Chasing Shadows (33 page)

"Oh. Now? Because I have plans tonight." What
is that feeling?

She shakes her head. "I'm off duty. You want to
come join us?" It doesn't sound like a question as much as an
order.

"I guess." I say quietly. I don't know if she
heard me. I shouldn't have come in here. She turns her back to me
and I follow her to a table. There's a guy sitting there with
thinning hair. Now that I know to picture him in uniform it seems
obvious. "Officer Clark." I say as I sit down.

"Miss Jones." He nods. "Interesting to see you
here. You meeting somebody?"

I laugh nervously. "You I guess." They both
just look at me. I shrug and wonder what it is that I'm supposed to
be learning and when I can leave. Why don't I see my
shades?

"So what brings you here?" Burns
asks.

"I don't know." I say. "I walk around a lot. I
was just headed down the street and I saw the tables outside. The
glass out there actually, it looked familiar so I thought I'd come
in and see what this place was like. I didn't know it was a cop
bar." Now they're looking at me like I'm nuts. See? See where the
truth can get you?

Clark shakes his head. "You're an odd girl, you
know that?"

I smile. "It's the brain damage."

Burns sips her beer. "I was going over your
file. Actually there's not that much, brain damage, I
mean."

I sip my beer. I like it. It's cold.

Clark holds my eye contact. "I bet you see some
interesting things. You walk all night?"

I nod. "Some nights, when I'm off work. A lot
of nights."

Officer Clark shifts forward a bit. "You're not
scared to be out alone at night?"

I look at him to be sure but he seems
legitimately interested. "Not really. I know it isn't one hundred
percent safe ,but neither is breathing, neither is smoking.
Speaking of which, can I smoke? You mind?" I'm feeling so jittery.
Maybe a cigarette will help.

"Go ahead." Clark says. He turns to Burns. "Can
we ask her about the photos?" Ah, so that's what this is about. I
light up.

Burns shrugs. "You ever been mistaken for
somebody else?"

I laugh. "Hell if I know. I know what you mean,
and yes sometimes, like I told you the last time we talked. It's
just, how would I know if the person is making a mistake? I could
be anybody."

"Did you ever notice anyone following you?"
Clark asks.

I shake my head. "No. I can be pretty
oblivious."

"You don't seem very surprised at my question
Miss Jones."

"Call me Meegan, please. The Miss Jones stuff
is getting on my nerves. Makes me feel like I'm in trouble." I
hope
that's what's giving me the feeling.

He smiles. "Okay, Meegan."

Nope, not any better. "And do I have to call
you Officer Clark? You're not even on duty right now." I gesture
towards his beer.

"You can call me Aaron." The look on his face,
his tone, they
should
put me at ease.

"And you? Can I call you Darcy if you're not
actually interrogating me?"

She bristles. "No. You can call me Ms. Burns if
Officer is too intimidating for you."

I smile. "Okay."

"You didn't answer the question, Meegan." Aaron
says.

"You didn't ask a question, Aaron." I avert my
eyes. I feel a little prickle on the back of my neck. Not the cool
familiar touch of a shade. More like someone's watching me. I take
a swig of my beer while scanning to room. Everything seems
fine.

Aaron nods. "That's fair. Are you surprised
that we want to know if you suspected someone was following
you?"

Dread... "No." I want to turn in my chair and
check out what's behind me, but I know that'd look
suspicious.

"Why not Miss Jones?"

Oh hell, I can't put it off. I turn. My eyes
scan the bar, scan the tables... Oh shit. I whip back around. I
have no idea what my face is doing. I can see my hands shake
though. It's the buzz cut guy, the home depot killer, Spade Man,
here in a cop bar. My heart is racing. I look up at Aaron and Ms.
Burns. They're staring at me like I'm crazy. This is
not
going well. Note to self: no new places unless I actually
see
a shade, not just some dumb ass glass.

"I gotta go." I murmur. I stand abruptly and
book it to the door. I don't care what the Officers think. I have
got to get out of here. The cold air hits me like a punch in the
face. I tremble and speed walk to the end of the block. As I turn
the corner I look behind me. No one's there. Thank God. I take deep
breaths and try to slow my heart rate down. Maybe he didn't see
me... whatever. I check behind me again, still alone. Trembling
makes it difficult to work the zipper on my jacket. I have to stare
at my hands to make them obey me. There, the zipper catches and I
pull it up. I'm just raising my head again when I feel a horrible
shock on my ass. I'm aware of the sidewalk rushing towards me and
then nothing.

Chapter Fifteen

Oh this is
not
comfortable. I feel drool
on my chin. My palms are warm from scrapes. At least I imagine
that's the warmth because I can't see them. They're stretched
upwards and behind me. I think I'm tied to a pole. I feel something
cutting into my wrists. I shake my arms but my weight is hanging on
them. I extend my hands and feel around up there. I guess it’s a
hook, or something above me on the other side of the pole that my
wrists are hanging from. As my awareness begins to crystallize, I
can tell that my feet are tied together and lashed against the same
pole. Whatever's holding me here is thin and jabs into my skin. I'm
cold. I'm just in my underwear. Now come on, what's that about? If
you're going to strip me, why not go all the way? Why leave my bra
and panties intact? What sinister plan involves skivvies? Fuck, my
wrists hurt. I turn my head to wipe the drool off on my shoulder.
Now I bend my neck further to try and see my feet. I have just
enough slack to do it. Are those zip ties? Well that makes sense. I
take a few slow breaths and look around. Well, this
is
familiar isn't it?

I'm in a long, low room with support pillars
every so often throughout the space. Ahead of me I see a little
metal light fixture hanging from the ceiling. There are boxes all
around. Yup. This is the same room where I saw Madeline die.
Awesome. Who's gonna come watch
me
die? Something I never
noticed last time I was here, air ducts. Big, square, metal air
ducts crisscross the ceiling... great. I'll just look at those
while he beats me to death. God, I'm so stupid. As I'm thinking of
it now, I'm sure the blond guy must have left out the back of the
bar. He was probably waiting for me where the alley entrance is...
Damn it. I wish I'd crossed the street. I wish I'd gone straight to
Qasim's band practice at 7. I could be sucking face right now.
Fuck. Fucking shadow people got me into this damn mess.

Ah... there it is: that delightful coolness
that somehow takes away the pain of being so cold all over. I look
down. There's a deep dark shadow pooled on the floor. It’s
stretching little tentacles up and caressing my feet. How much do
these things know? Does it know I'm going to die? Have they all
been trying to get me killed? Have they been helping me?

"Am I an idiot for following you guys?" I
whisper. It shimmies back and away, out of my field of vision.
"Traitor." At least you could stick around while whatever happens
happens.

Christ, I feel alone. But hey that jumpy
feeling of dread is gone. Maybe I can make a good showing. Of all
the things Madeline Cross was, I know she was ballsy. I sigh. Guess
it’s my turn. And as if on queue there's a noise from the far end
of the room. Sure enough, here comes the big guy. The look on his
face is grim as he crosses the room towards me. I don't know why,
but I expect him to say something with that sad, worn out look. He
doesn't. He just continues up at a constant rate of speed. He's
almost to me when I see that he's drawn his left fist back. Oh
fuck. Slam! His big meaty fist contacts my stomach driving me
against the cement pole. A whoosh escapes me. I don't even yell
because I can't breathe. Shit this hurts. My eyes water. After a
second my body does its survival thing. I gasp, sucking air back
into my lungs, and now I'm overtaken with a fit of coughing. I
guess smoking a pack a day has not prepared me to take a beating.
When I'm quiet again the man addresses me.

"So, Meegan Jones, Why did you ruin my
life?"

I stare at him. Is he serious? "I don't know
what you mean."

Slam! Crack! He gets the same spot. Some animal
noise escapes through my gritted teeth. What was the crack? Was it
a rib or my spine? I can't tell. All of it hurts. I gasp some more.
I can still feel my feet so there's a chance its not spinal damage.
Tears are dripping down my face and I'm not afraid anymore. This
sucks, but a few more good solid punches and I'll be dead. I wonder
if there's a heaven. Damn. I should've thought of that yesterday.
I'm breathing close to normal now. The blond man is staring at me.
Is he waiting for something? I meet his eyes.

"What?"

He laughs a little. Good, glad to brighten his
day. "Why did you ruin my life?" He asks again. His tone is so
reasonable, nothing like the rage he had for Mads.

I sigh and that leads to coughing which sends
shooting pain through my whole torso. I grit my teeth. "I saw you
kill Mads." I manage.

He nods. "So, you decided to investigate. You
found out who I am. You discovered Luis Finch's dark room when
months of police investigation couldn't. You called it in. You
wrecked my career. You dug up everything I ever did wrong and
dragged it out for the department. They haven't pieced it together
yet, but they're about to, soon. Do you
know
what its like
for a cop in jail? I can't go there. I'll have to kill myself, and
for what? To avenge your stupid whore cousin? Did you even know
her? What do you have some touching childhood memories of that
bitch? Because she was a stupid, stupid whore. She was
not
worth
my life! Do you understand me? Do you have any idea how
many criminals I've put away?
My
life
means
something. I've done a lot, everything, for this city. Seventeen
years of service and you ruined all of it over what? Over a sick,
evil, little prostitute!"

Damn he's sure giving me a lot of credit. I
take shallow breaths to keep the pain down. "So, you're a
cop."

He looks at me dumb founded. Now anger replaces
confusion and he draws back and slaps me. Fuck. I taste blood. I
can tell he didn't use his full force because I'm
conscious.

"Tell me why!" He growls. "Give me something.
Tell me your cousin had some big, fat, heart of gold. Tell me why
you ruined my life."

I take it he's telling me that I'm not Kelly
Morgan. How does he know? I brace myself, this is going to hurt.
"She's not my cousin. Kelly Morgan, as far as I've been able to
find out, is no blood relative of mine and I never knew her. I just
said she was my cousin to get information." I close my eyes and
wait for the blow... I wait... Well shit. Maybe he wants me to see
it coming. I can't stand to wait anymore so I peek.

He's looking at my eyes. "So you destroyed me
just because you could. Maybe you
are
her cousin and don't
know it, because you're both stupid bitches." He winds up but stops
mid swing when I open my mouth.

"Is that
cop
cussing? Are the only bad
words you know bitch and whore? Is calling me stupid the worst
you've got? Try cunt bag, cum catcher, ass wrangler, fuck twat,
thunder cunt..."

Slam-crack-whack, a punch and a slap. I grin
through the pain. This man has no imagination. I see him draw back
his foot. Oh hell. I watch it arc in slow motion. I'm still as bent
as I can get from trying to breathe so I have a perfect view as his
size unholy-huge boot makes contact with my twat.

"Fuck!" I yell when the scream wears itself
down. "Ah, fuck, bastard, fuck!" Jesus H. Christ, this hurts. I
can't even see straight. I wonder if more traditional forms of
torture would be better. Would having a couple of fingers cut off
be easier to take? I better not think on it too hard. I look up. Oh
yeah, the air ducts. I was supposed to be watching the air ducts
while this happens. I grunt and lift my face. I bet my nose is
broken. "I know your name is... what was it? Evan Sturgis. But who
is Harley?"

He looks at me stupid. "I'm Harley."

I grunt some more. "You're Evan. Where would
somebody get Harley out of that? You a motorcycle cop?"

"Sturgis." He says.

I look at him. Blood is dripping out of my
mouth. "I don't get it."

He tilts his head like he's studying a new
species. "There's a motorcycle rally every year in Sturgis. It’s a
big thing."

"Huh." I say, tasting snot as it runs down my
face. "So Sturgis is a place." Damn. There is so much pop culture
I'm not aware of, it's crippling.

"Yeah it’s a place."

I nod which hurts. "I should have Googled you.
I don't know why I didn't. Busy watching
Zombieland
I guess."