Sweet Silence Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Jake's life was mundane. He was living a black and white existence in an equally black and white world. And that's how he liked it. Honestly. The less exciting his life was the happier he was. Okay, happy may have been too strong a word but he was definitely comfortable. More comfortable than he had been in years as a matter of fact. He still slept with a loaded .45 under his pillow but that was more out of habit these days than necessity. As he checked the magazine and verified that the safety was indeed on, like he did every night, words from an old, but not forgotten, conversation began swimming in his head, like it did every night.

         "Ellie, it really isn't that dangerous."

         "Jake, you sleep with a gun under your pillow! How can you look me in the eye and say what you do is safe?"

         Though she had been yelling, Ellie hadn't been angry, just concerned. Probably frightened too, if he was being honest and, honestly, could he blame her? Here he was, a year later, still sleeping with a gun under his pillow. Twenty years ago he had been angry and single-minded. I want to put the bad guys away he told anyone who would listen. Having watched his mother and little brother bleed to death on the front lawn, victims of stray bullets from a drive-by shooting, he had promised to do everything in his power to make sure nobody else became victims. He was gripped by a powerful obsession and worked so hard to obtain his law degree that he finished a full year before most. He spent the next ten years prosecuting every drug dealer, gang member and thug he could convince the DA to bring charges against. He worked tirelessly to make the streets safe for the innocent. Naturally, the people he put away weren't happy about being locked up, and they had friends equally unhappy about it. After a while it seemed he was getting death threats at least two or three times a week. While he felt that most of them were more bark than bite there were a few odd incidents that raised the hair on the back of his neck. Nothing that could be proven, of course, but unsettling enough to have him buying the very Smith and Wesson he was now stuffing under his pillow. Old habits die hard, he thought, and I don't want to die at all. He was no longer chasing down the bad guys and locking them up but he wasn't stupid enough to think none would hold a grudge.

         Shaking away memories that caused more hurt than help he stripped down and climbed into bed. He fell into a restless sleep full of dreams about lost loves and wasted chances. When he woke suddenly at three am he chalked it up to the disturbing dreams. He rolled over and tried to relax back into sleep but something was niggling at the edge of his hearing. He sat up and listened harder. This time he was sure he heard someone coming up his front walk.

         Jake slid the .45 out from under his pillow, crouch-walked to the living room and ducked behind the couch. Jake was straining to hear, hoping to be able to figure out how many were on the other side of the door. He was concentrating so hard that he nearly jumped out of his skin when someone began pounding on his door.

         "Jake! Jake, open the door! For Christ's sake, please open up! Oh God, I need your help! JAKE!!!"

         It was the same voice that had haunted his dreams. He came around the couch and all but ran to the door. The minute he had pushed back the lock a shower of arms, legs, and cascading brown hair came flying into him. It was all he could do to keep from falling over backwards. Jake kicked the door shut then half-carried, half-dragged the now sobbing woman to the sofa.

         "Ellie, calm down," Jake said as he took her by the shoulders and gave her a little shake. "ELLIE!" he shouted, when the shake didn't work. She quit sobbing but was still sniffling so Jake grabbed a box of tissues from the side table and thrust them towards her.

         "What in the hell is going on? Why are you beating down my door at three in the morning?"

         Jake was not a patient man but he held his tongue, and his patience, as best he could while she finished blowing her nose and got herself under control. It helped that his heart was beating wildly and he needed to get himself under control.

         "I didn't know where else to go. Someone killed Evan, and I think they're after me too." Her eyes welled up a little but to her credit they didn't fall. Jake thought she was probably going to bite through her lip to accomplish it but appreciated her effort. Then he remembered he was nearly naked.

         "Okay, you're safe now. Take some deep breaths or something while I get you a glass of water, then you can tell me what happened." He patted her hand awkwardly as he got up. He didn't want to give her time to notice his state of undress so he hustled out of the room as fast as he could without actually running.

         He put on last night's jeans but pulled a clean shirt from his dresser. On the way to the kitchen he stopped and watched Ellie. She was as beautiful as he remembered, even with red, puffy eyes and a runny nose. She was looking around his sparsely appointed living room and he was slightly embarrassed. There was nothing hanging on the walls but a battered clock and a flat screen TV. The two windows were covered only by white plastic shades and the glass in the wooden door was covered in that privacy film. He had one couch and one large recliner for furniture, a well-used table to the left of the front door and a matching entertainment center under the TV. It was exactly the type of living room one would expect to find in a bachelor's house. For her, he wished it was more. Yeah, wish in one hand and shit in the other then see which fills up faster, he thought ruefully. He once again shook off the memories and retrieved her water.

         "Okay," he said, handing her the filled glass, "what the hell is going on?"

         She took the glass with both hands and he noticed the slight trembling. It seemed she was doing everything she could to hold it together. He felt equal amounts of sympathy and pride. She had obviously been through hell and holding up better than he thought she was capable of. She took a steadying breath before she spoke.

         "I walked into the apartment this evening," she glanced up at the clock, "or rather, last night, and found Evan lying in the bedroom in a pool of his own blood." Her voice began to crack and tears rolled down her cheeks.

         He so badly wanted to go to her. He wanted to gather her in his arms and not make her relive it. But he couldn't, so he just laced his fingers together in his lap and bit the inside of his cheek to keep from speaking.

         "He had been beaten so badly I almost couldn't recognize him." The tears were now free flowing. She wiped her nose and kept talking. "I rushed to his side to see if he was still breathing and he grabbed my arm. I had to get in really close to hear what he was saying." She stared off into space and Jake realized she was no longer in the room with him but back in her own apartment with her dying boyfriend.

         Jake used her silence to really get a good look at her. There were dried blood stains on the knees of her faded blue jeans, smudges on her shoes and a smear on her arm that she had obviously tried, and failed, to wash away. So many emotions were raging in him at that moment he didn't know whether to laugh, cry or scream. Worse, he didn't know whether those emotions were directed at her or himself. Though their relationship had ended more than a year ago he had never managed to get her out of his system, out of his blood. Not that he was pining for her of course. He just couldn't seem to forget her. He would find himself thinking of her at the oddest times. Now here she was, falling apart on his couch in the middle of the night. Not exactly the way he pictured their great reunion but beggars can't be choosers. What am I thinking? Jake shook himself back to reality. Her boyfriend was just beaten to death and I'm hoping it's a second chance? What is wrong with me?

         "What did he say, Ellie?" Jake said quietly, ignoring his internal idiot. She looked at him for a brief moment as if she didn't know where she was. Then her eyes refocused and, with a hiccough, she continued her sad tale.

         "He said the name Esteban and then told me to run. That was it. Only those two words. Then he died." The tears were pouring down her face and she could barely speak. "H...he's dead. H...he's really dead." Jakes' mind was running on all cylinders now.

         "Esteban? You're sure he said the name Esteban? Jesus, Ellie, how'd you get involved with him?" Jake moved to sit beside her and took her hands in his own.

         "It...it was...Evan." Ellie's response was barely a whisper as the sobs had fully taken over. She laid her head on his shoulder and her grief flowed. Jake put his arm around her and awkwardly patted her shoulder. He really wasn't good at this type of emotional display.

         This is not good, he thought. He continued to absently pat Ellie's shoulder while he worked out the next step. Esteban was Seattle's biggest drug lord. Rumor had it that he was branching out into the arms trade as well, and moving quickly up the ladder. If Esteban was involved Ellie was in more trouble than he could help with. He lifted her off his shoulder and grasped both of hers.

         "Ellie, you need to focus. What happened?" He gave her another little shake hoping to bring her out of her misery long enough to talk to him. The body-racking sobs had subsided while he was contemplating their situation but she was still blubbering, the box of Kleenex forgotten on her lap. He yanked out a few tissues and handed them to her. As she cleaned up her face as best she could he asked again.          She loudly blew her nose before answering.

         "I was about to call the police when the phone rang. I was too scared to answer it so I let the machine pick it up." She was no longer looking at him. She was looking into the past again, remembering the phone call. "It was a man with a heavy Spanish accent. I'm pretty sure it was Esteban. He asked if I liked Evan's new facelift." Her eyes were glistening again at the painful memories and Jake could tell it wouldn't be long before they fell. Once again he wanted badly to take her in his arms and comfort her but, once again, he knew he couldn't. He had to know everything that she knew, even things she didn't know she knew, if he was ever going to help her out of this mess so he just sat there and waited for her to continue.

         "He said I had twenty four hours to return what I had stolen from him or I would get the same facelift as Evan. I didn't think, I just ran."

         "Did he call you by name?"

         "Yes, he seemed to know I was actually there listening." She looked at him then, as the tears finally fell. "I didn't know where else to go. I don't know who I can trust."          

         Jake took the glass from her and grabbed her hands, pulling her off the couch. "You're safe now. Go to my room and get some sleep, you look exhausted." When she started to protest he held up his hand to stop her. "The adrenaline you've been feeding on for the last few hours is wearing off. You are going to sink lower and lower until you pass out from sheer exhaustion. Go," he said as he shoved her towards the door.

         "But-"

         "No buts. Get going." He turned away and went to the kitchen leaving her with no option but to go to bed. When he heard the soft click of his bedroom door he went back to the living room and straight to the phone. He dialed the number and waited impatiently for the person on the other end to pick up.

         "Aidan, it's Jake. Yes, I know what time it is...." Jake held the phone in silence for a few seconds while Aidan talked then said only two words: "Ellie's back." He figured those words would have an effect and he wasn't disappointed. "She's asking for my help, Aidan, and I'm asking for yours." Jake listened again then said "see you in twenty minutes" and hung up. While he waited he went to the kitchen to make coffee. It was going to be a long day.