Mara has seen worse places. She has been taken to abandoned factories that looked scarier than this one, mostly for sex and by men who she didn't trust, and neither did she know them well.
But look at her now!
She has survived it all.
Will she this time, though?
Will she this time survive a decaying fabric, the walls stripped to their steel beams and the ceilings partly fallen down, when in contrast to the men who took her to similar places in her hooker days, someone actually scary took her here today, the police?
They can do whatever they want. They don´t need to explain it to anyone, if they make someone disappear by leaving them here. They could always stage a murder and frame someone for it who they want gone.
Gulping, Mara stares at the gun that Detective Campbell is carrying.
Is this what happened to Aaron?
It could have been, who knows, and if there is anyone who Mara wouldn't put it past then it is definitely the people on the force. Why else would they be called the force if not to imply that they are forcing their way, no matter if wrong or right?
"I´ll ask you once more, Mara: What happened to Aaron?"
Mara nearly shrinks when Detective Campbell starts to speak as if she has forgotten who has brought her here.
How would she know, anyway?`
How would Mara know what happened to Aaron? It isn't like he ever told her anything, so how could she even guess?
Maybe it was his mistress, she thinks. Wouldn't that explain the third shot to where it hurts most and isn't it where most crime shows go, to the mistress?
Ah, wait… That was the gardener!
She takes her eyes off the gun and meets Campbell´s.
"What happened to Aaron is that he, probably deservedly, got shot three times and bled out. Did you not figure that out by now?"
Campbell seems to grow strangely fond of it. Of Mara´s snappy comments, of her sassy nature, of her unfiltered answers.
Or why would she be smiling now?
"Listen," she answers and opens her blazer, bottom to bottom, it takes ages until she can take it off and throw it on the dirty ground.
All of a sudden she stands in front of Mara in only a white muscle shirt.
Oh, you have to give her that, the woman has muscles!
"I don´t wear a wire," she adds, "nothing, just look at me. I hardly brought it in my ass, I can guarantee it would be too tight in there. You can be open with me, Mara, what you tell me won't go further than these walls."
Mara sends her eyes through the factory. No paint, no plaster, no panels, and partly no other substance, either. These walls look far from trustworthy, in places they are even missing.
If she had something to say then she would surely not leave it in between these decaying, partly missing walls that are a refuge for homeless people?
If the black firespot in the middle of the room, the mattress on the far side and the suspiciously human looking excrements that they had to pass on the way in don't prove it, then the hundreds of crisp bags, empty beer cans, sausage wrappers and whisky bottles definitely do. Whatever she would trust these walls with could just be taken away by them. They could use it to buy themselves another few cans, and apart from that anyone else could enter this place through the missing door without anyone's permission and steal it, before the homeless get their hands on it. In the best case scenario the building would collapse before they could put it in their pocket and then the truth about Aaron´s murder would be buried here, in an abandoned industrial estate where, by the look of it, multiple other murders must have taken place.
Mara calls her eyes back and sends them into Campbell's face as if to stab her with her glances.
Why in all the world would the detective think that, if Mara knew anything, she would rather have it buried in a collapsing building, than investigated?
He was her husband, after all, and oh, she tried to love him!
She would have loved him if he had let her.
She did love him, the Aaron that she knew.
Even though about whoever else he was, she can sadly not be sure and will now never be, because his time ran out. His time to show her his entire entity and stop fobbing her off with a half identity that he had created just for her. And now she's here, wondering not only if he wanted to leave her and who Aaron really was, but also who Campbell thinks that Mara is. Because, no, even though she might not have known the real Aaron, she wouldn't want the truth about his murder buried in a place that would be perfect for a murder.
Jesus, what kind of sick fuck would?
Wouldn't a person like this have left him long ago?
She sighs.
"I´ll cut the crap now and tell you everything I know. And what I know is that I have nothing to tell you, Detective, nothing. But you can finally tell me what you meant earlier when you said that you know me and were meant to be me. Or just take your fancy gun off your show-off belt and shoot me, if that's what you brought me here for. But in the head and make it quick, because I don't want to spend my last minutes on this earth with a waste of my time."
"Shoot you?"
An agitated expression slides upon Campbell's face.
Oh, now her hand is going for it!
She takes the gun off the belt and approaches. Right in front of Mara she halts and breathes into her face, her nostrils just as big as black holes.
What is she doing this for?
Is it a last humiliation act, so Mara will leave the world a smaller person than she was, before a bullet from a fancy police gun hits her in the head and paints the walls behind her with her brain?
Regardless of the smelly breath in her face and despite the gun in Campbell's hand, Mara refuses to close her eyes but leaves them wide open, focused on the ceiling that looks like it will collapse in the next minute.
Hopefully it will, she thinks. Hopefully it will collapse and bury them both, because then at least she wouldn´t get killed by the fucking force.
She won't do that bitch the favour and look like she's afraid.
However, in all honesty, she is. She is horrified.
Is this what Aaron felt like?
No, for Aaron it must have been worse, she reckons, because no offense, but if he was one thing then he was a coward and if he has seen his end coming like in this moment Mara does her own, then she really hopes that his came fast. She would never wish anything bad on him. She would never have done anything bad to him. As infuriating as it is, it is the truth.
Why in all the world won't Campbell believe her?
Her eyes still on the ceiling, she suddenly hears it clicking. That's it, she thinks. The gun´s unlocked and she is waiting for the bang. In a place like this it should be an even louder one than the three that Aaron left her with, and she would deserve to leave with a louder one, would she not?
Bring it on, she thinks, bring it now! She is ready to go and it better be with a bang so loud that even at the other end of the world they can hear it!
Despite her receptivity, the bang stays out. Then all of a sudden there is a clacking. When she hears it, she doesn't instantly understand what's happening, until Detective Campbell walks three steps away from her. Finally Mara spots the gun on the filthy ground, and as her eyes race back to Campbell's face, she is trying to figure out what is going to happen next. Concentrated on finding an answer, she barely hears what the detective says.
"Mara, I was never going to shoot you. If I wanted to shoot someone then that would have been your late husband. That was what I was saying, I was meant to be in your place. I was the one who they approached first. He was supposed to marry me, not you, so I could watch him and if necessary stop him."
A choir, a church group, the AA, the gods, the spirits, demons or angels. "They" could be anyone. However, Mara cannot think of anyone who Campbell could have meant by it.
"I don't…," she exhales, confused, and as if not yet comprehending that she won't die anytime soon, but once she starts to understand it, she gulps away her close to death emotions and raises her voice. "Who is ´they´? And stop Aaron… Stop him from doing what?"
She moves her hands as if she is still handcuffed, and only when doing so, she notices that she is not.
The click a few minutes ago…
Not the safety of the gun, but her handcuffs opening!
With her jaw dropping she stares at her freshly discovered freedom and starts feeling embarrassed for having misread the situation.
Oh, how did she ever think that reading things was one of her superpowers?
Back in her hooker days she used to be sure of it. That's why the police never caught her, so she used to think, and it is as well the reason why in contrast to the girls she knew back then Mara wouldn't really often get into dodgy situations with clients who would turn out to be perverted freaks. During her years with Aaron, however, she must have lost what was her biggest talent once.
First the whirlpool tub and now this!
Just great that she wasted not only years, but just as well her superpowers on a self-centered narcissist like him!
Of course she cannot read things that normally happen around her any longer, after having spent more than 15 years trying to read Aaron, the most abnormal person who she has ever known. Reading him used to feel like trying to read the stars to figure out the future.
Nobody really knows how to fucking do it!
But of course Mara had to try.
Doesn't she love herself a challenge?
Well, one thing is for sure, at this one she has definitely failed, because nowadays she still knows Aaron just as little as on their first date.
What if he had never asked her out?
She studies Campbell´s face.
Is she telling the truth when she says she was sent to be in Mara´s place?
Would it have been her to marry him if she had been faster?
Usually Mara can spot a lie in someone else's eyes just as easily as a white stain on a black shirt, and since Campbell's eyes are not stained with it, she chooses to believe her. Surprisingly it is about the same moment that Campbell chooses to believe Mara just as well. Genuine disbelief creeps upon her face and she sighs, before her strength is sapped to nothing. and her jaw drops.
"You really don't know what I'm talking about, do you? I thought you did when you said the thing about self-preservation earlier, because self-preservation, that was Aaron´s project."
No, Mara genuinely does not have any idea. But she hates being left out and despises feeling like she has no control. What infuriates her most is admitting that her own husband forced her into a position that makes her his or someone else´s victim. That's why it takes her a while to shake her head.
"No," she finally replies, as if ashamed of it, "that's what I've been telling you all this time! I have no clue what you are talking about. Who is ´they´?"
Campbell bends over and starts gasping, her hands on her knees.
"If they didn´t send you," she groans, "then why did you marry him?"
Mara hates to admit it, but this is, in fact, what she herself has more than once been wondering about, and everytime she only found one answer.
"Well, why do you think, Detective?" She snaps. "I married Aaron because I fucking loved him. Or because I thought I did, whichever."
A puzzled look takes over Campbell´s face. Perhaps she's never been in love. Or why would it be so hard for her to believe that Mara did, in fact, love Aaron? They had little in common when they first met, Mara will give her that, but isn't that how the saying goes, opposites attract?
"Mara, I've done my research, ok?" Campbell scoffs. "You were a hooker and Aaron was your customer. Pretty woman love stories like this are a Hollywood scam, they don't happen in real life. Not for a second do I believe that you loved him. If anything then you probably got sick of working the streets and saw him as a way out. Did he át least know that you were using him?"
Oh, fuck her!
Mara´s fingers start twitching, as if she wants to punch her in the face, and maybe she will do it in a minute, that is how insulted she feels.
She wasn´t using Aaron, if anyone was used back then, then it was her. He wanted her to set him up with a prosperous job, and she tried to do it for him, even though she barely even knew him then. Yes, she might have done so for herself a bit, hoping that the regular he was would reward her with mountainhigh tips, if it were to work out. But she was definitely never using him. He was using her, and when she gave him the name of the man who she thought could help him, Aaron asked her out. That was how everything started.
"Just fuck yourself, okay?" She replies. "How did I use him, huh? I was trying to set him up with a better job than he had back then, and then he asked me out. As for the job, it wasn't my fault that it never worked out."
Campbell perks her ears.
"What job?"
"Well, I don´t know," Mara shrugs. "You said it yourself, I was only a hooker then, so how could I have even understood what scientists like him do?"
Oh, why is Campbell coming so close all the time?
Can she not give Mara space, instead of standing on her feet and breathing in her face again?
"Mara, this is important, what job?"
As if she could protect herself from Campbell's breath by doing so, Mara crosses her arms.
"Well, I had a client back then. He was working for a place that employed geoengineers like Aaron. He kept on going on about it whenever I was riding him, and you know what's funny? Haven't seen the man in all those years until today at the station. His name is…"
"Melanski," Campbell completes Mara´s sentence. "Bob Melanski."
Just rude!
Campbell´s parents should be ashamed of the woman they have raised. A manish butcher who doesn't give others any space, stands on their feet all the time and pressures them into talking about things that they would rather keep to themselves. Then when they give in to the pressure and speak about it, she doesn't even let them finish their own sentences, but snubs them, so they can only stand there, nodding, like Mara is doing right now.
"Yeah, Melanski," she confirms. "It was him today, I take it, wasn't it? The man with the heart attack at the police station? It was Bob Melanski."
Lost in thoughts, Campbell steps back - finally! But she doesn't nod and neither does she shake her head.
"Well," Mara shrugs, "Quite sure it was him, and he looked very much like he works with you, Detective. So he isn't employed at that geoengineer job anymore, I guess. Or maybe he never even was. Maybe he was always just a guy who works for the police and didn't want his fellows to find out what he was doing. Or who. Getting fucked up all the time and fucking hookers in your off-time might not sit right with you guys on the force."
She is shaking her head about herself, and about the fact that she ever fell for a pretense by Bob Melanski.
"You know, Aaron was lucky that it never worked out with them. Kind of makes sense now that I never even got to introduce them. The guy kept on delaying it. Before I asked him about his job and all that, he was a regular, came by at least once a week. But as soon as I started digging for information he stopped booking me and I never saw him again. What a scam of a man."
"Bob Melanski, a scam, huh?"
Detective Campbell puts her hands into the pockets of her suit pants, her eyes drenched in thoughts, and her face loses color.
"That sounds about right," she whispers more to herself than to Mara. "For months I´ve been trying to catch the fucker out now. The man is dirtier than a pair of underpants on the highway, so thank you very much! What you just told me could help."
"Help?"
Mara pulls up her nose and now she is the one who comes so close that it looks almost like she wants to seduce the detective.
"How does it help, am I missing something? And don't bullshit me now, Detective! I deserve to know what's going on. For fuck´s sake, I finally want to know what happened to my husband! "
Campbell takes a step back, as if trying to reject Mara without misunderstandings.
"What did Melanski tell you back then who he was working for? I'm asking this because I think that, yes, he is a dirty pair of underpants, but maybe out of all people you were the person he was honest with."
"Oh, bullshit!" Mara snaps, because she isn't sure if´out of all people´ is meant to imply anything.
"He only wanted to look like a hero when he really was a raging alcoholic who had me meet his sick, perverted fantasies. He fell around the place whenever I met him, that was how drunk he usually was, and for half the night he had me pretend I was his daughter who gives him cuddles, while he was crying like a baby. But for the other half I had to be his wife and tell him that he was the best while I rode him until his cock was pink. Can you even imagine how repulsed I was by the man?"
She shakes her head.
"Pretty sure that he noticed it himself at some stage, and once he did, he probably wanted to impress me with something and thought if he tells me that he works with geo-engineers who will save the world, it would change the way I look at him."
Finishing her sentence, Mara glances at Campbell and nearly chokes on her last words.
Why does she not look surprised, and where is the reply?
"Will you say something, no? You couldn't have heard this one before, I mean, I was a hooker for a good bit of time and never did I have a client remotely as fucked up as Bob Melanski."
Silence. Campbell´s lips stay sealed and she starts pacing. Up and down the room, along the partly missing walls and with her eyes on the ground as if she is looking for something to say in between the wrappers, bottles and leaves that the decaying floorboards are covered with.
"Fucked up, maybe," she finally replies, "but I think he wasn´t lying. For the past year or so I thought that he was working for an organisation like that. This was what I wanted to catch him out on. I thought that they were infiltrating the force with their spies."
Mara finds it upsetting, no, more than that, she finds it infuriating that she is once more left wondering about the same question.
"Who the fuck is ´they`? And if you brush me off again, Detective, I swear to God, I will break your neck with my bare hands."