The Preditorial Page

by Lee, Amanda M.

  “At least you’re being honest,” Eliot said. “Kind of. I’ll go with you.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “Let’s not start that again.”

  We’d only called a truce a half hour before, so I acquiesced. “Fine. It will be a fun date.”

  “Don’t push it,” Eliot grumbled, rubbing his hand over my bare hip.

  “Again?” I glanced over my shoulder at him.

  “I’ll let you pick the movie this afternoon,” Eliot offered.

  “You drive a hard bargain,” I grinned.

  “NOT THAT one,” Eliot complained, looking up at the movie menu on the wall.

  “That’s the one I want to see and you said I could pick,” I complained.

  “You’re only picking that one because you know it’s the only one I don’t want to see,” Eliot said. “You’re just like my mom.”

  I looked at him in surprise. He never really talked about his family. He had met mine, but his seemed a taboo subject. Every time I brought them up he changed the subject.

  “You never talk about your mom,” I said.

  Eliot kept his eyes fixed on the movie listings. “Sure I do.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  Eliot finally looked in my direction. “What do you want to know?”

  “Where does she live?”

  “In Wisconsin.”

  “Really? Is that why you don’t like the woods?” Whoops, that one had hit a little too close to home if the reddish tint creeping up his neck and face was any indication.

  “My family is not like your family,” Eliot answered carefully. “They’re a different level of crazy, I mean.”

  I waited for him to continue.

  “If I tell you this, then you have to pick a different movie.”

  “Okay.” I didn’t really want to see that one anyway. I picked it only because he didn’t want to see it. Like I would really want to see a period piece with Gwyneth Paltrow? Blech.

  “My mom is crazy and my dad is a drunk,” Eliot replied simply.

  I watched him expectantly. He hadn’t earned a movie choice for that.

  “I was in and out of foster homes for a lot of my life,” Eliot admitted. “My dad wasn’t just a drunk, he was a mean drunk.”

  I felt my heart plummet into my stomach. “We don’t have to talk about it,” I said hurriedly.

  “No, it’s fine,” Eliot waved me off. “Let’s just get it over with. My mom had to keep going on these ninety-day involuntary holds when I was a kid. She wasn’t a bad person, really she wasn’t. She was just … limited. She should never have been a mother.

  “So, when she was locked up my dad would fall off the wagon,” Eliot continued. “My teacher always seemed to notice and she called the police, which only made things worse.”

  “How long did you stay?” I asked, my voice low.

  “Until I was sixteen,” Eliot said. “I managed to catch on as a day laborer in the oil fields and moved to Michigan, staying here until I was eighteen and could enlist in the Army.”

  “And how long did you stay with the Army?”

  “Six years.”

  “And then you left and started your shop? How did you get the money for that?”

  Eliot looked momentarily abashed. “Let’s just say I might have had a run-in with certain individuals when I was younger. I’ve learned from it and moved on, but they helped me get my start.”

  “So, you’re a self-made man?”

  “I guess.” Eliot watched me carefully to see whether I was going to have some sort of mini-meltdown. “That’s it? You don’t want to ask me anything else?”

  I shrugged. “Not right now. I figure you’ll tell me more when you’re ready.”

  “That’s not your usual style,” Eliot said.

  “Maybe I’m growing.”

  “That would be an interesting turn of events,” Eliot agreed.

  “I THOUGHT it sucked.”

  “I liked it,” I argued. We were in his truck leaving the parking lot of the multiplex.

  “That scene where the commandos infiltrated the compound and killed sixty guys with only six soldiers was completely unbelievable,” Eliot countered.

  “It was no different than Predator.”

  “That’s different,” Eliot said. “That was the eighties. Movies were a lot more unrealistic then. I expect more now.”

  “You like The Expendables,” I reminded.

  “That’s because it’s a throwback to the eighties,” Eliot replied. “Plus, you like it, too.”

  “I’ve got a weird thing for Dolph Lundgren,” I admitted.

  “Don’t ever tell me about it,” Eliot said. “That kind of freaks me out.”

  Eliot made a right turn onto Gratiot, pulling into the far lane so he could make a Michigan left to head in the opposite direction toward his apartment. His eyes flashed to the rearview mirror occasionally, but neither of us said anything to break up the companionable silence.

  Once we were heading in the right direction, I noticed that Eliot seemed focused on the road behind us.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I think someone is following us,” he said.

  “Really?” I twisted in my seat to get a better look. Since there were easily fifty cars on the road in our vicinity, though, I had no idea which he was singling out.

  “Which one?”

  “Face forward,” Eliot ordered. “I don’t want him to think we’re on to him.”

  I did as I was told. Something about Eliot’s tone made me believe this wouldn’t be the right time to argue with him.

  “Is it a dark SUV?”

  “Yes,” Eliot said, his tone grim.

  “You know,” I said, my mind suddenly racing. “It was a dark SUV that ran Tad off the road in Romeo.”

  Eliot glanced at me briefly and returned his focus to the mirror. “Are you saying that you think the person who followed you at the maze and the person who ran Ludington off the road are one and the same?”

  “It would be a heck of a coincidence if they weren’t,” I said.

  “What’s the motivation for going after Ludington?”

  “Well, if this guy thinks we’re actually dating -- because of that whole speed dating thing -- maybe he thought he was doing me a favor because Tad and I are always at each other’s throats.”

  “That’s a possibility,” Eliot admitted, shifting lanes. “How would he know you’re fighting with Tad all the time if he thinks your name is Willow, though?”

  “Whoever it is obviously knows my name isn’t Willow,” I countered. “They found my real address.”

  “That rules out everyone at speed dating,” Eliot said.

  “Not everyone,” I said. “That Zack guy was at the county building the other day -- he works there -- and he found out who I really was because of that whole fight over the budget.”

  “And that fight was with Tad, right?” Eliot asked.

  “Yup. Where are you going?” Eliot made a sudden turn onto a side street, purposely pulling into a subdivision and accelerating at a high rate of speed.

  “I’m trying to circle around and get behind him,” Eliot said.

  “How?”

  “By cutting through that gas station parking lot one block over and pulling back on Gratiot.”

  Eliot raced down the street, making a series of tight turns, before exploding back out onto Gratiot. “Keep your eyes open,” he ordered. “Tell me if you see what we’re looking for.”

  “What if he followed us?”

  “No one followed us,” Eliot replied. “That’s why I made such a sudden turn when he was still in the middle lane.”

  “You’re smarter than you look,” I said.

  “Don’t be cute.”

  Unfortunately for both of us, after a half hour of searching Gratiot, it became apparent that Eliot’s attempt to turn the tables failed. He finally gave up and headed for home.

  “It was a good idea,” I said, patting his ha
nd soothingly.

  Eliot rolled his eyes. “You’re terrible when you’re trying to be supportive.”

  “It’s not my strong suit,” I admitted.

  “It’s good you have other attributes,” Eliot agreed. “Like being hot.”

  Hey, I’ll take what I can get at this point.

  Thirty-One

  Funerals make me uncomfortable.

  They’re supposed to be a celebration of someone’s life, but all the crying and raw emotion usually makes that celebration too sad to sit through. While it’s terrible for those who lose a loved one, I think it’s worse for those who attend merely to pay their respects.

  Trespassing on someone’s grief really can be worse than the actual grief.

  That’s how I was feeling today.

  The service at Sacred Heart Methodist Church was beautiful. Hundreds of people turned out, and every horizontal surface in the place was filled with flower arrangements.

  A family member had placed four different cardboard collages -- all with photos of a pretty blonde in the various stages of her life -- at the front of the church. Even from twenty feet back, I could tell that Ellie Parker had been a normal girl. She’d liked reading, dancing and watching television. And she’d had a lot of friends and they all liked going to the beach together. There was nothing in those photographs to signify that she should have stood out to a killer. Nothing.

  “What are you looking at?” Eliot whispered.

  I glanced over at him. It was weird seeing him dressed in anything other than jeans and a flannel shirt. He wasn’t wearing a suit, but he had donned pressed black pants and a muted polo shirt, and his hair was tied at the back of his neck to mark the somber nature of the occasion. He cleaned up nice.

  “Just the photos,” I replied. “I was trying to figure out why a killer would target a girl like her.”

  “I don’t think you can figure that out from a bunch of pictures,” Eliot said.

  “I guess not.”

  “Getting into the head of a sicko is a losing proposition,” he said. “Even when we finally get answers, they’re not going to be enough.”

  Once the funeral service ended, people started filing out of the church. Some got in their cars to leave; others joined the funeral procession to the cemetery. Eliot and I did the latter.

  At the cemetery we parked and walked to the tent that had been placed over the open grave. The cemetery workers were shifting the casket onto the lift system above the grave, while the family waited for everyone to make their way to Ellie’s final resting spot.

  I couldn’t help but focus on Ellie’s mother. When I had gone to her house the other day she had seemed strong but sad. Now, the woman struggling to remain standing as sobs wracked her body was a far cry from that first woman. She must have been in shock. There’s nothing like a burial to make reality set in.

  “There’s Jake,” Eliot said, pointing to the far side of the tent. “It looks like he brought half of his staff with him.”

  “I think he goes to a lot of funerals,” I said.

  “It’s good for his public image.”

  “That’s pretty cynical.”

  “Do you have another explanation?

  I pursed my lips, considering. “He can’t help himself,” I said. “He thinks it’s the least he can do.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “It’s just his nature. He’s been like that for as long as I’ve known him. When we were kids, he was the one who jumped in when someone was being bullied.”

  “Let me guess,” Eliot said. “He would beat up the bullies and then polish his halo when he was done?”

  “No, he would sit down with the kid and tell them him it was all going to be better in a few years, when we were out of high school,” I said. “He would tell them why the bullies were insecure jerks and why they should be pitied instead of hated.”

  “So, you’re telling me Jake was a woman in high school?”

  “No,” I shook my head. “I’m telling you that Jake always feels the need to fight for the helpless.”

  “And there’s nothing more helpless than a dead girl,” Eliot mused.

  “Exactly.”

  “Still, I would have thought Farrell would have been the type to throw down.”

  “Oh, he was,” I said. “He just made sure the victim was all right first. He’d save the fighting for the parking lot after school.”

  Eliot slid a sideways glance in my direction. “I’m guessing you got involved in a few of those fights, too.”

  “I took on the girls,” I admitted. “I usually had to get Lexie first, though.”

  “Lexie? She’s not even five feet tall.”

  “She’s mean, though,” I said. “She’s got this thumb trick that can bring a grown man to his knees in three seconds flat.”

  “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

  “She’s also not above using weapons.”

  “Weapons?”

  “I think umbrellas are her favorite.”

  “Why umbrellas?”

  “They’re not as heavy as bats.”

  Eliot shook his head. “Your family should be committed.”

  “What about her family?” Jake approached us warily. I think he was still worried I was going to blow up over his little truce with Eliot.

  “They’re crazy,” Eliot said. “Every single one of them.”

  “No arguments here.” Jake agreed. “I think there’s something crazy in the gene pool.”

  “Her grandfather yanked a handicapped parking sign out of his parking lot by shifting my truck into gear and then just letting it slide forward without anyone in the driver’s seat the other night.”

  Jake snorted. “I bet that pushed Derrick over the edge.”

  “And her mom.”

  “What’s wrong with your mom?” Jake turned to me.

  “Other than the obvious?”

  “I think you’re mean to her,” Jake said. “She was always nice to me.”

  “She told you that if we had sex your … unit would shrivel up and fall off.”

  Eliot barked out a laugh that caused a few mourners’ heads to half turn our way.

  “Yeah, that scared me for a few months,” Jake admitted. “Especially after I found out your Aunt Vera and her sisters walked around the property line of her new house to chant away evil spirits.”

  “Vera is a freak,” I said. “She’s not blood, though.”

  “It was still scary,” Jake said. “No one wants anything to happen … down there.”

  “Ain’t that the truth,” Eliot grunted.

  “I see that everyone who’s anyone in Macomb County is here,” I changed the subject.

  “I guess,” Jake said. “Nothing like a funeral to bring all the politicians together.”

  “I’m just glad I don’t have to see Tad.”

  Jake narrowed his eyes. “I talked to him after the accident. Did you know that?”

  I purposely widened my eyes. “No. What did he say?”

  Eliot cleared his throat.

  “He said he thought you ran him off the road.”

  “Figures.”

  “I told him you’d rather ruin him politically than physically.”

  “That was nice of you.”

  “You already know all of this, though, don’t you?” Jake asked. He was clearly suspicious about my flat answers.

  “How could I possibly know all of this?”

  Jake cocked his head and looked me up and down. “I’m not sure.” He turned to Eliot. “Do you know how she knows?”

  Eliot shrugged. “She’s a sneaky little thing. Maybe she bribed one of the nurses.”

  “With what? Converse and video games?” Jake scoffed.

  “I really have no idea,” Eliot said.

  Jake raised his eyebrows. “I take it you’re keeping her secrets again.”

  “As long as they don’t endanger her life,” Eliot replied.

  I winked at Jake saucily. �
�Face it, Jake, you’ll never know all of my secrets.”

  “Who would want to?”

  I ignored him and turned back to the knot of people immediately around the open grave and casket. I was surprised to see Bill Riley in that group. “What’s he doing here?”

  Jake followed my gaze. “He’s the medical examiner. He probably felt he should come since he’s the one who worked on her body.”

  “He’s creepy.”

  “How so?”

  I told him about my strange breakfast with Riley, making sure my distaste for the exchange was written all over my face.

  “He asked you out?” Jake looked amused. “That’s pretty gutsy since he saw you with Eliot.”

  “He told me that if I wasn’t sure he would approach Eliot and see if it was all right with him.”

  Jake’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. “Please tell me you told him to ask Eliot. I would pay to see that conversation.”

  Eliot frowned in Jake’s direction. “Why is that funny?”

  “Just the picture,” Jake laughed. “I mean, Riley must be five feet, six -- with lifts -- and I think the only weight machine he’s ever met is the one in his kitchen to weigh his lunch meat.”

  “Plus, his hair is going gray and he’s got a weird nose,” I added.

  “I’m just surprised that he would ask you out after only seeing you at two crime scenes in a week,” Jake said. “That’s odd.”

  “Well, and he showed up at speed dating.”

  Jake bobbed his head in surprise. “He was speed dating?”

  “No, he saw me through the window and came in to say hi,” I said. “I should have realized that was a bad sign.”

  “You didn’t tell me you saw him at speed dating,” Eliot said, gripping my elbow tightly.

  “It wasn’t a big deal. He was only inside for about five minutes and then he left. I had other things on my mind.”

  Eliot’s face was thoughtful. “Do you know what he drives?” he asked Jake.

  “I don’t know, I think it’s a dark SUV of some sort. I’ve never really paid attention.”

  Eliot exchanged a quick look with me. “He wasn’t at the county commission meeting was he?”

  “No,” I shook my head.

  Eliot let loose a relieved sigh.

  “You didn’t think it was him, did you?” I asked. That was ludicrous.