Escape to London: A Roleplay

He goes up behind her, hand around her waist "I still think you should let me..do this but you are more stubborn than I am. Also, that is definitely done." He looks at the bacon she's cooking, they sit down to breakfast.

Charlie just walks and same with mom, they all sit at the table.,they chat like everything is fine. Liam is always looking at Alyssa, making sure she's okay.

--------------

It had been weeks since, Gwen left back to the states and Liam was back to work. He often still spent nights at Alyssa's.

One night, he heads in. She buzzed him into the building and door was unlocked for him. He goes straight to the fridge and takes out a beer. Charlie comes over to him and they say hellos. Alyssa finally goes over to him and they kiss.

They passionately get more into it. Charlie coughs, "Alyssa....ask him."

Liam breaks off and looks at Alyssa, "ask me what?"

Alyssa sighed. "Charlie wants to do another shoot with me, but it's not just me he wants."

Liam's brow furrowed. He motioned for her to continue, but Charlie beat her to it.

"It's a romance shoot. A couple. Very intimate, very stripped down, sensual, yadda yadda. I had a model all lined up, but the only man my girl here will let near her is you."

Alyssa crossed her arms. "You make it seem like I would have done the shoot if I hadn't met Liam first."

Charlie shrugged. "Probably not, but you've got to admit Nick Bateman is gorgeous. How could you pass that up?" He glanced back at Liam and held his hands up in defense. "No offense, Mr. Intense."

Alyssa reached for Liam's arm and leaned against him. "It's Liam or it's a no-go. End of story."

Charlie put his hands together as if in prayer, locking his puppy dog eyes on Liam's. "Don't make me do it, handsome," he pleaded. "You know I'll beg."

Liam looks at them and is almost unsure of what to say, "I am beyond flattered that you guys think of me..,as some Greek god but I feel a little weird about this."

Charlie sighs, "Why?"

Liam looks at him, "Am I going to be naked?"

Charlie answers, "Wearing a sheet..., both of you."

Liam gives him a look, "Who is seeing this photo?"

Charlie answers again, "It's for my portfolio, so just me...and whoever I choose to show it too."

Liam nods, drinks his beer and finally asks one last question. "$500 bucks and I'll do it..." He adds, with a smirk.

Charlie snorted. Five hundred was nothing compared to what the models were paid. It was cute that Liam seemed to think that was a fair deal, but he wasn't about to tell him that. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his wallet. In seconds, he had the money in his palm, held out for Liam to take.

"So?" Charlie promoted, tapping his foot on the floor. "Do you want to schedule this thing or just skip to the stripping?"

Liam looks at him, "You want to do this right now?" Charlie nods, walks off. Alyssa kisses him and shows him to her room. The bed is set up all nice, he smiles "Just knew I'd say yes, didn't you?"

He puts the cash in his pocket and starts to unbutton the shirt, takes it off and then looks at Charlie and he knows to look away, Liam takes off everything else and gets in the bed.

Alyssa gets in as well, Liam eyes her and they are soon directed on what to do. Hour and a half later, they finish and Liam tells Charlie to leave the room.

Liam grabs onto Alyssa and pins her down below him, she looks back to him and they kiss passionately.

The portfolio was coming along great. One of the photos was purely stunning - the angles, the lighting, the way Liam and Alyssa were posed - it was gorgeous. He hadn't exactly run it by either of them, but that photo wasn't meant to sit inside a binder. It was meant to be seen and paraded around. The man needed to ditch the venue and get in front of more cameras. He was palming the photo, considering making copies and sending them out and just how pissed Liam would be when he learned of it, when there came a knock on the door.

When he swung open the door with a wide smile on his face, he quickly regretted not looking through the peephole first. On the other side was not the pizza he'd ordered, nor Alyssa. This man was too burly, too serious, to be anything but a cop. Fudge.

He kept the smile on his face and crossed his arms, popping his hip against the doorway. Maybe if he acted ten times gayer, it would put the man off enough for him to leave. It had worked before. "Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome, you here to arrest me?" He quirked his eyebrow at the man and licked his lips. "You're a top if I've ever seen one."

The man was nonplussed. His hands in his jacket pockets, he nodded behind Charlie, into the spacious living room. "I think you know why I'm here. Mind if I step inside?"

Charlie teetered on the edge of yes and no, cursing himself for opening the door. He could turn the man away, but he'd be right back again later, perhaps with a warrant. Poor Alyssa was going to die. He hoped like hell that Liam wouldn't be returning with her. Better shoot her a text.

"It's just me here by my lonesome, officer, but if you insist." He stepped aside, and sweeping his arms in a grandiose gesture, he walked the man inside. "Pardon me for a moment. Would you like some tea? Water? Beer?"

The detective nodded, his eyes registering the room and its decor. "I'll wait. Water sounds fine, Mr. Lenoir."

Double fudge. The man had done his research. Charles Lenoir, the best friend of the girl on the run, conveniently living in the UK where Gwen had just been not long ago. How many people would chalk it up to an innocent vacation, mere coincidence? Not many.

"Back in a jiffy," he said with a wink, his smile not faltering in the least until he stopped in the kitchen, his phone in his hand. He sent Alyssa an urgent text.

*EMERGENCY. COP IS IN APT. YOU'VE BEEN FOUND.*

Swallowing his nerves, he reached for a bottle of water from the fridge, took a deep breath, and walked back to the detective.

---

The text chimed on Alyssa's phone while she walked with Liam through the venue. The lighting had been going out in certain areas - maintenance would be a bitch. The ceilings were so high, Liam was going to need to get a special ladder just to get the job done. The audio was fine, so it wasn't anything to rush, but Liam wanted things right. It was his place, his love, and he wasn't going to call on someone else to do it.

When she was finished helping him inspect the room, she pulled out her phone to read the text when the screen went black. A red battery logo flashed, telling her her battery was dead. The text would have to wait until she was back home with her charger.

An hour later, she and Liam ended up at the apartment, hand in hand. When Liam opened the door, Alyssa stopped dead in her tracks. She recognized the man's face, the sadness in Charlie's eyes, and the confusion in Liam's. It was over. The charade was up.

Eyes wide, she remained glued to the floor, and swallowed hard when Detective Pierce stood.

"Ms. Giordano," he greeted her, his deep voice filling her with dread. "You weren't so easy to track."

Liam looks at the man, remembers him "You came to the store..., what is going on?"

He looks at Alyssa, curious.

Alyssa's eyes were burning. She wanted to cry. Things had been going so well, all things considered. She was happy with Liam. She had his affection, his trust, and it was about to disappear, perhaps for good. She should have stuck with her plan to tell him. Instead, she'd pretended, like everything else, that she wouldn't need to. She'd been a fool to think this day wouldn't come.

Her mouth opened, then closed. She didn't know what to say. She didn't want to look at Liam, for him to see her for the liar that she was.

The detective took a step closer, his eyes softening. "First off, I can see that not everyone is filled in on the situation. Ms. Giordano, breathe."

Why was he being nice? He was going to arrest her. He was going to send her back to New York. He was going to rip everything she loved away from her, and she could do nothing to stop it.

"Detective," she stammered. "I- I'm sorry. Please don't do this here."

She could feel Liam tensing beside her. She wanted to crawl inside a hole and die. He was going to hate her for this, and he'd already been betrayed not too long ago. He didn't deserve this. He deserved a normal girl, a girl who would give him nothing but honesty.

The detective motioned toward the couch. "It's either here or my hotel. I have questions. Now, if you'd rather either of these gentlemen not be present for this conversation, you can ask them to leave or we can go elsewhere. I'll let you decide."

Liam looks at detective, " go elsewhere? She's not going anywhere. I want you to just tell me what's going on."

Charlie pulls Liam back for a second, "She will, let her go for now...Go Alyssa, it's better than running."

Before Alyssa can protest, she does so.

Liam looks at the closed door, " what just happened?"

Charlie looks at him, "Just wait here for a second..."he walks off and comes back, hands a book to Liam, who takes it.

"Thats her...it will explain everything better. She wanted to tell you but judging by your face right now, she didn't want to lose you, just try and....be open minded." Charlie begs him, Liam looks at him and opens the book, reads the first few lines and ends up needing to sit.

It talks about visions and the "headaches" after awhile of reading, "Visions? So, it's not cluster headaches....what am I reading?"

Charlie looks at him, "She's been having them as long as I can remember, you see how freaked out she gets when they happen. Liam, it's all true...."

Liam sits, "I have never heard anything like this before, to think she couldn't tell me..."

Charlie looks at him and sits next to him on the sofa, "Just see and talk to her when they can..."

"but now, she's going to be arrested...they think she did all these murders! This is...a lot to take in." Liam stands up and sets the book down.

Liam looks at Charlie, "I have to get out of here...." He does so.

Alyssa couldn't help the tear that rolled down her cheek as Detective Pierce drove toward the hotel. She hadn't wanted to cry, and she wouldn't allow herself to continue. It was one tear, and it was all she would shed. She should have seen it coming. She wanted more than anything to have Liam there, to tell him everything from the beginning, but it was too late for that now. She'd be in America soon, back to face the music. Running had only made them more suspicious, but spur of the moment decisions made during a panic were rarely well thought out.

Something white appeared in her lap. She looked down and saw a handkerchief, the one that had been peeking out of his suit pocket earlier. She picked it up and dabbed at her cheek. "Thank you," she said meekly.

The detective stared through the window, casual as always. "I don't get you."

Confused, she turned her head to face him. "What?"

He kept his eyes on the road. "I've been watching you for a couple weeks. You go to work, you go on dates with your boyfriend, you entertain the family and eat Indian take-out. Where's this deranged killer I've been hearing about?"

She flinched at the thought of people calling her that. "I'm not," she replied, her voice rising an octave. "Sir, I swear. I can explain but you wouldn't believe me. No one would. That's why I ran!"

The man drove in silence for a moment before speaking again. "That why you didn't tell your boyfriend?"

That hurt. She looked away, out the window. Her answer was barely a whisper. "Yes."

Back to silence. The radio played smooth jazz. Elevator music didn't suit her mood at all. She could see the detective enjoying this, though. It was smooth and calm and classy. It fit.

Her stomach rumbled and she grimaced. She hadn't eaten all day.

"You're hungry."

"I'm fine."

The detective turned on his blinkers when a diner came into view. "Let's eat." He pulled into the parking lot and got out. As if the thought just occurred to him, he leaned down through the opening and met her gaze. "Don't think of trying to escape me. You're making a good impression so far; it'd be a shame to chase you down and cuff you. Understood?"

She had nowhere else to go, anyway. She nodded. That seemed to satisfy him; he closed the door and walked around to her side. He held the door open for her, waited patiently for her to get out, and then escorted her to the entrance doors. He held them open for her as well and gave her a nod. "After you."

He handed her a menu and took one for himself when they found a table. A waitress appeared to take their drink orders and then scurried back to the kitchen. His eyes roaming over the choice of dinner items, he spoke. "Ever eaten here?"

She kept her voice low. "No."

He shrugged. "Guess we'll both just have to trust the food isn't shit." After another moment of looking, he closed the menu and slid it toward the end of the table. "Speaking of trust, we have some ground rules to discuss."

She had been stuck between choosing the everything burger and the baked spaghetti when he spoke. She looked up instantly. "Yes?"

"It's fairly obvious, the rules. I'm a cop, a human being; I don't like being lied to. I won't lie to you, you don't lie to me. We clear?"

She nodded. "Yes, sir."

"You seem like a nice kid. So long as you're respectful, I'll be respectful back. I give as good as I get, Ms. Giordano. I came here on this lone mission because I'm a reasonable man and I'm good at my job. I came to listen before I bring you back. Call it utter fucking curiosity, but my gut is telling me there's more to this story than you being a stone cold killer since you were fourteen."

She wasn't sure of what the ground rule was there, but she nodded again. "Am I being interrogated now?" It seemed odd to be discussing this in a diner.

The detective's lips quirked; he huffed out a quiet laugh. "No. Not quite. I don't believe in witches and magic and visions. If you're crazy, then fine. But I know a little girl couldn't kill as many people as my colleagues want to pin on you."

Her heart sped up inside her chest. She was sweating. "What? How many?"

"As many as you told them when you came by the station in hysterics," he replied, reaching into his suit pocket and withdrawing a small notepad. He flipped to the first page. "I have six names here, all of which you rattled off before you split. Heather Mullaney, age twenty-three, killed by her boyfriend, James O'Connor. Stabbed her, and as she was bleeding out, injected her wounds with acid. We sure as hell never leaked those details to the press."

Alyssa tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. "I knew they hadn't. I mentioned things only the police would know. I wanted them to solve the murders I'd seen."

"Seen," he echoed, sitting back in his seat.

Shit, that sounded bad. "I didn't mean..."

"You said seen," he said when she trailed off. "Were you there? A witness?"

She was trying hard not to panic, but her nerves were getting the best of her. "No, sir."

"An accomplice?"

It felt as if someone had turned the temperature up in the place; she was burning up. Her skin was flushed, her brow beading with sweat. "Jesus, no! I swear!"

The detective looked around the diner; a few of the patrons had turned to check out the situation. They quickly looked away when the detective stared right back. "Calm down." The waitress appeared with their drinks, and Ezra nodded toward the glass in front of Alyssa. "Drink your water."

She obeyed, watching as he gave his order to the waitress. His eyes landed on hers. "What'll it be? The everything burger or the pasta?"

She had never voiced her options to him; she couldn't say he wasn't observant. She offered the waitress a small smile and ordered the burger. He had requested the same. When the waitress disappeared again, he leaned forward and folded his hands over the table. "So, visions?" he guessed. "Is that what we're sticking with?"

"I know how hard it is to believe. I've had them since I was fourteen."

"When the murders began," he added on to her statement.

She nodded. "When my dad died. When I died."

"The accident. You both drowned, they revived you. I've done my reading."

"I was dead, Detective. They brought me back. My mom and I think that somehow dying did something to me. That it made me able to live through the last moments of people's lives. I don't know."

"People die all the time, Ms. Giordano," he reminded her.

"I only see murders. I see deaths that happen when they're not supposed to."

She could tell he wanted to give up and conclude the conversation. He didn't believe. He likely didn't want to. But, true to his promise, he was respectful, and he was reasonable. He was hearing her out as he'd said he would. "Your mother and you have any theories on that?"

"We were hit by a drunk driver. He hit us, watched us crash into the river, and drove off. We didn't die a natural death. We were murdered."

He fell silent until the food came. It made her nervous to see the gears in his head turning. She didn't have a clue what he was thinking. Maybe he'd already shut the door between them and didn't want to hear any more. He demanded honesty, and none of this sounded like the truth. Not in the real world.

When he was halfway through his burger, she finally broke. She couldn't stand the guessing. "You don't believe me."

His eyes settled on hers, his lips set in a thin, hard line. He looked at her as if he was studying her. He dropped his burger back down on the plate and dusted the crumbs off of his hands with a napkin. He never broke eye contact. "The year I became a cop was the year you were born. Twenty-four years of being lied to and following my gut to find out the truth. Either you're the best damned liar I've ever come across or you're truly out of your mind. I'm leaning towards the latter."

The conversation had done nothing. She needed her book. She needed to show him the true scale of every vision she'd had. He would know for sure, then. She wasn't capable. It wasn't possible.

When they finished up, he drove her to his hotel room and retrieved a bag from the back seat. He led her inside and tossed the bag on the extra bed. "Your bed and a change of your clothes. Charlie packed you some things you'd need."

The book. She dove for the bag and ripped it open, desperate to find the evidence Detective Pierce would need in order to believe her. She sighed when she found nothing but toiletries and two outfits.

Ezra noticed her disappointment. "Missing something?"

She carefully packed what little she had back into the bag, defeated. "Just proof."

"Whatever proof it is, we'll get it tomorrow before we leave for the States." He sat down on the edge of his bed and reached for the television remote out of boredom. "If you need a shower, go ahead."

Without a word, she grabbed up her tank top, shorts, and a fresh pair of panties and took a quick shower before returning to her bed. He barely spared her a glance; his shirt was already off. She glanced away, feeling way out of her element. If he was intimidating in the suit, he was twice that without it. He had to be nearing the end of his 40s at least, but he obviously kept in shape. He was no stranger to heavy lifting, and she doubted he'd even break a sweat if he had to subdue her.

"I'm taking a quick shower," he announced, brushing by her and stopping himself outside the bathroom door. "Find something on TV, sleep, do whatever. Remember what I said about running."

He spoke like he knew she wouldn't try it, and it was merely a warning he was forced to give. She nodded nonetheless, and then listened as his feet padded around inside the small bathroom, as his toothbrush buzzed, as the shower came on. He was out in a matter of minutes, toweling off in a fresh pair of jeans. He glanced down at Alyssa - she hadn't changed the channel. She was staring down at her cell phone, looking dejected.

"We leave for the airport tomorrow at exactly 11:30," he announced. He nodded towards her phone. "You calling someone to bust you out?"

It sounded like an attempt at humor, but she held her phone up nonetheless and pressed the bottom button. The screen lit up and flashed with the same red screen, then faded to black again. "It died before we got back to my apartment tonight."

He pointed toward the bedside table. "Use my charger." He sat at the edge of the bed and watched her fumble for the cord. "Go ahead and call your guy."

She looked back up, surprised he was being so lenient. She may have hated the situation she was in, but he had her respect. "I can?"

He flipped through the channels, sitting back against the headboard. "Wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it."

She sat in silence for a moment, waiting for her phone to charge enough to be usable. He seemed to settle on the news. The next story caught her attention.

"Still no word on the man found burned to death two weeks ago outside a bar on Hackney Road. Friends have identified the victim as Malcolm Reed, a resident of Dartford. Police are still investigating and asking that anyone with any information contact...."

She took the risk and spoke, her eyes on the detective. "The killer wore a mask. Black with these white stripes. Vertical, varying in size, all jagged lines."

Ezra, his arms folded behind his neck, cocked his head toward her, brows raised. "Another vision, huh?"

It wasn't just a vision, she wanted to say. She wanted to tell him that she had burned right along with Malcolm Reed. "I felt everything he was feeling and I saw the killer light me on fire. He had an American accent. The victim didn't know him. He died confused. The killer said he was sorry, that he was getting back at a friend."

The detective remained patient. Tired, but calm. "What's that supposed to mean? He killed an innocent guy to get back at someone else?"

Alyssa shrugged. "I only know what the victims know. Every vision I've had, I have a witness to back it up. It's just that I told Liam they were cluster headaches. But I write down each vision, the date, every detail I can remember. He can verify when the last one happened. His whole family can."

Ezra's eyes seemed to want to drift shut. The slits between his eyelids were getting smaller and smaller. "Too bad I'm only investigating the murders in New York."

"That's the thing," she said. "He wore the same mask as the man from my earlier visions. In New York."

He breathed in deeply and adjusted his pillow. "Well, then, we can investigate further when we're back home."

Several minutes passed before she spoke again. Ezra's chest was rising and falling steadily as the sounds from the television filled the silence. She didn't want him to fall asleep before she asked him one favor.

"Sir?"

Bright blue eyes shot open and settled on hers. He grunted in response.

"Can Liam come? Tomorrow morning? I want to say goodbye and I think he has my book. I need my proof."

He grunted again and threw an arm over his eyes. "As long as his ass is gone before 11:30."

She watched her iPhone screen come to life. "Thank you," she whispered, and thumbed through her contacts. When she pressed down on Liam's name, she prayed like hell he would answer.

Liam was sitting at a bar, whiskey in his hand and felt a hand slap his back. He looks round and sees Callum, "Not a surprise you're here..."

Callum sits next to him, "Why the anger mate?"

Liam shrugs, "Nothing..., let's--"

He stops and hears his phone, he takes it out of his pocket. Sees its Alyssa calling, he finally answers "Please tell me all this is a misunderstanding and you didn't actually do anything?"

It broke Alyssa's heart that that was his question. He wanted to believe her, and that was more than she deserved. She felt the tears welling up again and blinked them back.

She kept her voice down, watching the detective sleep. "I didn't," she replied, her voice full of desperation. "Liam, I swear I can explain everything. I need you to believe me. Listen, I asked the detective if you could stop by tomorrow morning before 11. We're staying at the Premier Inn in Stratford. Room 1456."

She took a breath and let it out slowly, trying to remain calm. "Liam, he's taking me back to New York."

Liam listens to her, "I'll be there at 9" he hangs up, the very thought that she's leaving he couldn't take.

That night he spent time wit Callum, they drank and drank so Liam could forget. They make their way to a strip club and even got a lap dance, one of the only reasons he didn't do anything else was because he passed out.

-------
He woke up at 5am and stayed up so he could make it to Alyssa. He gets cleaned up and grabs two coffees. Soon their is a knock on her hotel door, the detective stands on the other end. He goes to reach for one of the coffees, "I really wouldn't do that..."

Ezra stared back at Liam, then down at the coffee. "Very well." He looked behind his shoulder and nodded toward Alyssa. "How you feel about a third coffee this morning, Giordano?"

She cradled her stomach, setting the remains of her English breakfast to the side. "No, thanks."

Ezra offered Liam a half-ass smile and snatched the cup from Liam's hands. "Thanks for the coffee, Romeo." He strode toward the edge of his bed, not five feet from Alyssa, and sat down. "You two have a nice chat. I'll be over here."

Liam gives just a hateful stare to the detective and sits next to Alyssa, no kiss hello yet.

He takes out a book from inside his jacket, " Charlie told me you needed this...., I've read it. You know she didn't kill anyone." Looks at the detective, with another serious look.

Ezra sipped from his coffee. A little too sweet for his taste, but it would do. "What I think is inconsequential, Mr. Thatcher," he replied. "I have a job to do." He was curious about the book in Liam's hand, though. "You mind?"

Grudgingly, Liam handed it over. It was thicker than he had expected. If this thing truly listed every vision, every time and way she died, he could imagine why she'd have a mental break and go crying to the cops in a moment of weakness. Then again, that was a big if.

He flipped it open to the first page. Scrawled in tiny, sweeping handwriting, was the first entry. "Nov. 2nd, 2001. Stabbing. Husband Joe. She's wearing cross bracelet, pink nail polish. He has long scar on arm. Mention son Josh, she threatened leaving." Christ. Beside the text, in red ink, read: "SOLVED. Joe Ellison kills Everly Ellison, Fifth Avenue, New York Times."

Ezra vaguely remembered the case. He wished he were in New York with access to the files. Would he find proof of the small details? Scars, nail color? It was too specific not to matter.

He read on, case after case, some with red ink, some blank. He skipped to the last entry, listed below a string of muggings. "Sept. 20, 2015. BURNED ALIVE. Killer, victim unknown. 'Sorry, buddy. I had to get back at a friend.' American accent??? Surroundings unknown. Killer unknown to victim. SAME MASK FROM NY."

Well, she hadn't been lying. She was nuts, perhaps, but she hadn't been lying. He made a mental note to ask Liam about the so-called cluster attack when the couple finished their discussion.

It was looking more and more like the girl really had some fucking magic ability. Ezra didn't want to believe it, to open up that door and welcome the idea, but he couldn't call the girl a killer. In his heart, he knew she wasn't. It didn't leave out the possibility of her knowing a handful of killers, or being so insane that she participated and blocked it out, but damned if the book wasn't convincing. He didn't know how the hell he was going to present this to his superiors. Ought to be an interesting phone call.

Liam purposely ignores the detective and keeps his focus on Alyssa, "it's hard to believe but I do, it's explains everything and why you're so secretive. Our relationship is private and I won't discuss that with a cop in the room..."

"I am here to help you, so what do you need me to do? I can come to New York?" He says it and means it but the store, all that work. Shows they've planned.

The selfish part of Alyssa wanted Liam to follow her anywhere, but it wasn't practical. It was wrong to ask that of him. She had known all along that it was wrong to run. She had been scared and she'd fled and it was time to stop running and own up to her mistake.

"No," she said, reaching for his hand and pulling him down beside her on the bed. "You've got the store to manage. You've got life going on here. I'll call you every chance I get, I promise. Maybe I can get through to the police."

Liam looks at her and he's mad, at the situation and her. "Their isn't really more to say then..., you now have plenty of time to make that flight."

He eyes the cop and just takes his hand out from hers and looks at her, doesn't want to be an ass to her but this all is such a shock and now she's leaving.

He leaves without anymore to say.

Alyssa watched him leave, his name on her lips, tears in her eyes. She'd been so committed to not feeling sorry for herself until now. She didn't know where they stood. Were they over? Had he just turned his back on her for good?

Her breath caught in her throat and she covered her mouth to keep from making noise. It was awkward enough to share this moment with the detective; she didn't want to make her sadness glaringly obvious to top it off.

She folded over herself and hugged her knees to her chest, turning away from the man sitting across from her. He didn't try to speak, but again, she looked down beside her when something landed by her leg. A small box of tissues from the bedside table sat waiting to be used.

After a few long moments, she was no longer crying. She had gone through the gamut of emotions; melancholy, numbness, acceptance. It was what it was, and now she was empty.

Behind her, she heard the flipping of pages of her handwritten notebook. For a man who thought her insane, the book of her visions surely seemed to be a page-turner. In his other hand he held his phone. He seemed to be doing his own research.

"NEI," he prompted, glancing over the top of the book to meet her gaze. "You use it a lot."

She tried to speak, but her voice sounded like gravel. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Not Enough Information," she explained, almost glad he was giving her something to think about besides Liam. "Gang shootings, in particular. Too many people, large groups, too much confusion."

He nodded. "Makes sense." He stood up to stretch and set his phone on the bed. "Now, I'm not wholly assuming this is all real, but I gotta ask." He sat back down, his eyes on hers. "What's the worst vision you've had so far?"

Alyssa's skin turned hot; she fisted the comforter beneath her legs and averted her face from his stare. "You really don't want to hear it."

The detective sighed. "I'm trying to gauge your emotional connection to these so-called visions. I want you to be able to pick out a certain incident, from memory, that I can look into."

She fidgeted, picking at the edges of her fingernails and squeezing her hands together. Anything to avoid looking at him. "April 5th, 2003."

The detective opened her notebook and thumbed through until he found the entry. "Little girl, Jessie," he read aloud. "Last name unknown. Bedroom unicorn scheme, carousel lamp, Disney princess sheets. Father perpetrator. Brown eyes, buzzcut, large. Daughter stabbed while being..." He stopped himself and set the book down. "Jesus fuckin' Christ."

Alyssa kept her knees tucked against her chest. "Jessie Annabelle Thompson. She was eight years old. She kept begging him to stop and he just... he kept going. Even as she was bleeding out-"

"That's enough," he interrupted, getting up to pace the room. "Why was there no red ink? They never caught the sick fuck?"

She shook her head. "They never found her body. I only know her name from the missing posters around the city. I checked in on the father constantly from afar. He played the grieving dad well."

His glare landed on her. "This bastard's still alive?"

"And married again," she answered. "Every year I go by his house to make sure he doesn't have any kids. I could tell you his name and address right now. I can tell you he's got a naked woman tattooed on his side, and that somewhere in that house he's got a chunk of her hair wrapped up in the pair of panties she was wearing that day." She swallowed. "I was sixteen and got to witness the rape and murder of an eight year old, all before lunch period. Caused quite a scene in Spanish class."

Ezra looked like he could kill. His quiet fuming made her nervous. Finally, he spoke. "If this is all real, IF this is real..."

"It is, and when we get back to New York, I can show you. We can bust into the place if you want. I did it eight years ago; found the evidence stashed in a shoe box in the back of the closet. I watched the man sleeping with a knife in my hand. If I were a killer, Detective, he'd have been dead by now."

He stepped toward her, his eyes narrowed into tiny slits. "If I find out otherwise, kid? If I find out you know some sick fucks or you're in any way involved and you wanna play the fucking psychic, so help me God-"

It happened then. As he was leaning over her, his fists on either side of her legs, his angry stare boring into hers, the breath was stolen from her lungs.

In the vision, she saw the man with the mask through the eyes of a woman in a maid's uniform. He had her on the floor, his hands around her throat, as she struggled to break free. It was agony trying to breathe and getting no air; Alyssa had been through this so many times, she had learned not to fight it. Her body convulsed involuntarily, and absently she felt the detective's hands shaking her, his voice yelling for her to snap out of it.

The man in the mask leaned down to speak to her, the American accent the same as before. "Look at me, sweetheart. That's right." He eased up a little and the woman gasped for breath. "You think I'm gonna let you bring me down, bitch? I'm coming for you."

He made no sense. Nothing made sense. His grip tightened around her throat; the maid fought harder. She reached around for something, anything, and grabbed onto a silver cart. She pulled, and cleaning products scattered along the hallway. Her eyes locked onto a stack of thank you cards as the last of her life was squeezed from her. On the bottom of each card? Thank you for staying at Premier Inn. Please come again.

---

Alyssa arose with a gasp, eyes wide, nerves going haywire. "He knows," she shrieked, bolting off of the bed and diving for her book and bag of clothes. "We have to go."

The detective was up in an instant, right behind her. His face was flushed pink. "Are you fucking kidding me? What the fuck was that?"

"A maid," she replied, out of breath. "He just strangled a maid here. He knows about me somehow, the American with the mask. He's coming after me to shut me up. Please, we have to leave."

"This is ridiculous. How the hell would-"

His words were interrupted by the sound of a gunshot. A bullet flew through the door and struck the wall behind him. His arms wrapped around her and he turned her away from the door, shielding her with his body. "Get under the bed," he barked, and she didn't need to be told twice. She curled herself into the smallest ball she could manage, flinching at each exchange of gunfire. Ezra stayed by the side of the window, firing through it occasionally before ducking back into the corner for cover.

Another bullet whizzed by him, and he fired another few rounds with his pistol. There came a shout from outside.

"Think I got his leg," Ezra said, more to himself than anyone else. "You all right down there?"

"Yes." Her voice was small, the pitch too high. She sounded like a child, not a woman.

"Well, I've got a couple shots left until I'm out of clips. We're gonna need to make a run for the car."

Fuck fuck fuck. She wiped her sweaty palms on the knees of her jeans. "What do we do about the shooter?"

"My top priority is getting you home safe," he answered, risking another glance out the window. "If we leave the guy here with nothing but a fucked leg, then that's what we're gonna do. This isn't a TV show. There's no such thing as infinite ammo."

He lowered himself and reached below his own bed, pulling a duffel bag out from underneath. "You got your book?"

The last thing she wanted was to crawl out from underneath her bed, but weirdly, she trusted him to keep her safe. She was also almost positive he believed her now. "Yes."

"Good. Let's go."

She slid out and crawled across the floor on her hands and knees, the bag's handles wrapped around her wrist. Another gunshot sounded out the second she stood, hitting a painting of a flower behind her. She lowered herself until she was hunched over.

"When we leave this room, we're moving fast. I'm gonna be holding on to you. It isn't a long walk to the car, but I want you facing toward the hotel room until you're in the car. Then you're going to duck until we're in the clear. You got all that?"

Alyssa nodded, but before she could vocalize an affirmative, he grabbed her, tucking her against his chest. "Move!"

They both sprinted - her bent down, the detective constantly rotating her until she was facing away from the shots. He fired off the last few bullets in his pistol while he led her to the car, and then finally they were there. She jumped into the passenger seat and he slid in behind the wheel, starting up the car faster than she could buckle herself in. He sped out of the parking lot, bullets shattering the back window as the tires squealed, and in moments, they lost him.

His eyes stayed on the rear view mirror for a while afterward, just in case the shooter followed by car. So far there was nothing to indicate that. Ezra glanced over at Alyssa. "You okay, kid?"

She nodded quickly, trying to catch her breath. "Yes, you?"

He looked down at his arm; he was bleeding. "Nothing that can't be fixed."

Her eyes went wide. "Jesus, you were shot because of me. Oh my god. We need to get to a hospital!"

He gritted his teeth. "No, the fuck we don't. Your mother was a nurse before she went into jewelry, right?"

It still shocked her, someone knowing so much about her family and friends without having ever asked. She nodded. "Yes, but-"

"Then that's where we're headed. I don't know what this guy knows, but if he's after you, he could be after anyone you love." He nodded toward the bag on the floorboard by her feet. "Take that phone and start making calls."

Liam spent the day as normal, made himself busy with work and ignored his sister when she asked where Alyssa was.

It was only when he had the radio on in his office, he was just finishing an email to a band asking to play a gig when the music stopped and a broadcaster came on. Reports of a shooting at Herringtons Hotel.

Without hesitation, Liam picked up his phone and called Alyssa. When she picked up and said his name, he was so relieved.

"I heard what happened, did you just miss it or are you okay?" He asked.

He had heard? Already? "I'm okay but the detective got shot. He'll be fine but we're headed to the airport now."

She took a deep breath. "Liam, you need to be careful. You, Charlie, Davina. One of the killers from my visions is after me to shut me up and I don't want to think about what he could do to the people I love."

Just then, it occurred to her exactly what she had said, and thus implied. She carried on, hoping those words got lost along with the others. "We were the targets at the hotel. If you see a man with a black and white mask, run."

Liam listens to all this, "after you? Alyssa...I can't just hear this and not act on anything. I will make arrangements and come to New York..., didn't want to tell you over the phone or in front of the cop but I love you..."

Alyssa's heart sped up. She wanted to agree with him, to have him in New York with her, but it wasn't right to expect that of him. She didn't want to put him in danger. What about his sister and Charlie and the rest of the Thatcher family?

What if the man in the mask wanted revenge before he followed her to America?

She couldn't help the feeling of happiness that spread through her, despite everything. He hadn't given up on her. Just the opposite. He loved her.

"I love you, too," she answered. "I do. It's all been so fast but I do." She swallowed hard, guilt taking over. "Please forgive me for everything. I should never have lied to you. Please just forgive me, because for the past few months I've been hating myself for it."

Liam listened, "Look...we will make it work and I believe you. I want to be with you and that's it. "

Suddenly, her hears behind him his name and looks to see Callum, who knocks him out. Soon he lifts up the phone, "Sure you want to take that flight to New York?"

He hangs up.