“If I do that,” he replied looking coldly into her eyes, “That would be the end of my career and you know it.”
“No I don’t know it,” Sarah countered, though she couldn’t off the top of her head think of anyone who had gone to PS and came out to be a blazing success for the rest of their careers.
“Bullshit,” Malick called her out, “And don’t forget, this isn’t just a job to be me. I’ve put my marriage on the line to come back to this place!”
There was nothing Sarah could really answer to this. Malick’s job was his life and it had been for as long as she’d known him. Their marriage might survive the heartache Tara would be going through now that Malick was back at work, but it would never survive the melancholy he would fall into if he had to leave the Bureau.
It tore her apart to think that whatever decision she made now, it would have a downside for him. If only Tara had been able to make him stay at home a little longer, then everything might have been fine. She nodded at what he had said to let him know she’d heard but she was torn between their friendship and her professional duty to him. An idea came to her then, it was one of those that for a microsecond seems to have solved everything but then the reality comes to you and see it for what it really is—a stopgap at best.
“I didn’t report what happened because we’re friends, Malick,” Sarah said to him, “Perhaps I wasn’t doing you a service in that though.”
“No, no, you did, you really did. Just let me prove it to you. I’ll make it up and you'll see you have nothing to worry about.”
“This is what I propose,” Sarah said, doing her best not to be sucked in by his words too much. “Go down to the shooting range, right now, and get used to the sound of gunfire for the rest of the day at least. You'll have to go down there every day for the foreseeable to make sure you’re past this.” She could see he was not happy about this, but to his credit he swallowed his pride and nodded.
“It’s the least I owe you,” he said.
Chapter 15
MEGAN STANVER HAD BEEN watching closely. More closely than ever before, but at the same time doing her best to make it look like all was as it had always been between the Monster and she. It was never a given as to when she was going to see him. Sometimes he would leave enough food and a fresh water dispenser that would last a few days, but only once had he been away from her any longer than two full days. Usually she would see him at least once every forty hours, but oftentimes more than that.
Throughout her time in captivity, Megan had never become complacent or seemingly compliant. Whenever he came to her she would put her back to the wall facing him and watching his every move. It was her hope that this would irritate him, to show him she was not willing to just lay down and die. For his part, her captor didn’t seem to care one way or another what she did when he came in to feed her. Sometimes he would only barely glance in her direction and that would be it.
In these last ten days, however, Megan had begun to see things she had not noticed before. First off, she had been concentrating on his body, trying to see beyond the heavy dark clothes he wore and she was able to determine large muscles on his back and shoulders. It was likely then, that he was well muscled all over and perhaps this was the very reason he wore these non-flattering clothes.
Next, she began to study the clothes themselves. What had appeared to be the same outfit all the time, in fact appeared to be many versions of the same outfit. Each item, down to the shoes would be the exact same but it was clear that it was always a fresh pair. Was it possible he never wore the same clothes or shoes more than once? Did he have a never ending pile of black boots, pants and sweaters- not to mention balaclavas? No matter what the reason, it all told of his carefulness. He was obviously very highly skilled at what he was doing, leaving nothing at all to chance. How long had he been doing this? It scared her to think how many people might have come before her.
The door to the cellar rattled as the monster unlocked the door. As ever, Megan backed to a corner quickly and faced the door. Though she knew there was nothing she could use as a weapon in the room, her desperate eyes scanned the floor all the same, always in the hope of some miracle of a beam that had broken off or something else just as unlikely. Then she realised there was something different than usual.
The door had been unlocked but it had not been opened yet. In the past, he had always done these two things as almost one fluid motion but now there was only silence. The door was unlocked and he was not in the room with her. Was this some kind of test? Megan had no doubt that he was still up there, just outside, perhaps listening through the door. Did he expect her to try to escape? Surely not? Though part of her wanted to go up there and push open the door. Perhaps something had distracted him at the last second, or maybe he’d had a heart attack or something! Hope wanted this to be true. Escape was possible.
Thankfully, Megan had been stronger than the hope inside of her.
The Monster began to whistle from the doorway. It was a happy tune, and
