Maliah considered this. “Okay, I’ll grant you, that’s an overreaction.”
“It was creepy,” he said. “I told her—her name’s Mischa—that she should just turn her phone off and ignore him.”
“Did she?”
“Yeah,” he said. “And then the guy came over and busted in our door and forcibly pulled her out of the house.”
“Jesus,” said Maliah, eyes wide.
“Right, so I called the police,” he said. “And they went to his house, but she was all, ‘No, I’m happy to be here. My roommate doesn’t understand.’” He took a long swig of beer. “So, apparently, the police could do nothing.”
“He damaged your property, right?” she said.
“Well, the landlord’s property,” said Trevon. “So, the landlord could have pressed charges, but it’s through, like, a real estate firm, so I guess they figured that it was more trouble than it was worth. And while I was at work the next day, Mischa’s stuff all disappeared, and when I called her, she was angry with me. She said I was messing up her relationship, which was the best thing that had ever happened to her, and that she was moving out, and…”
“Well, he got to her. He got in her head.”
“Exactly,” said Trevon. “Maybe it’s none of my business, right? But, I don’t know. She’s my friend, and her family lives really far away, like all the way up in Vermont, and I knew that there’s no one else looking out for her, and so I just kind of made it my business to, you know, check up on her. I’d go by the place where she works sometimes, just make sure she’s okay, that kind of thing. Except one day, she’s not there, and I ask around, and they say she and the jackass moved out here, to Harper’s Ferry.”
“That’s why you asked for this job?” said Maliah. “Really?”
“I just…” He gripped the beer bottle with both hands, screwing up his face. “I just couldn’t stop worrying about her. So, I thought if I was here, I could keep an eye on her, you know, like before. But the jackass saw me talking to her outside her work the other day, because I figured out where she worked from social media or whatever. And then he did this to my face.” Trevon made a circle around his nose with his forefinger.
Maliah licked her lips. She wasn’t even sure what to say.
“I’m not into her, really,” said Trevon in a small voice.
“Sure, you’re not.” Maliah laughed.
“If there was something else I could have done,” said Trevon, “I would have done that. But near as I can tell, he’s not physically hurting her—or if he is, nowhere obvious. And unless she wants to leave him, no one can do anything for her. So, I mean, someone’s got to help her.”
Maliah cocked her head at him. “You for real, kid?”
“What do you mean?” he said.
“You really upended your entire life to help some girl?”
“Well, I do follow Delacroix and Reilly, I gotta admit that,” he said. “And I did think it would be a good job. I mean, it wasn’t all about her. If the job hadn’t been here, I don’t know if I would have moved.”
“Have you moved? I thought you still hadn’t found an apartment.”
“No, I got something now,” he said. “I wouldn’t be here drinking if I had to drive back to D.C. tonight.”
She took a thoughtful drink of her cider. “Well, I know some of the police in Harper’s Ferry. I can tip them off to check up on this girl, if you want.”
“Would that really help?” he said.
“It might,” she said. “She’s got to decide to get out of there. The more often that she’s reminded how not normal it is to be treated the way she’s being treated, the better.”
“I guess that’s true,” he said. “I don’t know what I thought I was going to do. I’m not the kind of person who could protect her, not really. I guess I could have only been signing up to get my nose punched in.”
“What’s aromantic mean?”
“Well, it’s like being asexual, only I’m not really asexual. I have, like, attraction, I guess, but I don’t have… I have no desire to do all that… stuff.”
“What stuff?”
“The pair-bondy mushy stuff.”
“You’re a normal man, then, is what you’re saying?” She smirked.
“No, it’s different. I don’t want…” He gestured with his hands. “I don’t want a relationship. I don’t want to worry about what other people like to eat or whether or not I should get the first shower in the morning or who gets the remote. I like being on my own.”
“Well, I hear you on that point,” she said, taking another drink. “But you just chased a girl here to protect her and that’s either a creepy, stalker thing or else it’s romantic as hell.”
“No, it’s not like that. It’s really not.”
She only shook her head at him.
“I’ll be in to work tomorrow,” he assured her.
CHAPTER SIX
“WELL, well, well,” said Hawk Marner, clutching the receiver to his ear on the other side of the glass. “You look a hell of a lot like Detective Caius Reilly, and I was told that James Krakauer from my visitor list was here to see me.”
Reilly sneered at Hawk, holding the receiver to his own ear.
“You lied to get in here, saying you were someone you weren’t,” said Marner. “Not a bad play. Keeps your name off the written records.”
“I want you to leave Wren alone,” said Reilly in a low, even voice.
“Does she know you’re here, Caius?”
“Of course not,” he said. “She probably wouldn’t like it. She wouldn’t want me fighting her battles, but I can’t help it. I care about her. I don’t like seeing you fuck with her. I hear you’ve got some other female distraction to mess around with, and you know that Wren is never going to be back under your thumb again. She’s boring. Cut her loose and find some more interesting toys.”
Hawk chuckled, low under his breath. “You think you’ve got me all figured out, huh? That I’m motivated just like any of your other quarries, that I see Wren as some kind of pawn in a grand scheme? Well, you don’t understand anything about Wren and me, Caius.”
Reilly had expected Hawk to try to make him jealous, and he forced himself not to react. He definitely didn’t have any insecurities when it came to Wren and Hawk. He wasn’t always okay with the entire situation, that was true, but he knew that Wren would never be with Hawk again. Hawk could get to her, though. He knew her vulnerabilities and he knew how to hurt her. Reilly hated that. It made him feel helpless rage.
“Whatever souls are made of, hers and mine are made of the same material,” said Hawk, a slow smile curving over his lips. “She and I are… we’re something you could never understand. You’re not like us, Caius.”
“Is this supposed to be getting under my skin?” said Reilly. He made a show of yawning. “Do better, Hawk.”
“You didn’t really think you could convince me to do anything differently by coming here,” said Hawk, his voice colder now. “That’s not why you came.”
“It’s exactly why I came,” said Reilly.
“You came because I threaten you,” said Hawk. “Everything about me, it’s a shadow that falls over whatever you have with her. It’s always outside the door, creeping underneath, like black smoke, trying to choke you.”
“Do you practice these mixed metaphors?”
“You thought that if you came and looked at me, locked up in here, while you were free, if you smeared the fact that you’re fucking her in my face, that it would make you feel better.” Hawk’s light eyes bored into him. “Well? How’s that working for you?”
Reilly surveyed him for several moments, unable to speak, because this had cut him deeper than he liked. Maybe there was some truth in what Hawk had said. It was always the way with him. For a person without any empathy, he sure seemed to understand how people ticked in an unnerving way. “You’re jealous,” he finally said.
“Do I wish I was the one who was going home to crawl
into her bed?” said Hawk. “Yes, I do. But I am superior to you, detective, and—”
“She never loved you,” said Reilly. “You’ll never get her back.” He hung up the receiver and got up.
Hawk glared at him from the other side of the glass. He took the receiver away from his ear and watched as Reilly got to his feet.
Reilly stared him down.
For long moments, they held each other’s gaze.
Then Hawk broke it. He hung up the receiver and briskly got up, putting his back to Reilly. He strode off without a backward look.
Reilly walked out, too, feeling stupid.
He should never have come here, never done this.
He’d been specifically ordered to say away from Hawk, and anything that indicated that any of his actions could have been fueled by some kind of male bravado—him and Hawk fighting over a girl—it only helped Hawk’s case.
Coming here had been a big mistake.
WREN was sitting in Reilly’s kitchen when he came in. He was supposed to make dinner that night, but he had brought takeout with him. He apologized for being late, said that he’d made the decision to get food last minute.
She wondered why he’d bothered to pick it up when he could have had it delivered, but she didn’t ask. She was too hungry and too eager to talk about the arrangements for going out west. They had the green light from the bureau and they would be flying out in two days’ time. The next day was going to be a flurry of activity, moving boxes into storage and getting prepared. Then they’d be at the airport the next day, and they could use that time to go over the particulars about the case.
She was excited.
Reilly seemed subdued when he came in, but he soon seemed to become infected by her mood and got excited too. He said it would be very good to be away from all the stressors here, and she agreed. They ate, and then they worked on packing up various sundries before they fell into bed, exhausted.
The next day, they spent the morning hauling boxes to storage.
In the afternoon, they went to the office and set up space in one of the suites that was located in the facility. They’d be having dinner there with Timmy, so that he could get an idea of where he’d be staying when he was with his dad.
Wren went to talk to Maliah, because she felt a little bad about the conversation they’d had the other day. Wren was never sure of Maliah. They seemed to have an okay relationship, but Wren always got the impression that Maliah didn’t like her.
She used to think it was because of her relationship with Reilly, but now she could see that Maliah had no interest in Reilly anymore, so Wren wasn’t sure what it was about. Maybe it was all in her head. Maliah seemed to be a bit of a sarcastic person, just in general.
Maliah, however, only wanted to chat about Trevon Aronsen and some story he’d told her about some girl in Harper’s Ferry. Wren tried to pay attention, but she was distracted by everything else that was going on and then she was summoned in the middle of it by Krieger, who wanted to talk about getting the airport the next day.
She told Maliah to email her about this, but Maliah said it wasn’t important and not to worry about it. Wren assured her that if they needed her expertise, they would be in touch. “Don’t be too bored,” she said.
“I’ll find some way to keep myself entertained,” Maliah assured her.
Before Wren knew it, they were on a plane to California.
She spent the flight going through the files on the case, as she’d planned to do.
There honestly wasn’t much to go on. Four couples and two individuals had gone missing after having some association with the Love Over Want outreach facility, which was an organization that claimed to help people harness their potential and create better lives.
The Love Over Want facility was curious. It was a private organization, and it didn’t seem affiliated with any other organizations, and yet it somehow had funding to feed and house up to twenty people at a time. The people in the organization were often homeless people or drifters, down on their luck. Theoretically, the facility would take anyone. But in practice, there was a long waiting list, and more “deserving” candidates tended to be taken in. This meant that people with massive drug problems or mental illnesses were rarely taken in by the group.
However, it also meant that Love Over Want was generally successful at helping people who were down on their luck turn everything around. The rates of people who left their program and went on to secure jobs and housing were high. Wren figured this made sense, because there was always a certain number of people on the street who’d gotten there because of bad luck and having no one to turn to. So, this organization was doing good.
But they certainly weren’t a force to end the epidemic of homelessness or anything, not that Wren had any idea how to do that.
I catch killers, she thought. That’s my contribution to society. I better stay in my lane.
Truthfully, she was a little predisposed to dislike Love Over Want, and she would have been even if she hadn’t suspected that it had a hand in imprisoning or killing people. She didn’t like spiritual-type organizations of any stripe. Too much baggage from growing up in the FCL.
And maybe she wasn’t being fair. There was nothing strictly spiritual about Love Over Want. However, what kind of place calls itself Love Over Want except some kind of cult?
The position of the facility didn’t seem prime to her either.
If a group of people really wanted to make a dent in homelessness, why weren’t they based out of Los Angeles or something? Even Portland apparently had a huge homeless population.
Instead, they were located on the outskirts of a city called Redville, California, which didn’t even have a huge population and couldn’t have a serious issue with homeless people, anyway.
None of it made any sense to Wren.
Something was fishy about it.
She simply wasn’t sure what yet.
Redville was at least large enough to have its own airport, and they disembarked there and went straight to their hotel, where they’d be staying. Krieger had explained that he had decided not to pose as homeless, because it was too difficult to get one of the spots at Love Over Want. They had a day program, however, which they packed full. It provided food and disseminated people throughout the area to do odd jobs for various local farms and businesses. Participants were paid for their work, and it was all very above board.
The Love Over Want people were pretty strict, however. If you made a promise to show up and didn’t, they’d give you the benefit of a doubt once. After that, you were blacklisted from the place. Krieger said that they were big on personal responsibility. He had been participating in the day program for six months and had created a great rapport with the people who worked there, but he’d had no luck in getting in with Paul Watkins, who was the staff member that had worked closely with two couples over the past six months: Tristan and Francesca Crawford and Martin Hicks and Annabelle Tucker.
Krieger had watched the couples start working closely with Watkins. Then, one day, they’d disappeared and never come back.
Krieger had tried everything to cozy up to Watkins, but nothing had worked.
He was hoping that Wren and Reilly would be able to make the connection. They’d start the next day.
They checked into their hotel and got comfortable. Wren’s phone beeped at her, and it was a notification from her calendar that it was time to change out her birth control. She used a ring that she inserted. It lasted for thirty days.
Of course, she’d forgotten to pack a new one.
Damn it.
She told Reilly she was going out to the store, and when she came back, she threw the plastic drugstore bag on the bed and went in to arrange some of her things in the bathroom. She wasn’t sure how long they’d be staying in the hotel, but they might as well get comfortable.
When she came back out, Reilly was going through her purchases. “Condoms and tampons,” he said. He was actually holding the tampon
box, and she had to give him a little bit of credit for not acting stupidly male about the whole thing.
Maybe he had a point when he mentioned the discrepancy in their ages. Reilly was more mature than most men she’d dated.
He tossed the tampon box and picked up the condoms. “You forgot your birth control.”
“Shut up,” she said, huffy. She snatched the condoms from him, and she picked up the tampons. She put the condoms in a drawer in the end table next to the bed and took the tampons into the bathroom.
“Did I say anything?” he called.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she called back. “You’re thinking that this is the entire reason why we should never have stopped using condoms in the first place.”
He didn’t respond.
She came back out. “So, now you get your wish. Wrap it up, Cai.”
“I didn’t say anything,” he said. “It would be incredibly hypocritical of me to say anything, considering I don’t have to remember birth control.”
“That’s right, you don’t,” she said, lifting her chin.
“I’m fine with condoms,” he said.
“Good,” she said. “I don’t see why this is a thing.”
“It’s not a thing,” he said. “It’s a non-thing.”
“Well, great, then.”
“Great.”
They eyed each other.
“Let’s stop talking about it,” she said.
“I’m not saying anything.”
“What you’re not saying is very loud,” she muttered, throwing herself down on the bed.
Sky Like Bone: a serial killer thriller Page 5