by Jana DeLeon
He heard water running in her bathroom and a minute later, Shaye trudged into the living room and leaned over to kiss him, her breath smelling of spearmint. “Coffee?” she asked.
“Please.” He rose from the couch and headed into the guest bath to brush his own teeth and see if anything could be done about couch hair. He kept some bathroom items and spare clothes at her house—her suggestion—and it came in handy because then he didn’t have to go home to get ready for work.
A little water and his brush managed the worst of his hair problems and he went ahead and dressed for work. It was already 7:30 a.m., and although they didn’t have a set time to report to work, his senior partner preferred to start early and hopefully clear the way to regular dinner times. The reality was the hours were whatever was required to solve the case. So no one said anything if you weren’t at your desk by 8:00 a.m. or some other arbitrary time someone deemed the start of the workday.
He headed back into the kitchen, and Shaye pushed a cup of coffee across the counter to him. “You’re not going to sit?” he asked as she opened the refrigerator.
“I was thinking about breakfast,” she said.
“You can think about it all you want, but it’s not going to make food materialize in that refrigerator.”
She pulled a bag of strawberries and a carton of skim milk out and sighed. “I’m really horrible at domestics. My mother just about has apoplexy every time she looks in there. Last time I had ketchup, salsa, six bottles of beer, and what was left of a pizza that should have been thrown out days before.”
He smiled, easily able to picture Corrine’s dismay. Her own kitchen was always stocked with the ingredients needed to whip up a gourmet meal at a moment’s notice, and Corrine was a good enough cook to pull it off.
“In your defense,” Jackson said, “Corrine does have someone who does all her grocery shopping for her.”
Shaye put the strawberries and some protein powder into a blender and poured the milk over it. “You’re sweet to defend me, but she offers to have them do my shopping all the time. I’m the one turning it down because I know exactly what would happen. I’d have an entire pantry and refrigerator of food go bad because I wouldn’t prepare it in time. It’s best if I just ruin a thing or two at a time.”
“Hey, whatever works,” he said as she fired up the blender. “I’m good with strawberry protein shakes for breakfast. Helps balance out all that pizza and takeout Chinese.”
She poured the shakes into glasses and took a seat next to him. “You working on anything big?”
“Nothing that we have solid leads on. We’ve got a couple of things we’re assigned to but right now, we’re down to beating bushes and hoping something turns up. What do you have planned for today?”
“First up, I’m paying a visit to Mitzi’s pervy landlord and seeing if he wants to pull the same crap on me that he did on Brandi. I’m guessing not.”
“He better not. If he even hints at it, you call me. I have no trouble hauling him in. A night in jail might get him to rethink his policies.”
“It would probably take more than a night. Guys like that have been doing that sort of thing forever. They just never get called on it.”
“I’m sure.”
“After that, I don’t know. Depends on what I run down at her apartment. I’ll try the hotel where Carla stayed when she wasn’t living with Rattler, but I want to pay Rattler a visit first and see what he has to say about his missing girlfriend.”
“Be careful dealing with him. The Gravediggers are the most violent gang in the city. He won’t like being questioned, even though you’re not a cop.”
“I’m going to try the friendly approach, maybe flirt with him a little.”
Jackson stared at her in dismay until she broke out in a smile.
“You should see the look on your face,” she said.
“I was trying to figure out something to arrest you for until you came to your senses.”
“Don’t worry. I don’t plan on doing anything to piss off the Gravediggers. It will just be a friendly conversation about his girlfriend. Honestly, I don’t like him for this. If Carla was the only girl missing maybe, but it feels like something more than a simple domestic.”
He nodded. “What Madison saw was far too elaborate for the Gravediggers. They would have simply put a bullet through her head and dumped the body.”
“Exactly. But it’s an avenue I have to travel to be certain it’s a dead end.”
“Are you going to Rattler’s house?”
“The only address I could come up with is a bar the Gravediggers own. It has apartments above it so I figure some of them might live there. Maybe I’ll get lucky and he’ll be all hungover and talk to get rid of me.”
“Will you do me a favor and text me when you get there and when you leave?”
“Of course. My phone will be on at all times. If you get worried, just track me.”
“I don’t like invading your privacy that way.”
“First off, I’m giving you permission because I don’t hide anything from you. Second, if I thought you wanted tracking privileges because you didn’t trust me, that would be a whole other story. You want access because you’re worried and you want to be able to help if needed.” She smiled. “I like that you worry. Just a little, mind you, because worrying isn’t all that fun.”
“Well then, you should be thrilled. Because I’m going to be thinking about that conversation with Rattler until I know you’re back in your SUV and at least ten blocks from the bar. Are you sure you don’t want to hire some backup?”
She raised one eyebrow. “And by backup, you mean a bodyguard. You sound like my mother.”
“She’s a smart woman. And no, I don’t mean a bodyguard. Okay, maybe I do, but here’s the thing. I don’t go into situations alone. I have Grayson and we report to dispatch so they know what’s going on. You’re one woman, and while being a woman doesn’t make you any less capable, it does make you a more likely target.”
She leaned over and kissed him. “You’re a good man, Jackson Lamotte. But I’m not going to be someone’s victim again.”
He knew she meant it. But sometimes people didn’t get a choice.
Madison pulled on black slacks and a turquoise sweater. It was chilly out, but the sweater and her leather jacket should be fine for the trip to the office. The dress code at corporate was business casual, but Madison always made it a point to dress slightly better than what was called for. As a contractor, she felt it was smart to portray a professional image. It set her apart from the regular employees and reminded the client that she wasn’t one of them.
With her first contract, Madison had tried to blend in with the corporate culture of the company that’d hired her, but it had led to management feeling a familiarity for her and authority over her in areas that they didn’t have grounds for. Since then, she’d kept everything different enough from the standard that management didn’t lump her in with their employees, but not so different that they wouldn’t hire her again or recommend her to other businesses.
Brett, the manager she reported to, didn’t have the characteristics that usually led to the problems she’d experienced in the past, but she’d decided on a method for conducting her contracts and since it seemed to work, there was no sense abandoning it, because things might turn out okay this time. Besides, if she didn’t wear her two whole pairs of slacks sometime, they might not ever wear out. And despite her savings and good salary, she wasn’t a spendthrift. Clothes got replaced when they wore out or went so out of style that people might stare.
She grabbed her jacket and purse, took one last look at her hair in the hall mirror, and headed out of her unit. James’s nameplate was on the security desk when she stepped into the lobby and she gave the guard a wave. “How are you this morning, James?”
“Doing well, Ms. Avery. It’s a fine day for a walk. Are you going to do some shopping?”
“Business meeting, I’m afraid. But maybe
I’ll get some in afterward.”
She didn’t bother telling him she had no one to buy for. That wasn’t the sort of thing you unloaded on a person you barely knew.
“Would you like me to call you a cab, or are you doing that Uber thing like all the other young people?”
“Actually, I’m going to walk. The office is only four blocks away, so when the weather is nice, I like to get in a little exercise and sunlight.”
“I don’t blame you. Have a good day, Ms. Avery.”
“You too.”
She headed outside and paused to scan the sidewalks before setting off toward her client’s building. Everyone appeared to be going about their business. No one paid attention to the average woman standing there. She waited to see if anything triggered her, but all she felt was the cool winter breeze blowing across her cheeks. Taking a deep breath, she took off down the sidewalk.
As she walked, she scanned the people bustling around her. Old, young, pretty, not so pretty…what would it be like to actually remember them once they were out of sight? How many faces did a normal person retain every day? One? Two? Only those that they interacted with on some level? She knew that if people like her existed, then the opposite existed as well—people who never forgot a face. That would come in handy, especially if you were in a sales profession. People liked to be remembered. It made them feel important.
As she crossed the street a block away from her building, the breeze blowing across the back of her neck felt colder and she stiffened. Someone was watching her. She slowed down, pretending to gaze into a storefront window at an art display, but she was using the reflection in the glass to study the street behind her. Slowly, she panned from right to left, searching for the source of her discomfort. Then she locked in on him.
He was across the street and a little ways down from her, leaning against the wall of a store. He wore jeans with a hole above the right knee and a black New Orleans Saints hoodie. His tennis shoes were red and white. No one else would have given him a second glance, but she knew he was watching her. Was it the killer? Or was it just some random creep staring at strangers?
She turned away from the display and started walking again, this time checking her watch and increasing pace. If anyone were watching, they’d assume she was hurrying to make an appointment. Not that it mattered what anyone thought, but she didn’t want to let him know that he could unnerve her. As she approached the area directly across the street from where he was standing, she glanced over.
He was gone.
She let out a big gush of air and slightly slowed her pace. Between fear and walking so fast she was practically jogging, her breathing had become erratic, and she drew in several long breaths and slowly let them out.
You panicked.
Once again, she chided herself for overreacting. She couldn’t keep letting this happen or it would affect her health, physically and mentally. When Shaye told her she’d know if she was in danger, Madison had been skeptical but had wanted to believe her. After all, if anyone knew about the dangers of the unknown it was Shaye Archer. But at the same time, Madison knew that she didn’t trust herself. That after a lifetime of living with some sort of fear, her thoughts would create things that simply weren’t there.
When her breathing was back to normal, she picked up the pace a little again. She wasn’t in any danger of being late, but it certainly wouldn’t hurt to be early. She stopped at the next street corner and waited for the light to change so she could cross over the main street to the other side.
And that’s when she saw him again.
She didn’t recognize his face, of course, but the clothes were the same, down to the hole in his jeans. And he was staring directly at her. This time, leaned against a lamppost and smiling. The Walk light came on, and the people surrounding her started walking, jostling her as they moved past.
He stared at her the entire time, the smile never leaving his face, his eyes locked on hers. Then when the traffic light changed, he lifted his hand, one finger extended, and drew it across his neck.
11
Madison choked back a scream and launched forward into the street as the light changed to green. A car slammed to a stop just inches from her, the driver yelling and shaking his hand at her. She mumbled an apology as she continued across, ignoring the horns, and didn’t stop running until she reached the other side of the street. She fled into the first open storefront she found, then hid behind a display, sneaking peeks at the street.
He was gone.
More than ever, she wanted to lock herself in her condo and never leave again, but she knew that wasn’t possible. The meetings were mandatory. She could reschedule, but for when? She had no guarantees that the killer would ever be caught, and while her trust fund had covered the cost of her condo, she needed to work to pay for normal living expenses.
She pulled her phone out of her purse and accessed the Uber app. A minute later, the information about her car and driver popped up on the screen. Relief engulfed her as she saw the smiling face of a young black man on the screen. She clutched her phone and waited until a blue sedan pulled up to the curb outside the store. The Uber sticker was on his car window and a young black man stepped out of the vehicle. She slipped her phone in her purse and hurried outside.
“Madison Avery?” the young man asked.
“Yes.”
He opened the car door and she practically dived inside. As he slid into the driver’s seat he turned to look at her. “You realize you’re only going two blocks, right?”
“Yes. I was walking but I twisted my ankle and I have a meeting that I need to get to. I didn’t think I could make it on time limping.”
He nodded. “I just wanted to make sure. Didn’t want to take advantage of you.”
“I appreciate it,” she said, but her attention wasn’t on the courteous driver. It was on the outside of the car. Where was he? Did he see her get into the car? Was he following her? Traffic was heavy and the car wasn’t moving very fast. But surely if he was following the car she’d see him, right?
A couple minutes later, the car stopped in front of her client’s office building. She thanked the driver as she jumped out of the car and practically ran inside. It wasn’t until she was behind the tinted doors that she looked out at the street, scanning it up and down for the killer. She gave it four passes before deciding he wasn’t there.
But that didn’t mean he wasn’t lurking just out of sight. Waiting for her.
What did he want? If he’d simply tried to kill her because of what she’d seen, she’d understand that. Not that she was asking for a bullet through the head from a block away, but that would make sense. This didn’t make sense at all. Why taunt her? What if she’d dashed into that store and called the police? Granted, he’d disappeared, but the cops could have searched the area.
Call Shaye.
Her hand shook as she lifted her phone, but then she noticed the time. Her meeting started in five minutes, and she had to try to compose herself beforehand or she risked looking like a basket case in front of her client. The job she was currently working on would wrap up soon but there was another with this same company in the pipeline, and it was a job she hoped to have the inside track on. Flaking out this late in the game wouldn’t improve her chances at it.
She shoved the phone in her purse and hurried to the bathroom. Maybe some cold water on her face would help and she could grab a bottled water from the café in the lobby before heading up for her meeting. In the meantime, she’d concentrate on breathing slowly in and slowly out. With any luck, her racing heart and shaking hands would calm before she had to speak.
The Oakwood Estates Apartments didn’t contain a single oak tree and would never pass as an estate. The building was constructed from crumbling brick that had seen too many hurricanes and even more years of neglect. Shaye parked in front of the sign that indicated where the office was located and headed up the sidewalk. The place was quiet for 10:00 a.m., but Shaye guessed a lot of the
residents were more of the night sort of crowd.
She followed the sidewalk through a breezeway and spotted the office off a courtyard that was overgrown with weeds and now appeared to serve as a trash heap for the residents. Apparently, the only thing the manager actually managed was collecting rent…probably in whatever form he could get it.
She pulled open the door and stepped inside. The office reeked of stale coffee and cigarettes, and she felt her eyes tear up as she coughed. The front room had a single desk with a telephone on it and paper scattered everywhere. A door was located behind the desk but was drawn almost completely closed.
“Hello?” she called out.
“Leave the money on the desk with your name on it,” a man’s voice called out from the partially closed door.
“I’m not here to pay rent. I’m here to speak to the manager.”
The man cursed, then she heard things banging around. “What now?” he yelled as he flung open the door.
“Are you the manager?”
He gave her a long look up and down and immediately his attitude changed. “Are you looking for a place? I’ve got a one-bedroom opening up as soon as I can get the stuff cleared out. Should only take a day.” He smiled. “I can make you a really good deal…if you’re willing to negotiate.”
The overwhelming desire to punch him dead in the face and return home to shower came over her, and she struggled to maintain her professional demeanor.
“I’m not interested in an apartment,” she said, and pulled out her business card. “I’m interested in a tenant.”
He took the card and stared down at it for a moment, then his eyes widened and he shuffled a bit. “Hey, I was only joking about that negotiation thing.”
“No, you weren’t, and you weren’t joking when you made a lewd suggestion to a friend of Mitzi’s when she came here looking for her a couple weeks ago.”
