The Model Spy

Chapter 19 - Not Alone

“Zach,” I whispered, “where did you go?”

The hallway was dark and damp. I shivered and clutched Zach’s jacket around my arms. I could see every shaky breath swirl into the cold air. Where did he go?

After the dining disaster, Zach and I snuck out of the back door of the Moulin Rouge, away from the police activity that had swarmed the restaurant. The flashing lights of their squad cars lit up the entire block. Fred could deal with them later.

Zach and I had moved briskly out of the restaurant, our heads bowed, hiding our faces not just from the numbing wind, but from any potential witnesses.

Zach had wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me close to his body as we walked in sync with each other.

“Let’s go this way,” he said softly and guided me down a long alley. It was a move that made me uneasy and kick-started my already thumping heart even more, but with Zach I didn’t feel so afraid.

“Wait, stop,” he ordered. His body became rigid and alert. If he was a dog, I was sure his ears would have perked up. His eyes scanned the dark alley, his arm held me tighter to him. Despite myself, I found that my hand was clutching his back nervously. I almost had to pry my fingers off of the back of his shirt.

Suddenly the figure appeared out from the shadows and ran.

I nearly fell back as Zach released me and darted after it. “Stay here!” he ordered.

I watched in horror as he went after the suspect alone. If he thought I was going to stand there and do nothing, he was dead wrong.

My feet burst into action and I nearly tripped over my heels. Bracing myself, I watched as Zach and the suspect disappeared into a broken window on the first floor of an abandoned building to my left. I followed them, lifting myself in through the window, careful not to catch my skin on the shards broken, jagged glass.

I tumbled onto the cement floor, which was where I now was, searching for Zach among the dark hallway.

“Zach,” I whispered. My voice broke as fear settled in. Every noise, every slight movement of the small shadows around me, put me on edge. My heart was going to explode; it was beating so painfully in my chest.

A scream of agony split the air and echoed around me, bouncing off of the cracked and peeling walls of the abandoned building. It was Zach.

I sprinted, my body ricocheting off of the walls as I stumbled clumsily in the narrow hall. I burst through a door and screamed. It was a sound so unnatural, I nearly frightened myself.

Zach’s body lay splayed on the floor. The suspect in its black clothing and white mask stood over him. Its pink lips were stretched into a large smile that was almost inhuman, too huge for its narrow face.

“Get away from him!” I shrieked as I fell to my knees. My legs would no longer work so I crawled to his limp body. There was no blood pooling around him, yet he was still and unmoving.

I pressed my palms against his chest in an attempt to revive him. Not even the slightest breath escaped from his lips.

“Zach, get up,” I moaned. Wet tears trickled down my face. They dripped from my cheeks and landed on his cold skin.

The suspect behind me cackled, a sound that rattled my ears and forced me to grit my teeth. It was the girl. It was CL.

I flung myself around to face her, one hand still protectively resting on Zach’s chest. “What did you do to him?” I seethed.

She laughed again. “You don’t have your little boyfriend anymore.” Her hand suddenly clasped itself around the back of my neck as she yanked it back. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as I stared at her. “No parents. No friends. Looks like you are all alone.” She roughly released me.

I gagged as I gasped for air. I didn’t know how to breathe anymore. I could do nothing but run my hand over Zach’s smooth face.

“I can’t do this alone.” I managed to say through my tears, my voice barely audible. “Please don’t make me do this alone.”

“No!” I woke up with a start and rolled off of the edge of my bed, taking my twisted quilt and pillow damp with sweat and tears crashing to the floor with me. My head hit the bedside table and the ornate lamp wobbled dangerously. I flung my hand to its base, steadying it.

What was wrong with me? I swiped my hand across my face to find that it wet with tears. I pulled my blanket to my face and used it as a tissue. It did little good, only succeeding in smearing my makeup.

My eyes caught a glimpse of the digital clock next to my bed. Four in the morning.

Suddenly memories of the night came back to me. We had gotten back to the hotel around nine after dodging the policeman and detectives prying us for information. I collapsed into bed while Zach called Fred and swiftly began working on ways to explain the disaster at the Moulin Rouge.

Zach…

Heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs and a hand twisted at the doorknob before the door swung open, crashing into the wall behind it.

The tenseness fell from my body as I sighed. “Zach,” I breathed.

He stood under the doorframe, sweatpants and a t-shirt thrown hastily over his body. A white bandage was taped to his face, which was swollen and puffy. I imagined mine didn’t look much different.

I watched as his shoulders slumped in relief. Everything was okay. No murderer in sight. “You’re finally happy to see me,” he managed to joke. He worked his way to my spot where I was still sitting on the floor. He knelt down. “What happened?”

I placed my hand to the back of my head, where a bump was throbbing from my run-in with the bedside table. “Nightmare,” I whispered.

He nodded his head understandingly. “I’m no stranger to them. At least every few nights.”

Would it be like that for me? These vivid dreams that felt so real? It was bad enough I was frightened during the day. Now even in my dreams there were murderers around every corner?

I sniffed several times, trying to hold back a new wave of tears.

I lifted my hand and felt around the surface of my bedside table for my small clutch. There were tissues in there somewhere. My hand ran along the smooth marble of the tabletop, bumping into the clock, the lamp, some lip balm. Where was my clutch?

Giving up on simply feeling for it, I stood up and pulled the quilts away from me, ultimately kicking them across the floor. I shuffled the items on the table around. Where was it?

“What are you looking for?” Zach asked as he stood up as well. He lingered next to me cautiously.

I backtracked through the day, but stopped abruptly. I left it on the table at the Moulin Rouge.

I mentally made a list of everything in the clutch. A few gadgets, which didn’t really worry me because Mr. C. was a pro at disguising them. Money. The tissues. I brought my hand to my mouth.

“Laura, what is it?” I was suddenly aware of Zach’s hand on my shoulder.

“My clutch. I left it on the table at dinner.” I spun around. “Zach, my badge is in there. If someone finds it, this case is over.”

I expected him to be angry because it was a stupid mistake on my part, a mistake that jeopardized both of our jobs. If anyone found out who we were, we would lose this mission and be replaced. By the time the CIA could hire two new replacements, who knew how many more murders would have occurred? I needed to get my badge back before it fell into the wrong hands.

But Zach wasn’t mad. He nodded quickly and began to make his way out of my room. “Let me just change quick and we can head out.”

I looked down. I was still dressed in my black dinner dress. “I will meet you in the car.”

He turned around, his hand resting on the doorknob. “Laura, it will be okay.”

So much was going on, I wasn’t sure what exactly “it” was that would be okay. This case, losing my parents, the nightmares, or even simply forgetting my purse at a restaurant. Any one of them Zach could have been referencing.

And in that split moment, I trusted him.