Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
(Sorry, this is unbetaed, but my bestest beta bud had the unmitigated gall to go on vacation. Can you believe that?)
It was Friday afternoon, and Jim unlocked their front door and let Pam hurry in past him. She dropped her coat and purse on the floor in the entry, threw open the dog gate in front of the steps, and headed straight up the stairs.
“You go get ready,” Jim mumbled to no one in particular, “I’ll take care of the dog.”
“Thanks,” she called back.as she reached the second floor. Ah, she had heard him.
Jim followed her up more slowly, left his bag on the desk in the bedroom and proceeded to change into a plain white tee shirt and jeans. He could hear Pam in the shower as he headed down the stairs. He securely closed the dog gate behind him, and walked out the back door to bring in the puppy.
The puppy who would not be named stood with his huge paws on the fence of the dog run, tail wagging frantically, his bright eyes trained on Jim. When he opened the kennel door, the pup ran madly around him in circles several times, yapping and whining in excitement. His enthusiasm was infectious and just what Jim needed since he was looking at a long Friday night at home without Pam. It wasn’t that he minded her going to New York; he was happy she was getting to go. But having the pup to talk to made it a lot more pleasant for Jim.
He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little uneasy about Pam going back to New York, though he knew his concern was illogical. Pam’s plan was to drive over and pick up her friend Ginny. They’d grab a quick dinner and let the traffic die down, and then head into the city. Alex had assured Pam that there was valet parking available at the event, and Jim had insisted that she use it whatever it cost. He’d had enough of New York parking lots.
The pup finally plopped down panting at his feet, and Jim gave him an affectionate scratch. “Let’s go inside big guy. Are you hungry?” The puppy hopped to his feet to follow him. “So, what are we gonna eat for dinner with your mom gone?”
Inside, Jim headed straight to the kitchen to find the dogfood. After tearing around the house for several minutes, the puppy sat down on his dogbed in the corner of the kitchen, chewing on a random toy and waiting for the dinner he knew was coming.
He heard Pam’s footsteps in the bedroom upstairs as he called to the pup, “Come here Vol, come here.” He was trying not to call him Voldemort all the time, but Pam was going to have to come up with a name soon or the dog was going to start answering to “Voldemort”. Which, actually, would be okay with him, Jim grinned to himself.
The pup lit into his chow with vigor and Jim heard Pam moving in the upstairs hallway, so he walked toward the front door to see her out.
As she descended the stairs, he felt another pang of regret that she was leaving. She looked stunning. Her makeup was fresh, her hair soft and loose on her shoulders, and she wore a deep red dress that fit, Jim noted, in all the right places. It would almost have been worth another evening of culture with Art Boy to go with her tonight. Almost.
“Wow,” he said with appreciative eyes, “You look…amazing.” Her face lit up. “Jesus, Pam. This is going to kill Alex, you know that, don’t you?” He almost felt sorry for the guy. Almost.
“Oh stop,” she said as she hurried through the dog gate at the bottom of the stairs. Jim picked her coat from the floor and helped her into it. “Am I late?” she asked.
“Nope, right on schedule,” he said, glancing at his watch.
“Good. Well, I’m gone. Don’t wait up, “ she smiled up at him and gave him a lingering kiss.
“Ummm…” he murmured. “I will.” He reached for the door to let her out. “Have fun, Pam. Call me when you start home?”
“’Okay,” she said as she scooped her purse off the floor and headed out to the little blue Yaris.
Jim closed the door behind her. There was an emptiness that settled about the house when Pam walked out – he always noticed it. He watched out the dining room window as she drove off and padded back to find Voldemor…er…the puppy. Pam promised she’d pick a name this weekend and he was going to hold her to it.
The fuzzy guy was finishing up his bowl of puppy chow – boy could that dog eat – so Jim called him out the back door again for a walk - always a good idea after dinner.
When they came back in, Jim started rummaging through the freezer for his own supper. Which kind of pizza? He decided on pepperoni and slid one into the oven, twisted the cap off a beer, and sat at the kitchen table checking out the ESPN schedules. He had a couple of hours of work to do on the garage (which they were now calling the studio) but he could squeeze that in around a game. Pam was going to be gone until at least two am, afterall.
He didn’t find any great game prospects, so he was absentmindedly flipping through the classifieds when the oven timer beeped. Jim transferred the steaming pizza to the table and ran the circular cutter through it to make six huge slices.
He’d just lifted the first slice to his lips when he heard the music. It was the ringtone of a cell phone, he realized, but it wasn’t his. It was Pam’s, and it was somewhere close. He dropped the pizza back onto the pan and tried to locate the sound. The tone was a little muffled but he traced it to the corner of the kitchen, right where Voldemort was lying on his dog bed. Jim hurriedly searched around and under the dog, and finally put his hand on Pam’s phone, tucked into the seam of the dog bed bumper.
He flipped it open and answered, “Hello,” barely catching it before the voicemail picked up.
“Hello?” came a female voice, somewhat surprised. “I’m sorry, I was trying to reach Pam. I have the wrong number.”
“No, you’re right. Hi, I mean, I'm not Pam. This is Jim.”
“Oh Jim? Hi. This is Keisha. Where’s Pam? Can I talk to her?”
“She’s already left for New York, but I’ve just discovered she doesn’t have her phone. Our puppy must have...”he stopped. “It’s a long story.”
“Oh, you all got a puppy?” she squealed. “Cool. Was it for Pam’s birthday?”
“Yeah, it was.” Keisha seemed like a nice person, Jim thought.
“Well, It’s okay, I wasn’t calling about a big deal or anything. I just wanted to tell Pam that as it turns out, there isn’t going to be valet parking but Alex said she can use the lot a block east of there, and she can get her ticket validated in the building. But maybe she can figure that out when she gets here. She’s bringing a friend, right?”
“Yeah,” Jim answered. “I’m tied up working on the house here, so a friend from her art class here in Scranton is with her.” He was not at all happy to hear about the parking situation, and a new uneasiness set in.
“Guess we’ll meet her there, then. Oh, does her friend have a phone?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I’ll try and find out. I’ll get in touch with her and let her know if I can, “ Jim feverishly tried to think of Ginny’s last name. He didn’t even know that, much less her phone number.
“Thanks, Jim.”
“Sure. Enjoy the exhibit. Bye.” As soon as the call ended he searched Pam’s phone contacts for the name Ginny. Nothing. For some reason Pam tended to put last names in her contact list. Frustrated, he glared at the puppy. “Did you take this out of Pam’s purse?”
The pup just sat there guilt free, cocking his head and panting, unconcerned. Jim wished he could be that calm. He really wanted to get in touch with Ginny. Ginny who? He wasn’t sure he’d ever even heard the name. Wait. He’d seen some paperwork from Pam’s class out in the studio when he was working last night. Maybe there was a class list. He dropped the phone in his pocket and hurried out to the studio. The puppy tried to follow him out, but Jim hurried out the door, closing him inside the house. “You’ve caused enough trouble already, Voldemort.”
Jim dashed out the door and headed straight to the garage. He pulled open the side door, switched on the light, and immediately started scanning the floor for Pam’s green art bag. He was startled to hear a familiar voice behind him say, “Stop right there.” Jim heard the sound of a pistol cocking. A second later he felt the muzzle of the gun poke into his back through the thin tee shirt, and he recognized the voice. Alex the Art Boy was standing right here in Scranton, in their garage, holding a gun to his back. How surreal.
“Alex,” he stated the greeting.
“Hello Jim from Scranton.”
“What are you doing here?” Jim asked quietly. He was overwhelmed with relief that Pam had already left.
Alex’s laugh chilled him to the bone. “You don’t get it at all, do you? He paused. “Don’t worry, I’ll explain it to you. But first, let’s get comfortable. Lie face down there on the floor with your hands out to the side. “
Jim didn’t move. Alex shoved the pistol upward toward the base of his skull and whispered, “Do exactly what I said right now, or I will create some Jackson Pollock style art all over this garage door with your brains. I’m doing you a favor by explaining this to you. I’m actually fond of you in an odd way.” Alex’s tone was superior, condescending, and...disturbed.
“Yeah, okay,” Jim said quickly, his mouth suddenly very dry. He realized he was in a hell of a mess. Art Boy had gone postal.
Jim briefly considered trying to whirl around and overpower Alex, but he decided it would be suicide. All Alex had to do was pull the trigger and it was over. Instead, Jim decided to bide for time and hope that some other opportunity would present itself. He slowly knelt on the floor and laid down prone. He was acutely aware of the phone in his pocket, but as if he was reading his mind, Alex reminded him, “Hands out where I can see them. We’ll have us a little talk before I finish this.”
Jim laid with his head to the side, cheek on the cold concrete. Now he could see Alex in his peripheral vision and it was not a comforting sight. The look in his eyes was frightening…wild. Jim was scared. Scared for himself, and even more scared for Pam.
“Third time’s the charm. You’re a slippery one,” Alex started.
Jim figured that the more Alex talked, the longer he’d have to try and figure a way out of this. “What do you mean?” he asked, as he scanned the floor in his view for something he could use as a weapon. His wire cutters and tin snips lay several feet out of his reach, taunting him. His turned his attention back to the phone in his pocket.
“I’d have already had you taken care of if old Gerry Taylor hadn’t been in the parking lot that night in New York.”
“It was you in the parking lot?” The surprise in Jim’s voice was genuine. He’d been convinced it was Ryan’s friends. Jim felt his keys in his pocket deeper than the phone. Maybe he could squeeze them against the floor to push the phone up and out of his pocket. It was worth a try, and he didn’t have a better idea at the moment.
“I had a brilliant plan that night.” Alex exclaimed, grandiose. “Pam wasn’t going to wake up after I added the sedative to her drink, and I was going to take care of you in the dorm room. But you walked right out the door while I was giving you time to go to sleep.” Jim shifted his position slightly to put pressure on the keys, and sure enough, he was able to ease the phone toward the opening of his pocket while Alex talked. “It would have been perfect, and almost ridiculously easy. Stupid suburbanite boyfriend unwisely goes to car in middle of the night, dies from injuries. No suspects.”
“You have a big swing with that bat.” Jim kept him talking.
“Surprised? It’s genetic. My father played for the Yankees in the 80’s.”
“That explains a lot.” Jim mumbled as he tilted his hip and shifted again to move the phone – the top was nearly to the lip of his pocket.
Alex stopped short. “Are you moving, smartass?” he snarled. “What do you take me for?” Quick as a snake, Alex planted his left foot on the floor beside Jim’s hip, pulled his right leg back, and put his full weight into a vicious kick that caught Jim squarely in the ribs.
Jim couldn’t help but cry out as he felt the crack of bones and a searing pain coursed through his right side. He grabbed at his ribs with his right hand involuntarily.
“Get that hand back out there, you big gangly bastard!” Alex shouted as he brandished the gun at Jim to make his point.
Jim managed to get his hand back out on the floor, but holy shit this hurt a lot worse than last time. My God, he thought, this guy is a raving lunatic It became all too clear to Jim that Alex fully intended to kill him here tonight and he didn’t have a realistic plan to stop him. He also faced the prospect that maybe the best he could do was inflict enough damage on Alex so that at least he couldn’t get to Pam. Time, he needed time. He needed the phone in his pocket. He needed help, and it wasn’t coming.
Just then, the phone in his pocket rang it’s familiar tone. “Leave it.” Alex said, and after six rings it stopped. Was it Pam, Jim wondered, calling to say she’d forgotten her phone? He felt a cold terror as he considered the possibility that Pam might actually come back home to get her phone. It could have been anybody, he told himself. But what if she came back? Alex would kill them both. Desperation seized him.
“Alex, okay man, “ Jim spoke haltingly, “do whatever...to me...but please...please ,” Jim’s pleading was all too real, “please don’t...hurt Pam. Please. I’m...begging you.”
Alex chuckled. “That’s very sweet, really. You don’t get it at all, do you Jim?”
“Obviously not,” he panted. “Could you explain?”
“I would never hurt Pam, you dimwit. That night in New York when she thought someone was following her? It was me, but I wasn’t stalking her. She’d told me about those phone calls she’d been getting. I saw her leave the museum alone and I wanted her to be safe so I followed her to make sure. And then you played right into the whole thing by telling her to call me. That was rich. No, I would never hurt Pam. I’m doing this for Pam.”
“Umm…how’s that?” Jim managed. Wow, he’d had Pam call the very person who was following her. Good job, Halpert, he congratulated himself on his stupidity.
“I love Pam, “ Alex’s voice became thick. “Weren’t you listening the first time I told you? That’s the reason I’m doing this, but not in the way you think. I’m doing this to give her the chance to become the artist she can be - a great artist. Because that’s what she really wants, deep down inside. To create magnificient art. She just needs a little push. She needs someone to encourage her, not hold her back. She needs someone who really understands her, someone who listens to her dreams.”
Jim took heart in the fact that Alex was getting caught up in his monologue here, but at the same time he was disturbed that he had said pretty much the same things about Roy. Focus here, he admonished himself. Jim wondered if he dare try to sneak a hand in on the phone? If he could somehow call 911 through the fabric of his pants? “You know, “ Jim ventured, “that if you kill…me, you’ll be hurting Pam…at least a little.” He needed to keep Alex talking.
“Yes, of course I considered that. She is fond of you, and she thinks she loves you, that's obvious. At first I didn’t understand, but after I met you, I could see how she’d find you amusing. I even like you in a way. But you don’t understand Pam like I do. You don’t know what she really wants and needs.”
“Maybe Pam should...get to decide...what she wants?” he ventured, doing his best not to challenge but simply keep the words coming. Christ, his ribs hurt.
“She’s too nice to hurt you, so I have to help her along. Pam will be sad, but that is part of my beautiful plan. Her temporary anguish will allow her creativity to flourish, and she will be free to express herself artistically.”
“And so how...do you fit into...this whole picture?” Jim asked as he managed to push the phone so that about an inch of it was out of his pocket.
“After she gets over the shock of losing you and starts to enjoy the creative surge she will experience? She’ll see I’ve always been there for her, and she will come to realize how much I care for her.”
As if hearing this news wasn’t bad enough, Jim suddenly became aware of headlights turning into the driveway. He could see them in the crack under the garage door. Oh God!! Pam must have discovered she didn’t have her phone at dinner and she was coming back to get it. No, this can't happen. He had to do something. Alex was facing away from the door so he didn’t see the lights. He didn’t know she was coming. Jim heard a car door slam and steps started up toward the garage. Finally, Alex heard the the footsteps, too, and Jim noticed his body tense.
Pam would come straight to the garage, Jim knew. The lights were on and he was planning to work here tonight. Jim also knew now what he had to do - if Alex turned to the door, Jim would go for him. Alex might shoot him, but watching Alex point that gun at Pam was not something Jim was going to tolerate. Even if Alex killed him, Pam would have time to run away. He had to somehow do enough harm to Alex to disable him, at the very least.
So this, he thought as the steps got closer, this is it.
The footsteps approached the side door to the garage and Alex turned to look toward the door. In doing so, he moved his body to face the door, aiming the gun in that direction. Faster than he thought possible, Jim gathered his limbs under him and pushed upward, making sure to knock Alex’s arm up as he lunged. There was a report of the gun as it discharged harmlessly into the ceiling and out of the corner of his eye, Jim saw the form of Ryan Howard appear in the side door to the garage, and then quickly disappear. Jim grabbed for the gun and the two men grappled for control of the weapon, four hands battling between them. Alex was wild and strong, but Jim was driven by anger and desperation, and they struggled furiously.
Jim’s calves caught on the legs of an easel behind him and the two men toppled awkwardly toward the floor, still wrestling for control of the gun, Jim heard two more reports from the pistol as he fell backward onto the concrete, pulling Alex down on top of him, and then - there was blackness.
To be continued...
Author's Chapter Notes:
I am a liar, so I apologize in advance. This isn't the last chapter. I clearly have no idea how long it takes for me to convey a story line. So, here's the next chapter, and I'm not making any more promises about how many there are left, because I obviously can't keep them. I hope you enjoy - this one finally lets the cat out of the bag.
Here's a version of my chapter title song from Etta James:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YXRWpCNLwyI
Here's a version of my chapter title song from Etta James:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YXRWpCNLwyI
Chapter End Notes:
Ha! You knew it, right? Sorry about the cliffhanger again, but there really was nowhere else to stop this, and the chapter was getting too long. I'm already half through with the las..next chapter.
Don't worry, things will get better.
Don't worry, things will get better.
