As I watched, he raised a hand at me and waved.
Chapter 34
Into the Light of the Dark Black Night
Even if he hadn’t recognized her, the scent of her green apple shampoo would have told him this was his girl. How lucky that he didn’t even have to go looking for her. Of all the bridges in all the world, she had to walk under his.
God, she was beautiful. There was a fire to her, an energy he rarely found in women. He’d been under the bridge long enough to allow his eyes to adjust to the murky dimness, but hers hadn’t, and she was inching along with her arms held out in front of her. He longed to touch her but he settled for watching. He was good at that.
He stepped closer, breathing in her scent. She heard him and started punching at the air. She was glorious. So much fight in her.
He liked that.
He toyed with her, like a cat toys with a mouse before pouncing. He lifted a lock of her hair and smelled it . . . then he blew into her ear.
He was rewarded with an ear-piercing shriek that echoed off the concrete as she swung her arm and hit him. She ran away from him then. He followed to the edge of the shadows and watched her run, her hair bouncing against her back.
He thought about chasing her . . . grabbing her and dragging her back into the soft cover of darkness under the bridge . . . but he paused when he saw the clothes, the dark makeup. She looked like any other slutty Indian girl. He wanted her back the way she looked at the vigil. He could wait.
Besides, he still hadn’t gotten rid of the last one yet.
Chapter 35
Searching for Clues
My stealthy trip down to the overpass didn’t amount to much, but it scared the hell out of me. Whoever that guy was, I firmly believed he wasn’t some random homeless person. There was something about the way he had crept up behind me . . . I had an incredibly bad feeling about him. That was the guy. I was convinced he had something to do with Carli’s murder and Mia’s disappearance.
Even though there was something familiar about him, I was no closer to finding out who he was. Unfortunately, I couldn’t go into the police station and tell them some random guy on the Riverwalk creeped me out and he’s probably a serial killer so they should definitely arrest him. And let my brother out of Remand while you’re at it, please.
Later that night, I sat on the sofa beside Jake. I was torn. I knew he’d be upset if I told him I went down to the underpass by myself but I had to tell him about the guy. The feeling I had about him . . . he was the guy . . . there was something to it. It wasn’t just in my head.
I cleared my throat.
“Jake?” I was afraid to look up.
“Yeah?” He twisted his head to look at me. I avoided his gaze.
“I have to tell you something,” I said. He pulled away from me so he could look into my eyes. I was always a sucker for those blue eyes. I think that might be what made me overlook his obvious character flaws. I told him everything that happened to me on the Riverwalk, holding nothing back. To his credit, he let me talk and didn’t interrupt. His face betrayed nothing, even though I knew he was probably pissed off that I went there alone at night. Jake was a master at hiding his emotions.
When I got to the part where the guy waved at me, he finally lost it.
“Feather, what the hell were you thinking? If that’s the same guy who took Mia and killed Carli, you could have been next! Why didn’t you tell me so I could go with you and make sure you were safe?” He looked more scared than mad, which surprised me. I hadn’t expected him to understand, but I didn’t think he’d lash out at me either.
“I didn’t think you’d let me go if I told you,” I admitted.
“Let you?” he asked incredulously. “Since when could I stop you from doing something you wanted to do?” He sighed and reached a hand out, touching my face. “I love you, Feather. If anything happened to you . . .” He trailed off. I was torn. The truth was, I didn’t know how I felt about him anymore.
“I know. I’m sorry. I don’t even know what I was looking for. Just . . . something. How else could I help Kiowa?”
He thought for a minute, a frown creasing his forehead. Then he reached over and squeezed my hand.
“We try to prove he was at that gas station. We’ll see if they have surveillance video and we’ll search every inch of his car and dorm room to find that receipt. But next time, Feather? Just ask for my help, okay?” he asked.
God, I couldn’t help it. Despite everything, I still loved him.
As I lay in bed that night, I realized it couldn’t have been Jake watching me beneath the overpass. First, I knew what his cologne smelled like and this guy smelled . . . off. Like bananas left on the counter too long. And second, Jake was taller and broader than that guy was. I felt guilty I had even suspected him in the first place.
I had no idea who took Mia. Or who killed Carli or Sara. It could have been Paul, who I had never met. It could have been someone at school. It could have been someone they didn’t know at all. I was no closer to finding Mia or who took her than I was before going under cover on the Riverwalk. Something the police weren’t making a priority was taking up my entire life and I was at a complete loss. I sat up in bed and switched on my lamp. I slid open my desk drawer and took out my list. I looked at it for a minute and then ripped it into tiny pieces.
* * *
The police had searched Kiowa’s car but I assumed they didn’t find much because they returned it a few days later. His dorm room had been searched and catalogued. They likely found evidence that Mia had been in the car at the very least and probably in his room, but I was sure there wasn’t anything suspicious. I knew my brother.
I knew that Kiowa left his spare keys to both with my mom in case he lost his. I took them off the hook by the front door, knowing I’d get them back before she even noticed they were gone. Kiowa’s car was in our driveway so I should have thought to go through it before I wandered down through the seedy riverfront.
Whereas my car was spotless, Kiowa’s looked like a hurricane blew through it. Blew through it and tore strips off the upholstery. I was about to point it out to Jake when I realized it was probably the police who had torn up his car. Bastards. They could have at least thrown out the garbage.
I grabbed a plastic bag from the floor of the passenger side and started going through each little shred of paper, looking for a receipt proving he was somewhere else at the same time Mia was calling the rec centre over and over.
“Throw out the trash, okay?” I told Jake, who was in the back seat sorting through the garbage. I had to admit that we couldn’t blame the police for the whole mess. Jake nodded and picked up another bag and started stuffing empty Coke cans and fast food wrappers into it.
“Gah!” Jake yelled in the back seat.
“What?” I sat up and looked back at him.
“I just put my hand through a mouldy orange!”
I laughed despite the fact my hands were grubby and I had a strand of hair in my mouth that I was afraid to wipe away for fear of getting a disease from the filth covering my fingers.
“Get back to work,” I told him.
It took a good hour to clean up Kiowa’s car and read every single piece of paper to see if it could possibly clear him. There was a moment of excitement when Jake found a gas receipt. Until upon closer inspection, we discovered it was from several months earlier.
I went into the house, grabbed a couple of Diet Cokes and went back out, handing one to Jake. We sat on the driveway, leaning against Kiowa’s car, sipping our drinks and planning our next move.
“We’ve got the keys to his dorm room. Let’s go there and see if we can find anything,” Jake said. I nodded.
“Okay. But if it’s anything like his car was, we’ll never find the receipt,” I grumbled, licking the moisture dripping down the outside of my can before it could hit my hand.
“You don’t think it’ll be this bad, do you?” he asked. I shrugged.
“Only one way to find out,” I told him. He stood up and held a hand out to me, pulling me up with him. He held me against him for a moment. I realized suddenly how long it had been since we were together.
“I miss you,” he whispered. He held me tighter, sighing into my hair.
“I know. Me too.”
I felt guilty. We were supposed to be helping my brother and here I was, lusting after my boyfriend, the violent homophobe. I pulled away.
“We should probably go,” I told him.
After about five minutes of driving, I saw a familiar sign out of the corner of my eye.
“Wait!” I told Jake. “That’s the gas station! Turn around!”
Jake pulled a U-turn and drove into the station. He parked and turned the engine off, then glanced over at me.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Let’s go,” I told him.
The bell over the door dinged as we went in. The bored-looking cashier peered up from his magazine and idly turned the page. The store was empty otherwise. Jake nudged my arm and nodded towards the surveillance camera behind the counter. Yes! I approached the guy behind the counter. Patrick, his name tag said.
“Excuse me? Hi. Patrick? I was wondering what the protocol was for checking out the surveillance video?” I asked him, putting on what I hoped was my most alluring smile. “Can just anyone look at it, or what?”
“Who are you?” he asked, peering at me as if trying to decide if he actually knew me or if I was just some random customer.
“Feather. Hi.” I held out my hand to him. He shook it, still trying to place me. “And this is Jake. So the video?”
“I don’t know. No one’s ever asked before. I guess it’s okay. What day are you looking for?” he asked.
I looked over at Jake triumphantly. We had it! Kiowa would be on that tape and he’d be in the clear. I was already picturing him walking out a free man.
I leaned over the counter and gave him the date.
“Wait, that’s more than a week ago,” he said.
“Yeah.” I glanced at Jake again. What was going on? “Why? What’s wrong?”
“We only keep the tapes for a week, then we tape over them. See?” He pointed to a shelf behind him where there were honest-to-God VHS tapes with the days of the week written on them. I felt myself deflate.
“Are you sure everything gets taped over?” Jake asked. “No exceptions?”
Paul looked at him, completely perplexed.
“What kind of exception could there possibly be?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you bought new tapes or something?”
Paul laughed.
“Can you even buy these anymore? Nope. We’ve been using the same tapes as long as I’ve been working here. If you’re looking for footage from more than a week ago, it doesn’t exist. Sorry.”
“You’re sure?” I asked hopelessly.
“Yeah. Sorry. Were you looking for something important?” Paul asked.
“Yeah. Pretty important. Thanks anyway,” I said, trying to smile. We turned and started walking towards the door when I had another thought. “One more thing,” I said, turning back to the counter. “Do you remember seeing this guy in here?” I held out my phone with a picture of me and Kiowa standing outside the house, smiling goofily.
“Uh . . .” He looked at the picture for a second, then glanced back at me. “The cops came in a while back asking about him. He had something to do with his girlfriend’s death?” He looked back at me expectantly.
“She’s not dead,” I muttered.
“Oh. Okay. Well, I saw him on TV but I don’t remember him coming in here before. I told the cops the same thing.”
“Did they see the tape?” I asked him.
“Nah. They didn’t even ask. We had already erased it by the time they came, anyway.” He stopped and looked at me. “You know him?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I told him, putting away my phone and turning to leave. “I do.”
Chapter 36
The Evidence
Our next stop was nearby at least. I had the keys to get into Kiowa’s dorm and no one looked at us twice when we walked into the building. They probably assumed we were students. I hadn’t realized it was a co-ed dorm but it was definitely to my advantage now.
“Which room is it?” Jake whispered, glancing at the students as we passed them. They were studying or talking, typing on laptops and reading. No one even noticed us.
I walked a little further and stopped, remembering the number from the birthday card I had addressed and sent to Kiowa earlier this year. We had an ongoing competition to see who could find the cheesiest card.
“This one.” I put the key in the lock and turned it.
“Hey! What the hell?” A guy Kiowa’s age leapt off the bed — off the girl! — and covered himself with a pillow. The girl screamed and wrapped the sheet around herself while Jake and I stood in the doorway staring, our mouths open in shock.
I tried to look away but it was just too funny. “I’m sorry . . .”
“Get out!” the boy yelled and stepped towards us, causing his pillow to drop a few critical inches. I looked away.
“Uh, you might want to . . .” I gestured at his pillow. He looked down and clutched it higher against himself.
“How did you get a key to my room?” he asked angrily.
“Isn’t this Kiowa Bedard’s room?” I asked, backing out of the doorway. The boy held the door open and paused, looking at my face.
“You’re his sister, aren’t you?” he asked. I looked at him quizzically. “I saw your picture in his room.” I nodded. “They took all his stuff out when it didn’t look like he’d be back and gave the room to me. I was next on the list.”
“Where did they put his stuff?” Jake asked.
“Try the RA,” he said. “The Resident Advisor. She’s downstairs by the elevator.”
“Thanks . . . and sorry about that.” Jake and I turned away.
“Hey!” the boy called out. We looked back at him. “Everyone around here likes your brother. We don’t believe he did anything. Tell him his dorm mates are thinking about him, okay?”
“Thanks. I will,” I promised. I took Jake’s hand and went in search of the RA.
Her room was easy to find. There was a big sign on the door, indicating the Resident Advisor was available. Jake knocked, while I prayed she was alone — and had some clothes on. A pleasant-looking, diminutive girl with blue hair in dreadlocks opened the door.
“Hi,” she chirped. “Can I help you?” She pulled idly at her hair while she looked us over. “You’re not from my dorm,” she noted.
“Nope,” Jake said.
“I’m Kiowa Bedard’s sister. We’re looking for the things that were taken out of his room?” I said.
“Hi. Yeah, I’ve got his stuff. I was going to contact your family but it kind of slipped my mind.” She turned away and rummaged around in her disaster of a room. Clothes everywhere. Boxes tipped over on each other. How she found anything in there was beyond me. “Here it is!” she crowed, grabbing a box that seemed way too small to hold all of his stuff.
“That’s all his stuff?” I asked, skeptically.
”I think there’s a suitcase too. It’d be in the storage room. And the cops took a bunch of stuff.”
I reached for the box, but she stepped back.
“Do you have some ID?” she asked. I pulled out my wallet and showed her my driver’s license. “Feather Bedard. Yeah, I remember him talking about you. Sorry about that.” She handed me the box. “I’ll just grab the suitcase.” She darted out of her room, leaving the door ajar.
“Does she even have a bed in there?” Jake asked, eyeing the mess. I shrugged. She reappeared, dragging
a big suitcase on wheels behind her.
“Here you go. Tell your brother hi from us, okay?”
“Sure. Thanks,” I said, following Jake and the suitcase out the door.
As soon as we got to the car, I began tearing into the box. Jake opened the suitcase and started looking through it.
“At least someone folded his stuff,” he said. “I’m guessing it wasn’t her.”
We looked through Kiowa’s belongings in silence for a few minutes.
“Shit,” I said. “It’s not here, Jake.” I looked over at him hopefully. He shook his head.
“Just clothes,” he said.
“Damn it!” I slammed a book back into the box and stood up. “We know he didn’t do it! Why can’t we find something to prove it?” Jake pulled me into his arms and kissed my head.
“We’ll find something, Feather. We just have to keep looking.” He opened the car door for me and then walked back to the trunk to put Kiowa’s stuff inside.
* * *
“Holy shit!” Jake yelled, stomping on the brake and turning the wheel sharply to the right. He pulled off to the side of the road, staring out the window at something in the distance.
“What?” I asked, my heart pounding, one hand still on the dashboard to brace myself.
He pointed and I asked, “What am I supposed to be looking at, Jake?”
“The cell tower!” he shouted excitedly.
“Huh?” I still wasn’t getting his point. And I was losing patience. It had been a rotten day and I was ready to go home and soak in the bath for an hour with a good book.
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