by Jack Parker
Mrs. Holtz might once have been a beautiful woman, before the shotgun blast to the face. She was slumped against a splattered dresser.
I reached into the neck of my coat and clutched a battered silver crucifix that I'd always worn. Not because I was religious, but because my sister had given it to me. It was a comfort thing.
I had to fight to keep my breathing level when I looked past Mrs. Holtz and saw the tiny form of the little girl.
"Oh, god, please… no…" I choked, and moved forward, expecting the absolute worst.
My hands shook on the grip of the .45 caliber handgun.
I stepped gingerly over the girl's mother, trying to avoid anything, especially not evidence. I had no desire to help whomever did this to get away. Might seem sort of backwards, wouldn't it?
I holstered my gun and crouched beside the girl, hands shaking.
I swallowed bile and reached to feel the girl's pulse. I thought I felt a shudder of fear under my fingers, but that might have even been me.
I actually heard Julia's next question. "Grace, what the fuck is going on?" She sounded nervous to me, which was strange. Julia, nervous? Wow.
There. I almost sobbed with relief when I felt the quickened heartbeat. I gently turned her over, looking for injuries, and was met with a pair of terrified eyes. She stared up at me as though she were looking up into the eyes of death. For all she knew, she probably was.
I lifted a finger to my lips and whispered, "Shh, I'm not here to hurt you."
She didn't look convinced.
And then I proceeded to do possibly the stupidest thing I'd ever done in my life. I slipped the mask off and stuck it back in my pocket.
"I promise I'm not here to hurt you." I whispered.
Then a thought struck me, with all the good sense that had abandoned me on its heels.
A psycho did this. A psycho who might still be in the area.
I barked into the earpiece, all my usual confidence back in a flash. "Julia. Get to the car right now."
"What the fuck, Grace?" Julia demanded, her voice crackly from the volume.
"Someone's screwing with us. Caleb was already dead, and so's his wife."
I had to fight to ignore the whimper that came from the little girl. Julia's curse was quiet. "Get your ass out of there. This could be a setup."
"Working on it." I grumbled, almost at a loss for what to do next.
I cannot just leave her. That, I decided in less than a second.
"What the hell do you mean, working on it? Come on!"
I made my move quickly. I scooped up little Holtz and made a dash for the back door. I was out of the house in less than a minute, running full tilt back out of the garden and the property's little surrounding forested area. As soon as I caught sight of the gray Beemer, I heard a sharp intake of breath in my earpiece.
"No, Grace, you didn't… shit."
I ignored this and sprinted the rest of the way to the car, disregarding Julia's glare from the passenger's seat.
"I can't leave her here." Was all I muttered, throwing open the back seat and setting the little girl in there gently, buckling her seatbelt. I closed the door carefully and leaped in the front seat, starting the car and pulling away before anyone had a chance to say anything, and before I could lose my nerve.
"Well, I hope you fucking well have a plan." Was all I got out of Julia.
"L'il bit of one, yeah."
This area would have it's own police precinct. I'd take her there.
The GPS in the car led me to the downtown area in a little less than an hour, a little tiny old-west looking area that really seemed kind of sad, in comparison to just the area around my place, even. People milled about, going on with their business, which didn't see to be much at all, really.
We reached the tiny police station, and I caught sight of some two-bit officer outside smoking. I hated smokers, but he'd have to do.
I parked the car and got out, retrieving little Holtz from the back seat. She was completely silent. Looking for all the world like she belonged to me.
My heart wrenched when she wrapped her little arms around my neck. I couldn't help but hold her close.
I walked right up to the cop, who looked me over once before straightening up and walking closer to me, snuffing out his cigarette and folding his arms over his chest, trying to look more macho. "Can I help you, Ma'am?"
I already don't like him much. Maybe it was those cheesy sideburns. "Look, I found this kid wandering on the road. She says her name's Liliana Holtz, and there's something wrong with her parents. It sounded like I should bring her to the police, rather than try to take her home." The lie rolled off my tongue easily.
He looked more than slightly taken aback. "Are you from around here, Ma'am?"
"No, I'm not. Look, just take her in there, okay? I have a bad feeling about it." I almost hesitantly passed Liliana over to the officer and stepped away a pace or two. "Just passing through, officer."
"Hm. How do I know you didn't snatch her?" he growled, now obviously suspicious.
I bit back my frustration with this idiot of a man. "Why would I be bringing her back here?"
I turned on my heel and stamped back to the car, not giving the guy a chance to say anything else.
The drive home was rather less than eventful.
"Julia… I had to." Was all I could force between my quivering lips. "I had to."
"I know."
I took my eyes off the road for a second to look over at her. She was smiling, and that meant that she wasn't too awfully pissed at me. Thank God.
"I…"
"Shut up, Grace." She sighed. "You know, I'm actually kind of proud of you, in a weird way. Could have gotten us both arrested, but you… you did the right thing."
That managed to surprise me. "I'm still in deep shit."
"Not if we just don't say anything. Nothing happened. You went in, found the bodies, we left. That simple. Kendall never has to know."
I couldn't restrain the smile. "You'd lie for me?" as if I really questioned the fact. I knew she would.
"Hey, don't get ahead of yourself. It's not a lie, so much as an omission." Julia folded her arms over her chest. "But to answer your question, I would."
"Thanks, Julie."
"Mph." Was her reflexive and ungraceful reply.
I chuckled darkly and gunned the car faster down the dirt road leading back to the urban areas.
"So, Kendall. Mind telling me what the hell's going on?" I rather impudently studied my fingernails, while lounging in the armchair across from Kendall's desk, in his office. I glanced up long enough to read his expression before glancing back down at my hand. He didn't look happy.
"I would if I knew, Graecia." He steepled his fingers and looked at me through cold blue eyes, probably contemplating what he'd do about the situation. Maybe even about me, not that any of this was really my fault. Thankfully, though, he was clueless about little Liliana. That; he would have given me the metaphorical ass-beating for.
Or maybe even the literal one. He's a tad unpredictable at times.
Kendall was the kind of guy who seemed really mild, unless you knew him. Which was odd, because he had a wife and three kids, and really looked like a normal guy, if a bit quiet, if you weren't one of his employees. We had the rather exclusive privilege of knowing what he was really like. Cold, calculating, extremely intelligent. I sometimes suspected he was a sociopath.
But that's just me.
"There would only be one or two reasons why they would have already been dead. I don't particularly like either one." I matched his cool gaze and shrugged. "Maybe he just made too many enemies."
"I don't think that likely. I think we were outbid. The firm might have hired extra in order to make absolutely sure that Caleb Holtz expired."
I huffed with mild frustration. "That makes absolutely no sense. That wasn't done by a professional."
"I didn't see the scene, so I wouldn't know. So what exactly makes you say that, G
raecia?"
"Whoever did it had no regard for any sort of crime scene cleanliness... they probably left an assload of evidence. It was a massacre." I kept my tone level and professional, trying to sound convincingly detached. I guess it worked.
"That much of a scene, eh?" He raised one gray eyebrow.
"'Bout made me lose my lunch. Honestly."
"Well then that might be something to be concerned about. Hm… that is all." Kendall waved a hand in the standard 'go away' gesture.
I complied, standing in one sweeping movement, nodded at him, and left, closing the office door behind me politely. In the living room, I was met with the inquiring gazes of both Julia and Daisuke.
"What?"
"Sooooo…"
"Sooo what?" I blinked. WTF?
Julia threw up her hands. "Little slow today?"
Then it dawned on me. "No, I didn't get ripped a new one." I shook my head and walked to my room.
For some reason, I didn't feel quite right for the rest of the day, just a little off. And I really couldn't figure out why, either. So I settled myself in my recliner chair and flipped on the huge screen and the game system under it. Grabbing the controller and headset, I sat down to a long online session to calm my nerves.
"What the fuck now, NOOB!!" I yelled, a little louder than was absolutely necessary, before checking my volume level. My little online avatar threw a grenade past a stone wall and scored two kills for her trouble.
I happened to glance over my shoulder to find Julia standing there watching. Hadn't heard her creep up. Sneaky bitch.
"Can I help you, Julie?" I asked pleasantly, lowering the volume. "Too loud?"
"Nah, I was just watching. I have to wonder though, what makes you play these? You basically do this for a living."
I smiled a little to myself. "Here, when I kill someone, there aren't any consequences. Think of it as an escape from reality, at least for a little while."
I felt more than heard her snigger. "I guess that makes sense."
"'Course it does. I always make sense."
That earned a laugh. "Go to hell, Grace."
"I'll see you there."
"We can carpool. Stop at Starbucks on the way."
"Sounds fun." Both of us snickered quietly.
Another set of footsteps. Daisuke. "Hey, ladies. Let's go get a drink or five." He clapped his hands and grinned at the both of us.
"Five? That depends on what we're talking about, cowboy." Julia laughed.
"Five Yeager Bombs? Hell, yeah." I put down the controller and headset and stood, stretching. Several somethings cracked, and I suddenly felt much more limber. "Ouch."
"That was attractive." Julia snorted.
"Shut the hell up." I tried to sound grumpy, but it didn't really work.
Daisuke clapped his hands together more loudly. "Come on, before I have to stop a fight. Not that I wouldn't enjoy watching it for a few minutes…"
"Pervert." I managed to grunt.
He ushered us out of my room and out of he building, shouting a brief announcement to Kendall of our intentions for the evening, and receiving no indication that he heard. But we were positive that he did, anyway. He always heard.
We decided to drive separately, just in case we were needed for anything… illegal, later. I took my own vehicle, happily.
The Yamaha motorcycle was my baby. Sleek, black, and really fast. I loved my bike.
I had to go get it from the garage, and I found it there, waiting, pristine as ever, my helmet and jacket hanging on the handlebars. So I quickly suited up, and peeled out of the garage in nearly record time, happy to be able to ride.
So I took the scenic route to our usual dive, along the expressway. Hey, I like to go fast.
I gunned the engine to a halt, too soon, in front of The Brain Bucket: a local skater hangout. The place wasn't a high standard establishment by any means, catering to all those of age who didn't seem to want to get a real job, or just liked the place. Example; Julia, Daisuke, and I.
The bar itself was nothing to scream about, but the bartender damn well knew his liquor.
I caught a couple of skaters eyeing my bike out of the corner of my eye. Or maybe they were looking at me. Either way, I pointed at the one in the middle, glared at all of them, and declared; "Touch my bike and I'll fucking kill you." In my calmest, deadliest tone. It was the one that would either scare the shit out of them or start a bar fight. Either way.
Their eyes all widened in alarm, and I grinned a little and laughed to allay their fears. "Just kidding, guys. But don't touch my bike."
None of them said a word until I walked into the bar, and promptly burst out laughing when I faintly heard them muttering.
"that bitch is crazy…"
"- you think she meant that?"
"Damn, I thought she was hot, too. Not if she's gonna knife me over a bike, though…"
Daisuke and Julia were waiting for me at the bar, already slightly inebriated. I parked it right next to Julia, and flagged down Slam, the bartender.
Nobody knew his real name. Well, I did, but that's a story for another day.
"'Ey, Grace!" Slam slid down the bar, holding my usual. "First one's on the house!"
I accepted the Screwball happily, wondering at the occasion. Slam wasn't generally in such a good mood, preferring to sulk until someone ordered something, or until one of his preferred patrons entered, when he would start a bit of a conversation. "So, what's the occasion, Slammer?"
"It's not that often that I have my three favorite people in for a drink all at the same time. I missed you guys, here. Got nothing but the refuse that all the other bars throw out." Slam grunted, his deep guttural tone caused by a bad fall off of a halfpipe that had given him both his reedy, ruined voice, and a slight limp. "Besides, nobody can put away quite as much alcohol and still walk themselves out of here as Grace."
"Nope." I laughed shamelessly. It was true. I liked me my legal substances.
And it probably helped that I really could walk straight and even drive myself home even when I was slopping drunk. Nobody could quite figure out how, including myself. I rarely remembered getting home, at all.
So I downed the first drink and moved on to the next one fairly quickly. "Yeager shots? You trying to kill us, Slam?"
Julia just elbowed me in the ribs, and gestured toward some random guy in the corner. "That guy's been looking at you since you came in, Gracie. I think you have a stalker…"
I studied my 'stalker' for a few moments. He was a pretty good-looking guy… hm. Too bad he's been staring at me in that creepy-as-hell-I-know-who-you-are-but-you-don't-know-who-I-am kind of way.
I turned back around and tried to ignore it. If I got enough alcohol in me, I could just about ignore anything. That was my intention.
And about three and a half Yeager shots later, I was loose-tongued enough to very loudly tell him to fuck off when he tapped me on the shoulder. He just grinned, nodded once, and swept away, leaving a crumpled note on the table beside one of my empty glasses. Ah, so that's what this is about.
I was still clear-headed enough to open up the note and read it without difficulty, even though the flickering neon Budweiser sign behind Slam was beginning to look hazy.
The note cryptically stated; 'Pleased to meet my newest colleague.' In tiny, flowing script. Wow, my stalker-turned-colleague has pretty handwriting… and then I caught the little footnote:
Come back here, same time tomorrow. 'Don't worry, Kendall called me.'
And so my stalker had credentials… of course he would, not many people knew where to find me, unless they called through Kendall. And so therefore, I had another job to do. Damn, I thought, as I reached the conclusion at the end of the trail of deductive reasoning. I really hate my job.
That was probably the best thought I'd ever had in my life. Would've helped me quite a bit if I'd thought it up sober.
CHAPTER 3
"I think I may have had a few too many." I grumbled, headache
and sickness fully in place. "This sucks."
"Get over it, Grace. At least you got to drive yourself home. I had to go back and get my car this morning." Julia groused, a little grumpy.
"Hm. Come on, ladies, go take a chill pill." Daisuke teased, not hung over on the least, and he'd nearly matched me drink-for-drink.
"What's your secret, Dai?" Julia asked with mild wonder. "Seriously."
"Not telling. I have too much fun watching you two suffer out your headaches." And with that, he gave a cheery little wave and wandered off in the direction of his room.
Julia got a little grumpier. "You know, I really hate him sometimes." And wandered off, too, leaving me alone on one of the red couches, feeling completely trashed. Maybe it wasn't such a healthy idea to go out and get shitfaced on a regular basis.
It was already dark outside; as I had effectively slept the day away, as I generally do when I'd been partying the previous night. And now, I had to haul my butt up, because I had other things to do tonight. Damn.
I wandered back into the Brain Bucket at roughly nine, and the place was about deserted. Nine o' clock on a weekday wasn't the busiest time ever around here. I was trying hard not to look or sound too hung over. I waved at Slam, who grinned at my probably haggard appearance, and ran a hand through his spiky gray-flecked bleach blonde 'do.
"You want something, Grace?" he asked thoughtfully. I almost ran over to the bar when a mint mojito appeared in Slam's scarred hand. Nothing too strong, but it would take the edge off.
I reached for a pocket, but Slam waved me off. "Oh, no. You need it."
I rolled my eyes. "Thanks, Conrad."
He winced. "Oh, how I hate that name. Anyways, your guy's back there." Conrad, aka Slam pointed back to the very farthest booth from the front, and absentmindedly rubbed the long ropy scar on his forearm, evidence of the wreck that gave him his nickname.