by Beth Yarnall
“I drive by there almost every day, but I’ve only been inside eight times.”
Again she catches me off guard. I don’t know what to say when she makes admissions like this. Her life has been poles apart from mine. It’s moments like this when the differences between us seem impossible, and I’m overwhelmed by the challenge. I wonder if she even has any room in her life for someone like me or if what I bring is significant enough to matter for her.
Chapter 9
Cora
Leo hasn’t said much since I confessed my obsession to him. I know how strange it is to drive by a dead woman’s apartment every day and to find any opportunity to get inside. I know it’s weird. I wouldn’t have told him about it if he hadn’t asked. He’s the only person who ever has. Maybe that’s why I blurted it out, forgetting to put the filter on my crazy. He asks questions no one asks. He wants to know about things no one wants to talk about. He understands things I find inexplicable. And he seems to accept things about me that put others off.
I don’t know what to do with all of that. It gives me a shaky, edgy feeling I can’t control.
As he drives us to Cassandra’s I realize that he hasn’t asked for directions and he isn’t using the GPS on his phone. He’s been here before. On his own. Without me. I’m overwhelmed. The car is suddenly too small and he’s too close. I didn’t expect any of this when I walked into his father’s agency that day. I certainly didn’t expect to like Leo or to find a partner in him. Or for him to take on Beau’s case as though finding the real killer matters, really matters to him.
Leo reaches out and pulls my hand from my mouth, wrapping his hand around mine in my lap. I hadn’t realized I was biting my nail again. Fixing my gaze out the window, I don’t take my hand out of his like I should. I like how warm and sure and strong it feels. He makes me want to rely on him. He put himself in my path like a tree that took root where it shouldn’t¸ and try as I might, I can’t go around him. Maybe I don’t want to go around him. Maybe I like him there as much as I like my hand in his and the fact that he knows the way to Cassandra’s apartment.
He stops the car across the street from the apartment building and reaches under the steering wheel to turn the car off with his left hand keeping a hold of mine with his right. The air is thick and ripe and I don’t know what is supposed to happen next. He turns toward me. His eyes are darker now than they were earlier. He’s watching me that way he does sometimes when he thinks I don’t know. Only this time he’s not hiding it or looking away suddenly. It’s out there. What he wants. Me. And he wants me to see it.
“You knew the way here,” I blurt out.
“I came by once and checked it out.”
“Why?”
“It’s important.” He touches a finger to my hair, sweeping it out of my eyes. His movements are slow and purposeful. He doesn’t say it, but I feel the words just the same—You’re important.
I don’t know when this happened or why I’m just now noticing it, but I realize that he’s become important. He’s a partner in the battle I’m waging to save my brother. Since the day he joined the fight he’s been there every step of the way. Sometimes, like now, I can’t remember what it was like before he came on board.
“Cora?” He murmurs my name and it floats across my senses, lighting them up.
Leaning across the console toward me, his gaze drops to my mouth. I know what he means to do and I want him to do it. Everything in me leaps and I bow my body toward him. His hand is on my cheek and he’s so close his breath whispers across my skin. I can smell the cologne he wears and the after-coffee mint he popped earlier. My lashes flutter closed and my lips part. I want this.
And then his mouth is on mine. Gentle, so gentle. He’s agonizingly slow and careful. I can hardly move. His hands are in my hair and the kiss changes. I fist the front of his shirt, bringing him closer. Everything spirals. A whirling of sensations I didn’t know existed. He’s good at this, so good. I want it to go on forever and ever. But he’s already pulling away.
Fear spikes within me. Did I do something wrong?
His hands are still in my hair and he’s staring at me like he doesn’t know what happened. His breathing is rough and labored as though he just ran a mile and stopped suddenly to kiss me. Mine isn’t any smoother, and with my heart pounding so hard it hurts, I pull on his shirt, bringing his mouth back to mine. I want more. His tongue pushes at the seam of my lips and I open for him. He changes the angle and that’s when all hell breaks loose inside me. I want him. I want him to not stop. Ever. I want things I don’t have any knowledge of and I want them all with him.
What am I doing?
Some sense slips in and I use the hand that pulled him closer to push him away. He lifts his head. His eyes are even darker than they were before and his gaze flickers between my eyes and my mouth. If I yanked him back toward me he’d keep on kissing me. I know this, I want it, and yet I push him away.
He traces a finger along my bottom lip. “Cora, Cora, Cora,” he chants breathlessly.
I run my fingers around the edge of his face. I feel like I’m just now seeing him. We keep touching each other, little discovering touches. He leans in and smells me, nuzzling his nose along my jawline to my ear. My hands are in his hair, sifting through strands that are softer than I thought they’d be. I breathe him in like he did me and he makes a noise at the back of his throat that tests the limits I just set for myself.
“Cora.” He sounds agonized.
I know how he feels. I ache in places I didn’t know could be so electric and sensitive and alive. All of my senses are on alert for what he’ll say or do next.
“We have to stop.”
I’m confused. Why?
“God, not here.” He catches my face in his hands, stopping me from licking the spot just below his ear. He gives me a quick kiss. “If you keep that up we’re going to give the neighbors a show and what I have planned for you is very, very private.”
“You have plans for me?”
Putting his forehead to mine, he makes a frustrated noise. “You have no idea.”
This cheers me immensely.
He pulls away and looks down at me in surprise. “That is the most amazing smile I’ve ever seen.”
I shut it down and try to duck my head, but he’s got ahold of me and I can’t move.
“No, don’t hide it. I like it,” he says.
I glance past him to Cassandra’s apartment building. Reality creeps in. Gripping his wrists, I pull on his hands so he’ll release me. We’re sitting out front of Cassandra’s apartment, making out. That’s wrong on every level. I’m supposed to be helping Beau, not indulging in my own curiosities.
My gaze goes to the building across the street. If I close my eyes I can still see the police cars with the lights flashing sitting out front. Police tape marks off the area, while crime-scene techs and police officers walk in and out of her apartment. The coroner’s van is parked close by, waiting to take Cassandra’s body in for examination and autopsy. The scene is eerie and macabre, made worse by the image of Beau rushing toward the apartment, screaming Cassandra’s name. I try to grab him by the waist to hold him back, but he slips past me. He’s crying. That was the only time I’d ever seen my brother cry.
I shake my head, trying to dislodge the memory, but the emotions of that night are as raw now as they were then. What am I doing here with Leo, while my brother sits in prison?
Leo releases me and sits back in his seat. The moment that never should’ve been between us is gone. His mouth—which I now know is soft and skilled—is pressed into a frown as he turns to see what stole my attention from him. I climb out of the car. I don’t wait for him. The apartment pulls me in, drawing me across the street. 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-12 steps to the second floor. The door on the right is open, so I walk through it.
A small living room/kitchen/dining room, then a short hall. The bathroom is on the right, the bedroom straight ahead. Her bed was on the far wall. With the
window open she would’ve had a nice breeze while she slept. But she’s not sleeping. Her eyes are wide open. Blood smears her face, neck, and hands. Red mars the pretty floral sheets. Her hands are tied together above her head, the rope woven through the wrought-iron headboard. Each foot is tied to the iron posts of the footboard. She’s naked. Her legs are wide open and there’s blood there too.
I stand there, imagining all the things that were done to her, the hours it took to accomplish them. After all that, he took the matching pretty floral pillow and pressed it against her face. It took about three minutes for her to black out and another six to eight minutes for her to die. He threw the pillow onto the floor when he was done.
Putting both of his arms around me, Leo hugs me, drawing me in to his chest. “Ssh, stop,” he says, and I realize I’ve been talking this whole time, describing what I know from the reports. “No more.” His voice is raw, his arms strong and sure around me.
“I don’t understand why he used the pillow.”
“Cora.”
“All of that violence—the ripping and tearing, the blood—and he uses a pillow. Why didn’t he use his hands or the rope he brought? Why the pillow?”
He lays his cheek on my head, bringing me in tighter. “He’s a coward. Maybe he didn’t want to see her face. Maybe even he has a threshold that can’t be crossed.”
“Yes. That’s it. That’s it exactly. Thank you.”
“Are you two interested in the apartment?” a chirpy voice asks.
I face away and swipe at tears. Leo continues to hold me, looser now, but he’s not letting go.
“We’re not sure,” he answers.
“Is everything okay in here?” Her question is for me.
“Yes,” I lie, plastering on a fake smile.
“Are you sure?” She doesn’t look convinced, but she does look like my cousin Millie—big blond hair and matching boobs.
“Just something in my eye,” I say. “I’m fine, really.”
Beside me, Leo is a rock. I fist his shirt in the back where the lady can’t see. I don’t want him to let me go. I’ll float away without him anchoring me.
“What’s the rent?” Leo plays along.
“Fifteen hundred dollars per month. There’s a two-thousand-dollar deposit. Half is due on signing and the remaining when you get the keys.” She eyes us skeptically. “Are you two USD students?”
“He is,” I find myself saying. “I’m in cosmetology school.”
“This would be our first apartment together.” Leo smiles at her.
“How nice. You make a lovely couple. When would you be looking to move in? The apartment is ready anytime.”
“Oh,” I say, putting the proper disappointment in my voice. “We wouldn’t be ready to move in until next month.”
“I see. It wouldn’t hurt to fill out some paperwork—”
“I’m not sure it’s us. What do you think, Bluebird?”
His nickname startles me for the barest second. “No. I don’t think it’s us.”
“Well, if you change your mind, here’s my card.” She hands a card to Leo.
He glances at it. “Thanks, Lisa. We’ll let you know if we do.” Then, to me, “Did you want to look around a little more to be sure?”
“No. I think I got everything I came for.”
We head back out to the car and my head is light. My whole body is light. I hold on to my anchor as we make our way down the steps.
“Bluebird?” I ask.
He shrugs. He’s embarrassed. How odd. I never thought of him as someone who gets embarrassed. He always seems so sure of himself.
“I like it. My mom used to call me Cora Belle, but that was a long time ago.” I don’t tell him that he’s the only other person to give me a nickname or how much I really, really like it.
“I could use some coffee,” he says on a sigh. “Want some tea?”
“Yeah. I could really use a cup.”
Chapter 10
Leo
I kissed Cora, then Cora kissed me.
This should be the only thing I’m thinking about besides how and when I can take it further with her, but I’m not. I’m thinking about her hollow voice as she described the murder scene and how her tears absolutely gutted me. I find any reason to touch her, but I haven’t tried to kiss her again. I can’t.
I voluntarily took the seat next to her in the roller coaster of her life. I can take the twists and turns with her¸ holding her hand. I can repeat over and over for her that the ride will end soon even as it cranks up to the top of yet another hill. But she’s been on it long enough to see through the platitudes. She knows it won’t be over anytime soon and my presence beside her doesn’t make the ride any easier to take.
I don’t know where that leaves us other than to keep doing what we’re doing. Because short of finding the real killer, there is nothing I can do or say to take any of this away from Cora or make it better for her. So that’s what I’m going to try to do. I hope the letter I sent to Beau will make a difference. Cora wouldn’t like what I wrote. I basically called Beau out. He should know enough about his sister to know that she won’t give up until he’s freed. By putting her off he’s just prolonging her pain. What I didn’t say is that I will never have a chance with Cora as long as her brother sits in prison.
This is a truth that tears me up. It’s a near physical ache for something I don’t have a chance of ever having. If she didn’t like me—okay. I could live with that. Possibly. But she does like me. Maybe not as much as I like her. Aaargh. Definitely not as much as I like her. Freeing Beau is her life. There is no room for me or anyone else in that life. I thought there could be for the barest of seconds. I saw a flash of it in her smile in the car the other day when we kissed until she remembered she isn’t supposed to smile.
She isn’t supposed to have a life her brother can’t.
I don’t know how to get around that or if I should even try. Time she would spend with me on a date is time she’s not working to free Beau. There’s no way for me or anyone else to compete with that. It’s just there, always between us. The grief radiates out of her, bleeding into the air around her. I breathe it in and it coats my skin until I can’t separate myself from her or it. I’ve absorbed so much of it now I wonder if I’ll ever be rid of it or even if I want to be.
So I plod along beside her, giving her what I can and working my ass off to find a clue that will end this nightmare for her.
A week later I finally have something that might help, if only for a moment. Beau has agreed to meet with me. I debate whether or not I should tell Cora before or after I meet with him…but for only a second.
No matter how early I wake up, Cora always manages to get to the office before me. I set her tea next to her and take my seat across from her. She goes through her usual routine with it. I’ve come to depend on moments like this with her. They’re as necessary to me as breathing.
It’s Saturday, so we’re the only ones in the office. Dad gave Cora a key a week ago, after Savannah complained about Cora sitting on the steps, waiting for her to open up. It’s quiet except for the hum of the fax machine spitting something out. I’m supposed to run my daily Internet search for Edith Wheeler, the downstairs neighbor, to see if she suddenly pops up out of nowhere. Instead, I’m waiting for the perfect moment to tell Cora about Beau.
She glances up from her cup. “What?” She knows something’s going on.
“I’m going out to the prison today to visit Beau. Do you want to go with me?”
She freezes, staring at me like she can’t process what I just said. Everything stills in me, waiting for her reaction.
“He agreed to talk to you?” Anger is not the emotion I expected. “How in the hell did you get him to agree to that?”
I should know better by now than to try to predict Cora. “I guess I wrote a persuasive enough argument.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “What did you say to him?”
I should come clean, but
I can’t. What I said to Beau is between him and me. “I told him that you’re just going to keep bugging him until he relents. He relented. Why aren’t you happy about this?”
“Why should I be happy about it?”
“You were mad at him when he wouldn’t cooperate. Now he is and you’re still mad?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know. I guess I’m mad that he gave in so easily to you when he’s been so damn stubborn with me.”
“But this is a good thing.”
“Maybe. Just because he agreed to see you doesn’t mean he’ll talk to you.”
“Leave it to me. Do you want to ride out there with me or not?”
Her gaze shifts to her computer screen, then back to me. I can tell she’s debating how her time would be best served—riding in a car or working on finding Edith Wheeler.
“I’ll go with you.” She checks the time on her phone. “We should leave within the next twenty minutes.”
The drive is long and boring, but I’m holding Cora’s hand and she’s letting me. So there’s that. I have in mind what I want to say to Beau and the things I want to ask him. I’m not sure how it will go. I’m pissed as hell at him on Cora’s behalf. It’s an irrational anger, I know. And while Cora shoulders some of the responsibility for putting Beau’s life before her own, I put the bulk of it on Beau’s head. He hasn’t cooperated at all. My line of thought is that Cora might have been able to free him before now if he’d only fucking participated.
It’s strange to never have met someone who I know so much about. Beau and I have Cora in common, but not much else. His life took a turn I can’t fathom. I’m not sure what to say about that when I see him. What do you say?
Cora gave me the drill on prison security, so before I know it I’m through screening and walking into the visitors’ room of the prison. It takes me a minute to spot Beau. He doesn’t look like any of the pictures Cora showed me. He’s bigger, bulkier. His hair is short and he scowls as if he’ll hit anyone who dares to look in his direction, let alone talk to him. I see now what has Cora so frightened and why she stormed into my dad’s office that day the way she did. The prison is a cancer and Beau’s riddled with it. She’s not just fighting for the brother she knew, she’s fighting for his life.