Chasing Shadows

by Liana Hakes-Rucker

  "What are you doing?" He hisses.

  "Breaking into Luis Finch's house." I answer calmly.

  "You don't know that. This could be anyone's house. It's too big to be a house."

  "Schuyler, relax." I touch his arm. "You're right. This place could be anything or anyone's, but I'm supposed to go in. You don't have to come with me. You could pull the car around the block and wait for me." I remove his hand from my arm, turn and sit shoving my legs through the open window. With a big exhale I push myself into the abyss and try not to think scary thoughts. I scrape across the ledge on my way in and land hard on my feet in the blackness. What feels like a hand caresses my cheek and I shiver. I think I see a dark human shape in the blackness. It reminds me of the first night. I blink, trying to get my eyes to adjust, trying to remain calm. I step forward and my legs hit something hard. I hear Schuyler grumbling for a moment, but he follows me. Tha whump, he's in, and clatter, the window slides shut behind him.

  "Fuck." He whispers. I pull out my phone and open it so it serves as a flashlight. I sigh with relief. The hard thing I'm standing against is a table we almost knocked over. That would've been loud. "What now?" Schuyler whispers.

  "Shhh." I say and wait. I hear a little flicker to my right. I turn. The phone goes dim so I close it and open it again to relight the screen. I take a few tentative steps forward and find myself facing a door. My eyes are finally adjusting. The basement is all odd shapes and stacks of things. I take one last look around and open the door. Two feet behind it is a black curtain. Okay. I sigh and push it aside, more darkness. Schuyler puts his hand on my shoulder. I reach up and clasp it. Now I take another step forward. Something flat and light smacks my face as I walk into it. It brushes aside. Phone goes out again, Christ! I close and open it angrily, winning us a few more moments of illumination. We're in a tiny room. I hear something flutter above me. I shine the phone upwards. There are lots of shapes, pieces of paper, their glossy surfaces reflecting the blue light. Amongst them I see a light bulb with a chain pull. I smile and pull it.

  We're flooded with red light. All around us, photographs hang from clothes lines. It's a dark room, like on TV. I didn't know anyone even used darkrooms anymore. I though the whole world had gone digital. Show's what I know. I look at Schuyler. He looks good red. For a second I want to forget that I'm on a mission, and wrap my arms around his neck. Is this why they call it a red light district? Schuyler's face is a lovely picture of disbelief. I smile and whisper. "Look around. There has to be something here worth finding."

  He shakes himself and bypasses, what I would think is the obvious choice of, looking at the pictures hanging right in our faces. He beelines to the back of the room where there is a fat black book on a table.

  "It's a drying book." He says. "You put pictures in there to dry faster when you don't want to wait for them to drip dry."

  Okay whatever. While he's doing that I look at what's right in front of me. These are night shots of various buildings around the city. They don't look too interesting to me until I see my own building among them... I move to the next row. There's Schuyler's building. There's me. Holy shit! It's a photo of me in the lobby of Schuyler's building. I hold my breath and hurry up. Suddenly all the locations are familiar. I move further in, and am less than happy to see my own face captured again and again. There's me at work, taken from the street outside. There's me on the El with my headphones on. There I am on the bus. There I am on my steps talking on the phone.

  "Holy Fuck." I murmur. There I am in bed. "Schuyler." I hiss. He comes back and I point to the one of me in bed.

  "Shit." He says.

  "Yeah. If this isn't Luis Finch's stuff, than it's my stalker's. Damn it. I didn't even know I had a stalker."

  Schuyler puts his arm around my shoulder while taking in the room. "How long had Luis even known about you?"

  I shrug. "First time I saw him was when Madeline died. These are all recent though see? My hair is striped in every one, and that only happened two weeks ago. It could be Luis. I hope its Luis."

  Schuyler squeezes my shoulder. "There are three pictures in the drying book, and you should look at them."

  Dazed, I follow Schuyler to the back of the room. The red light is starting to creep me out. We approach the book and Schuyler flips it open. The first photo is of Madeline Cross and a girl who could be me. I guess its Kelly Morgan. They're small in the frame. Looks like it could have been taken across a parking lot. Both of them are dressed in skimpy, shiny dresses with little fur wraps over their shoulders. They're stepping away from a limo. I flip it back and riffle through the tissue paper drying pages 'til I get to the next shot. It's the same two girls boarding a well lit yacht. There's a man on deck smiling down at them. I don't recognize him, but he's in a tuxedo. The shot has been cropped. I can tell because the edges are crisp and straight not the fuzzy, artsy shit you see on photos that have no cropping, thank you discovery channel. I bite my lip and turn further back. This one is just Madeline. It's a day time shot. She's wearing the same dress as before and walking down a peer. She still looks good but her makeup is smeared at the edges and she's all alone. The expression on her face is numb. She looks like a car crash survivor. I can imagine she might be staggering a little. It doesn't take a lot to put the pieces together. This was the night Kelly disappeared.

  I remember watching Madeline die. She told that big blond man that he killed Kelly. He told her that Kelly fucked every man on that boat. Jesus. Was this the day I washed up on the beach? Her dress is awfully little for February but then I was found naked so I guess that doesn't mean anything. I look close, checking for goose bumps on Madeline. Her nipples are hard but that doesn't prove anything. They did wear those fur wraps. Is that a call girls accommodation to the blasting winds of February in Chicago? I've seen the hookers by Home Depot in the morning, and they wear coats like everybody else. I'm lost in contemplation. I can hear Schuyler rustling around, but I'm staring at Mads. She looks fragile. Did she know she was being photographed? Jessica, the girl at the memorial, said that Luis Finch had only been stalking Madeline for a few months. Is this shot from three years ago, or just a few months ago? Either Luis had been watching Mads for years before he got caught, or I'm not Kelly Morgan... my thoughts are cut short.

  "Meegan, come see this." Schuyler's not whispering anymore.

  I shake myself and join him at the central table where he's pulled out a big box of photographs. "Where'd you get those?"

  He points. "Cabinet. See if you recognize any of these people."

  I look at the pictures. Madeline is in every single one. It seems like a catalogue of people she's been seen with. I flip through intently. I recognize the roommates in a few shots, and Jessica too. There aren't any other shots of Kelly. The men, what can I say? They all look at least ten years older than Madeline.

  "Some of them look familiar but only vaguely." I keep looking. "Damn." I whisper.

  "What?"

  "This guy." It's a nice photo. Mads is laughing. She's sitting on a park bench, and she has her arms around a man, a very big, hulking, blond man with a crew cut. He's laughing too. I get a chill. I set the picture to one side and keep flipping. Four photos later, there he is again. I set it with the other one. I'm frantic now, riffling through stack after stack and weeding out every single shot that has him in it. There are so many. "It's his eyes." I hear my voice crack. I clear my throat. "That was what I really got to see, his eyes. This is him. He's the man who killed her. Holy Fuck."

  "You sure?" Schuyler asks.

  I meet his eyes. "So sure... Not that it'd hold up in court or anything, I mean what was I doing there? But that's the guy."

  Schuyler nods. "Let's take one of these."

  "Okay." I say. "But what about the ones of me? Should we get those too?"

  He shakes his head. "Too many, and the negatives will be here somewhere. We can't erase you from the room. We couldn't even carry them all without looking suspicious."

  I sigh. "
Okay. So... you think this is Luis's place right?" I pick up two shots of crew cut man and tuck them in my jacket. Damn I need a smoke.

  Schuyler brushes my blue streak behind my ear. "Yeah I think so."

  I nod. I'm a bit shaken up. "Me too. Let's get out of here."

  "Sounds good."

  "Wish we had a flash light."

  He laughs. "Yeah and the window closed when I came in. I'm not tall enough to reach it anyway."

  I shrug. "If it's Luis's place, no one's going to be home. Maybe we could just leave out the front door."

  He shakes his head. "You don't know. He could have roommates, or he could live with his mom. This building is awfully big for a single residence. It could be apartments."

  "Let's hope it is, easier to leave that way." I open my phone and head through the curtain and out the door. We tiptoe through the basement, going in circles a bit, until we find some stairs. Then I lead Schuyler up. He seems nervous, and somehow that helps me to remain calm. The stairs end at a heavy metal door. I turn the knob slowly, not wanting to make any noise, in case we're exiting into someone's kitchen. The door eases open. Light spills in on us. It seems desperately bright compared to the basement. I hold my breath and step out. I'm in a wide hallway. No, it's a vestibule, a public looking vestibule. To my left is a concrete stairwell going up and across from it an elevator. Beyond these are double doors with big glass panels in them. I can see the sidewalk. I motion for Schuyler to come out. He does, and I nod at the exit. Schuyler looks around nervously. I grab his hand and walk with my head held high to the double doors. When in doubt, pretend you belong. It's a philosophy that's gotten me out of plenty of trouble.

  We exit the building, and trot down the five cement steps with big smiles on our faces. Schuyler laughs, giddy and relieved. I hug him warmly.

  "Come on. I think we need to circle the block this way." I lead us left. When we're a couple of houses down I stop to light up and take stock.

  Schuyler wraps his arm around me and kisses my head. "That was awesome." He whispers.

  I look up at him. "Really? You're just saying that because nobody died."

  He meets my eyes and holds them. "You should see yourself, when you're seeing what you see... It's terrifying."

  I balk and laugh. "Thanks."

  "Hey!" A voice calls. I jump. Its some man I don't know. "Hey!" He shouts again as he's crossing the street to get to us.

  "Should we run?" Schuyler whispers.

  I shake my head. "Play it cool." I mutter. "What?" I say to the guy.

  He slips a little on the ice as he gets to us. This guy is normal looking in the extreme. Balding, white, pudgy, jeans, brown jacket, a person you would never notice. "Who are you?" He demands. "You don't live there. What were you doing in that building?"

  I feel my eyebrows shoot up. "Who are you? And what were you doing watching that building?"

  "I'm Craig Chambers, with the Tribune." He sounds all pissy and authoritative but I don't care. My face lights up with recognition. "Craig!" I say smiling. "You're the reporter Mads was going to!" I extend my hand. "Meegan Jones, nice to meet you."

  Craig's face gets all pointy. "What do you know about that?"

  I look up at Schuyler. "You have a pen?" He nods and digs one out of his pocket. I love it, he always has a pen. When he hands it to me, I reach into my jacket and get one of the shots of Mads' killer. I jot my number on the back of it and hand it to him. "You call me later, okay?" I tell him. "Not tonight, but sometime, we should totally have coffee or something."

  Craig takes my number. He flips it over and sees the photo of Mads and her killer. His eyes shoot to me. "You know who this is?"

  "Not by name." I say. "You gonna tell me?"

  Craig shoves the photo in his pocket. "Where did you get this?"

  I look up at Schuyler. He shrugs. "It's your show."

  I smile, and go with my gut. I think I need this guy. "There are a lot, a whole lot of pictures in the basement of that building. You should check them out, and then maybe call me later." Craig looks at me intently for a moment. I can see a burning desire to interrogate me, is wrestling with a desperate curiosity about what's in the basement. He opens his mouth but I cut him off. "We weren't that stealthy. If a neighbor saw us, or even our tracks in the snow, they might call the cops, who would find what we found and confiscate it for evidence. You might want to see what's to be seen before that happens." He glowers at me. "It's not like you don't have my number."

  "Meegan Jones?" He asks.

  "Yes Sir."

  "And Simon Mills."

  Schuyler laughs. "No. I'm Schuyler."

  The reporter blinks. "Really?"

  Schuyler nods. "Yeah really. Why? You expecting to see Simon around here?"

  Craig shakes his head and turns to leave. "I'll be calling you, Miss Jones."

  I give him a sarcastic thumbs up which he doesn't see. "I'll answer my phone, Mr. Chambers." At this moment a stiff breeze gusts over us and I'm reminded of the fact that I'm soaked with snow. Fuck. My legs begin to tremble. I grab Schuyler's arm and turn us away from Craig Chambers. We trot quickly down the sidewalk.

  "So... Madeline was talking to a reporter." Schuyler says.

  I look up at him. "Was that a question?"

  He shrugs. "What else have I missed?"

  I laugh. "Hell man, it's been forever."

  "It's been two days."

  "More like sixty plus hours." I say. "Let's see... I found the roommates."

  "Lexi and Sara?"

  I nod. "From them I got round about information" Don't I gloss well? "Kelly was engaged to a guy named Kevin Geoffreys with a G, or Burk, or Jeffries with a J, who I looked up online, and if I got the right one, he's a suicide...from South Florida. I spoke to Gwen, Mads' sister, she said a reporter named Craig called for Mads after she'd been dead a few hours..." Schuyler looks at me dubiously. "Oh! Mads had a boyfriend she called Harley, but that was a nickname, he might have been a cop, or the cop could be another guy. There was a dude who proposed, to Mads and she laughed in his face."

  "Anything else?"

  I purse my lips. "Sex preferences on both Mads and Kelly. Gwen told me I should stay out of it, or I might get killed... Nothing else related to the murder." We take a left. My teeth are chattering.

  "So what about you?" Schuyler asks. "What's up with your life?"

  I turn red. Does he know somehow? Would he care? I shrug and go the safe route. "Ashley talked to me. Started out okay, then she yelled at me in public some more, but I think she's about to forgive me. Don't ever do that by the way. I hate it. Yell at me in private only."

  "What'd you do anyway?"

  I groan. "Just being myself. Isn't that enough to piss you off sometimes? I listen too well, and not well enough. I don't talk about myself, don't share information, which is odd given how selfish she says I am." Schuyler gives a wry smile. He can tell it was a one sided answer. "So what about you? How were your last sixty hours?"

  "Boring compared to this." he says.

  I laugh. "This is nothing. No one even died yet."

  "So what are you doing this weekend?"

  My throat goes dry. "I'm busy Friday night and Saturday but other than that..."

  "So two more days until you can hang out again."

  "Yeah."

  "But who knows what I'll miss in two whole days? It's like missing an episode of Lost." I laugh. "So you're seeing a guy." He adds. My laugh stops in my throat. "Because you would have told me, if it was a girl. If it had to do with Mads you'd invite me along, and you don't have your job back yet. Besides that, you look very relaxed, so it has to be a guy."

  I bite my cheek. "Are you okay with that?"

  He looks at me weird. "Of course I'm okay with that."

  "Really?"

  "Why wouldn't I be?"

  I swallow. We take another left. "Well that's a downer."

  Now Schuyler laughs. "Thanks. So what's his name?"

  "Qasim." I can see the Escalad
e now.

  "You serious about him?"

  "Hell if I know. You get mistaken for Simon a lot?"

  "All the time. Don't change the subject."

  "Why not?"

  "It's rude"

  "I'm always rude." I protest.

  "No. You're not."

  "Whatever."

  "Whatever." He's grinning. "You coming over?"

  "Nah. I wanna go home and change."

  "You have clothes at my house, and I do too. It makes more sense for you to come over."

  "I feel like I never go to my house. Like I should check on it more, or I'll get squatters." Schuyler laughs. We're approaching the car. He beeps it unlocked and we scramble in. It's still kind of warm. Guess we weren't gone that long. "You can come over." I say.

  "You sure?"

  "Of course, I'm sure." And now I'm not. I never did clean the tub. "Don't judge me."

  He laughs. "Is it filthy?"

  "Kind of, but not as bad as it could be..."

  He grins. "I can't wait."

  "No, let's go to your place."

  More laughter. "Is it that bad?"

  I shake my head. "You don't have clothes at my house. It's selfish of me to insist we go there when I know you need to change."

  "Ah, so now you're noble."

  "Is that a crack? Because fuck you, I'm often noble."

  "Of course not. I meant every word."

  "Okay your house first to change then mine to do whatever."

  "To eat?"

  "You like frozen dinners?"

  Schuyler laughs. "Sure."

  "Okay." Well shit.

  "We don't have to go to your place." Schuyler offers.

  I smile. "My tub is filthy."

  "I don't care about your tub."

  "What do you care about?"

  He grins. "I don't want to miss anything."

  Chapter Thirteen

  We're all showered and clean. Schuyler is wearing a brown t-shirt under his pea coat. The color makes his eyes stand out, and his hair look like spun gold. He uses a hair dryer, go figure. Just for variety we're taking the El. We're standing on the Madison/Wabash platform when I hear,