by D.L. Miles
Chapter 8
I sat out front of the B Hall entrance next to Luke and Dr. Wineman. None of us spoke; we just sat there and watched as the emergency vehicles were replaced by squad cars. I could feel a headache beginning in the back of my head and it only got worse when I saw the two detectives pull up. Luke and I had lied about my age, ensuring my father never found out about this; if he did, he might not let me leave the house again, let alone move in with Luke.
The detectives didn’t talk to any of the uniformed officers, when they spotted Luke it was almost like they knew exactly what had happened. But what had happened? What was I going to tell them?
The childish side of my brain told me to tell the truth, word for word just like before. But the reality-stricken side told me to lie for Luke. The truth would only make him look guilty, or at least more suspect. I was torn between the right thing to do and helping my life-long friend.
“Why am I not surprised?” the male detective said as he walked up to us. His eyes darted over me and Dr. Wineman as he reached into his jacket and pulled out a badge. “I’m Detective Young and this is Detective Miller. Mind telling us what happened?” The woman flicked her eyes, resisting a roll as if to say she already knew. They hadn’t even look at the crime scene and already had Luke convicted.
“Saw her walk into the bathroom,” I said, “then when I went in I found her, with the smoke.”
“Smoke?” the detectives said at once.
“Smoke?” Dr. Wineman questioned me now, sounding more surprised than anyone should.
“Smoke,” I repeated, “then it disappeared and I called 911.”
“And where were you with all of this happening?” Det. Young crossed his arms at Luke, daring him to answer. Here was the moment of truth, or it would be the moment of non-truth.
“He was with me,” Dr. Wineman chimed in, drawing all of our attention, “he had some questions about the lecture and wanted to ask them privately.” Well, I wasn’t expecting the good doctor to lie for me. “We had stepped out just when Liv called for help.”
Det. Young gave a long look to Dr. Wineman before uncrossing his arms and softening his features.
“All right,” he said, “the officer will take your statements now.” With a wave of his hand Officer Harley hustled over to us. I wasn’t sure what the expression on his face meant, but I had guessed it was a mixture of surprise and disappointment directed, oddly enough, at me rather than Luke.
“You’ve got terrible luck, kid,” he said to me. I blinked up at him, unsure of what to say. Neither of the men by my side spoke for me thankfully.
“Why?” I asked. I didn’t think my luck was so bad to be pitied by a stranger.
“Well… never mind,” he pulled out the same notepad as before and flipped to an empty page. “So what exactly,”—he made eye contact with me and corrected himself—“what happened here?”
I told him everything that had happened, including times and where I had stood. The only thing I didn’t mention was the temperature drop. If I had noticed it, and Luke had noticed it, then Dr. Wineman definitely noticed it. He seemed to know something we didn’t, why else would he lie and say Luke was with him the whole time?
By the time I had finished Officer Harley was just watching me again and so was Dr. Wineman.
“Thank you,” Harley said as he set his notepad and pen away, “I think the detectives want to talk to you again.” He looked over to the glass doors and my eyes followed with his. Det. Miller came through and charged towards us, plastic bag in hand.
“Do you know what this is?” She practically demanded us to know as she held up the plastic evidence bag. Inside were small bullets, eight by my count. I knew nothing about guns but they looked like they would fit into a handgun easily.
“Bullets?” Luke said, asking more than telling.
“Care to explain?” she yelled as her partner came out of building and pulled her away, scolding her about showing evidence to us. “We’ll get you for this! I know it was you, you damn monster!” Det. Young yanked on her arm and dragged her inside. Around us some of the officers gave nervous looks to each other, while others just looked angry. I took that as a sign that they weren’t human; they clearly didn’t approve of Det. Miller’s behaviour. Officer Harley didn’t seem too impressed with his superior either. Luke was speechless.
“It’s okay,” Dr. Wineman said, reaching behind me to rest his hand on Luke’s shoulder, “I know it wasn’t you.” I found that strangely comforting, knowing I wasn’t the only one that believed in Luke’s innocence.
“Thanks doctor,” Luke said, his mind further gone than I had originally thought, “I think I need to go home now.” He stood up when Officer Harley stopped him.
“Do you need me to get someone to take you home?” he asked, concerned with Luke’s expression. So he didn’t think Luke was guilty either? Interesting, considering he had been one of the original officers to arrest him.
“I don’t…I don’t know.” Luke looked at me and I shook my head, standing.
“No,” I said, “I’m okay to drive.” The officer looked to Dr. Wineman who raised his hand in response. As we walked back towards the car I held onto Luke’s arm and carefully looked back at the doctor. I mouthed “thank you” but he only gave me a concerned look in return.
Pushing Luke towards the other end of the parking area was a lot harder than I had wanted it to be. As we walked I noticed that the dark Charger was gone from its spot. Suddenly, I remembered the other problem I had besides Luke being blamed for the murders; I had Jared to contend with. I quickly scanned the area around me but didn’t see any sign of him. Breathing a small sigh of relief I hurried Luke to the car and shoved him in the passenger seat.
“He lied for me,” Luke said as we drove away, “why would he do that?”
“Because he knows it wasn’t you,” I said, trying to focus on the road rather than the situation.
“No he doesn’t, he really doesn’t.”
“Are you trying to say that you did it then?”
“No!” Luke turned to me. “I just, I don’t want him to get in trouble, if it’s found out.”
“Somehow I think that’s the least of his concerns.” I tucked a stray hair behind my ear while Luke eyed me.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I mean, there’s something he isn’t telling us,” I said, not explaining any more than I had to. Luke seemed to take the hint that I didn’t want to talk and stayed quiet for the rest of the drive.
As soon as we arrived home Luke all but dove into his room; it didn’t help either of us to see the yellow tape across Charlie’s door. I walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind me, taking a second to lean on it and breathe, eyes closed.
I opened one eye and saw that the shower curtain was open, just as I had left it. Jared wasn’t there…unless he was in my closet. I groaned, cursing myself for having the thought and walked over to the sink to splash water on my face. When I looked into the mirror I heard a faint ringing coming from my pocket.
“What is that?” I whispered to my reflection. I reached inside my sweater and pulled out my phone; I got so few phone calls I didn’t recognize my own ring tone. Perfect.
The caller ID read “unknown caller” and I debated for two rings if I should answer or not. I decided it was better to answer, since my phone said everyone was an “unknown caller”. It could be family calling to check in, and it might be better if they knew what was going on. Then again, maybe not.
“Hello?” I said, trying to stay quiet so Luke didn’t hear.
“Come downstairs,” said a male voice, “we need to have a chat.” It took me two seconds to realize who was on the other end of the line; Jared.
“About what?” I asked. He really was a stalker.
“About how you manage to keep your hair so shiny.” He sounded agitated. I touched my hair thinking, for a moment, that he was s
erious. “What do you think I want to talk about? The crime scene you were just at, so get down here now, or I’ll come up. I’m at your car.” The phone clicked and he was gone. The thought of having Jared come into my apartment didn’t sit well, so I made my way back to the car.
I stepped out into the night air and inhaled, telling myself that it would all be okay. I didn’t believe myself for a second.
Across the lot stood Jared in what seemed to be his signature leather jacket and jeans. He was leaning against the back door of his charger as he watched me come out. I kept my left hand over my phone and my right one on my keys, hidden safely in my pockets.
“What is it?” I asked, stopping a few feet away from him. He observed the space between us unhappily.
“In the car,” he said and he opened the passenger door for me. I didn’t move.
“No,” I said. Did he really think I was just going to get into a vehicle with a stalker that I knew had a gun? He gripped the door, grimacing.
“Get in, or I throw you in,” he threatened. This, at least, I was prepared for. I pulled my car keys out of my pocket and set my thumb over the panic button.
“Not happening,” I said with a wave of my hand. It was small neighbourhood, so when car alarms went off, people came outside, and they came fast. Thinking about it more though, I realized the fatal flaw; Jared could haul me into the car and drive off before anyone even peeked out the window. I had expected Jared to groan in frustration, or at least shut the door, but instead he took a step towards me, smiling.
I didn’t move, trying to appear more confident than I felt on sore feet. Jared advanced forward till he was only a foot away, calling my bluff. His arm shot out and grabbed mine; by reaction I hit the panic button. Nothing happened.
“What?” I said aloud, more to myself than him. I struggled backwards but he was too strong and I was tossed into his car, door slamming shut beside me. Caught off guard, I continued to press the panic button, pointing it towards my car as if that would help. Jared climbed in and began to drive away. I pressed the button again, this time Jared swatted the keys from my hand.
“Give it up already,” he told me, “I disabled your alarm.” I picked my keys from the car floor.
“You knew I would bring it,” I said, surprised he would think that far ahead. So much for my plan; I felt stupid not anticipating he would do something like this until it was too late. His engine roared as we drove down the street, turning every so often. If I didn’t know any better I would say we were heading downtown.
“Of course I did.” He smiled to himself. “You’re not as smart as you think you are. But you are pretty crafty, I’ll give you that.”
“What do you mean?” I didn’t think I had ever asked that question in my life. It felt thick across my tongue and I hoped I would never have to ask it again.
“You broke into the Stafoff crime scene,” he said, “and you took some pictures.” I decided that the best thing to do now was play stupid.
“What are you talking about?” I said and crossed my arms, looking out the window. My first assumption was right; we were now in the downtown area. Jared stopped the car in front of the diner and got out. My older brother had always taken me here when I was little and in some way I knew this wasn’t going to be another happy memory to join the others. Jared walked around to the passenger side and opened my door, hauling me out of the seat. Keeping one hand on my elbow he walked me into the diner and sat me down at a booth by the window. “What are you doing?”
“Let’s just call it insurance,” he said, signalling the waitress for two coffees. Insurance for what? I was sure I was supposed to feel better having other people around me, but it didn’t; I wasn’t one hundred per cent sure Jared wouldn’t kill them all if he wanted to hurt me. An older woman brought us the coffees and left when we said we didn’t want to order anything else.
“What do you want?” I asked, wrapping my hands around the cup. He eyed my hands, knowing what I was thinking. I looked down, annoyed that he seemed to see through me as easily as Luke could. No throwing coffee in his face today while trying to escape, I supposed.
“I need to know what you saw,”—he took a sip of the coffee—“earlier, with the dead girl in the bathroom.”
“Why?” I was getting annoyed with his secrecy. Why should I share with him when I only knew his name? A name which was most likely fake.
“Listen,” he said leaning back in the booth, “I’m trying to find whoever did these people in, so why not try and help?”
“Then tell me who you are, if you really want me to help,” I looked up at him as he ran a hand through his hair.
“You already know my name, I put it in your phone,” he watched the people around us rather than me.
“You know what I mean.” Besides, it’s not like I believed that was his real name.
“I’m a bounty hunter,” he said, finally breaking down, “and I’ve been hired to catch Rosa Navarro’s killer.” He took another drink. “So tell me what you saw.”
“Why should I believe you?” I had to admit, he did have that movie-esque bounty hunter feel to him, and it would explain him being around so much, but I wasn’t about to just believe him. “Do you have any proof?”
“I have a gun.”
“That isn’t proof.” It was my turn to take a sip of coffee now. Somewhere inside me I knew he wasn’t lying, but he had caused me to lose a lot of sleep and something about him just…bothered me. Maybe it was because he reminded me of a bully, the kind of person who applied pressure until you did what they wanted. The corner of his lip twitched, resisting a smile. I had to admit, this back and forth was a little fun; I had never had such a worthy opponent, especially one that looked like him.
“Do you want me to help or not?” he asked. He must’ve not had people resist him like this, because he wasn’t very good at convincing me to help. “’Cause as I see it, you’re boyfriend is guilty. So why don’t you just drop the tough girl act and tell me what happened.” I was acting like a “tough girl”? I watched him for a moment, considering my options. Was he testing me?
What did he want me to say? That I had seen Luke go into the bathroom and minutes later a woman was dead? As if I would ever tell him that; it would make Luke look like the killer.
“I saw the smoke,” I said instead, he didn’t need to know everything to find the true killer, “but it disappeared like before.”
“It didn’t attack you like last time?” I thought back to Charlie’s apartment, the smoke coming towards me. It had just dissipated this time, leaving me alone, so why?
“No,” I said, “it just left.” Jared rubbed over his mouth, contemplating. “Do you know what’s doing it?”
I stared down at the liquid in my cup and remembered the feel of Charlie’s skin. We had never been close, but she was a good person; she didn’t deserve to die. She didn’t deserve to be murdered. Jared must have picked up on my thoughts as I looked up to see his eyes soften. So some part of him did have feelings or maybe he was just smart enough to fake it?
“Look,” he told me, “whatever is doing this isn’t human. So tell me what you saw at the crime scenes.”
“Well,” I began, wondering why he used the plural, “at Charlie’s there was smoke, same with the bathroom. There wasn’t any blood like at Alice’s.”
“What was at the Stafoff place?” Jared asked. “I couldn’t get into that one.” He gave me a look, telling me he was a little annoyed that I had managed to get in. He could’ve gotten in after me, but I guessed by then he was more interested in me. I felt a little stupid, remembering what I had done and knowing that things could have been a lot worse if it wasn’t Jared that had seen me.
“Blood,” I said, “a lot of it. I think it was just Alex’s though, the room they found Alice in was clean except…” I thought of the books.
“Except…” he prodded.
“Well there were some books,”—I turned the cup around in my hands, knowing how stupid I was about to sound—“they were on the floor by the bookshelf. All of them were opened to the same pages.”
“What books?” I couldn’t hear anything in his voice, other than curiosity. It made me feel slightly better.
“I don’t know; they were all different. The only thing they had in common was that they were opened to pages four and five.” I didn’t explain how the spines had been cracked so they could stay open, I thought that would be obvious.
“Anything else?” Jared asked, dismissing the books. It irked me a little, but I moved on and told him about the stone jammed between the cushions. He stared at me. “So what you’re telling me is, you found some open books and a necklace in a house and you think they mean something?” Well, when he put it like that…
“I suppose,” was all I said.