by Ker Dukey
“I’m going to catch him, Lizzy. I promise. Until then, I think we need to consider some form of protection.” His promises mean nothing if I’m not alive to see it happen. His protection did nothing to help my mother. “I’m going to station someone outside your apartment for your safety.”
Straightening my shoulders, I say, “Don’t do me any favors.” Before turning away from him, I make my way in the direction of work. I’m not going to school until they find him.
“I’m going to need the jeans, Lizzy. Please let an officer take you home,” he calls after me.
“I’ll bring them to you,” I shout back. Footfalls pound the pavement behind me, and Stephan calls out. “Stephan, stay back,” I tell him, holding out my hands.
“What’s going on, Liz?”
“I’m not safe to be around. Please just stay away from me.” Guilt, anger, and fear washes around inside me, tainting my soul.
“I won’t let you push me away.” He shakes his head, a look of genuine concern on his face.
“I’m trying to keep you safe!” I bellow, throwing my hands up in the air, ignoring curious stares from a passerby.
“I don’t need you to keep me safe, Liz. Let me keep you safe. Its women being murdered.”
Women who all know me in some way. He must not be far if he killed her while she was walking Bruno. “Lee, the cat feeder, was murdered because he came to help me,” I choke out, a cold hand squeezing my chest.
“I don’t give a fuck who’s out there. I’m not letting you walk around alone. I just fucking won’t. You can either accept that and let me be the friend you need, or I’ll follow you anyway.”
Tears fall, and a stone lodges in my throat. “I love you. Stephan loves you. This coldness you throw out will push people away. Let us love you.” Charlotte’s words dance in the forefront of my mind, urging me to take what’s offered and give some part of myself in return. Wrapping my arms around him, I sigh into his embrace, allowing myself the comfort, even if having his hands on me makes me cringe internally. I’m so fucking broken, my best friend’s touch makes me recoil, yet Clark’s made me crave more.
“I need to go home to change.” I sniffle, pulling away and swiping my eyes.
With a slight gesture of his hand behind him, he says, “I’ll take you.”
Fifteen
When we finally make it to work, the place is dead. Jeff eyeballs me from across the room where he’s sitting in a booth with a young girl. I round the counter and deposit my coat and purse in the back room. Charlotte is standing at the counter, waiting for me with a scathing glare. “Hey, who is that with Jeff?” I nudge her with my hip.
She smacks her gums together and snorts. “Jailbait by the looks of her, but don’t even try to avoid the ass whooping you deserve,” she hisses, slapping my arm.
“Ouch,” I growl, rubbing where she hit in a circular motion to alleviate the sting.
“Why the hell did you run away?” she demands, fists bunched at her sides.
Closing my eyes, I exhale an exhausted breath. “I freaked out, okay? I’m sorry, I just—”
“Why are you even here?” she cuts me off, looking up at the clock with a raised eyebrow.
“The body…I think I know who it is,” I whisper to her, not wanting anyone to overhear…not that there is anyone to overhear.
“Are you joking?” She steps away from me, not deliberately conscious of it, like her body is using self-preservation.
“I don’t think you should stay at the apartment anymore,” I urge, dropping my gaze to her feet.
She appears to ponder this, looking over at Jeff and the young girl he’s with. “What if it’s Jeff? I can see him turning serial killer because no one bones him.” She wrinkles her nose. Is she serious?
“If it were Jeff, you’d already be dead. Charlotte, come on, I’m being serious.” I pull the notepad on the counter over and begin doodling. Marco.
“Jeff wouldn’t kill me. I gave him a blowy once.” She casually drops that information like she’s talking about making him a coffee, and I almost drop the pen.
“What the hell?” I screech out, gaining Jeff’s and a customer’s attention. I offer a polite smile in apology and drag Charlotte by the arm into the back. “What the hell?” I gag.
She shrugs. “Who do you think covered our rent last month?”
Ew. “Charlotte,” I breathe, bringing her into my body for a hug. “I caught him jerking it in his office once.” I cringe. How the hell could she go near his junk—and with her mouth?
“I caught him jerking it in his car out back,” she counters, and we both break into a fit of giggles that turn into weird fits of laughter and crying, emotions swirling like the current of a turbulent ocean.
“You never have to do things like that. We will figure that shit out together. I’ll borrow the money from my aunt if we have to.” I sniffle, wiping my nose with a napkin.
She pulls back, swiping the black mascara smudged under her eyes. “Seriously, it lasted less than a minute. Don’t worry that pretty virginal head over it.” She pats my head and goes back to serve a customer who just came in.
When she’s done, I grab her arm again, turning her to face me. “I’m serious about you staying away from the apartment.”
“I’m not leaving you or letting some fucking psycho push me out of my own home.” Her face turns red, her voice bordering on hysterics.
“Okay, okay, shhh…” I bring her back in for another hug, grateful this crazy woman is my best friend.
“Everything okay?” Stephan joins us at the counter, his eyes flitting around the shop, worried we’re causing a scene.
“Thank you for driving me to work, but you can go to class now. Honestly, I’m going to stay here until my shift starts, then maybe I can call you for a ride home?”
His gaze is probing, making me fidget. “Only if you’re sure?”
“She’s fine, Stephan. I’ll look out for her.” Charlotte rolls her eyes, her tone tiresome.
“Did I hear you say you sucked that old man’s cock?” Stephan mocks, his eyes narrowed, a sneer hooking his lips.
“Oh, kiss my ass,” she hisses.
The young girl sitting with Jeff stands to leave, shaking his hand and gliding across the room like a runway model. Both Charlotte and I grimace when Jeff tilts his head to watch her short skirt flirt with the line of her ass.
“You aren’t on until two,” Jeff informs me, dragging his sweaty body to the counter, Stephan backs away with a hand wave. “Laters.”
“Don’t get hit by a car or murdered by the serial killer,” Charlotte calls out after him, waving her fingers, a sickly smile plastered on her face.
“Charlotte,” I snap, gaping at her. She shrugs unapologetically.
“I’m only paying you for the shift you’re down to work,” Jeff interrupts, ignoring everything else.
“Who’s the twinkle-eyed Barbie?” Charlotte asks, tilting her head to the door.
“Why, you jealous?” Jeff licks his thin lips, his eyes roaming up Charlotte's cleavage. Pig.
“Ew, gross.” She gags.
“She’s going to be working here starting next week. Gaby quit,” he announces, rubbing a hand down his nonexistent beard.
“What? Why?” Charlotte gasps, wiping down a tray.
Jerking his shoulder, he says, “Fuck knows. She skipped her last three shifts.”
Our heads turn to stare at each other before returning to him. “Jeff, did you try calling her?”
Picking up his paper, he rounds the counter. “I shouldn’t have to chase my staff. She made her choice by not showing up.”
We follow him to his office. “You know there’s a killer on the loose butchering women, for fuck’s sake,” Charlotte barks, grabbing the phone off the wall and flitting through the numbers on the pad next to it. That’s all Jeff had to do. I chew my nails, my feet anxiously pacing back and forth. “Nothing.” She puts the phone down.
“I’ll go over there,�
�� I announce, hating the idea, but also knowing I have to check on her. I have to know she’s okay.
“No way, Liz.” Charlotte shakes her head, her arms folding around herself.
“You’re both being ridiculous. Go back to work,” Jeff grumbles, squeezing his fat ass into the straining chair.
“I’m not on shift,” I remind him. Charlotte looks pale, her eyes unfocused. “It will be fine,” I assure her. “I’ll just go over there. If anything looks off, I’ll call the police.”
“As long as you’re back for your shift,” Jeff grunts.
“Fuck off, Jeff,” Charlotte snaps.
“Who’s the boss here?” he barks back, stretching his neck to look over his shoulder at us.
“It will be fine,” I assure her again, walking back into the shop.
I’m just about to leave when Clark walks through the front door, heading straight for us.
“Hey.” He smiles, looking between Charlotte and me. Dipping his head to the counter, an enchanting smile kisses his lips. “Polo,” he says, and my knees almost buckle. Clearing my throat, I say, “What did you say?” He taps his finger on the notepad where I’ve scribbled Marco over and over. “Polo.” The words slide over his tongue, slow, deliberate.
Snatching up the pad, Charlotte tears off the paper, scrunches it up, and tosses it in the trash. “Stop ruining the notepads with your scribblings,” she huffs.
“Did you get whatever it was taken care of?” Clark asks, dampening his lips with his tongue. I follow his path, wishing it was my tongue. Catching myself before I begin to drool, I tuck a curtain of hair behind my ear, nodding my head.
“You want in Lizzy’s pants, right?” Charlotte spews out of nowhere, making me die a thousand times over. He raises both eyebrows, his teeth biting down on his bottom lip, staring at me.
“Oh my god, ignore her,” I rush out, going around the counter and attempting to drag him away from her. Heat spreads up my neck and over my chest. I’m never going to recover from that outburst.
“No—wait!” Charlotte chases after us. “I just mean, you care about her, right? She has to go check up on someone. I don’t think she should go alone, so…” Folding her arms, she cocks her hip, her eyes laser focused on him.
Looking between us, he nods his head. “Okay. Sure. I’ll go with her, if she wants me to…” His head tilts down to read my face.
I’m going to kill her. “Thanks, that would be great.” I smile awkwardly.
“Call me as soon as you know anything,” Charlotte tells me, shoving us toward the door.
“She’s intense.” Clark grins down at me, a twitch flickering in his eyelid. It’s obvious he’s not comfortable around her, but is good at faking it. I appreciate his effort.
“There was a murder. That’s why she dragged me away this morning,” I inform him, inclining my head to look up at him.
A shadow passes through his eyes, fleeting, but it was there. “Another one?” Concern draws his brows.
I nod. “Looks like a serial killer.”
He looks away, pushing his hands into his pockets. “Doesn’t a serial killer have to kill more than two people?”
I stop walking, looking up into those eyes of his. “Three or more actually.” Is that common knowledge?
“You want me to drive?” He’s casual, this topic not shocking or surprising to him.
“Are you a cop?” I blurt out.
Large eyes spring wide. His broad chest shakes as he laughs out loud. It’s genuine, deep and rumbling. He places a hand to his stomach. “God, no.” Amusement glimmers in his eyes, making them impossibly bright. Such a beautiful man.
“What does that mean?” I reach out without thinking and pick a piece of lint from his jacket. My hand and body still when he stops walking and places his hand over mine before I can pull it away.
“It means I’d never be a cop. I don’t trust them.” I want his touch to last forever, but I know it’s impossible. Within seconds, he releases me, and the echo of his touch dances over my hands. “Did you want to go back and get my car?”
“No.” I shake my head, gesturing forward. “She lives a couple blocks down.”
“Who is she?” he asks, blowing on his hands to warm them.
“A girl who hasn’t been showing up for her shift. With everything that’s going on, I want to make sure she’s okay.”
He reaches for my arm, halting us from proceeding. “Shouldn’t we call someone else to check on her, like authorities?” he asks, his tone controlled.
“I have to know she’s okay,” I tell him, pulling away and continuing without him. He catches up to me and places his hand on my shoulder. It’s comforting and warm. I want to curl into him and feel protected in his hold. “Thanks for coming with me,” I murmur almost under my breath.
“I’m glad your friend asked,” he tells me.
We walk in silence, heavy anticipation hanging in the air between us. What if she’s not okay and I walk into another crime scene?
“It’s this one.” I nod to her house. It belonged to her grandma who left it to her in her will. It’s large, the grass overgrown, curtains pulled, blocking the view inside.
His hand comes down on mine, pulling it away when I go to open the gate. “Don’t touch anything. Stay here, okay?” he urges, his expression filled with confidence. He’s not scared of what he might find, and it’s oddly comforting.
“Okay.” I pull at the sleeves of my top, covering my hands and folding them under my armpits so I don’t pick at the scabs on my palms.
Clark pushes open the gate with his foot and goes inside. He cups his hands, trying to look through the front window. Moving to the door, he knocks, then opens the letterbox and calls out, “Hello?”
Nothing.
Looking back at me, he shrugs, scratching his head. “I’m going to go look around the back. Wait there. Don’t move.” It’s a command, not a request, and strangely sends my heart stampeding.
“Yes, sir.” I raise a brow.
“Please,” he adds, placing his palms together. I nod, and he disappears from view. Anxiety eats through my stomach. I nibble my thumbnail, looking around the street, debating if it’s worth asking the neighbors if they’ve seen her. Minutes pass, excruciatingly slow. God, what if he managed to get inside and she’s dead in there? A lock unbolting sends a flurry of apprehension through my blood. The door opens, and I hold my breath. Clark’s beautiful frame fills the space, and then Gaby slips past him, waving her hand. Oh, thank god. She gestures for me to come inside, and I almost cry at the sight of her.
Once inside, she hugs me, beaming from ear to ear. “I’m sorry. I was napping.”
“Where have you been?” I exclaim. Looking around the old-fashioned décor, you can practically taste the dust in the air.
“It’s a long story. Well,…not that long. I met someone.” She beams.
I look at Clark. His shoulders are stiff as he looks to the shaggy carpet at our feet, then back to her. “Really?”
“I’m moving. It’s fast, I know, but I’m running out of baby-making years, so I decided what the hell?” She’s animated, slapping her hands together, nudging farther inside the house.
“Lizzy thought you’d been killed by a serial killer,” Clark mumbles. I nudge him with my hip when Gaby’s face falls. Hitching a shoulder, he mouths, “What?”
“He’s joking,” I lie, “but you could have called one of us.”
“Oh.” She giggles, copper ringlets bouncing around her face. “I was going to call. It just happened so fast.” She cringes.
“Well, Jeff has given your position away, so I guess it’s meant to be. Good luck. Call us once you settle?” I give her a brief hug.
“I will. Again, I’m sorry for not calling. I was going to.”
“We’re just glad you’re alive,” Clark states, patting her shoulder and exiting through the front door. Gaby follows his departure, her mouth agape.
“See you,” I say again, waving as I follow C
lark.
When we’re back on the street, Clark places a hand to his chest. “I really thought I was going to find her in a bathtub or something.”
“I’m sorry.” I grimace. “I honestly didn’t know what to expect. Everything has been so grim lately.”
Studying me, he says, “I heard about the guy falling in our apartment building, I saw you at the station.”
“I know.” I smile, but it drops when I think of Lee. He didn’t fall.
“Did you see anything that night? Someone in the building or looking suspicious outside?”
Scratching the back of his neck, he shakes his head. “I was just getting home and saw the commotion. Did you know the man?”
“No, not really. He lived in the building next to ours. I think this killer is coming for me.” My honesty shocks us both. Clasping my wrist, he pulls me into him, strong arms engulfing my body. Placing my palms against his chest, I breathe him in, unable to tear myself away. He strokes down my hair, then guides me to part from him, his finger cupping my chin so tenderly, my heart stutters. “Let them come. I’ll keep you safe.” The words caress like a touch, and then he’s walking again. It takes me a couple seconds to catch my breath before I jog to keep up.
“Thanks again for coming with me. Can I get you a coffee on the house?” I jerk a thumb to the shop we’ve made it back to without any bodies to report. Shaking his head, he says, “I was just coming in to check on you. I have some things to do, but maybe we could get dinner sometime?”
“Dinner—like a date?” Embarrassed, I turn from his gaze, hiding beneath the veil of hair hanging loose.
“Like a date.” Amusement coats his words, making me blush.
“Sure. I’d like that.” I kick at nothing, biting my lip until it’s painful.
Before we can say anything else, Charlotte walks through the door. “Well?” She exclaims.
Well indeed.
