Autumn's Eyes (Storm Season Book 1)

by J. L. Sutton

  So powerful was the realization that hit me, that my hand stopped mid punch.

  There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do when it came to protecting the ones I cared about. Claire’s parents thought of me as family. Lisa loved Claire like a sister, and so did Jennifer. Each and every one of Reese’s victims, those past and the ones that may yet come, had people who cared about them, grieved for them. They all deserved some measure of justice.

  I would trade places with Claire in an instant, or anyone I cared for if I had to make the choice. So why shouldn’t I be willing to do whatever it took to keep it from happening to anyone else’s Claire, if I could? Once I came to that conclusion, the rest seemed simple.

  It was almost effortless to make peace with my decision, because I was making it on my terms, for the right reasons. Not Reese’s, not Fate’s, or anyone else’s. Mine. The mounting fear and anger, whose grip around my chest was so unshakable only a moment ago, fell away like nothing, slowly replaced by a newfound clarity of purpose. I still had doubts, but in my mind it was a good thing. It meant I thought this through, that I understood the risks I was taking.

  I unstrapped my gloves, taking a moment to savor the burning sensation coursing through my muscles. After so many hours of frustration the exertion made me feel warm, alive. I walked to my bedroom cupboard, wiping the sweat off my hands before I carefully retrieved my gun from the safe. As my fingers brushed over the handle I gritted my teeth. In the twenty two years my father was a cop, he only used his weapon in the line of duty once. He never talked about it with me or my sister, but we both saw how much that night changed him, inside and out. Me? I only ever removed it from its holster four times while on the job, never firing a shot.

  I stood there for a long time, staring at the weapon I was about to use to so coldly take another man’s life, and I couldn’t help thinking I had changed. As I returned the gun to the safe I noticed it felt heavier than I remembered.

  I let the shower run cold, the shock of the icy water against my skin washing away the tension in my body, waking my senses. As I dried myself I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. The man staring back at me looked the same, a little worse for wear but I recognized him easily enough. Why did I feel so different? I walked into my room, feeling far more human than this morning. I was about to reach into my dresser for a change of clothes when I felt a familiar prickle against my scalp.

  “Last time I checked, it was still considered polite to knock,” I said as I gripped the towel tighter around my waist and turned towards the doorway.

  Ivy grinned, motioning her head towards the dresser. “Please, don’t stop on my account.”

  “I think I’m beginning to see why Dawn finds you so annoying.”

  “You’ll warm up to me eventually, everybody does,” Ivy said as she turned away, slyly peeking over her shoulder at what I hoped was my necklace, before shutting the door behind her.

  While I changed I wondered how the little vixen managed to figure out where I lived. Something told me this would be the first of many unexpected visits. When I stepped out of my bedroom I found Ivy sitting at the kitchen counter, spinning an apple on her finger like a basketball. She looked over at me, her dark eyes lingering in mine for just a moment.

  “What made you decide to do it?” she asked casually, no doubt in her voice that I already made my decision.

  “I had an epiphany.” I shrugged, trying not to think about it more than necessary. “How did you know?”

  In response Ivy raised her eyebrow, her sarcastic expression making me feel like the answer should be very obvious. “You mean aside from the fresh smell of lead and the oil on your hands? The way your emotions are screaming at me, it’s not easy to miss.”

  “Of course,” I muttered as I took a seat across from Ivy. She didn’t shy away from me the same way as Dawn always seemed to.

  “Have you decided when?”

  I had. Once I made up my mind I figured it was best to get this over quickly. Whatever the outcome, I didn’t want this looming over my head, and on the small chance Reese was suspicious I didn’t want to give him the chance to see me coming. “I’m going tonight.”

  She nodded seriously. “If it’s any consolation, you won’t be alone. Whatever happens I’ll be there in the end.”

  I was thinking a lot lately about having someone else there to witness my darkest moment, or possibly my last one. The odds seemed stacked pretty high in my favor, but there was always the chance I wasn’t going to walk away from this. Although a part of me wished it could be Dawn with me in the end, I was also equally glad she wouldn’t be. Still, knowing I wouldn’t be alone was oddly comforting, which reminded me there was one thing I still needed to take care of.

  “Can I ask a favor?” It didn’t seem like the type of thing to ask someone I hardly knew, but Dawn trusted Ivy, and honestly, I didn’t have many other options.

  “You can ask,” Ivy said cautiously, laying the apple down on the table.

  “There’s an envelope in the top drawer of the desk in my office. Inside it is my will and a letter to my sister. If I don’t come home tonight, I need you to make sure they get to my friend Jennifer. Dawn will be able to tell you where she lives.”

  I had my affairs set in order the day my sister was institutionalized, making sure that if something ever happened to me she would be taken care of. Except for Claire’s possessions that would be returned to her parents, and my CD collection earmarked for Jennifer, everything went to Lisa. I wanted so badly to see her one last time, to tell her how much I loved her, but I knew if I did, I might not be able to go through with my plans. Lisa was stronger than anyone I knew, and all I could hope for was if something did go wrong, she would be okay without me.

  “Oh, and one more thing,” I said after a moment of consideration. “Tell . . . tell Dawn thank you, for the time we shared.”

  “I will,” Ivy promised.

  “Thank you.” I smiled, relieved to know my messages would be delivered.

  Now that everything was settled I felt a little better. One way or another, this would all be over soon. Come what may.

  “Anytime,” Ivy replied, though her eyes were unfocused, staring a thousand yards past the wall behind me. After a moment she stood, blinking twice before she sighed heavily. “Duty calls.”

  I nodded, wondering how long it would be until she had to answer my call. “I better not keep you then.”

  “Good luck,” Ivy said over her shoulder, stopping halfway through the window frame to turn towards me. “Oh, and handsome—do try to not get yourself killed. Dawn will never let me hear the end of it, and I haven’t even started playing with you yet.”

  I laughed dryly. Ivy may be wildly inappropriate, but like Sebastian there was something to be said for her ability to lighten the mood, especially given the circumstances. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  She winked slyly and released her grip, spreading her arms wide as she tumbled backwards out the window. For the longest time I stared at the open window, watching it rock back and forth in the wind against the backdrop of the looming storm building in the distance. I wondered if I would ever get to see Dawn sitting on the ledge again, another chance to feel those haunting midnight eyes staring back at me. For the first time since I met her, I was glad those eyes wouldn’t be watching over me tonight.

  Dark clouds blew over from the ocean an hour before the sun set, the small amount of light that found its way through the ominous black horizon casting everything it touched in a pale, sickly shade of grey. After locking the apartment behind me I left the key above the door frame, predicting the rather likely scenario where Jennifer misplaced the spare I gave her. I made my way down the short flight of stairs to the parking lot, hyper aware of the miniscule shifts each step I took forward made to the loaded firearm concealed inside my jacket. My nerves were strained, like a steel cable holding up a van—ready to snap at a moment’s notice. Just carrying the damn thing on my person was making me f
eel uneasy. Every shadowy corner seemed to hold some dark secret. Every person I passed eyed me for a second too long.

  It was years since a storm like this hit the city—so violent that as each earth splitting crack hammered down I could feel it reverberate through my bones. Sporadic lightning sprouted over the coastline, their forking trails illuminating the streets better than any man made light ever could. Rain crashed down against my windscreen as I wound my way through the streets, the relentless downpour cutting my visibility to less than a car length in front of me. After somehow managing to find the right street sign, without getting swept away by the rivers that formed on either side of Main Street, I turned onto Elm, chuckling darkly at my luck. Of all the nights—this would be the one I choose.

  I pulled the car over around the corner of the auto repair where I knew Reese would be working tonight, letting it idle gently with the wipers sloshing water across the windscreen as I went over the plan for what must’ve been the twentieth time. A simple plan, but like everything else I touched lately, it had the potential of so much going wrong.

  As I waited in vain for the storm to let up my mind began to drift, flashing back through all the events that brought me here. Though I liked to think it was my choices that led me to this moment, I couldn’t help wondering how much had truly been in my control. Was I fully to blame, or did Fate nudge me in its chosen direction? I so badly wanted to pretend I wouldn’t be accountable for my actions tonight, or in some way I could know that the part I was about to play was the one I was always meant to. If only things were that simple, that black and white. Sadly nothing ever was—we all lived somewhere between those lines, caught between our chosen shades of grey.

  Was I ready to do this, sacrifice whatever was needed of me to see it through? There was no doubt in my mind I could pull the trigger. I had convinced myself it had to be done—there was no other way I could stomach what I was about to do. I knew better than to believe it though. There were no lies as dangerous as the ones we told ourselves. Seeing no end in sight to the storm’s siege over the city I rechecked the magazine before zipping up my jacket, and after a brief moment’s hesitation I flung the door open and dashed through the icy rain.

  As I turned the corner I slowed my pace, taking my time to scan the street for anyone in sight. Thankfully the rain made it nearly impossible to see very far. With the cover the storm provided my chances of being spotted dropped dramatically. I ducked under the small roof that hung over the office, taking a moment to wipe the moisture off my hands before peering through the window.

  The only visible light in the small, dark room streamed through the half open door leading to the workshop, and after checking behind me I reached into my pocket and located my pick set and torsion bar. My unsteady hands shook from nerves, and my cold, numb fingers fumbled in the poor light as I struggled to open the case. It took twice as long as it should’ve to get through the simple lock, and I grew more anxious with every passing second. When I finally turned the handle and the lock clicked open I hurriedly slipped inside, my shoes sliding on the slick surface, almost making me lose my balance as I closed the heavy door behind me.

  I stood absolutely still as I waited in the dark, straining to hear if my intrusion was noticed over the pounding rain. My clothes were soaking wet, the fabric filled with enough water that I felt weighed down. After checking my watch for the third time I allowed myself a second to relax, taking deep, calming breaths as I coaxed the pair of supple leather gloves onto my trembling fingers.

  I crept slowly up to the door and cracked it wider, pleased that Reese gave away his position to my left by turning up the radio. Just to be sure, I waited for a minute longer before heading down in the opposite direction, confident my light footsteps would be muffled by the chorus of thunder. This time I wasn’t going to make the same mistake I did with Hyde—I would check the entire building to make sure we were alone before approaching Reese.

  My progress through the narrow room was slow going, hampered by my lack of familiarity with the layout and the low light. Just one mistake, one quick movement could knock something over and my advantage would be gone. I wasn’t truly concerned—between the plan that was seared into my head, my gun, and the element of surprise this was far from a fair encounter. Reese never gave Claire a fair chance, but it still bothered me a little that I was holding so many cards. The important thing was that I didn’t want any surprises. I couldn’t live with someone else getting hurt on my conscience.

  At the end of a short passage splitting to a locked room and a small bathroom I doubled back, my fingers guiding my way through the maze of empty boxes, spares, and tools stacked high against the walls. As I moved closer to my goal the smell of dirty oil and stale tobacco smoke grew stronger. Passing the door I entered through I followed the harsh yellow light that trickled through the darkness, stopping to crouch low at the entrance of the workshop. Risking a glance I poked my head around the corner, hoping to find Reese before he had a chance to notice me.

  The workshop was surprisingly neat. Long rows of tools hung evenly spaced on wooden panels that covered the light grey walls, their outlines drawn around with a permanent marker to show their correct places. Every surface of the dollies and benches around the spacious room were recently wiped down. The concrete floor was splattered with old oil stains—the various shades layered together over the years, gathering together to form unique, intricate patterns. Large rectangular windows barred with painted white frames ran around the room near the ceiling, spread out far enough that during daylight hours no other light source would be necessary.

  I found Reese less than thirty feet away in the middle of the workshop, just behind a thick support column. He was facing away from me, hunched over a small workbench, and utterly oblivious to my presence. At this angle I could see the trails of bluish-grey smoke from his lit cigarette swirl around him, gently floating on the light breeze that blew in from the tiny gap under the rollup door. I straightened up, taking a quick step to my right to get an unobstructed view.

  This was it. For three years I thought about the moment I would finally confront Claire’s killer, see the look of fear in his eyes as he realized it was all over. I would make this quick, give him a clean death I didn’t think he deserved. It was a mercy he denied my Claire—a woman who abhorred violence so vehemently she wouldn’t have raised a finger to him, even in her own defense.

  I was not Claire.

  As I drew the gun tucked away in my jacket I was unexpectedly calm, my heartbeat steady. All the guilt, anxiety, and nerve wracking frustration I felt over the past two days vanished, disappearing with the breeze like it never existed. I wasn’t angry, excited, numb, relieved, or even afraid. I just felt cold.

  I took a seat on the hood of an old station wagon, the gun resting in my lap as I watched, patiently waiting for Reese to pry himself from his workbench. Only cowards shot men in the back. The seconds ticked by painfully slow, and I didn’t mind. Now that I had arrived at this moment, I felt no rush to act—there would be no turning back once I pulled the trigger. I felt a familiar sensation enter my mind while I waited, the light prickle of pins and needles signaling we were no longer alone just noticeable over the storm thrashing outside. Ivy was here. The wait was nearly over.

  A bolt of lightning flashed nearby, the deafening crack accompanying it ringing out like a gunshot. Caught off guard, Reese’s head snapped up to the window. He stared at it for a long moment before shifting his gaze to the cheap plastic clock on the wall, and shrugging his shoulders he turned off the radio and reached for a torn rag on the table next to him as he turned around.

  Reese took a few steps forward, still wiping the sweat and grease off his hands when he noticed me just a few feet in front of him. Startled for the second time tonight, Reese stopped in his tracks. I was never close enough to see his face—now I watched his flat blue eyes staring at me uncomprehendingly. Reese’s short hair was as dark as the oil staining his hands. He had a long nose, thin
cheekbones and lips that looked too small for his mouth.

  And yet, nothing about him seemed remotely sinister. If anything, I’d have said he had an almost honest look to him. Funny how it’s always the ones you never suspect.

  “You shouldn’t be in here. We close at six,” Reese said uncertainly, his nervous eyes darting from my face down to my hands folded in my lap. It took him a moment, but when he saw the gun his expression went blank for a heartbeat, the dirty rag dropping from his stiff hands. All it took was for me to casually point the gun in his direction for him to snap out of his trance. “Whoa. Take it easy man,” he cried as he took an involuntary step back, throwing his hands in the air. “The money’s in a safe in the office. Take it!”

  How many times had I let myself imagine what I would say to him? I always pictured myself having some clever speech handy, delivered in a cold, calculated voice, like Hollywood so loved to do. Now I wondered if prolonging this moment would be cruel and unnecessary. Why delay the inevitable? But then I thought if the situation was reversed, I would want a moment to ready myself for the end.

  “I’m not here for money,” I said in a calm, level voice as I shook my head. “I’m here for you, Reese.”

  “What? I . . . who are you?”

  “Who I am isn’t important. What matters is I know what you’ve done. You got away with murder, spent the last three years living as you pleased, when you should’ve been locked in a cell until the end of your days. I’m here to make sure you never get the chance to do it again.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about man. I haven’t done anything wrong! Please don’t do this. I . . . I have a daughter! That’s right, and a wife waiting for me at home,” his shaky voice tripped up his lie before it left his trembling lips.