Phobia

I’m barely conscious but the blaring ring of the phone is overwhelming, as if it’s crashing against my skull. I grumble, pushing myself up and wincing at the knot in my back. I’d let Anna keep the bed once she had finished vomiting and collapsed onto the small sofa, which was never a good idea.

Struggling up I shove the offending object against my face, “Morning.” I’m rubbing my sore eyes when he replies, a black streak on the side of my hand. I pull it away, trudging up and into my bedroom, Anna still asleep as I clasp for my glasses. “Do you have to ring so early?”

“It’s past nine on a Wednesday.”

“Exactly,” I counter weakly, feet cold on the hard wood. He chuckles lowly and I can imagine him running his hand through greying hair. “Any update on your missing Congressman?”

“Not yet. What about you?”

“What about me what?”

He sighs again, “You’re right. It’s too early for you to pretend to play dumb. I’m assuming you went out last night?” It’s not worth lying so I fill him in quickly, leaving out the part about Officer Blake and his partner picking me up. I’m sure Gordon knows all about that, no doubt Blake went and ratted me out. Within moments of the thought I’m furious again at his actions.

Gordon doesn’t say anything however and neither do I. “So, it sounds like it – doesn’t it?”

“We’ll keep an eye out. I’ll have some detectives look into it. Speaking of which you’re in- today.”

“That’s quick.” I compliment, slipping the phone between my ear and shoulder as I pour myself some water, wincing at little at the dull ache still within my ankle. “What time?”

“You’re seeing Jonathon at twelve, so I’ve arranged for an officer to collect you at eleven. That sound okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” I murmur, soothing my throat quickly. “I’ll see what I can do...but...you know what he can be like.”

“Not as well as you do.”

I make a noise slightly reminiscent of a horse, “What do you want me to ask him? To try and find out?” I have just over an hour and a half then, until I meet the car. I’m nervous, I always am, every single time. My brother knew that, I didn’t doubt that my anxiety over it give him some sort of pleasure. It wasn’t even that he seemed angry, he hadn’t since his trial. He could either be perfectly pleasant or cold; but never angry, never mean. He seemed to have gotten sick of that many years ago.

“Anything you can find out is valuable.”

“He’ll know something is up,” I warn, “We’re not due a visit for another month. He’ll realise that.”

“Cover it how you want too.” Gordon’s voice is warm now, a little put on. “You…You don’t have to go.”

“Yes I do.” I pour the remainder of the water down the sink, sitting back down again and starting to chew on my thumbnail. “Where am I getting picked up from?”

“The supermarket around the block, just past eleven.”

“And the officer knows…” This time, in my mind, he was rolling his eyes at my paranoia.

“As much as they need to, which is very little. But you know how to handle them. He’s a good lad anyway, Blake.”

My hand tightens around the phone instantly, “Blake?”

“From the station. He’s decent, I hadn’t paid him much attention before.”

“Well he certainly has been paying me some.” He questions this but I wave him off, “No, no it’s fine. I’ll deal with it.”

“If there are issues I can send someone-“

“No.” I’m struggling to stop my teeth from gritting together, “I’m good. I’ll let you know if Jonathon says anything useful.” Anna groans and staggers from the bedroom, “Right, okay, bye.”

Once Anna leaves I’m in a rush to get ready, jumping in the shower and shoving on far too much make-up to try and hide the bags under my eyes. I spend a little longer on my outfit, I always want to look put together when I see my brother. To look like I’ve made something of myself; that I’m far from the odd little recluse I have actually become.

It’s probably not worth it, Jonathon seems to know me as well as I do myself.

Sometimes better.

By 10:45 I’m stalling. I’ve slipped my shoes on, forced some cereal down my throat but I’m reluctant to go. Part of me wants nothing more than to storm down and have it out with Officer Blake. To tell him properly off for snooping on me. But then, he had been right. If he searched it on public files, he hadn't technically done anything wrong, at least for a cop. I imagined half of the things I’d done had been wiped off the record; Harvey had promised. In theory it shouldn’t even have my true surname, it should be under ‘Keeny’ my mothers’ maiden name.

I suppose I would be able to tell by Blake’s reaction at Blackgate.

Not that I should care, did care. A busybody cop was the last thing I needed. Although I was the tiniest bit impressed he found me.

Another couple of minutes and I run out of ways to waste time. Instead I grabbed my keys, Officer Blake’s jacket from the previous evening, check over my appearance one last time and lock my front door, checking several times that it was definitely was secure. It was only a five minute walk, and I always, oddly, felt much less conspicuous in the day. It may be because typically, the people I snoop on, tend to avoid the daytime. The walk is quicker than I want, and I can see the police car earlier than I would like, again fighting the urge to act on the anger bubbling in my gut. Blake is sat in the drivers seat, only this time nursing a cup of coffee.

I slide in the other side, purposefully not looking at him as I clip the seatbelt in place and dump my hand bag and his jacket on my lap. “Good morning.” His voice is pleasant, cheerful even. I don’t respond, instead I focus on not allowing my fingers to curl up as they want. He finishes his coffee within the minute, shoving it in the cup holder situated between us. “Oh, my jacket. Thanks.”

“No problem.” My voice cuts. He takes it carefully, his arm barely brushing against mine as he leans to place it on the back seat. “Right, so…Blackgate then?”

“Yep.” It was clear he was waiting for me to divulge more but I kept my lips firmly shut, glaring out in front of us instead as he pulled off, weaving around the ever busy streets of the city. There were several times, when we were stuck in traffic that I knew he wanted to say something, his mouth kept opening and closing like a bloody fish. Eventually it winds me up to the point that I question him instead, “How’d you get stuck doing this? Right after a night shift too?”

“Gordon asked me a favour. He’s the commissioner.”

“Mmm.” I hum, already struggling for anything half positive. All I want to mention is how utterly infuriating he has been in the short time I’ve known him, how pissed I was that he had looked me up, had stuck his nose into my business. I don’t, I focus on what I had been thinking earlier; he wouldn’t know anything of importance, he knew far less than he presumed.

“You know.” We’re stuck at another set of lights, “I wasn’t actually expecting my jacket back in one piece.”

“Thanks.” His fingers drum on the wheel again, it’s an annoying habit. “You keep doing that and I’m more than happy to rip it up.” He laughs at that, properly and quite loudly. I allow myself a small smile in reply. “How’s your ankle?”

I wasn’t aware he had noticed but nod, “Not too bad.”

“Good,” He muses, pulling off again, we’re not far from Blackgate now, “Good.”

Silence fills the car until we pull into the car park, and Blake parks in an designated spot not too far from the top outer yard. We’ve arrived right at one blocks recess and men are strolling in the weak sunlight. I don’t rush to get out, I’m stalling again, fiddling in my handbag for some ID (for a change it’s genuine) and tucking some hair behind my ear. The butterflies are rife in my stomach, so intense I want to be sick.

“Today isn’t a visitation day.” His voice makes me jump when he eventually speaks. “They’re only allowed a set amount, the inmates.”

“Every inmate is allowed a certain amount of visits, whether they take them or not is another matter.” I replied, practically reciting the list of rules of Blackgate Prison. “Under certain circumstances they can be changed.”

“A lot of men in there don’t deserve that privilege.” He said lowly, and I made sure not to look at him, whatever reason he was getting wound up for I didn’t need to know. “Gordon went to the Mayor for this.” I lift a brow, that didn’t surprise me as much as I wish it would.

“It’s important.” I admit, “If I get anything from it.”

“Who are you seeing?”

Now I laugh, it’s short and I reign it in quickly. “Gordon didn’t tell you?”

“No.”

“Must be annoying, doing all these favours for him without him telling you shit.”

“Like the opposite of what you do then, right?” He’s waited a few seconds before speaking, it’s not so much of a question as an assurance. “Perhaps.” I allow. His fingers tap the wheel again. “You want to try and guess?”

“If it helps you stall any longer.”

“I’m not…” the argument is pointless, as we both know and I deflate a little. “Fine. I am.”

“Not a boyfriend or anything then.” He taps his lips almost comically and I make a face at him. It’s all for show and I look at him a little longer, “You already know who it is.” I deduce, watching him carefully for his expression. He’s smooth and his lips purse a little before coming together, dark eyes meeting my own. “I have a pretty good idea.”

“Shoot.”

He adjusts himself in his seat, twisting so he’s facing me a little better. “You don’t want to know how I figured it out?”

“Not in the slightest.” I lie, although I am more bothered about his overall discovery than his methods. If he does guess correctly it just means I’m not at all as subtle, and hidden as I wanted. I feel my teeth dig into my lip, the tension building. He’s not mucking around now, he looks as uncomfortable as I feel.

“Scarecrow.” He says it quickly, like it’s a curse word. He’s waiting for my reaction in the same way I was his. I try hard to stop myself from faltering, not sure how convincing I am. “Am…Am I right?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I think that’s enough question time for now.” I go to open the door and he doesn’t try to catch me, he just rolls the window down. My appearance doesn’t go unnoticed and there are a couple of calls from the men, still in the yard. Blake leans across the seats and with a grumble I stay by the window. He’s like a damn puppy, happy he figured it out on his own – that’s obvious, but it’s not enough. He wants the full story.

“Why?” He’s working his way through a pre-determined list, that’s obvious. I huff, it’s been a half decent distraction but I need to see Jonathon and get it over with. I stick my head a little into the window, cutting him off. “When you were playing about with my file, what did my name say?”

“Keira Keeny.” It’s the first time he’s ever said my first name, and his eyes narrow as he says it, clearly catching my hint. They land on my own afterwards, my eyes are my biggest give away. I could dye my hair any colour, tan my skin as dark as I could handle but I will always resemble Jonathon in this way.

My eyes are as blue, and icy as his. Blake catches on but I’m gone.