by Staci Hart
It wasn’t long before she was in her car and across the river for her surveillance job, which sounded so much less creepy than stalking. When she made it to Weehawken, she did a drive-by of his house. He was home, lights on, windows open, and she caught sight of him as he walked through his living room.
She rolled around the block and into the alley where she parked eight or nine houses down, facing his garage. Once Josie reclined her seat and turned on her portable speaker, she reached into her bag of candy in the backseat and pulled out a packet of Skittles with her eyes on his driveway and all the time in the world.
When Josie walked out of her building, Jon checked his watch to note the time. It was after seven, and the sun had just fallen, hiding him in the shadows where he leaned against an alley wall just down from her building. His legs were stiff as he pushed away and followed her.
He’d spent the day before digging up whatever he could on Rhodes, but he wasn’t any closer to seeing what Josie had on him. He couldn’t understand why she was after Rhodes; the guy was cleaner than clean. Jon didn’t have a lot of friends in the PD anymore, not after leaving Josie, so all he had to go on was the guy’s name, address, and little else.
Jon and Josie had worked together long enough for him to know just how focused she was when she worked a case, and this was no ordinary case. If Josie thought Rhodes had killed Anne, he could only imagine that she was obsessing, and that worried him. A lot. So he’d decided to tail her, hoping he could get some insight. It was day one, and so far, Josie had sat in her apartment all day while he chewed through a Louis L’Amour novel and scribbled out letters to her that she’d never see.
He kept his distance as she walked toward 8th, her hair shining bright as she passed under a streetlight and turned south. The thrill of seeing her coupled with the rush that came along with tailing someone made his entire body hum in the crisp, spring evening.
Josie stopped to talk to a girl in a sequined skirt, and he hung back, stopping at a newspaper stand to flip through a magazine. He stood just out of the light, trying to figure out what she was doing walking around Manhattan in circles on a Wednesday night. When she took off again, he followed, smiling as he passed the girl in the sequined skirt he assumed was a prostitute, which was confirmed when she catcalled him as he walked by.
Josie turned another corner, and when he rounded it behind her, he caught a glimpse of her walking into the parking garage where they each had monthly passes.
Jon trotted to one of the stairwells and to his car, hearing her engine turn over, the sound echoing against the concrete walls. He followed her out of Manhattan at a distance, able to get away with tailing her easily enough. As good as she was, he was her equal, if not better.
But as she made it across the river to Weehawken, his stomach crawled. Rhodes lived in Weehawken. He pulled up the address on his phone’s map, and the closer they got, he knew. His heart squeezed tighter when she drove past his house and turned the corner to the alley.
He drove around the block and pulled into the alley with his lights off, parking well behind her. When he killed the engine, he sat stunned in his Jeep, staring at the back of her head as she rummaged around in her car. She was following Rhodes, and he wondered why the hell she’d do such a thing and what in God’s name she had on him.
Jon shifted in his seat as he processed his thoughts, and his knee bumped his keys with a small clink. He looked down at them and spread them out in his palm.
He still had a key to her apartment.
He didn’t know why he’d never gotten rid of it, though he’d thought about it a hundred times. It felt wrong to throw it away, and he couldn’t mail it to her and break their silence with something so final. He’d considered taking it off and throwing it in a drawer, but instead, he kept it on his key ring, that little piece of cold metal the only thing he had to remember her by.
Not that he needed help.
Jon weighed his options. She would be so pissed if he broke in. Actually, pissed was a gross understatement. Although technically he had a key. But surely she’d had the locks changed after Anne died.
Of course, that wouldn’t stop him if he really wanted to get in since he always had his lock picks.
Could he justify it? There was no other way to find out what was going on. He didn’t want to violate her privacy, but what other choice did he have? She could be in too deep, deeper than even she realized, as close as she was to the whole thing. What if Rhodes was dangerous? What if she got hurt?
That final thought was all it took. He left his lights off, turned his key in the ignition, and backed out of the alley to head to her place, buzzing the whole way with anticipation and guilt.
As he walked under the stone archway of her building entrance for the first time in three years, memories rushed over him so fast, he thought they might knock him over. He paused at the step in her stairwell where he’d kissed her for the first time, imagining the moment as he had so many times over the last three years. She had hung on to him like she would have dropped to her knees if he’d let her go.
She’d told him she’d follow him anywhere. Maybe she would have, too.
His feet felt like bricks as he kept moving. When he reached her door, he looked at the number hanging on it, thinking of all the times he’d stood there, saying long hellos and longer goodbyes. He thought back to the day his boots had rested in that exact spot—his crying, pregnant ex-girlfriend in a U-Haul out front—as he’d laid a note on Josie’s doorstep, one that she never got. He remembered touching her name on the envelope before walking his broken heart out of that building and driving it a thousand miles away.
Jon swallowed hard and pulled his keys out of his pocket, sorting through them in his palm until he came to hers. He took a deep breath and said a little prayer as he slipped the key in and turned, waiting for resistance that never came. The bolt clicked, and Jon was on the edge of giddy, just like that.
He pushed open the door to the dark apartment and closed it quietly behind him. Walking into her apartment was like stepping into a time machine. Anne’s desk was gone, and Josie had gotten a new rug and lamps, but otherwise, everything was the same. It even smelled like he remembered. It was almost too much to stand.
Jon reached for the lamp, and when he clicked it on, his heart fell into his stomach.
Across the long wall of the living room was an evidence board packed with papers, photographs, maps, and newspaper articles. Red string stretched across the wall in a web, and in the center was Rhodes.
Jon walked numbly to the wall with his mind racing as he stared, trying to comprehend what he was seeing. Murders across the years, starting in 1984. There were dozens of them, all documented right there in front of him. Crime scene photos of dead girls in shades of purple and gray, wrapped in plastic. He touched Anne’s photo at the end of the line and took a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
The weight of that wall hit him like a bucket of ice water. All those girls, all those years, and Josie had put it all together. He felt sick and impressed and scared for her in that moment, thinking about her sitting outside Rhodes’s place. How many times had she gone? If Rhodes knew, what would he do to her?
He pictured her photo on that wall next to Anne and felt the contents of his stomach rush up. There was no way he could let her go it alone. He couldn’t see her hurt. Because he knew damn well she wouldn’t quit, not until Rhodes was put away.
He stepped back and ran a hand over his mouth, studying the photos as ominous wonder twisted through him. There was only one thing he could do.
Jon pulled out his phone and moved to Jane Bernard’s case where he snapped the first photo.
Josie looked up from her worn paperback of Breakfast of Champions and scanned the still, quiet street. She didn’t even know if she actually expected Rhodes to leave, but she didn’t want to go home to the emptiness. At least she was doing something, putting energy into Rhodes. There wasn’t much else she could do.
/> Her stomach churned at the notion that she had nothing left to do. But she had to find a way. Because she needed to prove it. All of it.
A knock rapped at her window, and she jumped so hard, she whacked her elbow on her door handle. Her eyes bugged when she saw Jon smiling at her from outside the glass.
“What the fuck?” Her heart was a motor in her chest, and she took a long breath, trying to slow it down.
“You gonna let me in?” His voice was muffled, still clear enough to hear the timbre, deep and low, that soft lilt of his accent that made her lose her mind.
She didn’t answer, just hit the unlock button.
Jon popped open the door and slipped into her passenger seat, closing the door behind him with a thump. He angled toward her, putting his back to the door, and folded his arms across his chest.
Josie was shocked, confused, and madder than all hell. “Why are you following me?”
He glanced toward Rhodes’s house. “You decided you weren’t gonna tell me anything about anything, so I had to find out on my own.”
“Oh, you had to, did you?”
“I did. Did you really expect me to give up on wondering what happened to Anne?”
No.
“Yes.”
He laughed, the low rumble filling the small space. “You know better than that. By the way,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a key, “I’ve been meaning to give this back to you.”
She felt like she’d been kicked in the stomach. All the breath left her in a whoosh. “You broke into my apartment?”
“I had a key. That you gave me.”
“Three years ago. Before you disappeared.” She snatched the key from his hand.
“Why didn’t you change the locks, Jo?”
“None of your goddamn business,” she spat. She certainly would now.
“I’m sorry, Josie,” he said. And he even looked sorry, which upset her even more. “But you weren’t giving anything up, and I had to know. You’d have done the same.”
“Fuck you.” Her voice wavered, and she hated herself for it.
“Listen, Jo, I saw your wall, and I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be following this guy. If he did what you think he’s done…I’m worried about you.”
“I don’t give a fuck what you think is or isn’t a good idea. Goddammit, Jon. Who do you think you are?”
“I’m trying to help—”
“I don’t need your help.” She was almost yelling and took a deep breath.
“No, you don’t. You seem to be doing a fine job on your own.”
She shot him a look, and he shook his head.
“I’m not bullshitting. You might be right about Rhodes, but I don’t believe you couldn’t use help. And I do believe that this whole thing could put you in danger.”
“This isn’t the first time I’ve been in danger. I know how to handle myself.”
Jon’s brows dropped with his voice, which was resolute. “You stubborn-ass woman. Don’t you understand that I don’t want you to get hurt?”
“I don’t give a fuck what you want.”
He was silent for a moment as he looked over her, and her muscles were burning with restraint. Because all she wanted was to reach out and hit him, push him, get the energy out of her arms through her fist and into him. It took everything she had to sit still; she trembled from the force.
“I don’t believe that either,” he said, plainly and without doubt.
She lost it. “Why are you doing this to me? Can’t you just leave me alone?” Her eyes stung. She was practically snarling. “You left me alone for three fucking years, and now, you’re back and everywhere, even in my fucking goddamn apartment. Jon, you have to stay away. Stay away from me, stay out of my life, and get the fuck out of my car before I hurt you.”
He looked as miserable as she felt as he watched her across the space between them in silence. She counted through four breaths before he finally opened the car door and stepped out, leaning in one final time.
“Please, be careful.”
He didn’t wait for a response, just shut the door and walked away.
Dita stared at her tiled bedroom ceiling in the near dark. Her eyelids were iron curtains, but she found no sleep. She rubbed her aching eyes and rolled over to face her clock.
Two in the morning.
She blinked, slow and heavy.
Shame and anger stirred like a sleeping beast in her chest as she lay exactly where Perry had left her. Dita had lied, but Perry had taken it too far, and now she’d lost Adonis once more. Perry had just destroyed the mirror without any real debate or chance at compromise.
Dita was destined to never have Adonis, the cycle of holding him for a moment and losing him repeating over and over. Something always brought her back to him. And somehow it never hurt less even though it had been expected; it cut deeper every time.
Some part of Dita had been restored just by seeing him, just by knowing he existed somewhere even if he was beyond her reach. But he was gone again—forever. The loss was too much to bear, too cold in her chest, the wound gaping and raw. She wrapped her arms around her knees and squeezed.
Even under the best of circumstances, the hours that stretched through the night were the hardest. When left alone to her thoughts in the darkness, she would obsess about every decision, every mistake. Her heart would break fresh a thousand times every night. She longed for Elysium, for the cool breeze under the olive tree’s canopy, for Adonis’s arms. But it was all gone. It had all been a lie, and she had no one to turn to.
In that moment, she found herself more alone than she had been in her entire existence.
A sob shuddered in her chest, and she drew a shaky breath as the tears she’d thought were gone rolled down her cheeks.
Her life was a thing unrecognizable, a tangled, knotted chain of choices that bound her. How could she have let it happen? How could she have lost everything? And how could she ever break free?
And in her mind she saw herself, a dove in a cage that burst in an explosion of twinkling glass, and she pumped her wings, higher and higher, leaving everything behind until it was small enough that it couldn’t hurt her.
The bed moved at her feet, and she looked down at a mound under the sheets and blankets that grew bigger and wider as it inched toward her. She made out his back and then his head as he moved up the bed, and when the covers slipped back, it was Ares, huge and red, his eyes full of hate, his teeth flashing white as he smiled and wrapped his hands around her neck.
Her body jerked as she woke, her heart beating fast and sharp as she gasped for air. She could still feel the weight of him, the ghost of his fingers against her skin.
She took a shuddering breath.
It was only a dream. Just a dream.
The thought didn’t make her feel any better. She glanced at the clock. It was three.
Her nerves crawled, and her stomach rolled, grumbling and twisting and gnawing itself. She couldn’t lie there a second longer, so she kicked her covers off and paced around the dark room.
She didn’t know what to do with herself, and she couldn’t ask the one person who usually had the answer.
What would Perry do?
Perry would probably make her eat something and bring her some tea, but to do that on her own would mean going upstairs. Alone. She paused, trying to convince herself that no one would be in the kitchen so late, surely.
So she slipped on flip-flops and headed for the elevator.
A few minutes later, Dita shuffled her way into the kitchen and opened the fridge to stare at the ambrosia lined up on the shelves. She grabbed a plate and a bottle of nectar and took them to the counter, eyeballing the glop while trying to figure out what sounded good.
Cookies. Cookies always sound good.
She closed her eyes, opening them to a heaping plate of warm, gooey chocolate chip cookies. After that, she poured a glass of nectar and blinked, transforming it into milk.
Dita sat down
at the bar and tucked in, shoveling food into her mouth in silence, but about halfway through her third cookie, she felt someone behind her. When she looked over her shoulder, every bite came rushing up.
Ares was close enough to touch, his face unreadable, his dark hair a mess. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe with his eyes boring into her.
He loomed over her.
Neither of them moved.
Ares broke the connection and stepped around the bar.
She couldn’t look away, paralyzed.
“I’ve been waiting to talk to you,” he said.
Her stomach turned, her body numb. She wanted to get up and run, but her legs wouldn’t respond.
“How are you?”
That question was so ridiculous, she almost laughed. Somehow, she found her voice. “You’re kidding. Please, tell me you’re kidding.” She balled her shaking hands into fists and laid them in her lap.
He looked at her with so much feeling that she felt the tug, that pull to him, and her nerves screamed at her.
His voice was low. “I know you don’t think I have any right to ask—”
She was hot and cold all at once. “No. You have no rights, not when it comes to me.”
He studied her face for a long moment until she couldn’t take it anymore.
She pushed her chair back and stood. “I can’t do this,” she said under her breath as she turned to walk away.
With three swift steps, he was behind her, grabbing her arm just enough to control her. He pulled her to a stop, and she jerked her arm away from him.
Ares straightened up, his jaw set as he looked down at her. “Dita, you have to talk to me eventually.”
“I don’t have to do anything. I’ve said all I needed to say.”
“Please.” Command snaked the undercurrent of the word.
“Leave me alone,” she whispered through her teeth. She spun away from him, walking as fast as she could without running toward the elevator.
“You can’t avoid me forever,” he called after her.
She turned when she made it into the elevator and watched him as the doors closed, the shadows from the dim light hiding his eyes, his jaw flexing as he watched her run away.