by Nic Widhalm
Karen swiveled in her seat, and for a moment her bare leg lightly brushed Hunter’s own. Leaning back, she gave him another long look. “I don’t mind,” she said.
Hunter, at a loss for words, hunched over his beer and finished it in a quick gulp. He signaled to the bartender, then looked at Karen and her half-empty bottle. “Another?”
“Sure.”
Hunter motioned for two. “I guess it’s safe to tell you—I’m not a priest.”
“Really!” Karen gasped.
“Hah, hah. Yeah, I’m borrowing these,” Hunter picked at the ill-fitting robes, “from a friend while my clothes dry.”
“And thought you’d stop for a drink while you waited?”
“I didn’t want to be a bother, and I knew it was going to take awhile, so…” Hunter waved absently at the bar.
“You’ve got a lot of friends in the priesthood?”
Hunter sighed loudly, then turned to Karen and flashed an overly-large smile. “So what’s your story?”
She laughed. “Oh, you know, same thing.
Hunter snuck a quick peek at Karen’s long legs, which were creating all kinds of tempting bulges under her black skirt. “Something tells me you’re a girl who doesn’t frequent the laundry room very often.”
Her grin, the one reminding Hunter of the cat and the cream, faltered for the first time. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, I don’t think you’d want to put that,” Hunter nodded at her expensive-looking outfit, “in the washing machine. And I’m willing to bet there’s a lot more where that came from.”
Karen’s grin returned. “So you know all that about me? After one drink and a minute of small talk?”
“One and a half,” Hunter said in a hurt tone.
“Oh, I apologize,” Karen placed a hand on her breast. “I would never want to upset a man of the cloth.”
Hunter grinned, again, and tried to remember the last time he’d smiled this much. Probably when Adrianna said she’d marry me. Though, he had been so drunk that night he’d passed out almost immediately after asking her. So it was difficult to say for certain.
“What?” Karen asked, watching Hunter smile.
“Nothing. Just the tricks fate can play, you know?
Karen leaned forward on her stool until she was only a couple of feet away, and met his eyes. Hunter was drawn into her liquid green depths once again. There’s something so familiar about that gaze, he thought, the words bubbling distantly in his mind. Her eyes—a dark, swirling pool—beckoned him forward. Calling, caressing, drawing him deeper and deeper, until he felt he would drown in their black depths.
“Fate?” Hunter heard her voice from a great distance. “Why don’t you tell me about it?” In the back of his head a bell clanged, but Hunter pushed it way.
“It’s nothing really, I’ve just had a strange couple of days,” Hunter heard himself say. The ringing noise grew louder, the peel of bells, the clash of steel. Hunter’s temple furrowed as he tried to ignore the sounds. Not now. Here, here, was what Hunter had been looking for his whole life. How could he have ever settled for Adrianna when there were creatures like Karen in the world? Her eyes, her miraculous black pools swam in front of him, until he felt—
Black?
Reality snapped back with a furious, ringing crash that sent a thousand, sharp needles racing through Hunter’s mind. He opened his eyes, saw Karen’s smile dissolve into a mask of rage, and then the room exploded into chaos.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Karen shrieked, throwing her bottle so it ricocheted off Hunter’s shoulder.
“What? I—” Hunter looked around, confused, and saw the three men at the end of the bar rise and start forward. Turning back, he watched Karen share a look with the men, her hand beckoning them forward, then her eyes were back on Hunter and she started to scream. “You son of a bitch, get your hands off me!”
The beer, coupled with the lack of anything solid in his belly, made Hunter’s vision double as he stood. Leaning on the bar, he tried to clear his head. Beers or not, Hunter wasn’t stupid, he knew when he was getting played. He tried to run for the door, but his vision doubled again and he tripped, falling right into the outstretched arms of the work-men. The bartender leaned over the counter. “Is everything—”
“Everything’s fine,” Karen motioned to the men who had wrenched Hunter’s arms behind his back and were forcing him toward the exit. “Just get that son-of-a-bitch out of here.”
“Somebody help—” Hunter began, but a fist crashed against the back of his head and the world tilted.
“Miss, you sure you’re alright? You need me to call the cops?” The bartender’s voice buzzed in Hunter’s ear as the exit grew closer.
“No,” Karen said. “I think I’m going to get some air. That asshole came out of nowhere, I can still feel his hands on me.
“I’m sorry, I should have been paying more—”
But whatever the bartender said next was cutoff as Hunter was forced through the front door and back into daylight. He flinched against the bright light, and struggled to free his hands. The sidewalk lurched uncontrollably, doubling and tripling in his eyes. This isn’t right, he thought. I’m not a teenager, I can handle a few…
Suddenly, he recognized the blurred vision for what it was—not alcohol…headache. Pain erupted behind his eyes and the sky turned a sudden blood-red, the sound of battle rising in the distance. Hunter flexed his arms, a smile pulling at his lips, and he realized he was actually looking forward to his visions for once. You assholes picked the wrong mark.
Then Karen’s hand lighted on his shoulder, and the sky cleared. “Nice try big guy, but we’re not having any of that.”
The pain behind his eyes dimmed, the angry crash of steel disappeared, and Hunter’s vision cleared. Ahead, a sleek, black Lincoln pulled forward, and a pair of hands shoved him through the open rear door. Karen followed, motioning the driver to go.
“You crazy bitch,” Hunter growled. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Hunter, Hunter, Hunter. ‘Bitch?’ I thought we were friends?”
“I swear to God, when I get out of here…”
Karen, who had been looking out the window as the car cruised smoothly down the street, turned and raised an eyebrow. That was so sexy a minute ago, Hunter couldn’t help but think.
“Be careful who you swear to,” she said.
Hunter met her gaze, heart still pounding. “If this is about money…”
She eyed him critically. “Come on, give me a little credit. Like I didn’t notice how glad you were when the bartender gave you one on the house. You don’t have enough money for the bus, let alone to buy me off.”
“Where are we going?”
“To the mansion.”
“What the hell is the—”
“We’re done for now.” Karen turned to the window. “You get one for free. The others have a price.”
Hunter had a hundred questions but didn’t want to give the red-headed devil the satisfaction of ignoring him, so instead made due with staring daggers at the back of her head. The car sped up, and he looked over Karen’s shoulder to see they were exiting to the interstate. The claustrophobic press of buildings had cleared, and the road expanded to three lanes. If he was going to make a run for it, now was the time. She can’t weigh more than a hundred pounds. I can be out that door before she even thinks about stopping me. It’ll hurt, but if I wait any longer it’s going to hurt a whole lot more, and if I…
If he what? Hunter thought back a few minutes to when the visions had begun. I was looking forward to them. And this strange, gorgeous woman had stopped them with a touch. If he stayed she might have answers. Or she might have one of her pals bash my head in just for the fun of it. The car’s purr was growing to a steady thrum, and Hunter knew it was now or never. The driver clicked the turn signal, merging to the on-ramp. Stay or go? He tensed, ready to leap for the door. Karen was staring out the window—he co
uldn’t ask for a better chance.
She made the visions disappear with a touch.
Hunter leaned into the smooth leather of the car seat and released his clenched hands. Fine, let Karen play it her way. Why not? He’d spent his whole life running, so now, well…maybe it was time to let someone else do it for him. Besides, maybe he could finally get some answers. And if not, he’d find another way to escape. He had done it before.
Hunter felt the last bit of tension leave his shoulders, and he relaxed against the leather seat.
Now, if only he could get a change of clothes.
CHAPTER SIX
By the time Jackie pulled up to the cathedral, the first rays of dawn were peaking over the distant, snow-capped mountains. They spilled across the battered cathedral like golden syrup, and Jackie couldn’t help feeling a little nostalgic. She had never been much for sentiment, but she had grown up in this church and still had fond memories of the old building.
Each Sunday morning, when she was just a girl, her parents used to dress her up and take her to Saint Catherine's. There had probably been multiple priests, but Jackie only remembered the one, an old man with a tendency to ramble during his sermons. Jackie hadn’t cared, though; as a child every nook and cranny of the ancient church was a new mystery. While her parents would sit patiently in their Sunday best, listening to the priest wax eloquent over the nature of sin, Jackie’s eyes would travel every inch of the wooden pews, taken by their simple beauty. The twelve Stations of the Cross were similarly engrossing. Most kids were scared by the ultra-realistic depictions of the Crucifixion, but Jackie found them oddly comforting. The stained glass windows as well, with their portraits of martyred saints and righteous angels, smiting sinners with their flaming swords. It was like some kind of beautiful, scary, tall museum.
But, like most of her Catholic friends, Jackie had grown up and away from the church. And now, the crumbling ruin—a ruin that was still holding services—seemed less a beautiful museum, and more a relic of a by-gone era. The tall arch of the doorway had cracked in several places, and sported large iron pad-locks at night. The stained-glass windows were dusty and smudged with bird droppings, and small piles of trash had piled along the outside corners.
Jackie sighed as she exited the car. “What the hell happened to this neighborhood?”
“Same thing that happens anywhere,” Russ said, climbing out the passenger side and joining her on the steps. “Time and neglect. Eventually they take everything.”
“Wow. You’re a real bucket of fuckshine in the morning, you know that?” Jackie walked through the open doors and was greeted by the same police officer from the hospital. “Christ, you again?”
“Hey, show a little respect, huh?” Russ motioned to the large statue of Jesus on his left.
“Right,” Jackie nodded respectfully to the statue. “Anyhoo,” she turned to the officer, “tell me what we’ve got.”
“Couple cold ones, Detective,” the officer, a tall young man with an overbite, moved toward the back of the church. Jackie and Russ followed. “Honestly, I’m not surprised to see some corpses out here, ya’ know?” The officer said. “I mean, with this neighborhood? Shit, it’s amazing we got a call at all.”
“Any idea who phoned it in?” Jackie asked.
“Yeah, one of the priests called 911 an hour ago. Said he found a couple bodies in the alley out back.” The officer pushed open a back door and the group exited from the nave of the cathedral into a dim hallway that seemed to stretch for miles.
“Jesus,” Jackie said quietly, eying the corridor. Russ frowned, and Jackie mouthed “Sorry.”
The officer continued down the hallway, took a few turns, and led them to a large wooden door with several of the iron locks Jackie had seen outside. “Anyway,” he said. “The first guys on the scene took a look at the bodies and figured they’d call in everyone who’d worked the hospital murder.” The officer unlocked the bolts and pushed open the heavy door with a grunt. “Detective, you’re not going to believe this.”
You’d be surprised after the night I’ve had, Jackie thought.
The alley itself wasn’t anything special, just a run of the mill backstreet full of the same trash and human refuse as most places in this part of town. But as Jackie stepped out of the church and into the pale morning light, she was struck by a sense of déjà vu. There, lying in the center of the alley were two bodies with twisted necks and large, finger-shaped bruises.
“Jesus,” Jackie said, and for once Russ stayed silent.
She moved to one of the corpses, close enough that she almost gagged on the sweet, putrid stench wafting from their decaying bodies. “Look,” she pointed at the victim’s stomach. “That seem right to you?”
Russ came over, wrinkling his nose at the smell. He was careful, Jackie saw, to keep his freshly-polished shoes out of the puddles that dotted the alley. He frowned as he examined the body. “Looks like his chest was caved in”
“Give the detective a gold star,” a voice said over Jackie’s shoulder. She turned to meet a brightly dressed man wearing latex gloves and a pair of too-large glasses.
“Shit, I guess they’ll let anyone in here,” Jackie smirked, offering her hand to the man, who quickly pulled back his latex gloves before she could touch him.
“Please. I have no idea where your hands have been.”
“Russ, you believe this guy? Gone for six months, and he’s still acting like a psycho.”
Russ turned from the corpse, and nodded at the extravagantly-dressed man. “Minella. Nice threads,” Russ motioned at the Hawaiian shirt and neon green slacks. “Hope we’re not interrupting your golf game.”
“We can’t all look like we came from a J. Crew catalog,” Minella nodded at Russ’ chocolate wing-tips and crisp, pressed slacks.
Russ grimaced and turned back to the corpse. “Yeah, well…anyway. Do we have any idea what caused the damage?”
Minella smiled, but it never reached his eyes. “His solar-plexus was completely crushed,” he said, addressing Jackie. “Phenomenal, really. At first, we assumed he’d been crushed by some kind of heavy object—either dropped or placed deliberately—but you see the rips in his shirt?”
Jackie studied the corpse. Its dirt-crusted shirt sported several long tears. “Yeah?”
“Those aren’t from a rock, or anything else large enough to crush a man’s chest. Those were formed by a shoe, Detective Riese. And not by repeated blows either. This is a single footprint.”
“Julian, you’re seriously telling me one kick did this?”
“That’s not what I’m telling you, that’s what the data is telling you. It’s not what killed him, though” Minella knelt next to the body, excitement in his eyes. He removed a pen from his shirt pocket and pointed at the corpse’s neck. “You see these marks?” He gestured at the bruises ringing the throat.
“Don’t tell me.”
“They’re—”
“I know. They’re fingerprints.”
Minella’s face crumbled. “Who told you?”
“The fucking birds,” Russ said. He looked around the alley. “So, who moved the bodies?”
“James and Donaldson were down here first, they said they’d have a complete write-up by the time you get back to the station. They were going to handle the whole thing, but,” Minella shrugged, “the captain said we should call you guys. So…you going to tell me what’s up?”
“Later. Right now I want to talk with that priest, the one who called it in,” Jackie stood up. She motioned to Russ, “Why don’t you stay here and make sure James and Donaldson caught everything.” Nodding, Russ moved to the bodies, pulling a small notebook from his jacket pocket.
“Come on,” Minella said. “You’re really not going to tell me?”
Jackie started back toward to the cathedral. “If you’re that interested, why don’t you run the fingerprints on that poor bastard’s neck.” Minella grumbled behind her, but Jackie ignored him, pulling open the alley door. The
officer who had shown them the way was waiting, leaning drowsily against the wall.
“Oh, I’m sorry, are we boring you? Is it nap time?”
“What? Oh,” the young man blinked his eyes and looked at the detective sheepishly. “Sorry, long night.”
“Tell me about it. Now, why don’t you try being useful and show me the priest that phoned this in.”
The officer nodded quickly and led her down the long corridor, passing several doors until they arrived at an elegant entranceway of rich, brown wood.
“Here you go. Escorted him here an hour ago. He was bitching about cooling his heels upstairs and wanted to know if it would be alright to wait here. I didn’t think it would be a problem so—”
Jackie held up a hand. “It’s fine. Why don’t you wait by the alley in case Detective Hasfeld needs me. I think I can find my way back from here.” The officer nodded and turned to leave.
“Wait,” Jackie called out. The young man turned back, looking at Jackie inquisitively. “Officer…”
“Blake, ma'am.”
“Blake. Right. Look, back there—I shouldn’t have come down on you so hard.”
“Oh,” Blake blinked. “It’s fine, really, you were tired.”
“Still. You did good today.” Blake smiled brightly, his overbite flashing with pride.
“Thank you, Detective. Coming from you that really…I appreciate that.”
Jackie nodded, and motioned for him to go. The officer turned sharply and walked back down the hall. Nice kid, she thought, but oh those teeth…She shook her head, then knocked on the wooden door. After a minute, she opened the doors and let herself in.
Jackie hadn’t expected it, what with the condition of the old cathedral, but the library was in surprisingly good shape. The enormous chamber (it could have easily swallowed Jackie’s apartment) was filled with a soft, muted light, and surrounded by panels of finely burnished cherry-wood. Row upon row of book-shelves marched in long chains across the room, leaving spaced gaps filled with deep leather chairs. All in all, it looked more corporate bookstore than library.