Chasing Shadows (16 page)

"Sure, if you want, but he might be in the
bathroom or something."

I shake my head. "I can see the employee
restroom door from here. I think we'd have heard it if he went in
there anyway."

He nods.

"Hey," I say. "If he comes back in while I'm
checking, could you have him wait for me?"

Counter guy is all wide eyes and helpfulness.
"Oh yeah. Sure thing. He doesn't want to miss you."

"Cool." I reply. The door ding dongs me out.
I'm starting to breathe too fast. I've got a terrible feeling. As I
move around to the side of the store, I see another shadow dart by.
This one is just black and out of the corner of my eye, old school,
like they used to always be before I started talking to them. I
break into a jog to get to the next corner faster. As I turn, I'm
fighting down panic. I make the turn, stop and look.

I let out a sigh, nothing. He's probably
already back inside waiting on me. The alley is mostly dark, but
the area near the dumpsters is lit by a wall fixture from 7-Eleven.
There's no one here. This alley is more than wide enough to drive a
garbage truck down and it’s open all the way through to the next
street. I can see cars going by down there. I walk slowly forward
into the darkness. It's not far to the dumpster. I imagine I’m
checking for nothing, since Luis is likely inside by now. I don't
see anything amiss as I go. I walk all the way to 7-Eleven's back
door, still nothing. I turn around to go back.

There's Luis. He's sitting with his knees drawn
up to his chest, leaning on the wall and the dumpster. His hands
are hanging at his sides, forming a relaxed posture against the
cement. His eyes are closed. Did he get back here and feel sick?
Very smelly place to rest. I move slowly towards him. I have a sick
feeling myself. He's so still. I notice that Luis is wearing a
burgundy turtle neck. Is that what he had on before? I don't think
so. Did he slip it on to be warm for his trash run? As I get closer
I think that no, it's more red than burgundy. No... Not a turtle
neck dummy, that's a cut. Cut is such a small word for this big
thing. Now that I'm right up on him, I see the blood puddle forming
under his ass.

"Aw hell." I murmur. It’s another dead person.
At least I didn't watch this one die. I take a deep breath. It
occurs to me to wonder where the killer is. I realize suddenly that
Luis must have died while I was in there filling up my soda. I'm
just trying to make myself look up from the body, when I hear the
woo whoop of a police car. I drag my eyes away from Luis Finch and
take a sip of my Diet Coke. I see a uniformed cop get out of the
car and jog down the alley towards me. I sigh. I look down and
realize Luis's blood is pooling around my boots. Damn. He must have
jus
t died.

The cop has a gun out and it’s trained on me.
"Freeze. Put your hands on your head!" She shouts.

Huh. I didn't know the officer was a woman.
It's so hard to tell in the dark at a distance. I raise my hands
slowly. "What do you want me to do with the soda?"

There's another woo whoop. I look behind me,
another cop car at the other end of the alley, another officer
running with a gun. They must've already been on the way when I
walked around the building. Who could've called them? I look up and
around at the surrounding buildings. I don't see any windows, but
then I'm in a spot light looking up into the dark. Maybe the caller
witnessed the murder from the street. Maybe the killer called it
in.

"Hands on your head!" The new officer shouts.
This one's a man. My arms are already raised but I guess this isn't
good enough. I sigh and hold the soda upright on top of my head.
"Step away from the dumpster." Says the man cop.

I oblige, lifting my feet out of the blood one
at a time and backing up. I leave little half moons of blood on the
concrete from my boots. Man I'm so thirsty all of a sudden. I
really, really want to drink this Diet Coke. With some more angry
shouting, the police get me up against the wall. They frisk me and
take my bag, my phone and my lighter. The soda gets set on the
pavement, forgotten by them, not by me. If I'm having any emotional
reaction to Luis's death it’s muted. I'll freak out about it later,
maybe. All I can think now is that this is going to be a long ass
night. Police stations are like emergency rooms: all red lights and
noise so you can wait, wait, wait to be processed. I'm sure more
people die in ER waiting rooms than anywhere else in the country.
Also I believe the phrase STAT is a joke.

The male officer, I'll call him Grumble Pants,
herds me into the back of his cruiser.
Now
I want to call
Schuyler. It goes as I've predicted. Wait: tick, tock, wait: tick,
tock and then please wait some more.

Finally Grumble Pants opens the door. "I have a
few questions for you."

I shake my head and because I'm feeling pissy I
say, "I need to speak to a female officer. I have a history of
sexual trauma. I can't talk to men in authority."

Grumble Pants glares at me.

I stare guilelessly back. He must've just had a
refresher course in sexual harassment, because he slams the door
without further discussion. After a time, the female officer heads
my way.

She opens the door and gives me a look that
says
thou shalt not get away with shit
. "Miss Jones, what
were you doing in the alley?"

"I came to talk to Luis Finch." I
reply.

"You often meet him in alleys?"

I shake my head. "His shift was almost over. I
was waiting for him in the store while he took out the trash. He
never came back. I went to check on him. I found him right there.
Then you came."

"You still live on Glenwood?" Ooo, a reader of
ID cards.

"Yes Ma'am." I answer.

"You don't seem to upset about finding a body."
She eyes me coldly.

I shrug. "I don't know him. You know
him?"

She glares at me. "Why were you meeting
him?"

I sigh. Here it comes. "A girl I knew briefly
died recently, Madeline Cross." At the mention of the name the
officer holds her breath. It's subtle but I catch it and make a
mental note. "Luis knew her. I saw him at the memorial. Other
people there said he was her stalker, so I figured he'd know
something and I wanted to talk to him."

"He agreed to talk to you?"

I nod. "I just told him I knew Madeline, and he
told me when he got off work."

The officer puts one hand on her hip, and with
the other she closes the door. I lean back in the seat and rest my
eyes. No sense in getting all agitated. With a story like mine
they're bound to take me in for questioning. Damn I'm
thirsty.

***

I'm sitting in a tiny white room. There's a
table, and on each side of it is a hard metal chair, one of which I
occupy. Up in the corner there is a video surveillance camera. I
don't know how long I've been in here. They took my boots because
of the blood on them, so I'm in sock feet. This is great. I wish I
were sleepy, I'd take a nap. I haven't seen any shadows since the
one outside of seven eleven. I wonder if counter guy got dragged in
as well. Probably not, but just to appease my sense of fairness I'm
spending a certain amount of time imagining his interrogation. I
bet he gets nervous when he tells them about the soda he didn't
charge me for, the soda I wish I had right now. I'm still thirsty,
and I need a smoke, but I know better than to complain. I wonder
when I should ask for my phone call.

The door swings open, and through it comes the
female officer from the murder scene. She's removed her hat and I
can see she has light brown curly hair tied up in a pony tail. She
crosses the room to sit in the chair opposite me. She's carrying a
manila folder which she leaves closed in front of her on the table.
I can see my name in a bold font on the tab. Oh goody, they looked
me up.

"So, Miss Jones." She starts. "Let's go over
this again."

"May I have you're name?" I ask before she can
distract me with more questions, and I end up having to think of a
moniker for her.

She cocks an eyebrow. "I'm Officer
Burns."

"Thank you." No reason not to be
polite.

"So why were you in the alley?"

I groan inwardly but try to keep my voice
pleasant. "I had been waiting for Luis inside and he was taking a
long time, so I went to check on him."

"And?"

"And I found him like you saw him."

"Why was there blood on your boots?" She asks
as if this is an important mystery and not an obvious
point.

"I saw him sitting there and I went closer to
see if he was breathing. That's when I noticed the blood on his
shirt. I was staring at him when I heard your siren, Officer Burns.
I looked up and saw you. When I looked back down again the blood
had pooled around my feet."

"So there wasn't blood on the ground when you
first approached the victim?"

"No Ma'am." I say. "I actually thought he was
wearing a turtle neck. It looked wrong though. That's part of why I
approached him, to see what was up with his clothes."

"His clothes, not to check his
breathing?"

"That too." I shrug. This isn't going well. "He
just looked wrong, the clothes, the stillness, his position, it all
looked off."

She presses her lips together before speaking.
"His position was off you said? How so?"

I'm having a hard time trying not to roll my
eyes. Are they
trained
to be obtuse? "First off, I thought
it was weird that he was sitting on the ground by the dumpster at
all. Second, his arms were just draped by his sides resting on the
ground. That didn't seem normal to me either. I don't know about
you, but I try not to touch filthy things and the ground by a
dumpster is gross and it smells bad. Why would anyone
hang
out
by a dumpster?" My voice is getting high, not a good sign.
If you show the police that you're irritated with them, they just
work extra hard to be nasty. Officer Burns opens the file she
brought in with her. She isn't volunteering any response to my
little speech. I dislike her for a moment before I remember I don't
really care. This is as good a way to fill my time as any I
suppose. Hell it’s not like I have a job to go to.

"So, Meegan, right?"

"Yes Ma'am."

"We have you on file from an incident in
February of 2008. That's almost three years ago now." I nod. She's
not looking at me, so maybe she doesn't notice. A few moments tick
by. Maybe she's waiting for something. If she's waiting for me to
say anything she can just sit there. Now she looks up. "Remember
anything yet?" She asks it like an accusation.

"No Ma'am." I say.

She nods. "Why were you meeting Mr.
Finch?"

I sigh, I can't help it. "I thought he might
know something about Madeline."

"Madeline Cross." She says.

I nod.

Officer Burns folds her hands in front of her.
"How did you know Miss Cross?"

I bite my lip. "I just ran into her and she
said she recognized me from before." The Officer's perfectly
groomed eyebrows contract making tiny vertical lines between them.
"From before your incident." She gestures towards the
file.

"Yes Ma'am." I say.

"Did she give you a name?"

"No." I say, deliberately misinterpreting the
question. Madeline never did give me her name.

Officer Burns changes topics. "You told Officer
Clark that you have a history of sexual trauma. Is that something
you remembered?"

I shake my head. "No Ma'am, recent
history."

"How recent?" The police woman asks.

"Yesterday." I say staring at her.

She looks categorically unimpressed. "Have you
filed charges?"

If that's my record in front of her she must
know the answer. "No."

"Are you planning to?" She asks
flatly.

"No." I say.

"And why not?" The officer taps her fingers on
the table.

I notice her short clean nails. "Does this have
anything to do with Luis's death?" Okay, so I'm getting
snotty.

"Does it?" She asks.

"No." I reply.

"Sexual predators will never change their
behavior if they get away with it, Miss Jones." Now she sounds like
a mom. "You need to have some regard for the next victim don't you
think? That is, if anything actually happened to you."

I sigh. "There was room for misinterpretation.
I don't think he's a predator, a creep maybe, but not a criminal.
He thought I wanted to fuck him. I told him to stop. I told him no.
He felt me up. He copped a feel, sort of forcefully, but he didn't
leave any bruises, and eventually when I kept insisting that I
really
didn't want him, he let me go."

"Were you drinking?" She asks
dourly.

"No, and would it matter?"

Officer Burns shrugs. "Would it?"

I feel tears spring up in my eyes and I hate
her for it.