Chasing Shadows

by Liana Hakes-Rucker

  I lift my eyes to the Officers but it takes effort. "What?" I ask sweetly. Burns growls, or does she? Did I make that up? "Aaron." I sigh. "Your friend hates me." I close my eyes and its work to open them again. Officer Clark, Aaron now I suppose, opens his mouth to say something but he doesn't even get a word out, before an entire entourage of men come traipsing into the room. There's a well dressed, tall man who's got that distinctive V shape I associate with Schuyler. There's another well dressed man, this one short and pale. There's a man in scrubs and Ah... There's my Schuyler, looking worried with big circles under his eyes. I smile at him. "Hey Schuyler." I croak.

  He crosses the room in three strides. "Meegan." He breathes. Geeze he's pretty choked up. He turns to the man in scrubs. "What are these two doing here?!" He demands waving at the officers. Damn I've never heard him yell that loud. "Why is she being questioned without her lawyer? Why isn't she prepped for surgery? You said you were about to fix her arm. How is it she's lying here in pain?"

  "The the police requested..." The man in scrubs stammers.

  The tall, well dressed, man lays a hand on Schuyler's shoulder. He has white hair, and features you'd find in a classic painting. "Schuyler, control yourself." He says it softly, but there's a bite to his words. Now he turns and in an intimidating and reasonable tone he addresses the police. "Detectives Burns and Clark, am I right?"

  They nod.

  "We would like to thank you so much for finding our Meegan." Our Meegan, what the fuck? "I would like to introduce you to Mr. Abraham, our family attorney. He is also representing Miss Jones."

  And here I tune him out. Must be Schuyler's dad. I look up at Schuyler. Goddamn I'm glad to see him. I'd reach for his hand but he's standing on my right. "Schuyler." I whisper. His whole body jerks around with rapt attention. I smile, that's nice. "Come around here so I can hold your hand, dude." He obeys me, but without a smile. What is that look? His jaw is clenched. He looks furious and something else. "Are you okay?" the others are still talking. I don't care.

  Schuyler just stares at me. "You could be dead."

  "I'm not."

  He reaches his free hand over and strokes my hair, almost exactly like Luck did before. I smile.

  "Jesus." He mutters, looking me over. "If he wasn't dead I'd have to kill him."

  I roll my eyes. "Don't be such a downer, honey. I am so glad to see you. They told me you helped them find me?"

  He runs his hand through his hair and looks at the floor. "I know you told me not to call anyone, but..."

  I interrupt him. "Sometimes doing what I say would be the worst thing in the world to do. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I mean it a lot, really. I... I don't know what else to say. I can never, ever pay it back." I exhale and close my eyes. Schuyler mumbles something, but I'd have to be looking at him to decipher that, so I just keep breathing and let it go. Concern slides off of me like sand, like water, like... whatever. I'm feeling good. "Must be the drugs." I mutter and slip off to sleep

  ***

  I'm smoking. I puff and puff and still feel like I need a cigarette. It's sunny and quiet. I'm walking on a dirt road. Dust clings to my feet and hangs in the air multiplying the sun back down on me. The trees grow thick, green, and dense on either side of the road. Everything is dry and dirty. I guess this is the great outdoors. Shadows wave in the breeze. Some of them are from the trees, and some aren't. I notice little red leaves amongst the underbrush, and I wonder what I'm doing here. I feel stiff. I keep on walking. The wind shifts in and blows my hair in my face. I wave it back. Its dark brown. Huh. I'm not surprised. Left, right, left, right. The road narrows. Now its just wheel tracks in the dry earth. Trees meet above me, creating a shady green tunnel for me to walk in. I can't see very far ahead. I walk. I breathe. I smoke. I walk. The saplings are growing close to the tire tracks here. They brush my bare arms. I look at them.

  There's another tattoo. This one is new to me. It's colorful, several flowers laced together with trails of ribbon. I watch my arm move. The tattoo shifts and curls over my skin like a shade. I'm wearing a tank top. No, it's a halter top. It's white. It hugs my stomach. I've got light jeans on and sneakers. That's interesting. I never wear sneakers.

  I look back up, and the path has opened out. To my right the woods continue. To my left is stream that runs up against a sharp stone cliff on the other side. I follow the path out onto a faded green lawn. Little purple wild flowers dot the grass. I move leisurely towards the bank. Man, I'm so stiff, and hot, and thirsty. As I near the water I'm pleased to find that the bank is paved with cut stones like a patio. I squat down on them. They radiate heat. I look over the water. It reflects the sun at me. It twinkles. It hurts my eyes. I squint. A shade moves behind me, and I know because I feel its cool touch at the base of my spine. I creep towards the water's edge. I look down and gasp. It's so clear! Amazing, beautiful! I can see to the bottom. Must be thirty feet straight down. It's magical to look through the water. I smile. A cloud crosses the sky and I see it reflected perfectly in the stream.

  I sigh happily, and notice my image in the water. Wow, the hair is great. I like it dark. Makes my skin look milky and even. Come to think of it, I don't notice any zits. Cool. I lie on my stomach. The hot stones simmer their warmth into my torso. I reach my right hand down. I want to touch the water. I imagine it will be so cool and refreshing. I reach. I'm stretching and stretching but I'm just not tall enough. The look of concentration on my face makes me laugh. With a grunt I shift forward so my boobs are hanging off the ledge. They look awesome and really large from this angle. I stretch... Now. I know I'm going to make it. "Ah..." I feel that first cool sensation on my right fingers.

  But wait. It's not so clear. As I watch, great murky clouds billow up from the bottom of the stream. They broil and climb like the plume of a volcano. It's cold here now. My stomach is freezing against the stones. I'm so stiff. I snatch my hand back and have one last glimpse of my face, sharp with concern, before the water becomes unfathomable, too turbulent to reflect anything. I scramble back, or I would if I weren't so stiff. I work furiously, putting in all my effort to sit up, to back away from the water. I'm slow, so slow. The sky has gone cloudy. The breeze is now a wind, and it whips little specks of dirt and leaves against my bare arms. I'm unable to move back any further. I stare and the river boils. Big white bubbles roll over and over each other. No. Those aren't bubbles. Those are arms. Those are legs, hips and elbows. I'm about to scream when suddenly it stops. All is still, quiet, so quiet. I can hear my breath coming in big gulps. I hear my blood pumping behind my ears.

  I look down to my new tattoo and find it's gone. What was it anyway? I don't remember and I'm sad, very sad. I miss it. Oh, there are some feet. They're nice long, bony, bare feet. They're clean and planted in the grass next to me. I follow them up, hairy legs, tan shorts, blue t-shirt, Schuyler. He's staring at me. His eyes are odd, great big pupils. He looks very serious.

  "I can't really help you." He says to me. His voice is so low, like baritone honey. I smile. Now he breaks eye contact and looks out over the water. I follow his gaze and see that there's a body. Not several, not a boiling sea of bodies, just one, little, floating corpse. It has dark hair. Its face down in the water. It seems sort of picturesque against the backdrop of a natural rock wall.

  I feel weary just looking at it. I sigh. Damn my arm hurts. I blink. I'm in a hospital bed. My right arm is in a cast and stretched out in front of me, held up by braces that sit painfully against my chest. Am I still dreaming? I groan. I am so thirsty and I have to pee. My cooch hurts. I bet I'm awake.

  ***

  I look around without moving my head. I seem to be alone, except for little, round-eyed, Luck sitting cross legged on my thighs.

  "Hi." I whisper to him. He grins and scratches my leg. "What do I call you? Do you have a real name?" I say more boldly. He places a finger on his lips and shakes his head. He has the impression of hair. It moves, fuzz shifting in the light. His skin is flesh tones now with a slightl
y blue cast at the creases. His eyes, those big, circular, saucer eyes, have huge black irises. But now he turns. The florescent lights glint off of them and they're not black anymore. They're blue, deep, sparkly blue like the sky at night. It's hard to see anything beyond them. "Are you hungry?" I ask. "Thirsty? Cold? Can I get you clothes or a burrito or something?" Luck grins at me.

  "Who are you talking to?" Says a man.

  I turn my head a little too fast and it hurts me. I wince. Ah, Schuyler. Why didn't I recognize his voice? "No one." I say lightly.

  He cocks an eyebrow and plops down in the chair at my left. "You don't have to lie to me." He sounds hurt.

  I look at Luck but he seems fully occupied picking at his finger nails. "It just gets weirder and weirder, Schuyler."

  Schuyler smiles.

  I sigh. "I'll tell you sometime." He still looks injured so I uselessly add. "Please don't be hurt, sweetheart. I'd be lost without you. You know that. It's just too fucking strange right now."

  Schuyler shrugs. "Yeah okay. So how you feeling?"

  I laugh grimly, and the motion sends a stabbing pain through my ribs. "Can't complain."

  He reaches over and takes my hand. "I have to apologize to you." He is staring at the floor. I just look at him, dubious, until he makes eye contact. "I told my Dad."

  I nod slightly. "I figured. Officer Burns said he called the station."

  Schuyler scoffs. "He called the chief of police."

  My eyebrows arch. "I remember he called me 'Our Meegan'. What was that about?"

  He sighs. "I have some stuff I should tell you about him..." I wait, but Schuyler doesn't seem like he wants to go on.

  I squeeze his hand. "Its okay, man, relax. Why don't you fill in some other gaps for me if you can?"

  He nods. "Like what?"

  "Like what was up with Evan Sturgis? He admitted that he's Harley, and he's the one who proposed, the one who killed Kelly, Luis, all of that, but there's got to be more to it right?"

  Schuyler sits back. "I have a few pieces from my Dad. Don't mention Kelly by the way." He stares at me gravely.

  "No problem."

  "Have you already, when they questioned you without a lawyer and before surgery?" He scowls at the memory.

  "I don't think so." I say weakly. "No... I'm sure I didn't. It's not really like me to share information anyway."

  He smiles. "Don't I know it?"

  "So, your pieces from your Dad?"

  "It's such a one way street with you."

  "Yeah I'm a taker. Spill it, hot stuff." I groan for effect.

  "You have a morphine button."

  "I do?"

  He leans forward and places a little remote in my hand. "Press it when you need it. It'll dose you once every twenty minutes until it runs out."

  I look at it, considering. "I can wait a while, talk."

  He smiles a bit. "Well, Sturgis was a divorcé. Started seeing Mads when his wife left, or just before." He shrugs. "It's fuzzy. I'm still not clear why he killed Madeline."

  I gesture with the pain button. "I know."

  "You're sharing?" He grins.

  I smile and it makes my face hurt. "Yeah. Mads saw Sturgis kill Kelly, strangled her while he fucked her. He said she asked him to do it, but I didn't believe him. So, they were on a boat... I guess he chucked Kelly's body overboard. Anyway, the whole thing freaked him out. He asked Madeline to marry him after that, to go straight. She laughed at him. He busted her. Said he was trying to get her to stop, whatever. So, she was going to tell Craig Chambers that Sturgis killed Kelly as revenge. Sturgis killed Madeline to shut her up. Then he had to kill Luis Finch because he thought Luis knew about all of it."

  "Which he may have."

  "Yeah."

  "Then you."

  I stare at my cast. "Then me."

  "Well, that fits." Schuyler says. "Dad says that the chief said, that a couple of other officers noticed Sturgis having a mini-melt down when he found out your social worker was calling the station trying to have them run DNA on missing persons, or asking about the possibility. He must've thought you were onto him."

  I laugh and it hurts. Damn. "When all the time, I was clueless."

  Schuyler shakes his head. "No, you had the clues. You just never shared them with anyone who could help piece it together for you."

  "I'm really freaking thirsty." I whine. Schuyler smiles, gets up, and fetches me some water. "Thanks." I drink greedily. God, that's good.

  "So, anyway." He continues. "Sturgis' partner is all broken up. He says he should've noticed, or rather that he did notice signs, but didn't pay enough attention to them. He's admitted to knowing that Sturgis went through your file after the Luis Finch thing, and that Sturgis tailed you in his spare time. He said that Sturgis said that he had a hunch about you, and was trying to help Burns and Clark with their case. Of course this is all at least fifth hand by the time it gets to me." He pauses for a second. I drink some more. "And Sturgis' partner is the one who tipped him off that he was in a lot of photos they found in the dark room which, of course, you already knew about. That's the one thing they might get him for, leaking information on an open investigation."

  “So how did they know about the warehouse? How did they actually find me?”

  Schuyler nods. “Sturgis’ partner again. It was involved in a case a while back, and the property’s ownership is in litigation. As soon as they brought the partner in, he suggested they search that place.”

  I sigh. "Well, thanks for telling me. I feel a bit better about it. Must've really freaked him out, when I showed up in the bar."

  "See?" Schuyler shakes his head. "What bar? When?"

  I laugh. "Fuck." That kills, when will I learn? "A cop bar, and I just wandered in. I was headed to see Qasim. I had time. I recognized a glass, so I went in for a beer."

  "A glass."

  I roll my eyes. "This is why." I say dramatically. "Not every single, little thing is worth mentioning. If I told you everything, I'd just talk and talk and talk all the time."

  "So... This glass?"

  I smile, Ow. "It was just like one I have at my house. I thought it was a sign or something."

  "Oh."

  I nod and wince. "Oh is right."

  "So..."

  "Yeah?"

  "The cousin story. I asked you before but you never answered. I'm assuming Sturgis is the one who left the threat at your apartment. Why did he think you were Kelly's cousin? Who did you end up telling that story to?"

  "Lexi and Sara."

  "So Sturgis must've been in contact with them."

  I finish the water. "Man liked sex."

  Schuyler's voice goes up. "He was sleeping with them? Both of them?"

  "I don't know, wouldn't surprise me."

  "I want to talk to them." He sounds so direct.

  "I have their number... Well actually the number is on a box at Qasim's place." Schuyler digs in his pocket and whips out a phone... Wait, that's my phone. I snap my fingers at him but he's already dialing. "That's my phone!" I hiss.

  "I know it." Schuyler says. "Mr. Abraham got your stuff back from the cops. It's all at my place. I was... hold on..." He looks away as he talks to the voice mail. "Qasim. Hi this is Schuyler Mills, Meegan's friend. Listen, she's in the hospital right now, and she wanted me to call you. She wants the box with Lexi and Sara's number on it. This is her phone." He eyes me. "I know, she wants to talk to you but she's pretty doped up on morphine so I promised I'd call. She's at St. Catherine’s, room number 317, Uh, that's all. Thanks bye."

  I grin. "What's wrong with me anyway? Doctor tell you?"

  Schuyler shrugs. "Told my Dad... Right humerus bone shattered: took a rod and several pins to set, three broken ribs, right side obviously, lacerations on your wrists and ankles. You'll always look like you tried to commit suicide. Your nose is broken. Also they said there's some displacement in your pelvis and lots of severe bruising, but all your teeth are fine!" he adds cheerfully.

  "Could be wors
e."

  "Yeah, you could be dead."

  "At least we know I'm not Kelly Morgan." I say gratefully.

  He shakes his head. "No we don't. Unless there's some vital information you're keeping from me."

  I just stare at him. "Sturgis admitted to killing Kelly Morgan." Duh.

  "So. She could have survived and washed up on the beach. She could still be you."

  "Bullshit. Kelly washed up in Roger’s Park. I came ashore closer to downtown, on the beach that runs by Lake Shore Drive..." Schuyler glares. "See?" I say. "Besides the timeframe's all wrong. It was warm when Kelly died."

  "How do you know?"

  I stare at my feet. "I had a dream."... Something's wrong here. I wiggle my toes... Wait! Where's my little person? Where's Luck? My eyes dart around the room, he's no where. I feel abandoned.

  "What is it?" Schuyler whispers. "What do you see?"

  I feel myself pouting. "Nothing." My voice cracks. "I've been ditched." I look at Schuyler. Man, I must really try his patience.

  "Nothing." He sounds incredulous.

  I sniffle. "The one I was talking to before, he's gone."

  "He? The one you offered a burrito?"

  I laugh. "Ow! Goddamit... Yeah, that one. Fuck."

  "You should hit the button. You're turning gray."

  I groan. "Okay." I press the little red thing and wait while some medicine is delivered directly to my vein. I moan a bit. "Sorry."