotted Wyatt sitting at the bottom of the stairs looking, well, like he'd been hit by a car. There was a dried puddle of blood next to him, which had smeared all over the place.

"How the hell did you get out?" Wyatt asked, hooking his hand onto the railing and lifting himself up until he could sit on the step. I crossed my arms over my chest and watched him do it again, and then again, slowly climbing up the stairs on his ass.

"This is painful to watch. Let me help you, for fuck's sake," I snapped, and followed after him, hoisting him over my shoulder. We managed to get up the stairs in only a fraction of the time, and I got him settled on the couch, taking note of all the blood on his clothes.

"Well? Did you make a jailbreak?" he asked, wincing as he settled into the cushions. I helped him get his leg propped up so he could rest, rolling my eyes at him.

"Of course not! They let me go," I replied, locating his meds on the kitchen table. I handed him a couple and grabbed him a glass of water, which he gulped down immediately. "What the fuck happened here? Why is there blood all over the place?" Wyatt rubbed his face tiredly, flecks of blood flaking off and floating to the ground.

"Austin got shot, and Addy was taken," he explained, and I started to swear and head for the stairs. "Wait! Jesus. It's fine, well, sort of." He explained how Austin had massacred the room full of people and how Addy and Austin had taken Piper to the hospital, while I sank down onto one of the kitchen chairs, resting my head in my hands.

"So… it's done then," I muttered. "It's actually done. He's gone, and it's over now." I shook my head, the buzzing behind my eyes amplifying until I thought I'd pass out from the pain. Wyatt stayed quiet while I processed everything and, when I looked back up, I found him passed out asleep. With a heavy sigh, I dragged myself up and headed off to my room, plugging in my phone to get it charging while I changed. I was just going to throw on some new clothes, but after almost two days in a cell, I smelled pretty ripe, so I had the quickest shower I could manage. My phone was back on when I came out, and I winced when I saw it lit up like a beacon, full of missed messages and texts. Harold had tried to reach me several times, as had Addy.

I listened to her voicemail and winced, guilt settling in my stomach. I tried to call her back, but she didn't answer, either out of spite or because her phone was dead now. She still had my car, but I figured she was probably at the hospital with Piper, so I'd try there first. At least if she ripped my limbs off in a room surrounded by doctors, I might have a chance at survival.