Dying Forever (Waking Forever Book 3)

by Heather McVea

  Ash and Alison looked at each other. The years they were together and the subsequent friendship had left them familiar and comfortable with each other, regardless of the time that passed between visits. Alison had always been impressed with both of them for how they had managed the break-up and the friendship. She considered her and Ash’s relationship to be one of the more adult things she had done in her personal life.

  “Here you are.” The waitress returned with a tray of food, most of which belonged to Ash. “Can I get you anything else?”

  “We’re good.” Alison nodded as she began cutting up her salad.

  After eating a spoonful of soup, Ash wiped her mouth. “So, your messages were cryptic, and though I’m thrilled to see you - let’s get to it.”

  “You’re so smooth, Haines.” Alison teased. “You really know how to charm the ladies.” Ash took a bite of her burger and gave Alison an exaggerated, closed-mouth grin.

  Clearing her throat, Alison took a deep breath. “I was approached a few weeks ago by a journalist for Texas Monthly. He’s doing a series on South Texas superstitions, how communities and cultures interpret killings, death - all of that - in the context of legend, folklore, et cetera.”

  Ash wiped her mouth and took a drink of mineral water. “Seems right up your alley.”

  Alison nodded. “It is, but evidently the details of the killings he is interested in using as the main focus of the series have been locked down.” Taking a bite of her salad, Alison looked intently at Ash.

  “Are you referencing the three murders on the Southside over the past couple months?” Ash put her burger down and gave Alison her undivided attention.

  “I am. According to Tom - the journalist - the details of how the victims were killed have been vague at best.” Alison watched Ash closely to see if she was hitting a nerve. She didn’t want her friend getting defensive about her colleagues or her work.

  “I don’t know what to tell you. They’re not my cases, and short of the few details presented in the weekly debriefs by the assigned detectives, I probably don’t know much more than you.” Ash picked her burger back up, a piece of bleu cheese falling to her plate.

  Alison didn’t speak, but looked earnestly at Ash, who was mid bite when she stopped. “What?” Alison’s eyebrow arched. “Oh, come on, Ali. I can’t go digging around in another detective’s case. I wouldn’t appreciate someone snooping around in mine, and not when it’s for an article.”

  “Tom said the killings were very ritualistic in nature and incredibly brutal.” Alison laid her fork down, just the idea of such brutality turned her stomach.

  Ash looked at the half eaten salad, and then the worried expression on her friend’s face. “I - I guess I could ask around, but don’t expect much.”

  Alison smiled. “I appreciate that.” Unable to eat anything else, she slid her plate back. “So where are you living?”

  Ash finished the last of her burger and held her index finger up, indicating she needed a second to finish chewing. “The Stone Oak area. Are you still over near Huebner?”

  “I am. Finally finished all the work on the house and able to enjoy the space instead of being in constant renovation mode.” In spite of some of the pitfalls of buying a fixer upper, Alison had enjoyed the last few years of remodeling and decorating her home to exactly her tastes.

  “Send me photos. I would love to see it.” Ash took a long drink and looked around for the waitress. “Where’s that rum cake?”

  Alison laughed as she reached for her purse. “Sadly, I have to get going. I have a class in thirty minutes I’m already going to be late for.”

  Ash frowned. “This was too short.”

  Alison grinned. “We should do drinks sometime. I would love to meet Emma.” She laid a twenty dollar bill on the table. “Have you seen Al lately?”

  Ash nodded. “How could I not see Alan?”

  Alison laughed. Alan Martelli had been Ash’s best friend since they met their freshman year at the University of Texas. Alison had met him when Ash and she started dating, and by proxy, Alan and she had become friends. He had an Italian father and Chinese mother. That combination had afforded him the best of both worlds aesthetically, gifting him with thick black hair, pale smooth skin, a lean frame, and slightly elongated light brown eyes. All of that, and an incredibly quick and intelligent wit, made him a must have in any social circle.

  “Is he seeing anyone?” Alison couldn’t imagine the handsome man wasn’t.

  “Several anyones, but I think he’s getting serious with a gentleman who’s a buyer for the shop.” Ash smiled at the waitress as she removed the empty plates and slid a generous slice of rum cake in front of Ash.

  Alison got up, sorry she had to cut the lunch short. Seeing Ash always made her happy. “Drinks then, the four of us?”

  “Absolutely.” Ash stood and the two women hugged. “I’ll get back with you by the weekend on the case.”

  “I appreciate that.” Alison squeezed Ash’s shoulder and walked out of the restaurant.

  ***

  Ash watched through the restaurant’s large windows as her friend walked to her car. She had forgotten how beautiful the professor was, and how easy it was for the two of them to pick-up where they left off. Alison had been the first woman Ash had loved, and even though she knew their break-up was the right choice, it had been one of the more difficult ones in Ash’s life.

  Pulling her phone from her back pocket as she took a bite of the rum cake, Ash pressed the call button.

  “I was just thinking about you.” Emma Atman’s light voice brought an immediate smile to Ash’s face.

  “So, I’m on your mind?” Ash teased.

  “Always.” Emma’s tone was suggestive, and Ash felt a rush of heat to her cheeks.

  “Man, how do you do that?” Ash put her fork down.

  “I don’t know what you mean.” Emma feigned ignorance. “How did your lunch go with Alison?”

  “That’s why I called you, actually.” Ash took another bite of cake.

  “What are you eating?” Emma asked, clearly amused by her girlfriend’s attempt to multi-task.

  “Sorry for the chewing, but I’m running late and still have half a piece of cake to get through.” She took a quick sip of water and continued eating. “Anyway, have you worked on any of the bodies from those Southside killings?”

  “No, I think all three of those went to Dr. Westin.” The sound of typing followed the doctor’s answer. “Let me look - yes, Westin. Why?”

  Ash finished the last of the cake, wedged the phone between her ear and shoulder, and dug around in her purse for her wallet. “Alison is working with a Texas Monthly reporter on a series about the killings, and I really don’t know much, but thought you might.”

  “Have you talked to the department’s PR representative about this or submitted the necessary forms for release of information regarding active cases?” Emma asked matter-of-factly.

  Ash smiled. “You mean form eleven dash I’m-helping-out-a-friend dash six? That form?”

  There was a long pause. “You’re making fun of me, but the last thing we need is an investigation.”

  Ash frowned and knew Emma was right to be cautious. “I’ll take care of it, and will you do the same on your end, and let me know what you find out?”

  “I can. Was it nice seeing her again?” Emma asked casually.

  Ash laid two twenty dollar bills on the table and walked toward the door. “It was. She wants to get together with you, Al, and me for drinks sometime.”

  “That would be fun, just let me know when.” There was a knock in the background. “Have to go, see you at home later?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it.” Ash and Emma said their goodbyes as Ash slid into the driver’s seat of her hardtop, silver Jeep Freedom.

  Though she had downplayed it, the conversation with Alison had piqued Ash’s curiosity. Her own case load was relatively light while her lieutenant decided who she would be partnered with, given her cu
rrent partner Alfred Lopez was retiring in a little over a week. With the extra time, Ash didn’t see any harm in discreetly checking into the cases. If she had learned anything in the past year, she knew things were rarely what they appeared to be.

  ***

  True to her word, Ash had called Alison over the weekend and given her additional information about the cases. Alison was grateful for the follow-up and hadn’t pushed her friend for more details, even though it seemed to Alison the detective was holding something back.

  Alison took a sip of her grande Americano as she and Tom sat at a narrow table near the entrance of a Starbucks. They agreed to have their recurring meetings at the coffee shop because it was near campus, and Tom was apparently a dedicated coffee drinker, as was evident by the quad espresso he had ordered.

  “Is this accurate?” Tom read through Alison’s notes.

  Nodding Alison put her coffee down. “Gruesome, but true. The bodies were beheaded, burned, and then buried with the heads placed on top of the graves.”

  “I knew from my other sources the bodies had been burned and buried, but I didn’t know about the beheadings.” Tom shook his head as he drank the last of his espresso in a single gulp.

  “Tom, does anyone else know I’m helping you with the series?” Alison hadn’t intended to ask the question, but as she did, she flashed back to the eerie interactions she had with Christine. Her throat tightened, and the hair on her arms stood up at the very thought of the woman’s wide slash of a grin.

  “Just my editor. Why?” The man looked concerned.

  “It’s nothing.” Alison reached into her leather mailbag and pulled out her iPad. “I’m going to send you several sites I found that speak to the ritual of beheading.” She slid her index finger across the touch screen to unlock the device. “You’re familiar with "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow"?”

  Tom nodded, his brow furrowed as Alison continued. “A slightly less well known tale by a Scot-Irish novelist named Thomas Mayne Reid called The Headless Horseman, was published in 1865. Though it’s sourced from multiple Texas tall tales, it is based mostly on one called El Muerto.”

  “What is that? Dead or the dead one?” Tom was writing quickly in his blue Mead binder.

  “Either. So, the story goes that the headless horseman is a thief that was hunted down and brutally murdered. He’s then cursed to ride the prairies forever, haunting and chasing other thieves.” Alison took a drink of her coffee. “It’s a cautionary tale, clearly meant to discourage thieves as the horseman’s curse is a warning to would-be criminals. Given the context of what’s happened more recently, the three beheadings may be warnings to - let’s say, members of a rival crime family.”

  Tom stopped writing. “Are you thinking the Mexican Mafia?”

  Alison shrugged. “Not my department, but three headless men would be a pretty loud message.”

  Alison watched as Tom continued writing. A movement out of the corner of her eye, and that second when she realized she knew the person standing in front of the coffee shop, pulled her attention away from the man.

  Bryce was sitting down on a concrete bench in front of the Starbucks, removing several books from her black backpack. To both Alison’s dismay and delight, the woman was stunning. Though it was an overcast day, she was wearing a pair of black RayBan Wayfarers sunglasses. A pair of slim cut Gap jeans hugged her thighs, and a form fitting long sleeve forest green t-shirt accentuated her narrow waist. Her long, auburn hair was pulled back in a loose bun, with several wayward strands tucked behind her right ear.

  “Where’d ya go, professor?” Tom interrupted Alison’s admiring.

  “What? Sorry.” Alison turned her iPad off and slid it back in her bag.

  Looking out the window, Tom smiled as his eyes came to rest on Bryce. “No need to apologize, she’s distracting as hell if you ask me.”

  Alison blushed and shifted nervously in her chair. “I wouldn’t know.”

  Tom snickered. “The hell you don’t. I might not know much, but I know women, and I’ve been fortunate to be on the receiving end of a few looks like that over the years.”

  Alison looked back at Bryce to find her now talking with a petite, early twenty-something brunette woman who was laughing at something Bryce had said. Alison felt an unfamiliar twinge of jealousy and immediately hated herself for it. Bryce was beautiful, and though she was a little awkward, clearly intelligent. It made sense that people would want to be around her. But do those people have to be so damn attractive?

  “Are we good, Tom?” Alison gulped the last of her coffee, the hot liquid burning the roof of her mouth. Wincing, she picked her bag up and laid it across her lap. Alison suddenly felt impatient and wanted the meeting to end. If she were honest, she wanted it to end before Bryce left.

  Sighing heavily, Tom stacked his cup in Alison’s now empty cup. “That feels like a rhetorical question to me.” He stood up and taking a few steps toward the door, tossed the cups into the trash before pushing the glass door open. “Come on. We’re done.”

  Alison grinned shyly at Tom, and thanked him as she exited the Starbucks. Having said their goodbyes, Alison turned toward where Bryce was sitting. To her utter delight, the woman was now alone. Summoning her nerve, Alison crossed the short distance between her and the woman, standing awkwardly in front of Bryce for several seconds before the woman looked up.

  Shielding her eyes with her right hand, Bryce smiled when she looked up and saw Alison. “Ali- sorry - Professor Bailey. How are you?”

  Alison exhaled, the blood returning to her arms and legs. “You can call me Alison outside of class.” She glanced at the empty spot next to the redhead. “May I?”

  “Of course.” Bryce slid a stack of books over to make room for Alison.

  Alison picked up a thick, blue book that lay on top of the stack. “Personal Identity?” She opened the textbook and began thumbing through it. “Another class?”

  Bryce pushed her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose with her middle finger. “Existentialist Metaphysics. I’m only a few weeks in, but I’m very interested in memory as the defining characteristic of personality and how as we make new memories, we become different people.”

  “Do you want to be a different person?” The question had been more direct than Alison had intended. Bryce lowered her head, and even with the sunglasses, Alison could see her brow was furrowed. “Hey, sorry - stupid and ridiculously personal question.” She squelched the urge to take the woman’s hand and comfort her, knowing that would only lead to more awkwardness.

  “No. It’s fine.” Bryce began gathering her books into her backpack.

  Alison chewed nervously on the inside of her cheek. She was making a fool out of herself and embarrassing Bryce in the process. “Do you have to go?”

  Zipping her bag, Bryce looked at Alison for what seemed an eternity before answering. “No, but I’m sure you have better things to do.”

  Alison internally cringed at the uncertainty in Bryce’s tone and words, but managed a smile when she spoke. “I am remarkably unattached for the afternoon and thought we might have another go at that drink.”

  The corner of Bryce’s mouth turned up slightly. “That would be nice, but I walked over, so can I meet you somewhere?”

  Alison laughed before she could think better of it. “Ha! I’ve heard that one before, and you’ll forgive me, but I think I’ll drive us both this time.”

  Sighing heavily, Bryce rubbed the back of her neck nervously. “Right. Perfectly understandable.”

  The two women stood up, and Alison had to stifle the urge to skip as a sudden wave of euphoria washed over her at the prospect of spending the afternoon with the beautiful woman. “Consider me a built in DD.”

  Bryce stopped, her backpack slung over her right shoulder, and cocked her head to the left. “DD?”

  Alison nodded. “You know, designated driver. I’m your gal if you decide to tie one on this afternoon.”

  Bryce pulled the other backpack strap
over her left shoulder. “Are you making fun of the Irish thing again?”

  “Oh, god, no. I was just-” Alison felt heat rise to her cheeks as she stumbled to explain, but seeing the smirk on Bryce’s face, smiled. “I guess I had that coming.”

  Bryce shrugged. “Glad I’m not the only one keeping score.”

  Alison grinned. “Let’s go. We can check out Esquire for real this time?”

  Bryce nodded, and as the two women walked, Alison wondered now that she finally had her date with Bryce, what in the hell they were going to talk about.

  ***

  The awkward silences were starting to wear on Alison.

  “So, ah, you’re originally from Galway County? Am I remembering that correctly?” Alison took a drink of her Jameson whiskey double, the ice clinking against the glass as the smoky wood and nut flavors coated her tongue and throat.

  Bryce nodded as she repeatedly rotated the half empty glass of Bushmill whiskey around between her hands. “Yes. Good memory.”

  Alison smiled. “I’ve never been to Ireland, but it’s on my bucket list.”

  Bryce took a drink and after a few seconds, nodded. “It’s lovely.”

  The long pauses in their conversation were accentuated by the fact it was the middle of the afternoon on a weekday, and with the exception of two men sitting near the back of the bar, the place was empty and quiet.

  Alison leaned back in the booth. The worn, wooded benches reminded her of church pews circa 1890, and she wondered if, in spite of her atheism, she should pray - or maybe chant and burn incense - for an easier ebb and flow of conversation with the woman across from her.

  “How long have you been in the States?” Alison finished the last of her whiskey double, and feeling she might need another to get her through what was rapidly starting to feel like a job interview, she waved the bartender over for another round.

  “A few years, and you?” Bryce flinched. “I mean, how long have you lived in San Antonio?”