Ill Always Catch You Pt 01

Dear readers. This is the most complex story I've ever done. It's over 60K words long. That being said, no volunteer editor would touch a story of such length. So, I'm sure there are typos and missed used words. Try to keep the pissing and moaning to reasonable levels. Also, please don't steal and republish on another site after all it is copyrighted.

Please enjoy 'I'll always catch you.'

The rain sizzled on the hot asphalt, and as quickly as the clouds opened up, it was over. I watched steam as it rose from the streets to form thin white clouds that drifted upwards over the skyline of downtown Cleveland Ohio. That was all we needed, more humidity. The air was already so thick you could squeeze water out of it with your bare hands.

"Hey, boss? You wanna look at this?"

That's me. I'm the boss. My name is Jim Beck. I own a company that does computer coding, which is a fancy way of saying we write software. Right now, we're up to our eyeballs in projects. I guess I shouldn't complain, busy times generate money, which pays the rent, and puts paychecks in the hands of my twenty plus employees. We're all young, I think the oldest is Ralph who's thirty-two. We're going to change the world one line of code at a time.

I heard a basketball as it bounced across the floor. Coding software can be a bear. Move one comma, and the whole shebang might go to hell. We're doing a lot of Internet security stuff right now; that's seems to be our bread and butter. Doing all this requires that we need to think outside the box, but at the end of the day, all of the stuff you took out, now has to go back into the box. That's why there was a basketball hoop, a few air hockey tables, two large old beat up sofas, and other distractions that keep one's mind clear and creative. There are times when we need to play and disconnect from the ones and zeros —the language of computers—and toss a basketball around.

All this magic comes together in an old pencil factory just shy of the flats. I can look out and see the skyline of the city, with the Terminal tower in the background, and the Cuyahoga river as it feeds into Lake Erie.

If only the walls in the old building could talk. The hardwood floors have scratches and dents from machines that were installed and later yanked out. In the ceiling you can still see the drive shafts from the old steam engine that lived in the basement and powered the machinery.

I don't even turn my back to the question that was asked. "I'll be there in a minute." The raising steam from the hot city roads held my attention for now.

As I watched the water evaporate, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned. It was Becky.

"Hey, you've been staring at the street for fifteen minutes now. You okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Thinking about that big date with Lisa tonight?"

"Actually, I haven't given it a thought."

"Fourth one?"

"Fourth one of what?" I asked.

"Fourth date. God. You know what should happen on the fourth date?"

I must have given her a strange look as she tilted her head to one side and smiled. "You get laid! For Christ sakes, Jim."

She turned and walked away shaking her head as she went. I wasn't so sure 'bout getting laid that night, however Becky was right, it will be our fourth date. I remember our second date was a bit more sexual. It boiled down to a few touches here and there. The third date, we ended up.... Well, you show me yours and I'll show you mine.

All the guys that work for me have girlfriends or wives. Some of them have a gift. Christopher, for example, can walk up to any woman and within thirty minutes, he'll have her skirt up and finger fucking her in a hallway. I couldn't do that no matter how hard I tried.

I'm not bad looking, but you'll never see me on the cover of any sport's magazine. I certainly don't have the classic six-pack abs that supposedly turned the ladies on. That's why I was so head over heels with Lisa. God, she's so damn good looking. Nice long legs, and I love legs; to me they're the best part of the female anatomy. Don't get me wrong; it's hard to beat a nice pair of tits, too. There's nothing better than my lips on a puffy nipple while my hand caresses a nylon-encased thigh. Christ, the very thought of that makes my dick harder than Chinese arithmetic backwards.

Tonight, I'll take Lisa to Dante's restaurant. I hope she'll like it. It's in an old bank building, and since Lisa worked as a bank auditor, I thought it would be fitting. It's also one of the more upscale places to eat here in Cleveland. Perhaps she'll be dressed more appropriately tonight instead of her usual flip-flops and jeans with the knees worn through.

I jumped when a clap of thunder rattled the windows. I watched as the rain returned with a vengeance and cooled the streets once more. I smiled as people scattered like ants as they tried to dodge the raindrops.

I ran my fingers through my hair. I had a bad feeling about tonight.

*********Chapter Two*********

It was going to be an early dinner. Lisa wanted to be at the restaurant by six. Perhaps she had plans for a long night of hot sex? Damn, I sure hoped so.

I picked her up at her apartment around five. Lisa gave me a bright smile when she slid into my car. My expectations fell like a rock tossed into the river when I noticed the ankle long skirt she had on. Then there were the sandals on her feet. At first I didn't say anything but as we slowly made our way down Superior, I said, "You know Dante's is kind of up scale." My eyes settled on her skirt. She noticed my stare.

"What's wrong with what I have on?"

"Nothing."

"If it weren't nothing, you wouldn't have said anything."

"I didn't mean a thing. I was thinking that perhaps... you know... it's Dante's."

All that time, she had been consumed with her cell phone. It hadn't left her hands since she slipped into my car. While she was talking to me, she was also texting someone.

"This is me," Lisa said as she smoothed out the fabric of her skirt. "I'm not into dressing up."

I was going to say something back, but decided it wasn't worth the effort. So the two of us crept along with the traffic for the next forty-five minutes. Me? I kept an eye out for a parking spot, and Lisa? Her fingers were non-stop tapping out texts.

We made it into the restaurant about a quarter till seven. That was when it all started to go downhill.

Lisa and I ordered, and while we waited, seconds turned into hours. I tried to make conversation several times and all she would do was smile, nod her head, and maybe if I were lucky, she'd utter a word or two.

Lisa typed a bit, and then placed the phone down on the table, looked at me, the phone would ping, and she would be at it once more. This went on the entire time we were sitting at our table. At last our meals came, and I ate in silence while Lisa giggled and texted to someone that apparently was making her life more entertaining than I was. I had my fill and said, "Lisa, why don't you put your phone down?"

She placed it on the table rather sharply. "Okay, what do you want to talk about?"

"I don't know. You and me perhaps? This is our fourth date."

"So?"

"After we were together the last time, we were kind of friendly toward each other."

"Oh, I see, you want to get fucked tonight."

"I can't say that thought hasn't been on my mind, but I'd go for some stimulating conversation, too."

Lisa rolled her eyes, then she folded her hands together and placed them in front of her. "Okay, I'm all ears."

I looked at her. For the last month and a half, I had made a fool of myself trying to win Lisa's attention. Love? We had nothing in common other than we lived in the same city. Now I saw her brown eyes were as brown as dirty bricks.

"I can't compete with the lover you have on the other end of your phone." I pushed away from the table, pulled two hundred bucks from my wallet and tossed them on the table. Here's for your meal and for an Uber ride home for you. I'm sorry I wasted your time with me."

********Chapter three*******

I drove out of the city. I wanted to get away as fast as I could from Lisa and my life. I had money, I had a job that I enjoyed, but I lacked a good woman to be by my side. The bottom line? I was lonely.

I ended up at the Cuyahoga Valley National Park. It's a great place to cleanse your mind, and I came here often to do just that. Right now, I wanted to be by myself and drown in a lake of self-pity.

There was a spot that I go to right off of one of the popular hiking trails. Some days you can watch bald eagles from the trail. I sat on a large rock, and when it gets late like it was that evening, you can hear the water from the river as it flowed through the valley. It's peaceful.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught something move. I thought it might be a coyote; there are plenty that make this valley their home. Even in the fading light of the day, I watched someone step over the split rail fence and head toward the top of the gorge. The river was at least a hundred and fifty feet below. This person stopped, and it looked like they were thinking about something that had given them pause. He took a few steps back, and stopped again only to continue toward the top. I stood. I know that the rocks up there along the edge can sometimes be slippery. A fall from there would be deadly.

By that time, I crossed the trail. I glanced at my watch, it was going on nine, and the sun would soon be setting. This person stopped once more, and I watched as he took something out of his pocket and placed it onto a rock. I didn't like the looks of this, so I too began to climb the hill.

I got within fifteen feet of this person when I noticed it was a young woman. Her short hair was all scattered about her head. She wore jeans and a loose fitting black tee shirt that said 'Cleveland rocks' on the back.

"Hey, you're getting too damn close to the edge. You'll fall and kill yourself if you don't step away."

She looked back at me. "What do you care? I'm nobody to you."

I was ten feet from her now, and it was hard to stay upright due to the slope of the land.

"I do care about you."

"Why?" She moved as close as she could to the edge. I heard rocks break loose and they tumbled down into the valley below.

"Nobody cares about me."

"What do you say you come back down to me and we'll talk?"

"He beat me. He raped me. All I wanted was to be love by him."

"I'm Jim. What's your name?"

She hesitated then said, "Hannah."

She leaned over and took a quick glance at the ravine below.

"That's a beautiful name. Hannah, why don't you step away from the edge and come down to me?"

Hannah leaned over the edge once more. The last of the sun's warming rays had vanished, and over the edge lay a dark abyss. Death reigned at the bottom.

"I can't go on like this..." She looked down and into the darkness and then back at me. "Tell everyone I'm sorry."

Her eyes begged for help. She turned her back toward me, and then she placed her arms to her sides. She leaned out.

In a matter of micro-seconds I jumped up, flung my right arm around her waist, and together we tumbled down the side of the outcropping. We had rolled down at least ten meters before a large oak tree stopped us. It felt like five pounds of rocks and stones that had lodge themselves into my skin.

Hannah moaned, which was a good thing. There were a handful of bird watchers that were calling it a day, and they were on a trail right below us. I yelled, "I need help!"

One of the men in the group crawled up and pulled out his phone. He called 911. Someone offered Hannah some water.

***********

While Hannah was being treated by the paramedics, I told them what happened, and that I think she left a note on a rock by the cliff's edge. A park ranger went to investigate and sure enough, he found the note that she had placed inside a plastic sandwich bag.

One of the park rangers read it by the light of a flashlight. He handed it over to one of the paramedics. He handed it to me, and I glanced over it. It was Hannah's suicide note.

"Where will you be taking her?"

"From what she's written," he looked at me, and then over at the other ranger, "Western Reserve Psychiatric."

It was around that time when I noticed one of the doors had been closed on the ambulance. "Wait a second."

I looked into the rear and saw Hannah with several tubes coming out of her arms.

"Hannah?"

"You had no right to stop me. I hate you!"

"Let's hope you hate me for decades to come."

It must have been our tumble down the hill, because Hannah had lost her shoes. I put my hand on her right ankle and said, "Nothing. Nothing at all could be so bad in your life that you'd want to end it."

She turned her head and stared at the side of the ambulance. The doors closed, and that, I thought, would be the last time I would ever see Hannah.

*********Chapter Four*********

I admit I have been worried about that girl in the park even though I haven't heard a peep from her. It had been over a week. I did hear from Lisa. She left a message on my voice mail. She called me a pig. I shrugged it off, and like a line of bad computer code I pressed delete. Problem gone. I was about to step away from my desk when Becky came over. "You got a call on hold. Line three. It's from Western Reserve."

The woman on the other end informed me that they were able to track me down from the information I gave the officers that night Hannah tried to jump. She wanted to know if I would be willing to come over to the hospital and sit down with Hannah and a therapist. I told her I would most definitely be there. I agreed to a meeting the following day at one in the afternoon. My stomach felt like it had ten acres of butterflies in it. It was all I could think about for the next twenty--four hours.

**************

Around noon I left for the hospital. I hate to wait, and I was glad it was no longer than five minutes before a nurse asked me to follow her. We went through a labyrinth of corridors when the nurse stopped short of two heavy looking double doors. There was a plastic engraved sign that read Psychiatric wing. She used her key card, the doors buzzed, and she pushed one open. I continued to follow her like a new puppy. At last she opened another set of doors and damn, another waiting room. I was about to sit when a door opened, and a middle-aged woman extended her hand to me.

"I'm Diane Bartlett. You must be Jim Beck. It's so nice of you to come in and talk with me about Hannah."

For a woman, she had a strong manly handshake. I liked that— the handshake— and not manly women. The rock on her left hand had to be several carats in weight. You couldn't miss it. Nor could you miss her rather tight black dress pants. But what really caught my eye, and damn I couldn't seem to look away, were her bright blue high heels. I don't know how in the hell she managed to walk in those things. Those shoes she had on were the epitome of come fuck me high heels.

We went through another doorway and I stood in her office. She offered me a chair. She asked about me, what I did for a living, if I was married, any children, and stuff like that. Then she folded her hands on her desk, leaned back into her chair and said, "Tell me what happened the other night?"

Diane got the Cliff's note version of that evening. Lisa wasn't mentioned, nor the fact that I too was feeling depressed with my life. I mentioned that at first I thought it was a man up by the edge because I couldn't see Hannah's hair in the twilight of the evening.

Diane opened a brown folder and placed it on her desk. She rooted around in it a bit and produced several photographs. "I'd like you to look at these."

The photographs were of a large burly man. I never saw him before in my life, and if I had, I'd certainly never forget it. Whoever he was, he had to be the biggest man I had ever laid my eyes on. "Who is he?"

"Simon Anderson. He goes by Moose."

"Christ, I can see why. What's he got to do with Hannah?"

"How much do you think Hannah weighs?"

"I don't have a clue."

"Not much. She's a bit underweight," Diane said

"Okay... So?"

"Moose was Hannah's boyfriend. He abused her physically and mentally. More physically this time around than before."

"You mean to tell me that mountain of a man beat a woman the size of Hannah? What do you mean this time?"

"Hannah has been here before."

I melted into the chair. "Oh... She's got problems."

My bad luck had struck again. Lisa with her love affair with her phone, and now this girl in the nut ward. I pushed myself out of the chair.

"Jim?"

"I'm sorry. I don't want to get involved with this—with her—I have my own issues to deal with."

Diane pulled her chair out from behind the desk and sat in an empty chair next to me. She sat and placed her hands on her lap. "The system failed Hannah. I failed Hannah. The Cleveland police failed Hannah."

"What's that got to do with me?"

"Hannah had bounced in and out of foster care since she was born. Her parents? Only God know where her mother is. And her father? Could be anyone in the state." Diane stood and snatched the photos from her desk, and placed them on my lap. "Women like Hannah are vulnerable and quite susceptible to the likes of Simon Anderson. Men like him prey on women like Hannah."

"How could she be with a guy like that?"

"Because he told her that he loved her. That's why." Diane took a long deep breath and let it out slowly, and then she said, "He beat her so badly, she ended up in the hospital ER several times. She had cracked ribs, a busted eye socket, and a broken wrist. Hannah had a protection notice out on him." Diane shook her head. "It wasn't two weeks later when Moose came back to her and begged Hannah to forgive him. He promised he'd never touch her again in anger."

"What did he do that time?"

"Might save some time and tell you what he didn't do."

"Oh lord..."

"A week after his return," I caught her eyes as they glanced at the calendar on her desk," and about two weeks ago, the cycle started all over again. This time Moose was out of control. He tied Hannah to her bed, and with a cigar, burnt her body with it. He pushed that lit cigar onto her breasts, her thighs, and even her genitals. Then to make sure she got the message, he cut her."

"And what about the cops?"

Hannah had another order of protection issued, but those things don't have much bite. That being said, the cops did arrest Simon on drug charges. He's also a suspect in a murder; a drug deal that went sideways. The DEA along with Federal Marshals, and the FBI, popped quite a few drug dealers in several states and cities with Cleveland being one of those. He's being held in the county jail awaiting trial. I suspect that Hannah won't have to worry about Moose the rest of her life. He'll never feel sunshine on his face as a free man again."

Diane made her way back to her desk and sat. She placed her hands flat on the desktop and leaned toward me. "Hannah has asked about you? Would you like to talk to her?"

"I don't know. I don't want to get involved with her type."

"Jim, you already are involved, and explain to me what type is she?"

I shrugged. "You know."

"No I don't. That's why I'm asking you. What do you think Hannah does to pay her bills?"

The photos of Moose were still on Diane's desk. I picked them up. He had tattoos everywhere, and while tats don't make a person bad it did make me wonder.

"I don't know. A barmaid? Maybe a clerk at a one of those all night gas stations."

She had this big Cheshire cat gin that exploded across her face. "You are wrong on both guesses."

"Perhaps a factory worker? At the Ford stamping plant?"

"No."

"All right, I give up."

She tented her hands and looked right into my eyes with the precision of a laser.