The ringing in her ears got stronger.

Her knees gave up on her even before she had a good look of what lay inside that room.

The door banged against the adjacent wall, creaked and stopped.

Hope was on the floor, the tears falling down her cheeks. She couldn’t stop them anymore.

A whimper escaped her lips as they trembled.

“Shut up, Hope.”

Another whimper escaped as she bit down on her lower lip.

“What have you done?” she demanded, looking at Patty’s body on the floor. She was sprawled on the floor, facing away from the door. One arm was above her head, the other at her back, palm upward.

“She did it to herself, the bitch,” Carl’s voice said above Hope. “Get the fuck up, Hope.”

But Hope was not hearing him. The ringing in her ears prevailed. Her eyes were fixed on the pool of blood around Patty’s hand.

“Don’t!” she cried out when Carl switched the lights. He just looked down at her with a sneer.

Hope’s eyes widened. The light clothed Patty’s lifeless body now, showing every mark on her skin. Her red hair was almost black.

“Get the fuck up, Hope,” Carl repeated, leaning down to grab her by the arm. He pulled her with him and she stumbled against the frame of the door. “We have to start cleaning.”

She shook her head, looking away from the body.

Carl grabbed her chin, his fingers digging against her cheek. “You can’t say no, Hope. You have to help.”

“No,” she shook her head against his hand.

His other hand grabbed her hair, pulling her away from the safety of the doorframe. He dragged her to where Patty lay swimming in her own blood. Carl turned her face down, forcing her to look. “This is you if you don’t listen to me. Compose yourself and let’s start cleaning,” he rasped, his cigarette-tinged breath brushing against her face. He let go of her face none to gently and sent her down to the body on the floor.

Hope struggled to get away, smearing her arms and knees with Patty’s blood. She wanted to cry out for help. But no voice came out of her throat, her cry a silent scream as she desperately tried to scramble away from the body and the blood. She wiped the blood away from her arms as if they were going to creep right through her pores and into her own system.

Carl rushed toward her and pulled her right back on her wobbling legs. He bunched his hand in her hair and forced her to look at him.

“Calm the fuck down. Now. Or you’re dead.”

She nodded, her nose flaring in her struggle to breath normally.

“Good. Now help me.” He let her go, turned and walked to Patty’s body on the floor.

He circled around it with a frown. Then he shook his head.

“What have you done, Patty?” he asked before he kicked the body until Patty was on her back.

Hope looked away. She didn’t want to see her friend’s face. She didn’t think she could stomach it.

“Look at her, Hope. She looks like she finally had a good night’s sleep.”

Despite herself, Hope’s eyes flickered to Patty’s face and she caught her breath.

Patty! She silently cried as another wave of tears streamed down her face.

Patty’s face was as white as paper, her lips dark. Her nose was straight and short, with obvious signs of scars and bleeding. Her eyes, thank God, were closed. One of the lids was dark, bruised.

Hope whimpered.

Patty…

“Stupid girl cut her wrist,” Carl spat out as he bent down to pick up a shattered piece of glass.

Hope’s eyes followed it. Then she looked at the broken window across the room. What have you done, Patty?

Carl now had his hands on his hips. He was looking down at Patty’s body like he was solving a difficult puzzle. He looked like he would a police in a crime scene.

By then, Hope was numb. Gone was the weakness in her legs, gone was the shaking and gone wear the tears. She stood there, in the middle of the room with arms and knees and dress smeared with her friend’s blood.

She couldn’t cry for her now in grief.

Carl would wonder why.

“You never got to know her,” Carl said without looking at Hope. “It’s a shame. But, oh well, she chose this for herself. Come here, Hope and help me.” He went to one corner of the room and grabbed a large, brown suitcase. He prepared before he woke her up.

Son of a bitch.

He wheeled the suitcase to Patty’s small frame on the floor.

“Open it,” he ordered. “Hope,” he called out in warning when she didn’t move.

Without feeling her feet and legs, Hope walked to the suitcase and opened it. Her hands were surprisingly still as she dragged the zipper around.

“Help me,” Carl uttered, his eyes glinting like a devil as he watched Hope look at him with desperation. “Grab the legs and help me, Hope.”

Hope knew he could very well do it on his own. And she knew why he was doing this with her. He wanted to show her his power; that he had control over everything--over her.

She wanted it over soon so she followed his words. Patty didn’t feel cold, but the warmth was leaving her body. She tried to ignore the deep cuts scattered around Patty’s skin, the sign of her own iron cuffs in her left ankle, the bruises. Hope’s hands were itching to let go as they heaved the body into the suitcase and she dropped Patty the moment it was done. She stepped back and looked out the broken window of Patty’s room. The only sound was Carl’s heavy breathing as he worked with the suitcase.

A sudden tingle shot through Hope’s spine. It was shocking after being numb for a time. She almost shivered as she heard him zip the suitcase.

“Let’s go, Hope. And don’t you dare do something stupid,” he told her, pulling the handle of the suitcase. He grabbed her arm and shoved her to the doorway. “Lead the way. But remember, I have a gun.”

Yes, he did. He was pointing it directly at her spine.

When they reached the top of the stairs, Carl told her to stop. He made her hold the handle of the suitcase, exchanging places with her. Without effort, he lifted the suitcase by the bottom and they started to descend down the stairs.

The next thing Hope knew, she was outside. The wind was cold that night. It was quiet.

She could bolt and run, but she knew she didn’t have the energy to do that before Carl could shoot her dead. They were at the back of the house. She had never been here. The small lawn was trimmed, the potted flowers perfectly aligned at one side.

Hope glanced around. All windows next door were dark.

People were asleep.

And Patty was in a suitcase.

Carl ordered her to clear the ground of the potted flowers, reminding her to be careful or he’d break her neck. She did as he ordered and found herself tired at once. He told her to stand aside as he started digging with a shovel.

Again, Hope thought of running. Her eyes travelled to the gun at the back of his back pocket. Was he a good shot? Would he be able to run after her after digging a deep hole on the ground?

But where would she go? She didn’t know the neighborhood. He could easily shoot her because he was a cop and cops were supposed to be good with guns.

Plus, her legs were giving up on her. She could barely move them. Putting a good distance between her and the suitcase, Hope stood and watched as Carl dug further down the ground.

He climbed right back with a contented look on his face. He dragged the suitcase and dropped it in the freshly dug hole. Then he grabbed his gun and pointed it at Hope. “Finish the job.”

She took the shovel he handed her and started scooping the dirt back into the hole.

Hope was breathless by the time she was done replacing the potted flowers back to their original place. No one would think the ground had been touched, not if they didn’t look closely. It looked normal, like it was just a fresh garden mound.

“Rest in peace, Patty,” Carl uttered without a tinge of sadness in his voice. He turned to Hope and ordered, “Back inside. There’s more work for ya up there.”

He let her clean the blood. He let her strip the dirty sheets off the bed. He let her dump all bloody cloth in a black bag he planned to dispose himself the next day. And he led her back to her room like nothing happened, like they just shared a simple dinner downstairs.

The moment he was gone, the moment she could no longer hear his footsteps, Hope ran to her bathroom, stumbling on her chains, and threw up. She turned on the shower and let the water drench her dress. She threw up some more when red-tinged liquid ran down her legs to the tiled floor and down the drain.

Tears returned and Hope fell down the tiled floor, muffling her grief with her hands. When she saw the dirt and the blood on her arm, she scratched at them until her skin was red. She hastily removed her dress and threw it across the bathroom wall where it smacked and slid down the floor.

Hope shook as a rainfall of water spat down against her skin. She scrubbed and scrubbed and cried. She forced her mind to erase any memory of Patty’s lifeless face. She forced the image she had in her mind before she met her friend back in her mind. She’d remember Patty that way. She’d remember a redhead sitting around the picnic table outside a farmhouse, sunlight washing over her face with radiance.

*****

Devin saw the girl walking around her room, appearing in and out of view.

She seemed lost, almost lifeless.

Once, her eyes met his, but she just stood there, looking at him like he wasn’t there.

And he never saw her again.

What happened now?

He walked to his table grabbed the phone.

“What happened?” the man from the other line answered instantly.

“Relax. Nothing happened. But I need a favor.”

“What?”

“Can you dig in on someone for me?”

“What the hell is this about this time?”

“Just something I am curious about. Someone I am curious about.”

“Who?”

“Carl…” he closed his eyes, picturing Carl’s uniform standing before him as he smoked. “Briggs. Carl Briggs.”

“Who’s he?”

“Just a cop neighbor. Can you look him up for me? Just want to make sure everything’s well-covered here.”

“Will try to look him up from the research stuff we have here before you moved in. I am sure the guys have a file of all your neighbors.”

“Bring it with you when you come visit.”

“Anything else?”

Devin thought for a moment. “I want to know more about his daughter. He has one living with him.”

“Sure. I’ll try to dig deeper. He making you uncomfortable?”

“No, not really. Just as I said. I want things well-covered.”

“Paranoid bastard.”

“And so are you.”

The line went dead before he could say goodbye. Devin didn’t mind.

He knew the guy would ask a lot of questions, but he didn’t care. He was almost desperate to know more about his neighbors. He wanted to be certain he was doing the right thing with the girl across his room.

He went to stand right in front of his window. The girl had dropped the blinds. She was not obviously working on the grills today. He saw Carl below, outside in his porch, drinking beer and smoking as he watched the street.

Stepping away, Devin opened the book he was reading about Spain to ebb the excitement he felt.

For the first time, he was looking forward to Burton Grant’s visit.