"It's been a while since I've been here."
"Erica and you were friends?"
"We were getting there, for sure. I'm the one who paid for her tombstone."
Marie stepped inside, Jack a step behind her. She lifted her nose to the air and sniffed quick, short breaths.
"Raspberry, with just a bit of lemon."
"Erica smelled like raspberries?"
"Yeah. A pretty nice smell, actually."
"I don't even think I could tell you what a raspberry smells like."
"The nose is a werewolf's best friend. I can tell if anyone's sneaking up on me just by smelling and listening. We recognize scents like faces. It's saved my ass plenty before."
"So if someone farts from fifty feet away, you can pick that up?"
She turned to glare at him.
"I'm just asking," he said.
Jack watched her work. Marie sniffed everything. She put her nose right up to the couch cushions, the furniture, the walls. She literally looked like a dog, and it was all he could do not to unleash a joke. He was desperate for humor, as the mood from standing in his ex-girlfriend's apartment for the second time was wearing on him.
"Tell me something, Jack," Marie said. She entered the bedroom and stuck her nose in Erica's old clothes. He tried not to wince. "Do you miss her?"
"Do you want the truth? Most women want to be lied to."
"I'm not most women. Tell the truth."
"No. I moved on, and so did she. We only dated for a few months, not twenty years."
She shook her head, moving about the bedroom. "So, you're willing to spend one-hundred grand on a woman you don't miss. That's weird."
"I'm a weird guy."
Marie stopped and faced him, crossing her arms. It was obvious she wasn't moving until he offered something more.
"I…cared about her, and I didn't know I was still able to do that. I love my daughter, obviously, but I didn't know I could care about an adult mortal woman. Moving on or not, Erica was a wonderful, good person. She didn't deserve to have her life taken in some backwater, nothing town. Someone took her from the world. That someone is going to pay."
Marie nodded, and Jack recognized understanding in her eyes. She didn't judge him, didn't think him vengeful. He needed to learn more about her.
"Be careful what you say," she said. "I grew up here."
"I feel sorry for you."
She laughed quietly, and they made their way back through the apartment. He noticed how thorough she was. She sniffed everything a second time, examined the kitchen and fridge, spent extra time in the bathroom.
Jack pointed at the collection of classroom photos on the dining room wall. He found the most recent photo and pointed out Tiffany.
"That's my daughter, right there."
Marie leaned closer. "Really?"
She stood next to Jack as she examined the picture, a little closer than he expected. He could smell her hair.
"That's not your daughter."
"Excuse me?"
"There's not a resemblance at all. Not a single feature."
"Now who's playing detective?"
"Is she adopted?"
He hesitated, impressed and apprehensive at the same time.
"Yes."
"She's cute."
"You should have seen her for Halloween."
Marie laughed and stopped at the front door, taking one last look at the apartment.
"Well, I've really got her scent now. And it's just her scent. Besides you and me, no one's even been in the apartment. Let's go check out where she was murdered. I'll see what else I can pick up."
"You're the boss."
They rounded the stairwell and stepped onto the second floor landing. Marie suddenly stopped, right where the blood was. She frowned as she lifted her nose to the air and sniffed.
"What's the problem?" Jack asked.
Marie held up a finger. As silly as it sounded, she was pretty when she was in dog mode. Her frown and twitching nose were adorable.
"Just…hold on a sec."
He stifled a laugh when Marie dropped to her hands and knees and stuck her nose to the ground. She crawled about, moving her nose from door to door, sniffing along the thresholds. The view was provocative, similar to the first night they met, with her ass in the air.
"Enjoying the scenery up there?" she asked.
"Hey, if you want to reenact an 80's music video, I won't stop you. It's not my fault…." He trailed off when a detail caught his eye. Her shirt rode up as she moved, and her jeans pulled down slightly. Her lower back was exposed, along with her choice of underwear for the day. "You picked the thong I suggested."
"Yeah, well, you have good taste. Enjoy the show while it lasts."
He fumbled for the phone in his coat. Marie cocked an ear, almost like a canine, and tilted her head.
"What are you doing?"
"Taking a picture."
"Goddamnit, Jack!"
She jumped to her feet as fast as she could. Despite her harsh, angry glare, he could see deep down she was enjoying herself. They found each other attractive for the same reasons. They were both private people with so much to hide, but could actually share the occasional nugget of information with each other.
Acting on that attraction would have to wait. Jack knew that, as well as Marie. She gestured to the door closest to the drops of blood on the landing.
"We need to get in there."
"Why?"
"I…don't want to say just yet. Maybe my nose is off."
Jack stared at the door. "I know the guy who lives here."
"You do?"
"Well, not really know." He struggled to remember the man's name. "Charlie, I think. That's his blood."
"Let me guess. You put it there."
"He pissed me off the first time I was here. Are you saying he's got something to do with Erica's murder?"
"I'm not saying anything yet, just that we need to get inside."
"Is he in there?"
"No."
"Then stand back."
Marie jumped in front of him before he could kick the door down.
"Whoa!" she said. "What are you doing?"
"What's it look like?"
"You can't go destroying people's doors, making as much noise as you can."
"Why not?"
"Well, because people will hear."
"So?"
She sighed in defeat as she gestured to the stairs. "Just follow me."
Marie led the way back to Erica's apartment. She went to the patio door and slid it open.
"Just help me climb down," she said. "I'll get in through the patio and let you in."
He smiled. "Breaking and entering."
"Oh, be quiet," she said, a quiet laugh escaping.
Jack held her hand as she climbed over the railing. He glanced at the scenery as she moved into position. It was still early, and the patio pointed to the rear of the building. No one was watching.
"You'd better hurry it up," he said. "Before people start walking their dogs. But if they do, I can put a leash on you. We'll blend right in."
"Shut up."
Marie dangled her feet until they touched the railing below. Jack held her arm until she found her footing, and climbed to the patio below. It wasn't exactly Victoria leaping and flinging herself a level below with one hand, but just as effective.
She was already waiting for him when he reached the front door. She held the door open to let him in.
"That was fast," he said.
Marie just winked.
The layout of Charlie's apartment was exactly the same as the rest. Where Erica was a slob, Charlie was the complete opposite. No clutter, nothing even on the coffee table. But there were clues lying about.
"Let's see," Jack said, studying the apartment. "Single, no family. Works as a mechanic of some kind, works with his hands. Keeps to himself, not much of a social life. Doesn't go out much at all."
"Now how the hell can you tell all t
hat?"
He sighed, not feeling like reviewing all the clues.
"A pair of work gloves in the corner. No jeans in the hamper. Uses the microwave primarily for cooking. Do I need to go on?"
She walked down the hall to the bedroom.
"I'm not sure if that's sexy or creepy."
"One could say the same thing about you."
Marie pulled out the first dresser drawer and ran her nose along it, a cursory sniff. Jack saw nothing but sweatpants and overalls.
"What are you looking for?"
She held up a finger, going through the rest of the dresser.
Opening the third drawer, Jack saw it the same time Marie smelled it. It was full of socks and white underwear, messily tossed together. He could see the occasional pink and purple peeking through. They both reached out at the same time, their hands touching, and Jack backed away to let Marie do her thing.
She pulled out a pair of pink hi-cut panties. She brought them as close to her nose as she dared.
"They're Erica's."
Jack sifted through the drawer and found other clothes that didn't belong to him. One of Erica's old shirts, a few bras, several pair of socks.
Marie pulled out a photo album. She stood shoulder to shoulder with Jack and leaned close so he could see.
She shivered as she slowly turned page after page. Jack wasn't surprised in the least. Mortals broke so easily. He was hung from a noose by the people in his own town, chased naked in the woods. They tried to murder him for associating with a witch.
Jack killed them all, and he moved on. Not even two centuries without sleep could completely break him.
The mortal Charlie was obviously broken.
The photo album was a window into a twisted soul. Every other picture was of Erica. Charlie had been stalking her. There were shots of her getting in her car, moving items from a U-Haul truck, walking into the bar to work. There were also photos that violated her privacy more blatantly, taken through her windows. Charlie must have climbed up a tree and waited patiently, lost in his sick mind as he waited for the perfect time to snap a picture.
"Holy shit," Marie whispered.
The album got worse. Pictures were altered to include Charlie. Heads from bystanders were covered, his face glued in their place, to give him a sense of belonging in her life. There were pornographic photos, printed from a website, with both Charlie and Erica's faces covering the actors and actresses.
Marie's hands shook as she closed the book. "This is sick."
"Right under the nose," Jack said quietly. "Son of a bitch."
He passed Marie to go to the kitchen. She leaned in the hallway and spoke to herself as much as Jack.
"I thought I smelled something faint. But I wasn't sure. Jesus…he stole her clothes. Did you see those pictures?"
"I did." Jack opened a drawer next to the fridge and found the largest knife he could find. "I was right next to you."
"What's with the knife?"
He looked at her. "What part of make him pay was lost on you?"
"You're going to wait here in his apartment?"
"You catch on fast. Oh, let me guess, it's wrong what I'm doing? To kill out of revenge, that's a no-no?"
"Reign in your little attitude over there," she said, her eyes narrowing. "Don't act like you know what I'm thinking. If someone killed a person you care about, you kill them back. It's that simple. I'll even show you a nice spot in the woods to bury him. But you have other things you need to do."
"Like what?"
"Like pay me, for one thing." She gestured around her. "I did my part. And take me home."
Jack was quiet a moment, admiring Marie's strength. Not many people had the courage to tell him to reign in his attitude.
"You're right," he said. "Let's go. Leave the door unlocked."
The pair walked to Jack's car. He popped the trunk and handed her a workout bag.
"Fifty grand, as promised," he said. "Probably the easiest money you've ever earned."
She smiled. "It's pretty close."
"I'll arrange to have five grand sent to your apartment, to help cover Erica's burial costs."
"No, Jack. You don't have to do that—"
"We'll be completely even. I owe you nothing, and you owe me nothing."
She slung the bag over her shoulder. "Except my bar—"
"No. If a drunk driver crashed into your bar, he wouldn't owe you anything, except maybe an ass-kicking from you. And you've already tried that with me. Our business transaction is done."
She nodded and took a deep breath as she adjusted the bag. She held her hand out, but laughed as she pulled it back.
"Ah, that's right. No handshaking. I'll walk home. It's not too far."
Marie turned to leave, but Jack grabbed her gently by the arm. She looked down at his hand, a curious look on her face.
"Are you hungry?"
"I am."
"Let's go get some breakfast. You can pay, since you've got money now."
Jack gestured to the trunk. Marie smirked as she set the bag inside. Their time together hadn't yet come to an end.
"You said you'd cover expenses."
"True, but the deal is done. This isn't an expense. This is two people having breakfast."
"You can't ask me out for a meal, and then insist I pay."
"You sound like every other woman out there."
"You're an asshole. You know that?"
"If you want to see me without clothes on, Marie, all you have to do is ask."
"Shut up and get in the car. There's a restaurant just down the road."
"Good. Pancakes, bacon, eggs, toast."
"That sounds like a good idea."
CHAPTER 27
Marie wasn't sure if dining with Jack was a good idea. Her thoughts were all over the place. She didn't know which direction her life was suddenly heading. Werewolf hunters were on the way. She had the money to move, start over once again, lay low. She needed to go home and pack, make plans, stare at a map. There were so many things she needed to do.
All she wanted to do was have breakfast with Jack. It made no sense whatsoever. They had nothing. They weren't friends. He found what he was looking for, and wouldn't be in town much longer. She wouldn't be staying in Sandy Cliffs either. Still, she wanted to get to know the man who'd taken so much from her, and was about as charming as a rattlesnake.
Strangely, his lack of charm was charming. Everything he said came from the heart. He didn't compliment or flirt to get what he wanted. Game playing wasn't in his nature. Jack meant was he said.
"This place looks like it sucks."
"Shhh!" she said, smacking him on the arm. They waited patiently, or in Jack's case, impatiently, for a table. "Keep it down, or they'll spit in your food."
"In that case, I'll spit on them, while I'm rubbing their faces on my shoe."
"Would you calm down? I've been here before. The food is good. Trust me."
"Eh, I haven't known you long enough for that. Sorry, but I'll hold onto my trust a little longer."
A hostess finally approached them.
"Good morning! Would you like a table for two?"
"No," Jack said first. "We just want to stand here and stare at people eat. See how long it takes to make them uncomfortable." He pointed across the room. "That woman over there has been undressing me with her eyes for the past five minutes."
The hostess was horrified. Marie quickly stepped forward, wearing an apologetic smile.
"Please, ignore him," she said. "Yeah, a table is fine."
Marie glared at Jack as they were led to a table. He simply shrugged, and actually blew a kiss to the woman he pointed at. Her husband turned in the booth, his anger unmistakable. Part of Marie was embarrassed and appalled.
The other part struggled to hold in her laughter.
"Undressing you with her eyes," she said as they settled in. "You probably think the hostess wants you, too."
"Actually, no. She was giving you the lick-me fa
ce. It must be those jeans you're wearing."
"Seriously?" she said, and glanced at the waitress. Sure enough, Marie caught her staring, and the hostess quickly looked away. "You're really good at that crap."
Jack glanced at a menu. "All you have to do is keep your eyes open. I tell my daughter all the time. But…" He held her gaze. "I couldn't see what was right under Erica's apartment. Thank you."
She shrugged. "Hey, you paid me for a service."
"Still, that doesn't mean I can't thank you."
Neither one of them looked away. He didn't follow with sarcasm. There wasn't an edge in his voice. His gratitude was genuine.
"You're welcome."
Marie was still deciding what she wanted when Jack placed the menu down, already having made his decision. She was in the middle of a drink of water when he spoke.
"So, that area in the woods you were talking about, is that where you buried the people you killed?"
She choked on her water. It went down the wrong pipe, and she coughed for nearly half a minute, water dribbling down her chin. Jack handed her a napkin and waited. She drew the attention of the hostess, who stopped by to check on her.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
Jack waved away her concern. "I think we'd be a lot better if you climbed on one these tables and did a striptease."
"I'm fine," Marie managed to say.
Marie couldn't keep her face from turning red. She wanted to make an impression. She'd spent fifteen minutes picking out the right clothes, showing off her figure, but without making it look like she was showing off. Drooling water down her shirt certainly wasn't what she had in mind.
His choice in conversation could take some of the blame.
"Wow," she said. "You skip small talk and go right for the jugular, don't you?"
"This is just a guess, but you killed some people in this town."
Her eyes went wide. "Would you keep your voice down?"
"You were born here. From the pictures I'd seen, somewhere in the 30's. You didn't live here all your life, for obvious reasons. But now, you're back, trying to start a bar and a new life for yourself. Somewhere in there, is a bite from a werewolf, and probably a kill or two to chase you out of town."
Marie shifted in her seat uncomfortably. Glancing around, she was relieved to see no one was staring at them. Her ears picked up conversations. Meaningless chatter, a subtle argument or two, but nothing about the odd pair in the back.
Damned and Cursed (Book 2): Witch's Kurse Page 29