by Regan Claire
“Oh my god,” I say. It’s all I can think to say. I look up at the detectives, and I can feel how round my eyes are but I can’t make them blink. “They were from this guy? Do you know who did this?”
“That’s why we’re here,” Detective Polias says.
Uh oh. I don’t like the way she said that. The puking feeling suddenly stops, but is replaced with a return of the pounding heart.
“You don’t think I’m involved, do you? Why would I call the cops about the hands? How could I even do that.” I don’t look back at the photo, but can still see it in my mind. I’m not sure which is more gruesome, the stump or the actual hands. Actually, the hands were more gruesome, because I had the misfortune of seeing them in person.
“Again, that’s what we’re trying to figure out. How do you know the victim?” she asks.
I think back to a few nights ago. Are they talking about the night I helped Rhys with his bounty?
“Do you have another picture of the guy? One where he’s alive?” I will happily go the rest of my life without seeing another picture of a dead person—or his pieces.
Detective Polias flips through her file and pulls out a sheet of paper. A small photo is paper clipped to the top, which she pulls off and hands to me. It’s a mugshot, and I do recognize the guy.
“Mick is the victim?” I ask. That can’t be right. He’s in jail.
“I thought you said you didn’t know him,” the detective says, as if I just proved something to her.
“I don’t! I just met him the one time a few nights ago. He got arrested though! He can’t be dead.” I still have the bruises he left on my arm.
“I can assure you, he is. Strangled so hard his neck was broken in the process, then his hands were torn off by something and put in a box and sent to you. I hope you can see why we have you here.”
“Well, I couldn’t have done that! I’m not strong enough to do something like that.”
Detective Polias’ eyes narrow, as if she believes otherwise.
“Maybe someone did it for you,” Detective Montgomery suggests. “Either way, this isn’t the first man in your life to wind up dead.”
A chill goes down my spine. “How do you know about that?”
“I do my job,” Polias says.
“Then you’d know that was a suicide. There was a note.” I close my eyes to block the memory.
“A note that painted you as his cause of death. A woman who could get a man to kill himself could probably make a man commit murder.”
My world spins backwards. “I didn’t make him kill himself.” I didn’t ask him to, or even suggest it. But I made him want me, made him devote himself to me, and that is just as bad. The fact that I probably could have someone commit murder for me doesn’t make me feel better. It makes me feel worse. No one should have that sort of power over another.
“An awful big coincidence that another dead body winds up in your life so shortly after you move to town.”
“I—I…” I don’t know how to defend myself. I was responsible for the death of a man, just not this man. At least, I don’t think so. What if it happened again, and someone else was dead because of me?
What’s wrong with me that this happened again? I thought I was getting better. I thought I was finally doing well.
Yet I just opened a box with a dead man’s hands. The same hands are imprinted on my arms in bruise form. She’s right. It is an awful big coincidence.
“I had nothing to do with Mick’s murder. I thought he was in jail.”
“He made bail the next morning.”
“How am I supposed to know that?” I halfway shout. No April, don’t yell at the nice detectives who are basically accusing you of murder. It doesn’t look good.
I could get out of this so easily. All I have to do… but no. I’m not using my powers like that! That’s what got me into this situation in the first place. I take a few calming breaths. They’re both looking at me, probably hoping my emotional outbreak will lead to a confession.
“Why is his ex-girlfriend under the impression that you guys were together?” Polias asks.
“Wh-what?” I wasn’t expecting that, but I guess it makes sense she would be the witness. “She was there the night he got arrested. Actually, she got arrested too, for trying to stab me. Where was she when he was murdered? Maybe she did it! The last time I saw either one of them they were in the back of a police car.”
“Okay, so how do you explain these?” Minerva Polias pulls out a bag clearly labeled Evidence in bold letters with a phone inside. She’s easily able to manipulate the screen through the plastic, and turns it around once she’s reached the desired page. Once she’s sure she has my attention, Detective Polias swipes to another photo, then another, and another. Each photo is of me, and not a single one that I was aware existed.
My throat goes dry, and I reach for my bottled water before remembering that it’s empty. Just because I’ve been stalked before doesn’t make me feel any less violated.
“Those obviously weren’t taken with any sort of awareness on my part.”
Polias turns the phone around. “No? I suppose not.” She doesn’t say anything else for a minute, but I have a feeling she’s about to.
I’m wrong. Her partner speaks up instead.
“It would probably be kind of scary to have a man like Mick following you around, taking pictures. No one would blame you for wanting to protect yourself,” Montgomery says. Is he the good cop?
“Except I didn’t know he was following me around until right this second,” I tell them.
“Then explain why his hands were found in your home,” Polias pipes in, as the dutiful bad cop.
“I can’t! I don’t know! I found a box on my doorstep, I thought it was a box of chocolate. I brought it inside, sat on the couch, and opened the box. Instead of a chocolate-covered cherry, I saw a couple of hands, screamed, threw the box, and called the police.” I take a breath, but it does little to calm me.
“And the note in the box? Can you explain to us why the note is addressed to you?”
It was? “I didn’t even read the note. And it was placed on my doorstep. It’s not too far a leap to think that it was left for me, and instead of trying to figure out who the creep is that left the box for me, you’re accusing me of something I had nothing to do with. Nothing.”
“The note implied that it was a gift for you. I doubt you have nothing to do with it, April. Even if you didn’t know about it, I very much think it involves you, I’m just trying to figure out how.”
We are both quiet as we think about that. She’s right. It’s just too big a coincidence.
“Do you have any idea who would do something like this?” Her voice is different now, like maybe she finally believes me. Or maybe she believed me all along but just needed to make sure.
“No. I’m new in town, so I barely know anyone.”
“Anyone from your old town? Your old life?” she asks.
“No, no one who could do something like this. I don’t think any of them even know I’m here now,” I tell her.
“Who knew about your run-in with Mick?”
“Uh, Rhys Martin. He’s a bounty hunter or bondsman or something. He was after Mick for skipping bail. And I told my boss about what happened too, and a guy who sells art at the garden shop. But I don’t know either of them very well.” Certainly not well enough for one of them to give me a pair of hands off a dead man.
“What about Rhys. Do you know him well?”
My mind sputters. Could he have done this? “We’ve spent some time together, but I can’t say I know him well.” I know the exact shape of his mouth, and I’m still energized from spending the night sleeping in his arms and feeding off his energy, but know him?
“We’ll follow up, but I’ll be honest with you. You’re our best lead right now. You’re involved somehow, and I have a feeling you’re hiding something from me. I intend to find out what it is, so it’s best if you tell me now before I
uncover something you’d rather I don’t.”
Whoa, that’s not friendly. Could she figure out the weirdness about me and my powers? She wouldn’t believe it even if she did uncover it.
“I’m not hiding anything from you.” Except the fact that I could make you love me, even if you aren’t a lady-lover in that way.
“I’ll see about that. In the meantime, don’t leave the state. We’ll be in touch.” She reaches across the table and hands me a card with her name on it, “And April? Whoever did this isn’t a good guy. He’s not some white knight, he’s dangerous. Watch your back,” she says, then gathers the papers and puts them back in the file she brought with her.
“We’re done?”
“Unless there’s something else you’d like to tell me, yes.” She stands up.
I shake my head no. “No, I don’t have anything else to say.” I think for a minute. “Actually, how do I get home?”
Detective Polias nearly rolls her eyes at me. “I’ll have Officer Vale take you back.” She goes to open the door. “Vale!” she shouts out. The officer I was watching earlier shows up at the door. “Escort Ms. April back to her apartment please.”
“Yes ma’am,” he answers, then stands there looking at me as Polias and Montgomery make their way out of the room and out of sight.
“I guess I follow you,” I tell him. I get a nod in response, then a view of his back as he leads me outside to his car. My mind is buzzing with everything that has happened today, and to top it all off, the weird hallucination feelings were back, emanating from the friendly officer in front of me.
Needs to Unwind
The car ride is super awkward, though this time I’m happy to be able to sit in the front seat like a grown up. Or at least, not a person of interest in a murder case. For some reason I can’t stop looking at the wedding band wrapped around Officer Vane’s finger on the steering wheel. Waves of emotion are coming from him and hitting me in the face. Why does his heart hurt? Why does it feel guilty? Has he done something? Is he going to do something?
Either way, I’m glad when we finally pull up to my apartment complex. I hesitate a moment before going inside, afraid of seeing any evidence of Mick on my floor, but I know that the police have probably taken everything and I go in. First thing I do is plug in my phone since it died while I was waiting in the interrogation room. Then I go to the bathroom and splash some water on my face. Today has been a lot.
I hear a few dings coming from my phone as it charges up enough to turn back on. Two of them are texts from Eros, just making sure I’m still coming. The third one is a missed call from Rhys. I groan. If they haven’t already talked to Rhys by now, I’m sure they will in the next day or so. Will they ask him about me? Will they tell him about the skeletons in my closet? Ugh, why am I even worried about this? It’s not like I want to date him or anything. Except… I’m drawn to the guy and worry that if the police follow the same line of questioning towards him about me, then I’ll never hear from him again. I look at his name on my phone, finger hovering over the call-back button. And chicken out.
Instead I check the time, and swear. Holy cow, it’s already past five and I’m supposed to be there at six! I look down at myself, still wearing the comfy clothes I went to the beach in. Yeah, this isn’t going to work at all. I run to my room and throw a pair of skinny jeans and a tunic top that makes me look curvy without looking too slutty, then slip on a pair of black flats before going to the bathroom and checking in the mirror.
I don’t really have time to do anything special with my hair, but the nature of my strange powers means that even without trying, it’ll still look somewhat decent. I pull out my sloppy bun and give it a shake. I don’t think the sexy beach hair is the right look for tonight, so I twist it back up and put it in a less sloppy version of my earlier hairstyle. Good enough.
I’m about halfway to Eros’s place when I realize I forgot to brush my teeth. Thank goodness I have a dollar-tree toothbrush in the glovebox, a habit leftover from the days when I was prone to waking up in other people’s beds without one. My car is tiny enough for me to reach it while driving. A red light gives me the opportunity to rummage for a half-empty bottle of water, and I hurriedly take care of my teeth while managing to follow all the posted traffic signs.
I pull into the driveway, open the door, and spit onto the pebbled ground, happy that the driver’s seat isn’t in view of the front door. I get my first good look at the house when I stand up. Holy mother of windows! It’s the first thing I notice, and I wonder how they get any privacy. I walk up the path to the front door and try not to peer in the house—it feels rude—and try to erase the day from my mind. I’m still jittery from basically being accused of murder, but that’s a hard thing to explain to prospective employers.
Before I can ring the doorbell, I hear a small stampede on the other end of the door. Then barking.
So much barking.
The door opens with my finger hovering over the bell. I guess you don’t need a doorbell when you have dogs.
“Come on in before the beasts get out,” Eros tells me. He opens the door just wide enough for me to get through, and I see him bend over and pick up a little dog. I’m not sure what the breed is, but it looks like a very fluffy, very soft, little ball of evil. It’s snarling from its perch under Eros’s arm. I’m so preoccupied by it that I’m not paying attention when the horse jumps on me and licks my face.
“Down Athos!”
He listens, and the motion nearly knocks me to my butt.
How in the world am I supposed to walk fluffy Satan and a baby horse-dog?
“Are you okay? They don’t have the best manners. Phobos here is old and cranky, and Athos is still a puppy.”
“That’s a puppy?”
Eros chuckles. “He’s mostly full grown, just excitable.”
“I see that.” Athos is sitting now, but he’s basically trembling with excitement. I lean over and give him a pat.
“You’re a good boy,” I tell him. He responds by licking my face again, and while he may still act a bit like a puppy, he has full-grown dog breath.
“Athos, no faces!” Eros chides. Phobos is now snarling softly. His upper lip is curled and his teeth look far more ferocious than his fur. “Excuse my dogs. I promise they both settle down once you get to know them a bit. Come on, this way.”
I follow Eros through his house, a little intimidated by its size and, well, fanciness. There’s art everywhere. Paintings on the walls, sculptures on the floors, even the furniture shows craftmanship. I’m relieved when he leads me to a kitchen, where he gestures for me to sit at the island in the center. It’s bigger than any table that would fit in my apartment, and is set like a table with three settings, complete with a water and a wine glass. There’s another man here, but he’s cooking and doesn’t immediately turn around when we enter. Suddenly a giant whoosh and a fire rises out of the pan he’s using.
“Just let me finish this sauce, and I’ll come introduce myself properly,” he says, in a voice that has the barest hint of an accent that reminds me of New England.
“I figured we’d all be more comfortable eating here in the kitchen. Besides, I love watching Tony cook,” Eros says, eyes glued on the man in front of him for a second before he turns to me. “Would you like a glass of wine while we wait? You look like you need it.”
“That’s rude, Eros,” Tony says and finally turns around, wiping his hands on a cloth that he throws onto his shoulder. He’s older than I expect, with salt and pepper hair and a face that has more than its fair share of weathering. He’s still handsome, almost breathtakingly so, and there is genuine love when he looks back at Eros.
“Oh, it’s fine. A glass of wine actually sounds amazing after the day I’ve had.”
“See? Told you. Besides, April knows that even when she’s stressed out, she’s still stunning, don’t you, April?” Eros asks.
“Okay sweet talker,” Tony says to Eros before I can respond. “April, I’m gl
ad you were able to come over tonight.” He comes around the island a bit, and shakes my hand with both of his. “It is such a pleasure to meet you.”
I smile. I can’t help it. Eros and Tony already feel like old friends. “Me too.”
“I hope you like Italian,” he says, before turning back around to tend the stove.
“I like all food, especially when it smells as delicious as that,” I tell him.
“You’re in for a treat. Tony is a great cook, but he hardly ever makes Italian.” Eros looks sideways at me. “You’d think an Italian man would make it more often.”
“My Nonna’s recipes are for special occasions, and you know it,” Tony said, then starts to plate the food he’s made. “Will you start pouring the wine?”
“Of course. April, I hope you like red. The cook insists we drink the perfect pairing with dinner,” he said. I can tell he’s poking fun at Tony, but Tony doesn’t seem to mind. The way Eros looks at him is telling, and I know that he’s deeply in love with the older man. I wonder what their story is.
“I’m not picky when it comes to wine.” I pick up my now poured glass and take a sip. It’s good, but I know nothing about wine so my opinion on it doesn’t count for much.
“Don’t worry, I have another bottle chilling in the fridge for after dinner,” Tony says as he walks around the kitchen island and places a giant bowl full of pasta down in front of me and Eros. He places his dish at the seat that’s catty-corner to Eros, then grabs a plate of bread and puts it in the middle before taking his seat. There are a few minutes of utter silence as we all dig in, sure evidence of a delicious meal. Also, I’m not sure what to say. I thought I was mostly here for a job interview, but this feels more like hanging with friends. After the day I’ve had, I’m reluctant to open my mouth and bring up the pups, because this is nice.
When my plate is nearly empty, I take a few sips of wine and look over at my hosts. Tony notices my almost empty plate.
