by Margaret Carter, Crystal Green, Erica Orloff, Patricia Rosemor
Chapter 2
Silke Caldwell parked her car in a well-lit area on Randolph Street in front of the building that housed Heart of Darkness, the bar where she worked, just as her sister had ordered. The bar was closed and the area was dark but for the streetlights.
So where was Shelley? she wondered, trying to zone in on her twin mentally. But, as usual, Shelley wasn’t receiving. It took all Silke’s energy to crack her sister’s defenses and she simply didn’t have it in her tonight.
They’d been closing up the bar when Raven had come crashing back inside and had pulled Silke aside with a wild story about Thora Nelson being dead. Raven had been too scared to call the police, and Silke had listened to the details that had left her dumbstruck. The devil was in those details, the reason she’d believed Raven. The reason she hadn’t called 911 herself.
She checked the clock in the dash for maybe the tenth time. Twelve minutes and counting. The bar was closed now and she was out here alone.
Poor Thora—the popular Goth girl would never have to wait for anyone again.
Even as she thought it, Silke felt her stomach clench. What a shocker, and yet after the things Thora had told over her the past few weeks, why was she so surprised?
Only…who was next?
Her?
She slashed a hand across her eyes and came away with a smear of black makeup on the back of her hand.
How did Shelley do it? Silke wondered. Being a cop, coming in contact with violence and death on a regular basis? No identical twins were ever less alike. It had been obvious from the time they were kids and Shelley had beat up a boy who’d been torturing Silke that her twin took after their policewoman mother. Shelley had always been tough and could stomach anything without emotions getting in her way.
A knock at her car window made Silke jump. Heart pounding, she turned to see Shelley peering in at her. Opening the door, she flew out of the driver’s seat. “Shell, I’m so glad to see you.”
Shelley hugged her and rubbed her back the way she used to when they were little and their mother was working late at night and Silke was certain a monster lived in the basement. Shelley had always promised to protect her. It was only recently that Silke had begun exploring a different way to protect herself….
“So where’s this Raven?” Shelley asked.
“I don’t know. She wouldn’t call the police, and while I was talking to you on the phone, she left without saying a word.”
“But you know how to get in touch with her.”
“Only if she comes into the bar. I mean, I know her, but we’re not exactly friends.”
Shelley had wanted her to call 911, and then, in exasperation, had said she would do it herself. But Silke had pleaded with her sister not to, insisted that it was imperative she come down here herself first. Then she could call whatever officer she saw fit.
“All right, let’s see what we’ve got. Lock your car and get in mine.” Shelley indicated the Camaro.
Silke quickly settled into the passenger seat.
“It’s…she’s over on the next block,” Silke whispered. Thora wasn’t an it. She was a person. Or she had been before someone had drained the blood from her. That’s what Raven had said, the reason she’d wanted Shelley to come in person. Not that she’d told her sister that detail yet. She wanted Shelley to see for herself. “Make a right on Lake.”
Lake Street was straddled by an elevated rapid transit structure for the Green Line that ran west into the suburbs. There weren’t any stations close by—the old one at Halsted had been demolished. Now the Halsted/Randolph area was being gentrified, so the CTA was going to add a station sometime in the near future. But the fact that there was no station now meant there was little foot traffic in the area, especially late at night. Or early in the morning, depending on how one viewed it, she guessed. Bar-hoppers and restaurant-goers parked their cars along here if they didn’t want to pay for valet parking. As did the car hikers themselves and employees of the local businesses.
Raven had been on her way to her car when she’d found Thora’s body.
“Park anywhere.” Silke pointed ahead and to the right. “Raven said she found Thora over there, by the overturned trash can.”
The vehicle came to a stop at the curb and they both alighted, Shelley pulling her weapon and frowning as she scanned the area. “So where is she?”
Silke blinked and waited for her eyes to adjust and pierce the darkness.
“She’s…gone!” Silke knew this was the right spot. The trash can had been knocked over in a struggle, just as Raven had said. “Another body gone!”
Silke’s words blasted against my ears as I stared at an area littered with booze bottles and paper bags but no formerly animate objects.
“Yeah, she’s gone,” I agreed, thinking I’d wasted my time when I could have been catching some z’s.
“She didn’t have a pulse. I mean that’s what Raven told me.”
“Was Raven in her right mind?”
“You mean was she drunk?”
“Or on drugs.”
“Could be. But the details…I believed her.”
I was still looking over the site when something caught my eye—I stooped and snatched up a metal object. I held it up to the light. A small gargoyle glared back at me.
“That’s her pin,” Silke said excitedly. “Thora’s!”
Okay, so this proved Thora had been here at least. And the clasp of the pin was torqued, as if messed up in a struggle of some sort. Sighing, I considered what might have happened. The Goth girl could have been dead drunk, sloshed on the contents of one of those empty bottles. Or she could have had some kind of seizure where she seemed dead. Or, she could have been dead dead.
Okay, I admit it was possible. But if so, what happened to the body? Did someone come along and scoop her up like so much garbage? My mental turn of phrase bothered me—this Thora really might be a true victim. I was trying to keep from thinking of LaTonya, but considering my nightmare, that was impossible.
“I really don’t know what to tell you, Silke, other than to report the incident.” I pocketed the pin. “But without a body or evidence of foul play…without knowing where to find this Raven to back you up…”
Cops had way too many in-their-face cases to get excited over a disappearing body and a story that couldn’t be corroborated. Didn’t I know that firsthand. They would take one look at Silke in her Goth gear before deciding she was too far out to take seriously.
Realizing my twin’s attention was centered somewhere over my shoulder, I asked, “What?”
“Something moved. A shadow.”
Instinct raised the short hairs on the back of my neck and had me going for my gun and being grateful I could legally carry it off duty. I raised the weapon into position as I turned, but I saw no one, moving or otherwise. “I think your imagination is playing you, Silke.”
“I’m telling you I saw someone.”
When I saw a dark figure slink suspiciously between the rapid-transit supports a few dozen yards away, I didn’t wait for an answer. Reasonable suspicion was valid incentive for a seasoned cop to detain and question someone not acting right.
“Freeze!” I yelled. “Police! Come out where I can see you, hands up!”
Rather than complying, the shadow took off. And I ran after him. Rather, after a figure that could be male or female. It was dark and the person’s clothing was darker—loose pants and a hoodie hiding what lay beneath.
“Stop or I’ll shoot!” I bluffed.
It didn’t matter if you were off or on the job, an officer was expected to respond—though I wasn’t about to discharge my gun unless the suspect intended to use one on me. The paperwork involved was just not worth it.
I stumbled to a halt to catch my breath. He or she was climbing up the slats of the frickin’ elevated support as if it were a slant board!
Great! I was chasing Spider-Man.
I holstered my weapon and did my best imitation of a Cirque du
Soleil star.
The hair-raising climb up angled slats of steel gave me some time to think—maybe I should find a different occupation. This stuff was for rookies.
Like my first day on the job when Al and I had spotted a guy flying out of a convenience store with a wad of cash in one hand, a gun in the other. He’d taken one look at us and had run the other way. Al made me get out of the squad car and run after the guy, while he drove ahead and blocked him with the vehicle. The thief had turned on me and aimed his weapon, and my training, fueled by adrenaline, had kicked right in. It didn’t matter that I was exhausted and winded. I’d dropped into the position low to the ground to make myself a smaller target. Luckily, I hadn’t had to take him out. Al had left the squad car, gun drawn, and the thief had given up.
I’d been sick anyway, all over the sidewalk.
Over the years, I’d used my gun more than once, but I’d never actually had to shoot anyone and I wasn’t in the market to break that particular record. I knew that even though I’d passed psych evaluation, I was still considered a personal-concern officer and would be until I’d proved otherwise. I couldn’t afford to make any mistakes.
The screech of metal on metal alerted me to a train coming from downtown, jerking my gaze toward the glow of skyscrapers in the distance. I was distracted only for a second, but when I tried to pin the suspect, I was stunned. No prey. The shadow had disappeared.
I tried to hurry the rest of the way up. A mistake. My foot slipped, my body followed, and the next thing I knew I was dangling from one hand twenty or so feet above the street. My stomach clutched and my heart pounded as fast as the approaching train. I contemplated my fate and wondered if I had enough pluses in my favor to make up for the minuses before I got in front of those Pearly Gates.
Just in case.
They say when you’re about to die, your whole life flashes before you. Well, nothing was flashing, so I figured I was going to be okay.
But Silke was directly below me, screaming, “Hold on, Shell!”
Pain shot through my arm as, with a grunt, I swung my body toward the steel structure. I found purchase for my free hand, but my fingers couldn’t get a grip. It took a couple of breathtaking grabs to get hold of it. Then I hooked a foot on a steel slat and hesitated for a second to catch my breath and let my heartbeat steady.
Just then, the train clack-clacked overhead and rained soot down on me. I closed my eyes against the grit and tried not to breathe for a moment until the train was gone. Blinking and coughing, I finished my climb only to come up on the tracks to find them empty.
No body.
No suspect.
Saying that I was ticked was an understatement.
I escorted Silke back to her apartment. The possibility of another homicide being covered up had gotten to me, and I wanted some answers. I’d thought about making out an official report for about five seconds before deciding I wasn’t about to call anyone.
No body, no case.
I didn’t need another psych evaluation. Not that I could just forget about it.
I still couldn’t figure out how I’d lost the suspect—if the person even was somehow connected to what had happened to Thora Nelson. So how had he or she disappeared into thin air? Silke had suggested the person hopped the train. But since there were no nearby stations, that sucker had been chugging hellbent for leather. So was it really possible that anyone could have leaped onto the side and held on?
I didn’t see any other explanation.
I didn’t know what to think about Thora.
I was uneasy, though. I felt raw and defensive. A too familiar feeling.
We entered Silke’s apartment in an old courtyard building—a big, cheerful studio filled with lots of color and plants. She hadn’t changed any of that when she’d gone Goth. Then again, she often changed who she was—the actress in her, I guessed—and Goth was simply her latest interest. I threw myself onto the sofa bed, thankful Silke had made it up that morning—she wasn’t the neatest person in the world. She had a bunch of books tossed to one side. I glanced at them and shook my head.
Witchcraft. Wicca. Shamanism.
What was my sister into now?
Even though I wasn’t sure of what this Raven had seen, I had a gut feeling the situation was a potential danger zone for Silke. I didn’t want her going back to work at Heart of Darkness until the wee hours of the morning and then going home alone, but I doubted Silke would listen to reason.
“Want some tea?” Silke was already heading for the tiny kitchen off the main room.
“Okay. I didn’t need sleep anyway.”
“Tomorrow is Saturday. No work, remember. And you can crash here.”
“Sure, why not,” I said. “Since we’re meeting Mom for an early lunch tomorrow anyway…” My mind was still on the missing body. That’s what I wanted to talk about. “Whatever happened to Thora…I’m worried about you. If there was foul play…” Then Silke might become a target through her association with Raven. Not that I wanted to jump to conclusions, but my protective instincts were engaged, and my mind made those connections automatically. “Tell me about Thora.”
“She was nice, but kind of a lost soul.”
Exactly the kind of person Silke would be drawn to, I thought. “Lost how?”
“She didn’t have anyone, not here in Chicago. Her family doesn’t even know she came here. She was from a small town in southern Illinois, but she always said she didn’t fit in.”
“So Thora decided to become a Goth to fit in?” I asked. The notion of a Goth fitting in to anything was odd.
“I guess.” Silke came into the living area and set down a teapot and two mugs on the coffee table. “It has to steep for a few minutes.”
She’d made something with spice that smelled wonderful. Silke was more homey than I was. Despite the Goth phase, she liked brilliant colors, exotic foods—she learned to cook—and great-smelling stuff whether it was candles or shower gels or teas. My needs were less complicated.
“So, how well do you know Thora?”
Her face fell. “We hung together sometimes.”
“So then you have her address and phone number, right?”
“We always met somewhere if we were going to do something together. All I know is that Thora was living in a communal situation with some other Goths who hang at the bar. They pool their resources to pay rent and stuff.”
Sounding worse and worse, I decided. At least Silke still had her own apartment and was taking care of herself in some fashion. “Maybe you ought to think about getting away from that bar. You can find a better job downtown.”
“The only better job I want is on a stage.”
“Okay, how about a safer job?”
“Look, Shell, I know you’re trying to be protective and all, but we’re not kids anymore. I respect your choices, and I’d appreciate your respecting mine.”
“I do. Really.” I tried to be supportive, despite Mom’s putting me in the middle. “I just want you to be safe is all.”
“Quitting won’t do it. They can find me if they want.”
Her dramatic statement made my chest tighten. “Who can find you?” I could feel her agitation. “What aren’t you telling me, Silke?”
I recognized her tense expression. I’d seen it often enough looking into my own mirror. I gave her as good as I got. I was used to getting the truth out of offenders. And out of my sister. Finally, Silke sighed and I knew I had won.
“Okay, Thora was seeing this guy who’s part of a bizarre crowd. She told me things…well, things you wouldn’t like, Shell.”
I was liking this less and less. “Things like what?”
“Things.” Silke turned her attention to the teapot. She avoided looking at me for a moment and concentrated on filling the mugs. Then she handed one to me and met my gaze. “Thora told me about some really dangerous stuff…about people bleeding other people. I’m afraid that’s maybe what happened to her. That she died from loss of blood.”
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“Loss of blood?” I echoed, suddenly feeling sick inside.
“That’s why I wanted you to come and not call 911. It sounded so crazy. Raven said Thora was really white…that her body was cold like she didn’t have any blood left in her at all. I mean, she didn’t leave the bar that long before Raven found her. And Raven said the inside of Thora’s arm was slashed open.”
“Slashed?” I echoed. “Why didn’t you tell me this right away?”
“I figured you wouldn’t believe me unless you saw for yourself. And then, when her body wasn’t there…Most Goths are chill, but some of them…well, they can be scary. A vampire cult hangs at the bar, and Thora had a thing with the leader. That’s who she was living with—the vampire cult. Only she was doing it because of Elvin Mowry, not because she wanted to trade blood. What if Thora knew more than she told me, but the murderer thinks I know everything?”
This would have sounded crazy to me if not for my own experience. A body seemingly drained of blood…a slash on the inside of her arm…a vampire cult.
Cult?
Just that afternoon, Mom had been talking to Commander Aniceto about cult activity in the area. This couldn’t be a coincidence…so why hadn’t she told me?
I took a deep breath and a long, hard look at my sister. Her smeary raccoon eyes looked larger than usual. Even so, I was reminded of the image I had of her, when the recruit Morris had been down on the mat bemoaning being hurt.
Silke could get hurt.
Silke could get dead.
The thought drove down into my core like a hot knife.
I was the sensible one. I saw the world in black and white, while Silke saw it in living color. She explored it, celebrated it. And took chances that could spell disaster for her.
Now here we went again.
I didn’t want to believe this Thora had been drained of blood, or that Silke could be next for knowledge she didn’t even own. But I had seen LaTonya Sanford with my own eyes, and she’d been dead-dead, no matter what the department’s official position was.
Who had killed her and why? How had her body disappeared so fast—so fast that she might have up and walked herself out of that alley?
