Possessing Morgan:
A Matter of Conviction
by Aurelia
Part 25
See Part 1 for Disclaimers
Chapter 25
The afternoon passed uneventfully. Andrea constantly beat her at poker and at last count she owed the woman nearly twelve thousand dollars. She only hoped that she didn’t have to make good on the IOUs.
As promised Arnold arrived with a Chinese banquet, leaving them with more than enough food to feed them three times over. However, Morgan did find out a little tidbit of information about Henry and his family that had otherwise eluded her. It seemed that his family owned one of the more affluent restaurants in Chinatown. No wonder he was footloose and carefree, her partner was worth a fortune. She was going to have to have a word with him when this was all over about hiding secrets. Then again… she was not one to talk.
The night held little excitement for them either. The programming on television was abysmal unless, of course, one was into reality shows. Morgan felt she had enough reality in her own life without trying to gratuitously live another one with someone on TV. So it was back to the book.
Andrea was making coffee when Morgan looked up from her book, her senses immediately going on alert.
“What’s up?” Andrea had seen Morgan tense in anticipation.
The detective placed a finger to her lips and reached for her gun. She pointed out the door, her fingers indicating a possible intruder. “Here, take this,” she whispered, handing over her revolver.
“What about you?” Andrea held the butt between two fingers distastefully.
“I can fight, you can’t. I want you to take cover down in the office. You are cornered up here if he comes up the stairs. Just don’t shoot me when I come through the door.”
Andrea pursed her lips. “You do something stupid like get yourself killed and I might.”.
Morgan kissed her finger and placed it on Andrea’s cheek. “Come on.” She moved carefully down the stairs, feeling the counselor behind her. She gave the blonde a tiny wave as Andrea disappeared into the office. The tall detective prowled like a large cat around the large open space, her long legs covering the factory floor quickly and quietly. Nothing seemed out of place in the semi-darkness, perhaps save a friendly mouse or two scurrying around for cover.
Morgan let out her breath, glad that it was a false alarm. She was just about back to their room when there it was again, a slight shuffle of leather on cement. Her first thought went to the immediate danger of their attacker, but she felt that they had covered their tracks adequately to eliminate that possibility. That left Morelli, and this would be his style. If that asshole was playing games she was gonna kick his ass all the way over the Brooklyn Bridge. But even as her mind was telling her it wasn’t a danger her hand automatically dropped to her pocket for her phone. As her dad always said, better to be safe than sorry. “Henry? Hey, it’s me. Yes, we’re fine but my hair is standing up on end. Can you come down now? I need you to watch my back, buddy.”
The silence was annoying the hell out of her. “Morelli?” Her deep voice rang out in the emptiness of the large building. “Is that you? Stop playing these stupid games, you moron!”
She was temporarily blinded by the myriad of blazing lights as the power was switched on. “That’s it. When I find you I’m gonna kick your butt.” Her good hand shaded her eyes as the blinding white slowly faded and she could make out the room, and also the large hulking giant standing right in front of her. “Who the hell are you?” Before she could take a breath he let fly with his massive right fist, making contact with her midsection and sending her reeling back against the wooden wall.
Pain lanced through her torso, her breath ripped from her throat, leaving her leaning against the structure winded and doubled over. Her assailant wasted no time and approached her, grabbing her broken wrist and slamming it against the wall, drawing an agonized moan from her lips. Morgan’s body screamed at her begging for relief, but she was unable to answer the call.
Huge stubby fingers hooked her under the chin, lifting her face upwards to see her attacker. He was a massive man, nearly as wide as he was tall. Now this was what she imagined as an enforcer. She studied him, realizing her fate. This was going to hurt… a lot.
His chubby face split into an evil grin, one gold tooth winking at her in the light. “You gonna kick my butt are you sweetheart? I don’t think so.” The deep gravely voice spoke volumes about her chances of surviving this. He was not going to give her a chance. As she watched, held against the wall by his left hand wrapped around her throat, his right hand balled into a fist. It was like time had slowed down and she was viewing it all in slow motion as that huge slab of meat he called a hand slowly descended to her face, hitting her right in the jaw.
Blackness touched the edge of her consciousness and as he continued to pound into her, she was silently begging for it to end her agony. She knew she should fight back but the pain occupied a substantial part of her brain, numbing her senses into immobility. One eye started to close and she could feel a river of warmth drip down her chin.
The pain was everywhere and her brain couldn’t comprehend the enormity of her situation. “Now, where’s the blonde?”
“In China.” That earned her another blow to the stomach, sending a burning shard of pain across her skin.
“Again, where is she?”
“Go to hell, you shit!” This blow struck her on the temple, sending her crashing to the floor to lie in a small puddle of her own blood.
“No matter…” he mumbled. He rolled towards the stairs leading to the room. This man didn’t walk but waddled, shifting city blocks in his passing. “Here kitty, kitty, kitty…” he spoke sweetly, half expecting the woman to surrender in a heartbeat.
Morgan had never felt such pain as she did now. She wasn’t even sure if anything was broken. It sure felt like it
“C’mon sweetheart. If you come out I’ll make it quick. You fuck me around and you’ll be begging me to finish it.”
Struggling to stay conscious, Morgan tried to listen to a far off voice in her head. What… what was it trying to say? She could barely organize her scrambled thoughts. The large man’s words had triggered off something. Something about someone. A blonde. Her blonde. Get up… you can’t let him win… you can’t let her down again. The whispering echoed in her brain, fueling her spirit to fight, to save, to defend.
With great effort she hauled herself to her feet, stopping once or twice as nausea threatened to overwhelm her. She could hear him systematically pulling the room apart to find the counselor and knew that she had little time to act. Looking around with her one good eye, Morgan found a steel pipe left over from the renovations. This was either going to save her or kill her.
“Get out here you piece of crap.” Her voice broke on the words, but she was determined to give her all. As she watched, he emerged, filling the doorway to the brim.
“You still alive?” He let out a boisterous laugh, looking at the battered and broken woman barely standing upright holding a steel pipe. “You gonna hurt me with that toothpick?”
“Nope, I’m gonna kill you with that toothpick.” Morgan tried to infuse as much menace as she could into the statement but the look on his face told her she didn’t succeed.
Over his shoulder the man mountain called to the counselor. “Don’t going anywhere, sweet cheeks. This won’t take long.” He wasted no time and moved his bulk towards her. Morgan swung with what strength she had left but found her arm held firm as if she were a child scolded by her father. He closed his hand over hers, squeezing firmly and forcing her to release her weapon. Calmly, he removed the pipe, turning it on the woman standing in front of him.
Morgan’s one eye widened as she watched the pipe swing down in an arc heading for her kneecap. Swiveling to the side, the metal connected with the side of her leg, collapsing the joint and sending her crashing to the floor. She had expected to see her life flash before her eyes but all Morgan could see was the hulking man standing over her, the pipe raised above his head ready to deliver the fatal blow.
The killer hesitated, looking over to a nearby piece of machinery, a nasty smirk crossing his lips as his eyes returned to his downed foe. A meaty fist grabbed her russet plait and dragged her across the twenty feet to the macabre death machine. With little effort he lifted her, draping her broken body across the narrow table, hooking her long hair in a lever across the other side.
All her abused muscles were stretched to the limit as she lay face up over the table. With difficulty she turned her head to see a series of lethal-looking, razor-sharp blades barely two feet away aimed directly at her head.
“Goodbye, detective. You should last just long enough to hear lover girl breathe her last breath.”
“You’re dead, if it’s the last thing I do.”
“Not in this life. Pathetic.”
It started as a low hum, slowly building in intensity as the machine warmed up. When the engine was at full speed, he flipped a switch, starting the whirling blades of metal on their deadly journey. An emerald eye glanced to the instrument of her death, her mind frozen in abject terror. Barely above the whine of the machine Morgan could hear the assailant tearing their room apart looking for the counselor.
The detective tried to look to where her hair was caught, catching a glimpse of a lever threaded through the middle of the braid. Frantically, her hands reached up to untangle the mess. Fingertips brushed the metal, stretching as far as they were able to make contact. Her wrist screamed in protest as she tried using fingers that had been useless for days. Desperate eyes alternated between where she was working and the whirling steel slowly creeping towards her.
Doubling her efforts, she pulled aching muscles to extend her reach but she couldn’t budge. Somehow, her cargo pants were hooked on the other side of the table, effectively laying her out like a piece of meat to be dissected. Sweat dripped down her forehead, landing into stinging eyes. Vainly, she shook her head trying to dislodge the moisture.
Like some masochist Morgan kept looking at the blades, mesmerized by their progress towards her. If she didn’t think of something soon, they was going to scalp her. Hands reached for the buttons on her pants, fumbling around in panic. Ignoring the pain, she began feeding the buttons through the eyelets, undoing her pants at what seemed a ridiculously slow pace.
Feeling the shift of air from the blades now she looked, the razor edges glinting from the overhead light as they whirred ominously. Adrenaline pumped through her abused body, quickening her movements in panic. Morgan used both her hands to shimmy out of her pants, giving her that precious extra length to reach her hair, but try as she may she couldn’t untangle it.
The blades were barely an inch from her face and she was left with only one option. Grabbing the lever, she shifted it towards the table. As the blades touched the first wisps of hair standing out from her head, she pulled herself back towards her pants swiftly, drawing taut her braid and hanging on tight.
A lone tear trickled from her one eye as she felt the first blade cut through her hair. It was like a loss of innocence as the final strands left her head, leaving her feeling naked and vulnerable. It was one of the things that had made her who she was and now it was gone.
Far off cries brought her back from her reverie, galvanizing her into action. All pain was now forgotten as Andrea’s pleas struck a chord in her. Doing up her pants, Morgan searched around for a weapon, her eyes dropping to something that made her smile. Oh yes…
* * *
Andrea had hidden in the locker, knowing that Morgan wanted her safe. It took all her willpower not to react to the beating her defender was receiving on her behalf. The gun trembled in her hand as she hid in fear. When he said “here kitty, kitty, kitty…” she nearly threw up. It had meant that he had gotten past Morgan.
Her heart soared when she heard that valiant cry, calling their assailant out for a final battle. Andrea moved from her hiding place with the start of the machinery, scrambling away from the room as he headed back to find her. She looked over at Morgan who was in deep, deep trouble, unconsciously making a move towards her to help.
“Ahh, there you are…” An ugly grin crossed the hired thug’s face, finally having found his quarry. Andrea held up her hand holding the shaking gun. “You gonna hurt me with that, girly girl?”
“Not one step closer.” Andrea’s voice sounded like a lost child and that was precisely what she felt like. He didn’t even stop in his stride towards her, batting the revolver out of her hand. Large hands closed around her neck, tightening as he lifted her off the ground. Now at the same height as he, the blonde came face to face with a truly nasty piece of humanity.
“Why? You don’t need to do this.” She could barely form words as chubby fingers slowly squeezed the life out of her.
“Hell, I would have done this for nothing.” She could see that he enjoyed inflicting pain. He was a mountain of a man and he enjoyed what that power could do for him. The pain slowly faded, disappearing down a long tunnel as her breathing became labored, struggling to draw in air through her rapidly closing windpipe.
Blackness swirled around her as all air was gone, her body succumbing to the lack of oxygen. As her senses slowly faded, she felt a body slam into the two of them, dislodging the hands wrapped around her windpipe. She crashed to the floor with a painful thud, her body refusing to respond to her conscious commands. Thankfully her body automatically sought oxygen and she breathed deeply, valiantly trying to replace the missing air in her lungs. Slowly, her eyes opened to a vision. There, standing in all her battered glory, was her Morgan.
* * *
It was like her body instinctively moved when she saw the counselor suspended in mid air by two large hands. The steady hiss of her weapon gave her courage to move, lowering her head and using her shoulder to shift the mountain of meat. She grunted as her body impacted on his, shoving him backwards against the wooden wall. Before he could regain his balance Morgan moved, lifting the activated nail gun in her right hand and firing. The low scream echoed through the vacant factory, bouncing off far walls in sympathy to the owner of the call.
Morgan stepped back, looking at her victim, his right hand nailed to the wall. Blood dripped down from the open wound, staining the cement in crimson. “You bitch!” he cried, torn between screaming and escaping. Before he could fight back, she grabbed his other hand, repeating the action that put him in his own private Hell.
Exhaustion lapped at her sagging energy reserves as the detective tried to remain standing. There was something she had to do but her brain was mush, battered and bruised from the constant pounding by a three hundred pound fist. A soft moan caught her attention and she reacted instinctively, swiveling and hobbling over to the downed blonde.
Her finger touched the safety button on the gun and she lay it down gently, moving a few more steps to the one her heart cried out for. “Are you alright?” Her voice held little volume and could be barely heard over the constant hiss of the compressed air bleeding out of the nail gun.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” The hoarseness was easily discernible in those few words, and Morgan winced in sympathy. Andrea’s hand came up to her throat, gently pressing into the abused skin. “Ow…”
“Yeah, you’re gonna get a nasty bruise out of this.”
“Speaking of nasty bruises…” Andrea’s vision blurred as she looked at Morgan. The woman was barely recognizable and it tore at the young woman’s heart. One eye was swollen shut and there was a split in a swollen lower lip. Skin was already darkening in several places on that pale face, obliterating the liberal spattering of freckles. “Oh God, honey, you look awful.”
“Tell me about it…” she whispered. “The only thing keeping me standing is the adrenaline. C’mon, let’s get this over quickly.” A large hand reached down and assisted the counselor to her feet. “You may not want to watch this…”
“Why? What are you going to do?”
“Get some information.”
“Oh no, don’t to this Morgan. Let the Law deal with him.”
“They will… eventually.” Her voice rose over the noise. “After what he put us through I’m not leaving here without a name.” Morgan started to move, picking up the nail gun and limping over to her victim.
“This is not who you are, Morgan. Please, don’t torture him.”
“Why not? He was prepared to scalp me, Andy. He deserves nothing less.”
“I don’t believe it. I thought I knew you but seems I don’t know you at all.” Andrea walked away, taking refuge in the room. She was not going to be witness to unprovoked violence. It tore at her that the woman she loved was about to carry out such a barbaric act. It went against everything she believed.
* * *
Morgan watched the counselor leave, hoping that one day she would forgive her for what she was about to do. “Now…” She turned her attention to the behemoth pinned to the wall like some butterfly in a collection. “You’re gonna to talk to me.” Grabbing his shirt, Morgan gently tugged him forward, drawing his hands taut and increasing the pain.
Red-rimmed eyes stared back at her. “Fuck you.”
Lifting the nail gun Morgan ran the weapon slowly down the barrel chest towards the floor. She stared into those agonized eyes as she continued dragging the gun down, stopping between his legs. Pointedly, she poked him with it. “No, you won’t.” Flipping off the safety she fired the gun, drawing an unearthly scream from the large man. Morgan didn’t know men could scream like that. “Oops,” she whispered inches from his face.
Tears streamed down the pudgy face, drool uncontrollably dribbling down from a contorted mouth. It took her victim a few seconds to realize that there was no pain, but the pounding of his heart would not abate. A moment later he closed his eyes, knowing that his body had betrayed him. Warmth ran down his leg and puddled in his shoe.
“Looks like I missed… this time.” She smiled at him, ignoring the searing pain from her lip. Blood ran anew down her chin at the action but she didn’t care. “Now… a name. Who hired you?”
“I don’t know.” Saliva flew as he spoke.
“Hmmm.” She studied him. “Perhaps we can do some body piercing. What about a stud for that earlobe?” The gun slowly raised and she delighted in watching his bloodshot eyes follow its path. Morgan stepped back dramatically, looking the whale up and down, her eyes studiously watching his feet. “You know, some say that when Jesus was crucified they nailed him through the wrists, not the hands. How about we see if that improves your disposition.”
“No… please!”
“Is that begging I hear?” Morgan grabbed his shirt and pulled, ignoring his moaning at the action. “You showed us no mercy, you sorry piece of crap.” She lowered her voice to a deadly growl. “Don’t expect any from me.” Slowly the tall detective lifted the gun to his right wrist, resting it against his skin.
“I DON’T KNOW,” he screamed. “I don’t! I don’t!”
“How were you contacted?”
“By phone and she met me.”
“She? What did she look like?”
“Me…” The pain was overwhelming him. “…medium height, dark hair and a Southern accent.”
“How were you paid?” When he hesitated, she fired the gun into the wall, placing it back over his wrist. “How were you paid?”
“Cash. In pocket…” His massive head hung, finally passing out with the strain.
Morgan took a handkerchief out of her pocket and reached in, extracting the envelope filled with notes. Carefully, she wrapped it in the cloth and put it in her pants, hoping against hope that forensics could find something. “It’s all over. You can come out now.”
Several seconds passed before Andrea emerged, disappointment written in every concerned line on her face. “How could you?”
“I didn’t do anything. He’s just passed out, that’s all.”
“Nothing?”
“Nah. It was all to scare him, silly. I got the information, didn’t I?”
“And you didn’t hurt him?”
“Well, no more than what I had already done to him.”
Andrea flew across the few feet, slamming heavily into the redhead. “Oh God!” Morgan saw stars as pain flowed through her like a tidal wave.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Renewed tears flowed as Andrea backed away distraught.
“C’mon. Let’s go.”
“It’s over?”
“Not yet, but I gotta get to hospital, and so do you. Henry should be nearly here.”
Andrea wedged herself under Morgan’s good arm, supporting her as she limped out towards the front door. “What about him?”
Morgan looked back at the grisly scene. “He’s not going anywhere.”
The cool night air was a welcome relief to their battered senses. Morgan saw a dark car parked across the street, Morelli sitting in the driver’s seat silently watching them emerge. “That prick just sat there while all this happened!” Anger overwhelmed her pain, sending her across the street to the closed window. “You shit! Open up, damn you! What the hell are you playing at?” He just stared at her, a smirk touching his lips. “You left us to die, you bastard!”
Arcs of light cut through the night, the twin headlights focusing on the two women. “Open up, Morelli.”
The dark Italian ignored her, his eyes shifting to the rear view mirror. He spoke for the first time, his voice emotionless. “I think you better run, O’Callaghan.”
An engine revved up and the twin shards of white moved, heading directly for them. “Move!” Morgan yelled, vainly trying to run with a damaged knee. Andrea stayed with her, one arm wrapped around her waist as they tried to cover the distance to the far side of the street. Hesitating, Morgan thought they were safe, the narrow walkway blocked by brick walls on one side and street lights on the other. But she was wrong. “Go! Go!” The dark sedan jumped the footpath, driving expertly between the two barriers, eating up the space between it and its victims.
Morgan’s leg finally gave out, sending them both sprawling to the ground. Unable to help herself she looked back, watching with some sort of perverse fascination the vehicle approaching them rapidly. “I’m sorry, Andrea…” she murmured, closing her one good eye to avoid watching the impact. Just as the car was about to reach them, another car emerged from a side street, slamming into the side door and sending the vehicle into the brick wall. Metal buckled and tore under the impact, pieces flying in all directions. Morgan sprawled herself over Andrea to protect her. Her back was on fire when one of the flying pieces of metal hit her, smacking her skin with such force that her body shook.
The silence that ensued was deafening, making Morgan wonder if she had gone to heaven but didn’t know it yet. Pain rolled over her in red waves and she knew she wasn’t that lucky. “You okay?” Even speaking hurt.
“Yeah. What about you?”
“Depends on what you call okay.” She couldn’t talk anymore, content to just lie on top of the counselor and concentrate on breathing. The sound of footsteps drew her attention, looking up to the owner of those feet. “You took your own sweet time.”
“Hey! I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Yeah… thank God.”
“You look awful.” Sometimes Henry could state the obvious.
“No shit…” she mumbled into the soft body below her.
“Give me a sec to call an ambulance.”
“Make it two.”
“Huh?”
“In the factory. You can’t miss him, he’s the one nailed to the wall.”
“What the hell have you been up to?”
“Fighting for my life, partner. Tell the paramedics to bring a pair of pliers, they’re gonna need them.” One bloodshot eye looked down the road. “Where the hell did he go?”
Henry looked around to see what his partner was looking at. “Who?”
“That bastard Morelli. Damnit, Henry! He was here and he did nothing!” She was exhausted. Her life blood, which was slowing dripping into an ever widening pool, had gone relatively unnoticed as pain, anger and adrenaline all flooded through Morgan’s tired body.
“I’ll get an APB out for him, partner. Don’t you worry, we’ll find him.”
At this point Morgan cared little about anything except relief from the pain and a little sleep… and Andrea, of course.
The driver of the other car hadn’t moved, effectively imprisoned in a cage of mangled steel. Morgan suspected who was in the car but she had to see for herself. Getting to her feet took more effort than she thought possible, swaying gently as she waited for the dizziness to subside. Dragging the damaged leg, Morgan shuffled the few feet to bring her to the folded hood of the car. Through a shattered window she saw her tormenter, a tiny smile touching her abused lips as she acknowledged that she had cracked the case.
She could feel the smaller body of the counselor step up next to her. “Chelsea Vaughan?”
“Yep.” Oh yeah.
Morgan’s body could stand it no longer. Driving herself to walk the few steps to the pavement, the tall woman slid down the wall, every ache and pain screaming at her in indignation as she did so. “I don’t think I’m gonna make it…” she murmured, the last word slurred as blackness swallowed her whole.
Feedback is always appreciated. You can contact me at aurelia_fan@yahoo.com.au