Chasing Shadows (12 page)

He gives some words about youth and sorrow and
he makes explanatory statements. The funeral tomorrow is a private
affair. This is the time for friends and acquaintances etc. Good
thing we came tonight. Sweet of the family to plan this around my
day off. I almost snicker but manage to hold it back. The service
continues and I tune it out. I’m looking diligently for any signs
of shades, lights, birds, anything to give me a direction that will
mean this wasn’t a wasted trip. At last I decide, if I’m going to
have a shot at being productive, I need to see people’s faces.
There’s an exit by the front. I figure I’ll get up and leave that
way ’looking for the bathroom’. My return should give me a few
seconds to scan the crowd. As quietly as I can, I stand up.
Schuyler gives me a questioning look that seems tinged with panic.
I pat his shoulder on my way to the aisle. I walk slowly forward.
All is going as planned so far. But now I look up and see the
funeral director is looking at me. What the hell? How have I messed
up a bathroom break? I raise my eyebrows, and am about to break eye
contact all together, when the snarky little man steps to the side,
clearly offering me the podium. Oh fuck. Vaguely I remember him
saying something about friends and relatives... what was it? Oh no!
I have timed my actions
sooo
badly.

“It’s okay.” The director says softly. “I know
it’s hard to be first, but I’ll thank you right now for starting us
off. I for one am glad to hear what you remember about
Madeline.”

Oh man. I look over my shoulder at the people
gathered. They look encouragingly back at me. Awesome. I take my
place behind the podium. Aw hell... looking down, I wrack my brain
for what to say. I cross myself because it seems like the thing to
do. I raise my eyes, find Schuyler’s and open my mouth. “I haven’t
known Madeline very long.” I say. “But she really impressed me.” I
suck in my breath and straighten my shoulders. “She was brave and
strong. From the first moment we met, she treated me as if she’d
known me for years.” Here I choke up, a little embarrassing but
seemly. “I could tell she was in trouble, as I’m sure any of us
could. I wish I’d done something to help her, but the last time I
saw her she was trying to help me. Madeline was reckless, maybe,
but she had a lot of tenacity. She said what she wanted to say,
even if the consequences were going to be bad. I admired her. I can
still see the way she’d stick out her chin. She was defiant, and
maybe that put her in a bad position sometimes, I don’t know. But
to me, that’s what defined her, and what was so inspiring about
her.” I dare a look at the family. Tom and Sally are staring numbly
ahead, but Gwen is nodding at me. “I am so sorry she’s gone.” I
say. “I know I will never forget her. Mads’ face, that expression
of victory in the middle of defeat, it’s burned in my brain.” I
sniffle. “She was really someone to know.”

Wow, that was inane. I look over the small
crowd, might as well get what I came up here for, as I do I see it.
A swirl of light is hovering around the shoulders of a bright eyed
girl seated midway towards the back on my left. She’s staring at me
with recognition.

“Thank you.” I say and I leave to take my seat.
Hot damn, that was stressful. I do the awkward,
scoot-over-other-attendants thing to re-claim my spot next to
Schuyler. He’s looking at me with a carefully controlled
expression. I sit down and whisper in his ear. “Found
her.”

“Found who?" He whispers back.

I nod at the curly haired girl mid way up on
our right. She’s turned in her seat to get a better look at me.
“The person to talk to.” Now I can clearly see the swirling,
glowing nimbus of color around her head.

I have no idea what Schuyler sees. Probably
nothing because he asks, “How do you know?”

I shrug. “I see it.”

“A shadow?” He asks.

I cringe at the growing inaccuracy of the term
but I nod anyway. I’m still making eye contact with the girl. She
looks like a fountain head, turning every few seconds to check me
out. Other people have started to line up to take their turns
speaking about Mads. I try to listen, but find it impossible to
focus. The girl looks back, looks back again, looks back once more,
and this time she’s not looking at me. She’s looking past me and
her face is angry.

I spin in my seat. “Oh my God.” I breathe. It’s
that guy, the skinny white guy I mowed down outside the murder
scene. He’s just come in the back. His face is streaked with tears.
He’s the most visibly upset person I’ve seen so far. Other people
are turning now too. They don’t seem to like this dude. An angry
murmur begins to rise around me. The guy seems to expect this,
doesn’t look phased by it. That is until he notices me.

His eyes lock on mine, and suddenly they hold a
potent combination of hurt, anger and accusation. Fuck, I panic,
does he think I killed her? I have to talk to him. I’m compelled. I
leap to my feet but as I do, so do several others. I spin my head
briefly, looking for an escape route, but my row is blocked.
Without further thought, I hop up on my chair and tip it over,
freeing me to approach White Jacket Guy. This move appears to
startle him considerably. I know the noise level around me has
increased, but I can’t really hear it. I’m zoned in on White
Jacket. I take a couple of steps in his direction, and he turns on
his heel and bolts. Well, fuck that, I take off after him. He’s a
fast little sucker. Too fast. Way faster than me evidently, because
by the time I’m standing in the front yard of the funeral home,
White Jacket is in a car that’s pealing out of the parking lot. I
sigh, frustrated.

Now I feel a person standing behind my
shoulder. I turn slowly. It’s a real person. It’s the curly haired
girl with the bright eyes and the swirl of colored nimbus. “He has
a lot of nerve.” She says gesturing in the direction White Jacket
came from.

I nod. “He knows something. He has
to.”

The girl looks at me seriously. A few other
people from the service are clustered around out here within easy
hearing distance. A couple of them look like cops. I light up a
cigarette. Bright Eyes takes one of her own out of her purse. I
give her a light. “You think he did it?” She asks, blowing smoke on
her cherry.

“No.” I say it just a tad to strongly. “But he
was outside the building the last time that I saw Madeline, and I
just feel like he knows something.”

Curly hair nods. “Yeah well, I’m sure he
does.”

“I wish he hadn’t run off. I’d have liked to
talk to him.”

She smirks. “It didn’t look like you were going
to talk to him.” She says. “It looked like you were going to kick
his ass.”

I stare at her. “Why would I do
that?’

She cocks an eyebrow. “You look so familiar.”
It’s an accusation. I can feel it.

“You don’t.” I reply. “I’m Meegan Jones. Who’re
you?”

She smiles. “Rachel.” She says, pointedly
leaving off a last name.

“So Rachel,” I start. “What was up with White
Jacket dude?”

Rachel takes a drag. “He was her stalker.” She
says matter of fact.

“Really.” I say. “No wonder everyone got
mad.”

She nods. “Yeah. Half of them think he did it.
His name is Luis Finch, works at the 7-Eleven on Ashland. She used
to go there sometimes 'til she found him in her closet one night.
She got a restraining order. He posts angry love poems on the
internet.”

I laugh. “Jesus.”

“Yup.” She says. “So... I’m still trying to
place you.”

I shrug. “I work at Flagship.” I offer
helpfully.

“You go to Loyola?"

“Nope.”

“Never.” Rachel says flatly.

“Sorry.”

“Where do you live? Did you used to live in the
James Building?”

I sigh. “No. I live on Glenwood.”

“I could swear I saw you in the building, but
it was a while ago and you had flaming red hair.” There’s a
calculating look in her eyes and I don’t like it.

“I don’t think so. “ I say, but I’m looking at
the ground.

“You must’ve known the roommates, Lexi and
Sara.” Rachel winks. “It’s okay you know. I know ‘em too.” I smile
nervously. Screw the cousin story. I decide to run with it and hope
I don’t have to talk too much. I give a shrug that could mean yes.
“I thought so.” She hisses. “How long since you
partied?”

“Oh, like three years.” I say.

Her eyes go wide. “Don’t you miss the
money?”

“Sometimes.”

She hits her head with her hand. “Oh, you got
religion! I get it. Is that Schuyler Mills you were sitting with?
It all makes sense now.”

Now I’m shocked. “How do you know
him?”

A look of sympathy crosses her face. “It’s not
like that, honey.” She takes my arm. “He has money that’s all, and
his brother parties, and once his dad, great tippers. He’s the
good
one I’m told. I never knew him to party, but I guess he
must have right? At least once. I mean, if he met you.”

I smile and nod. I’m going to have to do a
little research to be sure, but I’m getting an idea of where this
is going. “Yeah. He has these spells you know.”

“Oh I
know
.” She says conspiratorially.
“Listen, you’ll have to call me sometime. I’d like to have lunch,
reminisce. You can tell me who you dated, and maybe give me some
pointers. Get my number from Lexi. I’m sure you keep up with
her.”

“In the James building.” I nod.

“Yeah.” She smiles real big. “And by the way, I
liked what you said up there. It moved me, real sweet. Meegan, you
said?”

“Yes and thanks.”

Rachel gasps. “I remember you now!” She lowers
her voice. “You used to go by Kelly right?” I smile and shrug, all
noncommittal again. “So.” She whispers, real close. “Is Meegan
you’re real name?”

“What do you think?” I ask, and then I’m
distracted. Schuyler is just now walking slowly over. “Gotta go.
See you around, Rachel.”

“Bye, sweetie.” She waves.

As quick as I can, I hustle to latch onto
Schuyler’s arm and I walk/drag him back to the Escalade. I cannot
wait to share my information, but as soon as he gets in the car he
snaps at me. “What was that about?”

“That was the guy from...”

He cuts me off. “No. Why’d you cross yourself?
You don’t believe in anything. I felt like an asshole. I felt like
you were making fun of my religion and...”

Now I’m cutting him off. “I’m not mocking you,
fuck, sorry. It just seemed like the right thing in the moment. I
didn’t know what to do.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know why you had
to get up and talk. You didn’t really know the girl, and you made
it sound like you did.”

I turn to him. “I had to see people’s faces.” I
say. “And besides that, I’m getting to know her. It’s starting to
come together. Are you going to stay mad for long? Because I’ve
gotta research some things, and if you don’t want to help, then
you’ll have to drop me at home.”

Schuyler starts the car and taps the wheel once
or twice. “No. I’m already not really mad anymore.”

I reach over and mess up his hair because I
just can’t help myself. “I’m sorry you thought I was mocking you. I
was just ad-libing up there, you know?”

He bobs his head. “Yeah, okay. I get a little
touchy I guess.”

I smile. “You’re perfect.”

Now he smiles. “Hardly.” He says but his face
says ‘aw shucks’.

“So.” I go on. “Want to hear what I
learned?”

“Sure.” He angles the car south onto the two
lane street.

“Madeline Cross was an escort. I have to do
some checking, but I’m pretty sure that’s what I found out. Also,
the guy in the white jacket’s name is Luis Finch. He works at the
7-Eleven on Ashland, but which 7-Eleven on Ashland I don’t know. He
was Mads’ stalker
and
the guy I plowed into outside the
warehouse where she was killed.” I pause to appreciate the shocked
look on Schuyler’s face. “There’s more. Mads lived in the James
building, wherever that is, went to Loyola, had roommates, or
possibly friends who were roommates with each other, named Lexi and
Sara. Lexi and Sara are also mixed up in the escort thing AND, and
this is the biggest and ever, AND Kelly, whether or not that’s me,
was an escort too.” I look at him and waggle my
eyebrows.

“Holy shit.” He says.

“I know!” I say back. I’m giddy.

“Do you think that’s true?” His voice is all
soft and serious.

“I don’t know.” I say brightly.

Tsk, he goes. “But do you think it
could
be? Like do you think you’d
do
things like that?”

“I don’t
know
Schuyler. Oh and Rachel,
who is currently an escort, knows who you are, and she believes
that you helped me get religion and took me away from all
that.”

He looks startled. “How does she know
me?”

I give a lecherous look. “How
does
she
know you?”

“I have no idea, honest.” He says, and now he
crosses himself. “You freak me out a little.” He admits.