The Family Cross

by Gabrielle Ash

  “Where are you headed, miss?” the cab driver asked as I opened the door. I didn’t see what he looked like because my eyes weren’t on him.

  They were on the blond man on the corner. Cell phone and pomade and shirt collar on end. He was staring at me too.

  When he noticed I saw him, he smiled.

  Two

  I had worn lipstick for so long I could put it on without a mirror most days, but fear had hijacked every nerve in my body, and I couldn’t properly hold the tube. After watching my bright-red lipstick smear along the thick fibers of my wool rug, I decided to give up on it and use gloss instead. Gloss didn’t require much accuracy.

  He’d smiled at me.

  Popped Collar, with all the dramatic flair of an actor on a stage, peeled back his lips and grinned.

  “It’s like he knew,” I muttered to myself as I pulled my rug off the floor. White, silky fur. Red lipstick. Ruined.

  My workday had been a wash. There was only so much a girl could do after a threat, and that creep had smiled at me like he knew what Coat Guy had said. Even worse, he smiled like he knew I’d found out his intent and he liked it. So despite the mountain of paper work sitting on my desk, I got nothing accomplished. A customer defaulting on their payments couldn’t overcome the desire to barricade myself in my condo in an effort to hide from the danger.

  How was I supposed to move on after a threat like that? Nothing actually happened, so I couldn’t call the police. All I could really do was wallow in how weird it was.

  Take a cab…he’s following you…

  I dropped my rug and grabbed the edge of the bathroom counter, cool marble shocking the tips of my fingers. I focused on the light scent of vanilla floating from the wax warmer plugged into the wall and tried to ground myself to the reality that I was fine. If Popped Collar had been following me, I got away. I had more important things to worry about than an allegation from a jerk that probably wasn’t true in the first place.

  Long, slow breaths brushed past my lips as a chant of sorts repeated in my brain. You’re fine, Tilly. Just fine.

  After a few more moments, I let go of the counter and picked up my rug again. The odds of me sleeping later tonight weren’t great, and maybe after working the thing over with some vinegar I could salvage it. I didn’t have a roommate, and I definitely wouldn’t be inviting Richard to stay the night. There wouldn’t be much else to do but clean anyway.

  Each quarter, the Ashby Corporation participated in a charity event to, as my father said, help the brand. Every decision my father made was a business decision, and the meticulous nature of his decision-making extended to the eyes of potential clients. Tonight, there was a fundraiser to benefit a local children’s hospital, to help the brand and all, and out of his charities, it was the only one I felt he might actually care about. If I stayed home, he would notice. The whole Popped Collar thing would continue to bother me no matter the location, so if I went to the fundraiser, at least I wouldn’t elicit my father’s wrath too.

  I walked to the laundry room and tossed the rug on top of the washing machine before a sharp succession of knocks billowed across the dark wood floor and into my ears. My feet, while in reality only being weighed down by heels, had all the weight of my dread bolting them to the floor. It took an inhuman amount of effort to get them moving again.

  My hand, heavy with boredom already, made turning the knob a task. But the door did eventually open and reveal my date for the evening on the other side.

  I had known Richard Jones my whole life. His father, Edgar, was the chief financial officer of the Ashby Corporation. Edgar had helped my father grow his company from a small warehouse creating email and chat systems for local businesses to a world leader in business communication solutions. My father didn’t really need the money from a large corporation—our ancestors had set us up a long time ago—but Edgar had been critical in the business taking off, nevertheless.

  Thanks to both their secure software and cost-effective services, the pair had reigned supreme in their forty-six-story monolith in Midtown Manhattan for thirty-five years. The closeness of our fathers meant we had been in close proximity to one another since birth, and aside from my family, I’d probably known Richard the longest. Yet despite the years of knowing one another, the only reason I’d agreed to go on a date with him in the first place was my father. An accountant fresh out of Columbia was a promising thing to many men, my father had said, and it was best to stick with one I’d known for years.

  Agreeing to go along with my father’s desires for my dating life was one of the stupider things I’d done in the last three months.

  Richard, both unaware I’d opened the door and enraptured with his phone, didn’t notice me for a good thirty seconds. Vigilant and aware were not words I would use to describe him.

  “Oh,” he said when he realized I stood there. He wore a white tuxedo and black bowtie. What my father wanted. “You ready?”

  My teeth ground together during a measured breath.

  “I suppose.” I stepped back into my condo. The echo of my Jimmy Choos colliding with the hardwood rolled off the high ceilings and white walls, shaking in my ears even as I stopped to turn off the lights. I took in my plush couch cushions and the snowy, crisp palette of colors that made up my living room. I’d almost rather saw off my own arm than leave the comfort of this to traipse around Manhattan with Richard.

  Richard wasn’t that terrible, really. He didn’t yell, and he never laid a violent hand on me, but the chemistry between us had fewer sparks than a paper sack floating in the East River. I was almost certain he’d never even hugged me, and we’d known each other for over two decades.

  He couldn’t have been less attracted to me, I was certain. Which was good and fine since I didn’t think he was attractive either. At least he wasn’t a total sleazeball, and I couldn’t say the same for a vast majority of trust funders I knew.

  “My father’s speaking tonight.” Richard put his cell phone in the inside pocket of his jacket. His dark hair, combed over and lightly gelled, shimmered in the light outside the door. “We need to hurry.”

  “I know.” I turned off the kitchen light. The only remaining light in the room came from the city skyline that hung in the center of the wide glass window in the living area. Skyscrapers and billboards, all pressed against the horizon in a spectacular amalgam of shapes and colors, made for the best view in the city. I used the balcony on the other side of the window daily. Perfect for morning coffee or reading a book.

  Even though I would much rather stay in for a quiet night alone, I picked up my clutch sitting on the table in the foyer and heaved a deep breath. I had a job to do, and my job didn’t care about the nervous knot settled in the bottom of my stomach. Popped Collar wasn’t waiting outside. He wasn’t following me anymore, if he ever had been. The only danger I had to worry about tonight was dying of boredom.

  Coincidence. Popper Collar’s smile was a coincidence.

  I locked my condo and followed Richard to the elevator. He walked so fast I struggled to keep up in my tight dress. Why did women’s formal wear allow for so little movement?

  Or maybe Richard was just inconsiderate, and it had nothing to do with my outfit.

  “My mother will be there,” he announced as the elevator doors pulled apart. He hopped on and pressed a button before I even crossed the threshold. The doors closed almost immediately and grazed my arm as I stepped inside.

  “All right.” I didn’t know why he told me that, but I didn’t like it.

  My gaze moved from the floor to Richard’s profile. He stared at his phone again, mouth hanging open like a fish. He wasn’t hideous by any means, but his mouth, always open to varying degrees, sucked anything attractive right out of him. He had to have eaten flies. That rumor about eating spiders in your sleep? I’d bet a lot of money it was true in his case.

  I looked away from Richard to my reflection in the elevator doors. I’d forgone my hair appointment after the Popped Collar
threat and tried to finagle a convincing twist on my own. I had wedged a decorative clip in it in hopes it’d hide my amateur attempt, but even the diamonds embedded along the soft curve couldn’t camouflage my lack of skill.

  Great. My father would undoubtedly notice. Richard’s mother would too.

  When the elevator stopped on the ground floor, Richard stepped through the doors before they’d fully opened. The cold air of the empty lobby billowed around my arms and legs, and the subsequent goose bumps could be seen from the Rockefeller Center…not that Richard noticed. He plowed through the lobby, ignoring anything and everything, including the player piano’s rendition of Moonlight Sonata.

  Richard didn’t wait for me by the door either. He walked right on out. The doorman who had been perched on the outside came in afterward. The furrowed brow and down-turned mouth told me enough about how his interactions with my date had gone. I made sure to apologize to him as I left the lobby.

  “What is with you tonight?” I asked when I found Richard outside the building. He stood by a black Audi on the curb with a frown on his face. His driver positioned himself by the car, ready to pop open the door.

  “Matilda—”

  “Don’t Matilda me,” I said, eyes narrowed. “You’re being rude.”

  His blue eyes flickered past me for a brief moment. He postured to readjust, like there was something behind me he didn’t want me to see. But it was too late. I had seen him look.

  “I just don’t want to miss my father’s speech.”

  I ignored Richard and looked where he had.

  There was an alley between my building and the condominium next to it. It was almost wide enough for a car to squeeze in between and usually filled with several trash cans and a pair of large dumpsters. I generally avoided walking too close to it because the smell of rotten eggs and meat made me nauseated. There was more in the alley tonight though, and my palms instantly developed a fine layer of sweat as my brain registered exactly what I saw.

  Police officers. Yellow tape.

  “Matilda.” Richard’s voice, muffled in that weird way voices tended to do when you heard them without really listening, didn’t calm me. “I didn’t want to scare you. Come on…let’s just go.”

  I sucked in a breath and squeezed my clutch tight. The smooth leather didn’t help me feel any better or make my palms stop sweating, and I wasn’t aware I was walking toward the alley until Richard sputtered in protest.

  “I want to know what’s going on. I’m the one who lives here,” I called out over my shoulder, but I didn’t listen to his response.

  Two police officers had blocked off the alley. One of them, an older man with gray hair peeking out from beneath his cap, pulled a ringing phone off his belt clip when we walked up. His navy uniform, crisp and pressed, fit loose around his belly even though it hung over his belt. The silver badge on his chest said WALDON.

  “Thank Christ,” he said into the phone with a glance behind him. His voice shook. “Hold on. I just…it’s strange. Just fucking strange. Get the coroner here. Detectives. Anyone.”

  Officer Waldon returned his phone to the clip on his waist, and despite being in a profession that demanded a certain level of awareness, he didn’t see us until Richard cleared his throat. A woman’s voice echoed from the radio clipped to Waldon’s collarbone, relaying the message he’d barked into his cell phone to other officers.

  “What happened?” I asked when he made no effort to talk to us. The warm air of the night wrapped around my legs and pulled some loose hair from my twist. “I live here. Is everything all right?”

  Waldon stood there and stared, and not out of rudeness or a lack of trying. His lips, dry and cracked, would open a little, only for him to close them again. A couple of grunts shook his chest, but still no words.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am,” the officer next to him cut in. “He’s in shock, I think.”

  Another warm breeze rolled along my arms as I acknowledged the other officer. Much younger than Waldon, and more coherent apparently, it was surprising to see him so bouncy when the older man was stunned silent. His badge read FARRELL.

  “It’s his first one,” he continued. His hair, red and curled, moved in the wind as green eyes took me in. There was a light in them. Excitement, maybe.

  “First one?” Richard asked. He’d been paying attention?

  “First body.”

  The sweat on my palms moved to my neck as my gaze refocused on Officer Farrell. I’d been around men with considerable power my entire life, and they were easy to spot. My father’s power stemmed from an iron will and bone-breaking confidence. Even if he were to somehow lose the money people associated with the name Ashby, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind he’d still exude power. It was in him. His blood and bones. My father was a powerful man, and while the money helped, he didn’t need it to get what he wanted. This man was like that.

  Farrell met my gaze and pulled on the front of his shirt. The navy uniform clung to him in a spectacular juxtaposition to Waldon. “Are you all right, ma’am?”

  A chill rolled up my back. I nodded, one of those little ones that might not have actually happened, and looked beyond the stiff shoulder in front of me.

  My hands hadn’t stopped shaking since Coat Guy’s claim at the café, but as my gaze traveled along the rivulets of blood spiraling down the crevices in the asphalt, the tremor somehow increased. I’d only ever seen one dead body, and while that body had been my mother, she hadn’t been bloody.

  Richard’s voice, shrill and frightened, echoed in my ears as I picked apart the broken man slumped against the building.

  Farrell followed my gaze and took a couple of steps back. “Check this out.”

  He reached down to the dead man’s chin and hooked a finger on his bottom lip, pulling it down in a slow, measured way to reveal a jaw filled with sharp teeth. Pointed and slender. Needles almost.

  Inhuman.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Waldon’s voice, sharp as the dead man’s teeth, sliced through the fear bubbling inside my chest. His temporary paralysis had gone. “Don’t show them that!”

  “I’m inclined to agree. A little short-sighted of you.” Richard put a hand on my lower back, but his tight voice gave him away. The fear of what if crawled along my subconscious and smothered any inclination I had to step away from him. “See? You’ve scared her.”

  I had no desire to talk to any of them right then. The moisture in my mouth evaporated, and my gaze traveled again, tracing the outline of a shirt collar and mussed blond hair. Terrible shoes, once white, now glazed in blood. I’d known who it was the second I’d seen him, but my mind had finally come to terms with what my heart knew to be true. There was no skirting around it now that I’d seen irrefutable evidence as to who the body was.

  The last time I’d seen that face, there had been a smile on it. A smile so damning that it had been enough to convince me that Coat Guy had been telling the truth even though my heart just knew he hadn’t been. That he couldn’t be.

  It was Popped Collar.

  Three

  I threw up several times.

  The first had been on the outskirts of the crime scene. The coroner turned up after Officer Farrell’s gracious show of the pointed teeth and pinned Farrell with a glare as she grabbed a tarp from a bag on her shoulder. She covered Popped Collar up, hiding all but his shoes. Officer Waldon continued to berate Farrell for his irresponsible display while we walked to the car, but the damage had been done.

  The image of Popped Collar and his alien teeth followed me to Richard’s car. Had it been some teeth implants? A costume? My mind tried to concoct more likely scenarios, but the memory of Coat Guy and the coffee shop made them all sound desperate. Was I in denial or jumping to conclusions?

  I had kept my lunch in that precarious place where you could taste the vomit, but you didn’t puke until we parked in front of the ballroom where the benefit was being held. As the car rolled to a stop, I opened the door and narrowly
missed barfing on my Jimmy Choos. Richard groaned, and I was surprised he didn’t leave me alone in the parking lot that time.

  My brain couldn’t shake the image, and I found myself in front of a toilet less than five minutes after entering the ballroom. I’d already thrown up everything I’d managed to choke down previously, but my brain didn’t care. Chills rolled along my arms, and I couldn’t stop shivering as the dry heaving continued.

  Blood in the alley. Blood on the shoes. Blood in his hair.

  The teeth. Those teeth.

  They hadn’t been like that earlier. They hadn’t! His teeth had been normal outside the coffee shop. Straight, wide, and sparkling. Not slender needles. Not the kind of teeth that belonged more on a barracuda than a human being. I might’ve been a little far away, but I would’ve noticed teeth like that.

  A deep breath shook my chest and echoed off the black bathroom stall. The breaths transformed into short gasps as I stood. Cold water. I needed cold water.

  I stumbled to the bathroom counter, gripped the edge, and stared at the dark striations curling through the beige granite. Short breaths brushed my bottom lip, and artificial citrus filled my nose.

  Teeth. Pointed teeth. Teeth that sank into flesh and tore it from bone.

  The crushing sensation that gripped my heart made it impossible to tear myself from the granite—no chance of getting a wet towel. I tightened my fingers on the edge of the counter to keep from collapsing on shaky legs.

  A burst of warmer air filled the room when the door opened, and even though I heard heels clicking against the tile, I couldn’t stop staring at the granite to see who it was. If I focused on the shimmering crystal tucked inside the granite long enough—

  “Matilda?” A hand with blue nail polish gripped my forearm. “Matilda, what’s wrong?”

  The voice didn’t wait for an answer, which was fine because I didn’t have the control to give her one. The sound of a paper towel being torn from the dispenser rattled in my ear canals, and seconds later a cold sensation wrapped around the back of my neck. A drop of water rolled between my shoulder blades.