Moth

by Jennifer Foor

  My stomach feels queasy. I’ve never been one to enjoy change, and this will make me unrecognizable. I’m not sure it’s going to be something I’ll ever gets used to.

  Since I know it’s going to take this chick a while to make me presentable, I mess around on my phone, comparing calls between my brother and Windy. They’ve definitely been in contact with one another. Between eating at the same places and now the communication, I know they at least spent time together. He wasn’t just an acquaintance.

  It takes the girl an hour to finish. When she finally spins me around to see what she’s done I’m dumbfounded. I don’t recognize the person looking back at me. It’s unbelievable. I pay her, including a hefty tip, and start to head out. Right before I reach the door I hear her calling me back in. “Hey, cutie.”

  I turn and see her swaying around like an excited little child. “What can I do you for?” I say it like I’m at her service. It’s obvious she likes the man she’s uncovered under all that overgrown hair.

  She hands me a business card. “I was hoping you’ll call me for your next appointment, or maybe for other reasons.”

  I grin. It sucks I have to change my appearance to get women in these parts to see the good quality I have to offer, but at least I’m getting recognition.

  “Yeah, maybe I will.”

  I leave before I get sick of seeing her satisfaction from my statement. I’m not sure she’s my type, but I’ll keep her in mind in case I have to spend a lot of time here, but I won’t waste any of it by going back to the hotel. Instead I take the old truck to the parking lot where Windy works.

  It’s almost closing time before she surfaces. She’s dressed to the nine today. Her heels are at least six inches high. I notice them as I’m following her sexy legs up to her short skirt. Her blouse has some kind of frilly lace on the front, and it makes me curious what kind of bra she could be sporting underneath. I snap out of my perverted fantasy to notice she’s on the phone with someone and the conversation seems to be heated. She’s red in the face and raising her voice. I’m not close enough to hear what she’s saying, and since I don’t want to be discovered, I decide to head out and wait to see if she resurfaces at her apartment. While doing that I make a few calls myself. It’s time I placed some bugs on little Windy. Something about her feels off.

  I’m disappointed when she doesn’t go straight home. I take a drive by the campus and find her car in the parking lot. I wouldn’t call it lucky, but I locate a cell phone sitting in a cup holder. I don’t want to warrant suspicions so instead of telling the security guy who I am, I wait until he leaves to do rounds before searching for a slim jim in his little building. I’m taken back by the pungent smell of stale coffee as I enter. I keep my hand over my nose and search around. On the second shelf in a small closet I find a familiar type of kit. Since I’m not sure how long he’ll take, I only grab one tool and leave the rest in place.

  I’ve used this kind of device plenty of times. In a matter of seconds I’m in her car. I pick up the phone and examine it, making sure it’s on before downloading a cloning app. Now I’ll be able to listen in on every single call she makes or receives.

  When I know the cloning has worked, I place the phone back in the slot and exit the vehicle. I toss the slim jim near the security station and head back to my truck.

  Windy appears after the sun has gone down. The lights in the parking lot aren’t that great, but are good enough she can see me across the way. I’m standing in front of the truck with the hood up, as if I’m having engine trouble. I start to cuss to grab her attention and see if she’ll bite.

  “Shit! How am I going to get home now?” I say loudly.

  I can hear her heels clanking against the concrete and peek to see if she’s actually buying it. “Excuse me, is everything okay?”

  I close the hood and wipe my hands, even though I know they aren’t dirty. “No. I need to be at work in an hour and my truck won’t start. I work across town and my boss says if I’m late again I’m fired. If I lose my job I can’t pay my tuition.”

  “Have you called?”

  “Yeah. Right before my phone died.”

  “Do you need to use mine?” She asks while pulling one out of her purse. It’s not the same phone that’s still sitting in her car. This is a huge red flag. Why would the girl need two identical looking phones? Now I know I’m onto something, I just don’t know what it is.

  “No. I’m new around here. I haven’t exactly made many friends. There’s no one to call, and I sure as hell can’t pay for a tow.”

  She crosses her arms and looks me up and down. “What’s your name?”

  “Monty,” I lie. It’s a name I use with the DEA while doing field work. I can’t exactly tell people my real name for security purposes. “Monty Theroit, but my friends call me Moth.” I know only my team calls me that name. At first I’m testing her. I want to see her reaction to the name and see if it appears she recognizes it. When she doesn’t I continue. “What’s yours?”

  “Windy. Lewis. Windy Lewis.”

  I extend my hand. “It’s nice to meet you Windy Lewis. Maybe I’ll see you around campus sometime.”

  She smiles and starts to turn, but stops halfway. “Did you need a ride somewhere?”

  “Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s a terrible idea to pick up a stranger?”

  “You’re not a stranger. I know your name. Plus, I’m pretty tough. I know how to defend myself. My dad is a cop.”

  I hadn’t gotten this far into my investigation. Now I’m more curious, even though I assume it’s a lie. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d really appreciate it. You can tie my hands up if it makes you feel more comfortable.”

  She snickers. “You’re the one who should be afraid. I could be a serial killer.”

  “If you were, you’d be the sexiest one this world has ever seen.” I can’t help it. Her large brown eyes are beckoning me to look into them like she’s hypnotizing me. I’m not usually this vulnerable around a woman, but I am cocky, and recent events have left me a bit more vulnerable than I’m used to. Sometimes I find that when extreme situations take a toll on me the only things to settle me down is a long night of beer and sex. Not that I have any intentions of being with her. For now she’s the suspect. I have to keep her at a distance, no matter how much I’d like to see her naked.

  She doesn’t seem offended by my compliment. “Are you flirting with me?”

  We take a few steps closer to her car. I consider apologizing. It’s what a good guy needing a ride would do, but something tells me this girl likes bad guys, so I don’t quit. “It’s possible.”

  “Get in before I change my mind.”

  I wait for her to unlock the door and climb inside. Later I’ll get a ride back to pick up my truck. It’s only ten miles. If the weather stays nice I might run to get in some exercise. I haven’t been able to work out in days, so I could use the stress relief. If I’m not getting pussy, I have to do something to work off my frustration.

  We get a block away from campus before she speaks again. “So, you said you were new. What brings you to Virginia?”

  “A change of scenery.”

  “Where were you from before?”

  “All over,” I truthfully respond. “My parents bounced around when I was young. Recently I lost someone close to me. My mom,” I lie. “Anyway, after a lot of soul searching I ended up here. I knew I needed to finish grad school and the new semester just started so the timing was right.”

  “What’s your major?” She asks.

  “Literature.” I can’t believe that’s my answer. I don’t know shit about books. I’ve always hated to read. There were three books in my life I somewhat enjoyed. Lord of the Flies, The Call of the Wild, and Barabbas. I’m sure none of those are on a college syllabus.

  “Wow, my worst subject.”

  “Really. You kind of look like the school teacher type.”

  She flashes me an ornery grin. “Seriously?”

  “N
a, I’m just fucking with you.”

  “I’m studying to be a pharmaceutical scientist.”

  “A scientist.” I pretend to be amused. “Don’t you need a pair of wide rimmed glasses and a pencil protector for your pocket?”

  She’s laughing at me. “Of course. You seem like the jock type. If you must know, that’s a stereotype. I only know four people in my classes that own pencil protectors.”

  I chuckle at her comeback. “Your boyfriend must be proud walking around with you on his arm. Although he might feel threatened you’re too smart for him.”

  It’s quiet for a second. I take in the smell of her sweet perfume. I’d love to know if she’s sprayed some of it around the nape of her neck and imagine my nose brushing over the spot. It’s distracting and out of sorts for me. I’ve been with plenty of beautiful women. Maybe my attraction to her is a desperate plea. I don’t want this smart, career oriented woman to be guilty of anything, especially murder. “Actually, I’m not seeing anyone. I don’t have time for a boyfriend.”

  Another red flag. She told the police Jamie was her boyfriend. She’s either lying to me, or she lied to them. Either way isn’t good. I hate that she doesn’t mention him at all, like he’s nothing but someone she wants to soon forget about. It’s difficult to sit next to her expecting the topic to come up, only to have it not exist.

  “You mean to tell me someone as sexy as you are doesn’t have a guy to spoil her?”

  She shrugs. “I never said I wasn’t spoiled, but there isn’t anyone with the title of my boyfriend. I don’t have time for drama.”

  I snarl. So she has men that please her on the side. Lucky them. I can only imagine what it’s like to be them. Once again I’m becoming aware of how much her presence distracts me. I’m determined to find out what this bitch is hiding. It’s clear she’s not forthcoming with the truth. The only way to get to the bottom of it is to get closer to the source. Like it or not, I’m going to go against protocol. I’ve been given free reign for once.

  I let the conversation go flat and wait a few minutes before I start to give her directions as to where to drop me off. Since I don’t want her to know I’m staying at a hotel, I take her to a neighborhood close to a few restaurants, after all, she thinks I’m late for work. She stops the car for me to get out. I step on the curb and lean back in. “Thanks for the ride. I really appreciate it.”

  “It was nice meeting you, Moth.”

  I should leave it at that, but I’m not one to back down. “Why don’t you let me take you out to repay you? My treat.”

  “You said it yourself, we’re just strangers. You’re probably a nice guy, but I have terrible luck with men. Trust me, you don’t want to go there.”

  “I was asking to share a meal, not plan a future with a minivan and two kids.” I smirk as if she’s crazy for assuming.

  “I’m going to still decline. Good luck with your classes, Moth. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

  I wave as she pulls away. I’ve never been turned down like this. It’s a blow to my ego that only forces me to push harder. If she won’t let me into her life voluntarily, I’ll make it happen.

  First I’m going to need a cold shower.

  Chapter 6

  I spend the next three days looking into Windy Lewis. While she's at work I break into her apartment and begin searching for anything that can connect her to the drugs. Just as I'm about to render her living space clean, I stumble upon a piece of evidence that will set what happens next into motion.

  I've discovered a journal under a chair pad in her bedroom. I've been doing my job long enough that I have pretty much uncovered every place something can be hidden.

  I sit down on the bed and start taking pictures of each page so I'm able to read them later. The last thing I need is someone showing up while I'm still here.

  The one page that catches my eye leads me to my next conclusion.

  I read it twice to be sure.

  I've done everything he's asked of me. I'm living the life of someone else for him. I'm doing things that will for sure send me to Hell. ‎I've proven myself to be faithful. Only time will tell if he'll give me what he's promised. I feel like I've sold my soul to the devil.

  The only way out of this is death. I'll do anything for him. He gave me this life – this second chance at redemption.

  She's drawn‎ the logo on the heroin packages under her entry. My stomach curls imagining being so close to the person who may have killed my flesh and blood. I'm outraged and disgusted, but more determined to get to the bottom of this.

  If she's referring to a he it might be Alizar, which could also mean he ordered a hit on my brother. Nothing will keep me from this.

  I shoot a message to Renner that I'm going to need him and House to bring equipment. This chick holds the answers, at least some of what I’m looking for. If I can’t get to Alizar in Guatemala, maybe I can find another route through this operation. As farfetched as it may be, I can’t back down. My gut is telling me I have to stay on it.

  It takes several days for part of my team to show up. My director has arranged for us to take up residence in a foreclosed home near the campus. I’m not surprised when House and Renner arrive in a piece of shit Nissan that had been seized a while back. The backseat and trunk is filled with enough surveillance equipment for the entire neighborhood, not to mention enough of the guy’s belongings for them to get settled for a while. House even stopped by my apartment and grabbed me some more of my things since I hadn’t been prepared to stay long.

  I’m the topic of all jokes for the next several hours. They can’t get over the change in my appearance. They continue to call me sunshine, because they claim I brighten their day. I’m about to bitch slap both of them simultaneously.

  It takes us the entire evening to set up shop. I connect to the wireless bugs I already have scattered around Windy’s home before we head out for dinner. Since I’ve cloned the spare phone, I’m able to track her whereabouts and know she’s not in the same vicinity as we’re headed. I can’t let her spot me with these two fools who still look as if they haven’t showered in weeks.

  Once we’re done consuming more food any human possibly should in one sitting, we go over all the evidence I’ve collected thus far. Renner is spot on when it comes to profiling, so he starts batting off ideas as to how this woman could be involved in my brother’s homicide, all of which don’t leave a lot of hope she could be innocent. We know she’s involved, just not how much.

  House is my right hand man as far as investigation goes. He can track down anyone and anything given a short amount of leeway. He’s excellent at figuring out details with little to go on. I turn to him to look into Windy Lewis’ past. I want to know who she’s related to, and what the police might not have been able to uncover yet.

  While they’re digging, I’m going to take a different approach. Nothing is going to keep me from getting my post back, so I’m determined to take extreme measures to ensure it happens.

  I plan to pose as a college student, renting out the vacant room my brother used to spend most of his time in. It’s not just for the case though. I have ulterior motives for wanting to do it this way. I need to know the man who shared my blood. It’s too late to change our relationship, but guilt has left me with a ton of regrets.

  It’s easy to convince the roommates to rent me the space. Ever since word got around campus that the last tenant passed away, no one wants to go near it. Not one of them gives me a second look as to my identity. I use the alias I gave to Windy. It’s easier if I stick to one and go with it. The background has already been compiled in the national database. If you look me up I came from a family of Mormons from Indiana. I played little league baseball and became an eagle scout like my dad. My mom was the singer of a religious band and we traveled around a lot when I was younger. It gives me the advantage to justify any slips in my stories. This identity is catered to my real life experiences, so it’s harder for someone to catch me in a lie, because fo
r the most part it’s all somewhat true.

  It’s been over almost two weeks since my brother was found murdered. The police have no new leads, and I’m not surprised about it. If I hadn’t recognized the heroin wrapper I too would be stumbling for answers. That being said, I know there is more to the story. A straight and narrow man doesn’t up and involve himself with criminals.

  That next morning I park the old Ford at a coffee shop Windy’s financial records say she frequents. I wait patiently until I see her pull in and step out of her vehicle. She’s wearing heels again and as she stands her calf muscles are accentuated. I take in her slim figure and the way she carries herself, almost to the point where I miss my opportunity to accidentally run into her.

  I hop out of the vehicle and wiz over to hold the door open for her to enter. At first she doesn’t look up to thank me, but just when I think all hope is lost I get a quick glance. “Monty right?”

  “Moth,” I correct.

  “Right, Moth. I see you’ve found the best coffee this town has to offer.”

  “That’s what I hear. It’s my first time.” I say it like I’m not yet convinced. “I don’t know anything about fancy brews. You have any suggestions?”

  “That depends,” she replies with a curious gaze. “Are you buying?”

  “Well,” I play into her. “That would depend on if you accept. You seem like an independent woman who doesn’t like being taken care of.”

  “What would give you that impression?”

  I point to her body. “You’re wearing expensive pumps. Your hair doesn’t shine like that without products, and I’m pretty certain your purse is one of those name brands that cost more than a car payment.” I’m talking out of my ass. Yes, I recognize the purse as being a Coach, but I have no idea about hair products. I’ve only overheard the chick that was grooming me saying she’s found this new treatment that leaves her hair smooth and sleek. As far as the pumps, well they could be from Walmart. The point is that I’m trying to know my shit so I can impress her. The more I pay attention to detail the more likely she is to find interest in me. I need this to happen, sooner than later. The only way I’m going to figure out the real Windy is if I place myself directly into her life. Like it or not, I’m going to have to pretend I’m interested in her sexually.