by M. Leighton
All through the day I felt emo-ish. I was angry, but I didn’t know why or who I was mad at. And I was hurting, but there was nothing I could do about it.
Then there was this darkness, like I was full of it. It was like a black haze encroaching on my entire being and it was overflowing with angst and rage and a growing sense of power. It was totally out of character for me. And, though I was concerned, I didn’t know how to fix it. Again, I was totally alone and that just made everything worse.
When classes were finally over, I managed to push my feet to carry me home. I had just crossed the bridge and was stepping out onto the street when a horn blared and I jumped back. It was Grayson.
He came to a screeching halt beside me and leaned over to open the passenger side door. “Get in,” he demanded in his short, customary way.
Pleased to feel a glimmer of light in the overall midnight of my life, I slid into the seat and pulled the door shut. Without a word, Grayson drove straight to the park and came to a tire-squealing halt in the parking lot, slammed the car into park and pulled me into his arms.
Though my wounded arm pinched a little when I hit it on the gear shift, I went willingly into his arms, reveling in the feel of his warmth and strength surrounding me.
“I’m so glad you’re alright,” he muttered into my hair.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
He leaned back, his eyes boring into mine. “We found another body,” he confessed. He closed his eyes as if he was picturing it. “She looked so much like you. Her hair…and her skin…she—”
When he looked up, his eyes scanned my face and I guess he saw no surprise there. As I’d thought back to the dream, even I had noticed a slight resemblance to me (coloring and curly hair). But, judging by his reaction, he obviously saw something much more than just a resemblance.
“You knew.” It wasn’t a question.
I had to look away from the accusation in his eyes. “Yes, I knew.”
“When did you have the dream?”
“Last night.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“I started to, but I hung up after the first ring. You must not have heard it.”
“But why? Why didn’t you tell me? You knew I’d want to know, that I need to know.”
“I thought it would be better this way. For both of us.”
His eyebrows drew down over his eyes in a deep frown. “This is not some kind of a game, Mercy.”
That irritated me. “I know it’s not a game.” I pushed at his chest angrily. “If anybody in the world knows it’s not a game, trust me, it’s me!”
“But you withheld this information because of a personal issue that you have with me. Apparently you do think it’s a game.” Angry sparks flew from his hazel eyes.
“Look,” I said, my finger rising from out of nowhere to jab at him. “I know how hard and how risky it is for you to keep protecting me. And I know how much damage this could do to my loved ones if they found out. She was already dead. There was nothing that I could do to help her. Do you think I didn’t spend the entire night dwelling on this, worrying over it, wondering if I’d done the right thing? Debating on whether to go ahead and call you. Yes, our discussion yesterday played a tiny, tiny part, but other things, other people are what swayed me. Don’t you dare—”
Grayson interrupted me before I really, really got going. “You’re bleeding,” he said, pointing to my arm. I looked down and saw that a trickle of blood was oozing from between a couple of my stitches.
“Here,” he said, leaning across me and opening his glove compartment. He brought out a napkin and dabbed at my wound. When it was no longer oozing, he continued. “I’m sorry, Mercy. You’re absolutely right. I don’t know how it feels to…have what you have and I didn’t give you the benefit of the doubt,” he admitted, remorse plainly visible in his eyes. “But, look, now I know. The cat’s out of the bag. And I found out the ‘legitimate’ way, so you can tell me all that you know without it ever having to be mentioned to anyone.”
And I did. I went over everything in perfect detail. He made a few notes, but didn’t say much. I had to ask.
“So what did you guys find?”
The fact that he didn’t hesitate wasn’t lost on me. “The girl’s name is Kayla Turner. She’s a bartender at Reno’s. One of her friends saw her leaving with a guy last night after her shift. Said he was probably late forties, curly brown hair, older but attractive. She said the guy gave her the creeps and she couldn’t figure out why Kayla left with him.”
“How did you find out where she was?”
“Her friend followed her and thought she saw some strange shadows moving in front of the windows. She tried to call Turner a few times, but got no answer. After a while, she got scared and called the police.”
I was suddenly excited. “So did you catch him?”
Grayson ran a hand through his hair, leaving strands of hair sticking up like black spikes along his part. After he’d done it, he ran his palm over it to smooth the wayward pieces back down. I got the feeling he did that a lot. “No. We got a color and possible make and model of the car, but the plates were stolen. Her description of the guy was…well, it wasn’t the best I’ve ever gotten, let’s put it that way. Hundreds of guys probably fit that description.”
“Well, it’s something,” I said, a little disappointed. “It’s more than I’ve been able to give you.”
Suddenly, I felt near tears. I picked at my fingernails and blinked rapidly to keep the moisture from pooling in my eyes.
Grayson tipped my face up toward his with a finger beneath my chin. “We wouldn’t have known about the first two if it weren’t for you. And I would never have known where Lisa Bauer was killed if it wasn’t for you. Don’t beat yourself up,” he scolded gently.
I felt my chin tremble and needed a change of subject desperately. “So, did they find any evidence on the body?”
“No. He picks places that he knows are loaded with a huge mix of DNA. If he leaves any trace of himself behind, it’s well hidden. We haven’t found any common DNA between the three rooms.”
I asked a question that I almost dreaded hearing the answer to, but some little part of me still hoped for good news, news that would put an end to my nightmares. “How many more do you think he’ll kill?”
“It’s hard to say. He seems to be cycling up. His crimes are becoming more violent, but—” He stopped, a look of confusion crossing his face as he stared absently past me out into the park.
“But what?”
“I don’t know how he’s hurting these girls. You know the last one had all that brain damage that we couldn’t attribute to anything. Well, this one had multiple broken ribs, massive internal bleeding and torn muscles and ligaments in her jaw. But there wasn’t a mark on her. No evidence that she was thrown, kicked or abused by any kind of a weapon. It’s like…I don’t know how…”
As he trailed off, a loud buzz began to sound in my ears and I saw the dashboard of the car tilt as my head swam. The park in my peripheral vision became cloudy like a fuzzy gray fog was closing in around it. I rushed to bend over and put my head between my knees before I passed out.
I could hear Grayson calling my name, asking me what was wrong and if I was alright, but his voice sounded like he was standing at the end of a tunnel far, far away. I felt his hand on my back, resting lightly, hesitantly even, between my shoulder blades, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do.
As my head began to clear, I thought about his words. Even now, I could feel the pleasure coursing through my veins at the remembered high of killing that girl.
Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod, I chanted over and over again.
“Mercy, what is it?” I heard Grayson ask, his voice clear and low now.
Slowly I sat up and the tears I’d been so desperately holding back filled my eyes and ran unchecked down my cheeks.
“There’s something wrong with me. I can feel it. It’s eating away at me and I- I—” My voice
broke on a sob.
“What? What is it?”
I felt hysteria tightening its grip on me. My grasp on reality and on whatever good things were left inside me was slipping. “I can feel it when he kills her, when he does those awful things to these girls. I can feel it and-,” I sobbed loudly. “And it feels so good.”
Grayson didn’t move and he didn’t say a word. I couldn’t look at him. I didn’t want to see the disgust on his face.
I hadn’t planned to tell him any of this and I knew that I should stop right now, before I made things worse. But it just kept coming out. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew that this would probably push Grayson away from me forever, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. Maybe he needed to stay away from me. Maybe I was dangerous to be involved with. Maybe I was becoming something dangerous, someone dangerous.
“I feel like he’s sucking away every good thing in my life, in me, and replacing it with something dark and evil. And I’m carrying it with me all the time. Like that dog. I think I did the same thing to that dog.”
When I finally brought myself to look at Grayson, his expression was full of apprehension. “What do you mean?” he asked carefully.
“The Animal Control Officer said that the dog that attacked me had broken ribs and internal bleeding and a torn jaw. Just like that girl. Only it happened days ago. It’s like-,” I sobbed again. “It’s like we’re linked somehow.”
Grayson’s face had closed completely off. I didn’t know exactly what that meant, but I knew it wasn’t good.
“And I think the messages he’s leaving are for me. I think I’m MH.”
A flicker of comprehension lit his eyes before they shut down again. When Grayson didn’t want to give anything away, his face was completely blank. I’d seen it a couple of times before. Before, when we were strangers.
Then something occurred to me that hadn’t until just that moment. “I wonder if that’s who’s been following me. I wonder if that’s how he knew about the dog,” I said almost to myself.
“Someone’s been following you?”
When I looked at Grayson this time, his expression showed a fear and an anger that he couldn’t conceal. Somewhere, in a small corner at the very back of my heart, a small bud of hope and pleasure bloomed. Maybe this wouldn’t push him away after all. Maybe we could survive all this. If I could survive it, that is.
“Well, I’ve never seen anyone, other than Jake that is, but I—”
“Jake? Jake Wheeler?”
“Yeah.”
“He’s been following you?”
“I don’t know if he was following me, but he came to my window Saturday night.”
“He came to your window?”
“Yes, but he didn’t—”
“How much of a relationship did you have with this guy?” Anger was very much evident on Grayson’s face now.
“We didn’t have any kind of relationship. I told you he walked me to class a couple of times and I ran into him at a party. That’s it.”
“But you’ve seen him since he was released.”
“Well, yeah, but he’s never been to my house before. I told you I saw him on the way to school that one other time.”
“What did he want when he came to your window?”
“He was asking me out.”
Grayson asked very quietly, his eyes narrowed on me ever so slightly. “And what did you say?”
My mouth dropped open the tiniest bit. I couldn’t believe he was even asking me this. “I said ‘no’, of course.”
Grayson’s features relaxed, but only marginally. “But you said you blew him off last time and he still came by your house?”
“Yeah, I know. Crazy, right?”
“Do you want me to have a talk with him?”
I wanted to smile, but I doubted Grayson would appreciate it. “No. I think I made myself pretty clear this time.”
Grayson chewed on that for a minute before returning to the subject of someone following me. “So you didn’t actually see anybody following you then?”
“No, but- I don’t know. I just felt…something. It feels like- like- I don’t know. It’s hard to describe. I just feels like someone is following me, like they’re watching me.”
“Well, if you are the ‘MH’ and what you say about the dog is true then—”
“What do you mean if what I say about the dog is true? Why would I lie about it? What kind of sick-o would make something like that up?” I probably didn’t want him to answer that.
“That’s not what I meant. It just came out wrong.”
“The thing I can’t figure out is why me? How does he even know me?”
Grayson reached into his pocket and pulled out a Fireball. He unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth. The smell of cinnamon filled the air and I inhaled deeply, somehow comforted by it. “That’s an excellent question,” he said absently. “But one I don’t have the answer for.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
I sat in class on Wednesday reliving the disappointing end to my meeting with Grayson. He’d pretty much grilled me, shut me out then politely dropped me off at my house. At least he’d had the good grace to look a little bothered as he’d said goodbye. And, to acknowledge his progress, at least he’d said goodbye. Unfortunately, that could be a bad thing, especially since he wasn’t in the habit of saying it. Maybe he’d said it because he really meant goodbye.
I suppressed a growl of frustration, but only because there were other people around. I didn’t need the other students in my class to think I was rabid, though I’d often felt that way lately. Instead, I reached into my bag for some Tylenol, something I’d started carrying with me in the last week since I’d begun having so many headaches. I tossed one into my mouth, straining to swallow it without water. When it finally went down, I worked my tongue around in my mouth for a minute, trying to stimulate enough spit to take the other one.
When my mouth didn’t feel like I’d eaten ten cotton balls anymore, I lobbed the second Tylenol in and swallowed. I put my fingertips to my temples and started rubbing small circles, hoping that would alleviate my headache a little until the drugs could kick in. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the soothing feeling of my fingers. I didn’t know if it would work, but it was worth a shot.
My English class was small and I sat in the back near the door. Today, Professor Tanner had left the door cracked a little to relieve the stuffiness and I was grateful for my seat near the airflow. I’d hate to get sick and puke on my desk. That wouldn’t go very far toward getting me a good grade.
A laugh echoed down the hall and drifted through the open door at my back. It was a low chuckle, a husky kind of laugh, one I’d heard recently. I thought back to the day at Ruger’s when I’d heard Dr. Phillips laugh. It sounded just like her.
That’s when it hit me.
My eyes flew open and my heart tapped against my ribs excitedly. That day, at Ruger’s, I’d thought her laugh sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it. Now I knew where I’d heard it. It sounded exactly like the laugh I’d heard when I’d watched Lisa die. It sounded exactly like the laugh of Lisa’s killer.
I nearly turned my desk over in my hurry to get out of it. I closed my book as quietly as I could and stuffed it into my bag then took off out the door. I all but ran out of the building, heading out into the courtyard behind it and toward one of the deserted benches that dotted the perimeter.
Where my head was already hurting, my increased blood pressure and excited heart rate throbbed inside it like a painful bass drum. I squinted against the light and scrolled through my phone for Grayson’s number. When I found it, I punched the send button, slouched down on the bench and leaned my head back.
Despite the ache in my head and the uncertainty in my heart, in my stomach, butterflies of pleasure still twirled and fluttered when I heard his voice.
“Grayson.”
“Grayson, it’s Mercy.”
“Oh,” he said, sounding a little less than thrill
ed. “Hey.”
I jumped right in. If that was how he was feeling, I didn’t want to explore our personal issues either. I didn’t need any bad news or blow-offs; I doubted I could handle any more emotional cluster bombs right now.
“I think I might know who killed Lisa Bauer.”
I heard his chair squeak. He must be at the office. “What? Who?”
“Dr. Phillips. She’s the Forensic Science Case Studies professor here.”
“Why do you think it’s her?” He sounded less enthused once I’d told him who I thought it was. I knew it didn’t sound good, what with her esteemed position and all, but I’d have bet my life on that laugh.