Hate You, Love You. - Chapter 127

Jason

Straight to voicemail.

My calls are going straight to voicemail. Mel is not picking up her phone and I’m freaking out. Patricia could be heading towards her house or her job and I have to stop her but this stupid traffic won’t let me. It’s rush hour: folks are coming back from their jobs, teenagers are coming back from school and the roads are congested.

”Move for fucks sake,” I horn loudly at the car in front of me. The person flips me the bird from the car window and I roll my eyes

I dial her number again but still no answer.

”Mel, I need you to listen to me. Tell me where you are so I can come and get you.” My first instinct is to head to Cranedale. ”If you’re home, lock your doors and don’t let anyone in. You’re in danger.” Patricia has my gun and she left me a note. She’s crazy and I know that her intent is to kill.

The traffic is finally moving and I make a left towards the intersection of Derille Road, going way past the speed limit. I’d be damned if a cop stops me but I could care less. The woman I love is in danger and that’s more important.

If Patricia hurts a hair on her head, I’d kill her-for real this time.

My thumb pads my phone till I come across a number I remembered I had saved ago. He picks up after the first ring. ”Hello,” he asks sceptically.

”Theo, it’s Jason.”

”Oh,” his tone sounds disappointed. ”How did you get my number?”

Cue the eyeroll.

”That’s not important.” I got it from the file I found in Patricia’s room. ”Is Mel with you?” They are always together so I’m assuming he’s with her.

”She’s your girlfriend.” I can imagine him narrowing his eyes. ”Aren’t you meant to know where she’s at?”

”I don’t have the time to exchange words with you,” I seethe. ”Is she with you or not?”

”I’m not obliged to answer you.”

Can he stop being stubborn?

”Let’s cut the bullshit,” I say pointedly. ”You can stop pretending like you care and she’s your sibling. I know you’re cop.”

There I said it. A pause longer than the traffic I just experienced passes between us and I check if he cut off our conversation but he’s still on the phone. ”Did she tell you that?”

”She didn’t. I figured it out.”

”Alright. Since we’re cutting bullshits, I know you’re criminal.”

My suspicions were correct after all and Patricia was partially correct.

”Did she tell you that?” I want to know if Mel sold me out.

”She didn’t. I figured it out.”

I sigh internally. Since the cats are out of the proverbial bag, I guess we can stop lying to each other. I know he’s a cop, he knows I’m a criminal. I should be bothered that he knows about that aspect of my life. With enough evidence, he could easily send me to jail.

But right now, the only thing I can think about is her and her safety.

”She’s at work.” That explains why she isn’t answering her calls. ”Why?”

”She’s in trouble.”

I hear shuffling and a key jiggling. ”What do you mean?”

”I mean she’s in trouble.” I stop at a red light and groan internally. ”Someone is out to murder her?”

”Shit,” he says. I hear him say something to someone in the background and I hear more rustling. ”Go on.”

”My sister.”

”Patricia?”

”Yes.”

”She wants to kill Mel?”

”Look, I don’t have the time to explain everything over the phone.” My right foot hits the brakes abruptly as a baby deer suddenly appears in front of me. ”Would you move?” I honk at the animal but it stares back at me like I’m speaking a foreign language.

”Huh?”

”Not you,” I respond to Theo. ”How fast can you get to Fiona’s World?”

”I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’m at the station.” That explains the rustling and noise in the background.

”Meet me at the bakery ASAP.”

With that I click the line dead and the baby deer finally moves away from the road and into the forest. My fingers dial Ryan’s number. ”Hey, Ryan.”

”Yea?”

”Meet me at Cranedale. Do you know Fiona’s World?”

”Yea. Mel works there. Been there a bunch of times with Paris.”

Good. I don’t have to send a location.

”Great. We have a code red.”

”A code red? Who died?” A code red is when there’s a pressing and urgent situation that I can’t handle by myself. This situation fits into that category.

”Mel is in danger,” I say urgently. ”Patricia did it. She killed Vladmir and now she’s trying to kill Mel. She’s crazy, deranged and unstable. I don’t have the time to explain everything but meet me there, bring your gun and call Janet and Pearson. Things may get ugly.”

I’m prepared for war.

I click the line dead again and I see the sign ”Welcome to Cranedale.” I breathe a sigh of relief. I’m finally here. Bridgewood is a small town, an affluent one, but that’s the only part people see. Cranedale is a far cry from where I live. Most of the people here are in the poor and middle class belt of the society. I remember I used to be one of those so I feel for every single person that lives here. That’s why for the past three years I’ve been donating a specific sum of money to the youths centre-Cranedale Youths Centre. It’s run by Kyle, an activist for youth’s development. He’s a wonderful guy with a big heart and I respect him and respect all the work he does. I met him at a coffee shop and he told me that he was looking for donors for his centre and the rest is history.

So far, the centre has taken in thirty kids whose parents abandoned them or whose parents can’t afford to take care of them. I also volunteer my time on some weekends to teach them basketball. I’ve formed an attachment with those kids and I hope, when I’m off to college, I can still make out time to see them.

Some of them have big dreams, dreams of leaving Cranedale to something better and I’m going to do what I can financially to support those dreams. A chunk of my income as a gangleader goes to the centre but I don’t mind. It puts a smile on my face to know that my money is being put to good use.

Before Patricia left for Paris, she would drop by to teach the girl’s how to apply makeup and do girly stuff. I have no idea if she has had the decency to drop by ever since she came back. I hope she didn’t because someone like her should not be around children.

It’s the least I could do to better the life of someone else. Those kids and I share a somewhat similar history. If Dean handn’t come into my mum’s life, who knows what could have been.

The crime rate in here is alarming: my first car was stolen, Mel was almost raped by that bastard called Khalil and I’ve had a few run ins with the minor gangs. It’s not the ideal place to live in, but hey, as long as you have a place to call home, no matter how shabby it is, you’re good.

As I speed past the sidewalk, I see some of the passerbys look at me like some sort of alien. I get the same look everytime I come here. It’s very uncommon to see a luxury car in these parts so I can understand.

”Mel, pick up the phone.” I yell. This time, her phone is off and I give up. Tossing the phone on the passangers seat in annoyance, I see the familiar pink colours of the bakery.

”Finally.”

The sky is darkening and I hear a strike of thunder as I park the car in front of the curb. If Zeus exists, this is the wrong time for him to be shooting his arrows. I see my sister’s Ashton Martin parked a few feet away from me and dread grips me.

She’s already here.

I fly out of the car like my ass is on fire, ignoring the fact that I didn’t lock the it. There aren’t many cars parked here. There are a total of four: mine, Patricia’s, Mel’s and the fourth one is, I’m assuming, belongs to the owner.

Another person is being brought into this mess.

I run towards the familiar double doors and push the door handle but it’s locked.

I push again but the doors won’t budge.

She’s here! She’s fucking here.

”Princess, are you in there?” I yell. I knock on the glass repeatedly. It’s see through, but everywhere is dark. The lights have been turned off. ”Princess, can you hear me? If you can, just stay calm, I’ll get you out of here.”

My gut is telling me this is a hostage situation.

”Avanla,” I yell again. ”I know you’re in there. If you hurt her, I swear on my life, I’d kill you on this concrete.”