1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Twelve

by Alexandra Ivy

  The oldest sold what they had, everything she didn’t take. And then he went to see a man.

  Morningstar.

  And that—that was the change that mattered the most.

  Nothing was ever the same after the girl and her brothers met Morningstar and became his tools.

  Chapter 18

  It becomes apparent, that Christian Griffin is not going to be any help when it comes to telling us about her daughter. She’s not completely catatonic, but it’s a damn close thing, and she sits there, placid and quiet as Chasity quiets the baby and looks at us.

  “Everything,” Eli says. “How long was she friends with Crystal?”

  “Most of high school. Crystal was one of the only girls who didn’t disappear when Bethie got pregnant.”

  That makes me and Eli still, and Chasity smiles, a small thin thing. “Yeah, Maryse is Beth’s little girl. We’ll have a helluva time explaining all of this later in life.”

  “Who’s the father?”

  Chasity makes a vague dismissive motion with her hand. “She’s ours. The daddy signed away his rights to her when she was two days old. Maryse was Bethie’s and she was doin’ her damnedest to make somethin’ of herself to give her baby a good life. She went to Crystal’s because they hadn’t seen each other, really, in weeks. She hadn’t had a night out since the school year started. So I told her, me and Christie would watch the baby, and she should go hang out with her friend. They were gonna study some. Watch a movie. Bethie just needed a night to be a kid, before she went back to be a mama.”

  Her lips press tight and her grip on the baby tightens until Maryse makes a low whimper and her aunt loosens her grip.

  “What do you think happened?” she asks, and I blink at her.

  “We don’t know. Not why, anyway. Was Beth or Crystal involved in anything illegal, do you know?”

  “No sir. Both those girls walked the straight and narrow pretty good. Bethie smoked a little pot, drank some, back in high school before Maryse came along. And Crystal—well, all she wanted was to get out of the County. She was goin’ to school and damned set on making her way into Topeka or farther away. She wouldn’t have fucked that up with a little partyin’.”

  I glance at Eli and see my frustration mirrored in his eyes.

  “Do you know if Beth drove to Crystal’s house?” he asks and Chasity’s eyes narrow.

  “Of course she did.”

  “We need the make and model of the Jeep, and the tag number, if you know it,” I say, and Chasity frowns, but writes it down.

  Black. Jeep Wrangler with a hardtop. The first four digits of her license plate.

  It’s a tiny lead. Barely a lead. But it’s all we’ve got.

  “You need to talk to Crystal’s boyfriend,” Chasity says, and it jerks both of our attention to her, hard. She smiles, but it’s not warm.

  This woman doesn’t know how to show warmth, not to anyone but the baby in her arms and her sister sitting, sobbing softly now, at her side.

  “Bethie hated him. Partly why she and Crystal drifted apart so much. He was all around bad news. He was working with Morningstar,” she adds, “Or that’s the rumor I heard.”

  Eli’s head jerks up at that, and his eyes are wide and angry. “Morningstar?”

  Chasity doesn’t seem phased at all that my brother is looking at her like he wants to rip her apart. She just smiles and nods a little.

  “Who is Morningstar?” I ask, my voice low.

  Chasity laughs, a little brittle and a lot angry.

  “Archer,” Eli snaps. “We’re leaving.”

  I resist his sharp tug on my arm and glare at her, “Who the fuck is Morningstar?”

  “Figure that out, detective, and you'll know who the hell killed my niece.”

  Eli says something, and I can't hear it over the roar in my head because Eli is hiding things from me. Again.

  I'm reminded, suddenly, that we’re supposed to be investigating prostitutes and that Eli had a…something, an in….that I didn't. I twist a little and pin my brother with a heavy glare but he ignores it and thanks Chasity before he leaves. Doesn't even speak to me or acknowledge the fury I'm radiating.

  Chasity gives me a sympathetic look before she walks me to the door. Because this is Green County, after all. And Eli’s temper is a thing that everyone knows, here. Even a girl like Chasity, wrapped up in her grief and family.

  “Thank you for talking to us,” I say, finally and she nods.

  “Get the bastard who killed my niece, Detective, and keep your thanks.”

  With that parting order, she shuts the door on me, shutting the family up with their deep grief and I turn to look at my brother, scowling and pacing next to the Roadrunner as he talks into his phone.

  I take my time descending the stairs to flank him.

  But when he hangs up and moves to slide into the car, I make a furious noise that stills him.

  “We don't have time for this,” he says sharply.

  “We're gonna make time,” I snap.

  Eli snarls, a wordless noise of fury and I grab him by the collar, toss him against the Roadrunner. “Who the fuck is he?”

  Eli shakes his head. Shrugs. “I don't know, Archer. If I did, I'd tell you. But. Scarlett talked about him, sometimes. Not a lot. I got the feeling he's a big player. But not the big player.”

  Scarlett. It always circles back to that fucking whore. I want to reach into our past and rip her out like a tumor.

  It's not a bad description of the bitch.

  And I'm too tired to deal with this shit, with Scarlett and the fall out that just keeps coming, right now. So I let my brother go and circle the car, climbing in.

  Change the subject completely, “Have you heard from Gabe?”

  Eli checks his phone and shakes his head. “She's probably just writing, Archer. She's fine.”

  And I know that's true. I do. But I can't wrap my head around it so I shake myself a little and crank the engine.

  And even though I don't say anything to him, we both know I'm going to Hazel as soon as I can.

  At the station, Eli ignores me completely. He throws himself into research while I fill the Chief in on what we learned and he turns it over in his head.

  “Have you heard of Morningstar?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “Nope. That's a new one for me. Eli has, though?”

  I bite my nail, worrying it for a second while I try to sort through everything. There are too many dead bodies. Too many secrets. Too many things hidden.

  I can't figure out what I'm supposed to be chasing right now.

  “Why did you think Eli could do something with the prostitutes?”

  “Because he's been working with them for months. He's looking for someone down there and the girls know it. Knows he won't trip them up.”

  “Crystal was dating a boy who works for Morningstar,” I say. “So maybe whatever is going on with the prostitutes has something to do with what went on in that house.” “It's a stretch,” Billings says.

  “I know but it's all we've got for now.”

  He gives me a brisk nod. “Chase it down and see what happens. See what shakes out.”

  I nod and shove out my seat and go to where my brother is still bent over his research. His shoulders come up a little when I approach and I know he's braced for my anger and a discussion he doesn't want to have.

  Scarlett and everything to do with her is always gonna be a discussion he doesn't want to have.

  “I'm going to see Hazel,” I say. “You still haven't heard from Gabe, right?”

  Eli shakes his head “No, nothing from him.” Nothing from either of them.

  I nod. “Okay, I'll be back in a little bit.”

  We both need space. I know it and so does he.

  So Eli doesn't protest as I scoop up the keys to the Roadrunner and head out the door.

  He stays behind.

  Chapter 19

  “Who is he?” I asked my voice shaking.

 
Michael smiles “That's not for me to tell you, Hazel. I've told you our story now I need you to tell stories that people listen to. I need you to tell her story.”

  I shake my head, adamant, “You're asking me to aid and abet a felon. You're asking me to go against the law when my brother is the cop investigating you. I can't do that, Michael.”

  “You don't understand. I'm not asking. I'm telling you that you are going to do this or I'm going to kill everyone you love. You’ve seen my work. You’ve seen what we can do.” He pauses, and he smiles coldly, “Are you going to tell the people a story or am I going to let John loose with his knife?”

  “Come near my family and I'll fucking kill you,” I spit.

  “I don't want to touch your family. Killing people is not what I want to do. It's a bad side of my business but the fact is I will. Because I need you and this is the way I'm going to motivate you. The ball's in your court, Hazel. What are you going to do?” It's not a question.

  He knows it and so do I. I'm going to do exactly what he’s demanding.

  Because I'm not willing to risk my family. And because it's a story and I've spent six months chasing one—chasing this story. I can't walk away from this even if I know that I should. “I need to talk to your sister,” I say and Michael smiles, quietly triumphant.

  “You can come by the house tomorrow,” he says.

  Behind me, John stirs the first time since this conversation began and Michael started telling me this story about his family and Hanna and everything that's between them all. A story that I'm still having trouble wrapping my head around.

  “Mike,” John snaps, “you can't just leave her here like this. She knows too much.

  She'll tell the damn cops.”

  Michael stares at him for a long minute before he smiles, “No, she won't,” he says. His voice is musing but it turns a little sharper. “I can't touch your brothers or Nora right now. Not without bringing more heat on us than I can handle at the moment. But Gabriel,” his voice trails off into a lilting question and his smile is dark and devilish.

  My stomach drops and twists and I'm shaking suddenly.

  “What did you do?” I demand.

  Even John looks startled as Michael produces a cell phone. And there he is in bright shiny color, blood on his face. Hands bound in front of him and a gag shoved in his mouth. Still, for all that he has a gun to his head and he's on his knees, bloody and beaten, my best friend looks fucking furious.

  And that helps some.

  Knowing that even though he's in danger, he isn't broken.

  “If,” Michael says, “I see a cop anywhere near me or John between now and tomorrow when you talk to my sister, I'll kill him.”

  “You know I have to see them. My brother and Archer. They're not going to leave me alone, especially with a murder scene this close to my house.”

  Michael nods, “I expect that. They're good brothers, after all.”

  And my stomach twists. What did they think was happening between me and Archer and Eli? Does he think—I shake my head. What I have, this fragile blooming thing between us, it's nothing like Hanna and John and Michael, blood relations and siblings in every sense of the word.

  I refuse to compare the two.

  “See your brothers,” Michael says casually. “Just lie to them. You can keep a secret, Hazel. It's only for one day and then you can tell my sister's story and it will be all over.”

  I nod once because I have no choices here and he knows it.

  He stands and finish the last sip of his coffee and smiles at me as he shrugs into his bloody coat. “It's good seeing you again, Hazel,” he says, as if we ran into each other at the park or the grocery store. My stomach twists, as I remember seeing him in the park and what he said there.

  “I told you we should catch up. It's good to talk things out. To tell each other what's been happening over the years. I’m glad we did this.”

  He gives me a smile and behind me John shifts again, anxious and impatient.

  “Mike, we’ve got to go,” he says.

  Michael nods and steps past me. “Keep your phone on,” he says.

  And then the doors open and they step out before it closes again and I am alone.

  For a moment I sit still and quiet, waiting for them to come back.

  Waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  And then I'm shaking and a scream is building in my throat. I slap a hand over my mouth, biting down hard and only a whimper escapes. Tiny broken noises as all of the fear and anger flood out of me in one near silent scream.

  I don't know how long I stay like that, curled in my chair at the kitchen table, a cup of cold coffee in front of me and Michael's empty cup across from me. But eventually I realize that I'm filthy. Or maybe I just feel filthy.

  I stumble to my feet and almost run from the room stripping out of my dirty clothes as I go. Smith paces at my side, whining, and I've pat his ears affectionately, distracted, as I turn on the water to the shower as hot as it will go.

  It's only when I'm under the spray, my hair dripping in my face, that the shaking finally stops and I can breathe and think again.

  Eventually I emerge from the shower. Mostly because I can't hide there forever.

  I get dressed in black yoga pants and a tank top and then I wander through the house, cleaning up.

  Pick up the messy blankets the boys left on my couch. Toss aside the beer cans and the empty bottles of whiskey. Pile all the dirty dishes in the sink and set them to soak. Archer and Eli both left bloody clothes in my bathrooms and I gather them up before I dump them in the washing machine with stain remover, detergent, and fabric softener. Of course I'm still doing their laundry. Some thing's I think will never change.

  Still it makes me feel useful and right now, I need that.

  I'm only a little surprised when I hear the Roadrunner pulling up outside. The heavy rumble that shakes the wood underneath my feet.

  I hook my wet hair behind my ears and pad silently to the kitchen. Archer is coming up the stairs by himself. And that alone is enough to make my heart try to jump out of my chest. Never mind that I have had someone threaten me today or that my best friend is being held hostage for my good behavior.

  Never mind that he's a cop and exactly who I shouldn't be seeing right now.

  Never mind that everything between us is up in the air and so complicated that I can't breathe.

  I see him alone standing on my porch, staring at me with those forest green eyes and I want him.

  It's the thing that I haven't really let myself admit.

  I want Brandon Archer.

  Good, bad, dirty, all of the things in between I want all of it. I want all of him.

  My mouth goes dry and I can't say anything at all as I push the door open and let him in.

  I've spent most of my life keeping secrets. Some are little and some are not. Some are harmless, some would devastate everything.

  And then there are other secrets. The ones that wouldn't just devastate—they would destroy.

  The thing about secrets is no matter how you deal with them, someone will be hurt when they come to light. And they always do.

  That's the other thing I've learned.

  I remember the first time someone broke my trust. I was in first grade and my best friend came to my house. I told her about the chocolate that my mother hid in our library and how sometimes when I was really upset with her, I would steal a piece. Later, she got mad at me, my friend, and she ran to my mother and told her that I was stealing chocolate.

  Mama didn't so much care as I was upset with my friend.

  The nature of secrets is to be told. Spread. Broken. To be spilled over and shared.

  To slice into and break apart.

  Four years ago, I slept with my best friend. The boy who had kept my secrets and held my heart. And then I ran away. The truth was—the secret that I hid was—I was going to leave before that night ever happened.

  It only happened because I was leaving
.

  Being in Green County with Archer without being with Archer hurt too much for me to stay.

  Running away was the best and worst decision I've ever made.

  But now I'm home again and secrets are spilling over and piling up and begging to be told, begging to be shared.

  It is the nature of secrets to not remain. To find their way the truth. And that terrifies me.

  Archer steps inside my house and I fall back a step to let him.

  “I thought you'd be too busy to come bother me,” I say crisply, falling back on snark and sarcasm.

  “You weren't answering your phone,” he says, glancing at where it's sitting on the kitchen table. His eyes narrow. “Did you have company?”

  I blink. His voice a little bit annoyed. I glanced over the table and realize that Michael's coffee cup is still sitting across from mine.

  It's the nature of secrets to come to light.

  “No, I woke up in the middle of the night, ended up with two cups. I forgot that I had made one. It doesn't matter. What are you doing here?” I ask as I scoop both cups off the table and dump them in the sink with the rest of the dirty dishes.

  Then focus on the way he's frowning at me like he doesn't quite believe me and doesn't know if he should push.

  “Do you remember Scarlett?” he asks.

  I frown. “No. Who is she?”

  He blows out of breath, frustrated, “A couple years ago, while you were gone, Eli got into some trouble. Scarlett had a lot to do with it.”

  “What kind of trouble?” I demand.

  Archer shifts, uneasy. “The kind that included rehab and a six month vacation from the force.”

  “What the actual fuck? Why the hell would you keep this from me?” I shout, jerking away from the dirty dishes, my mind racing.

  Eli was on drugs?

  “You were happy in Boston.” Archer says, patiently. “I wasn’t going to fuck that up telling you your brother had a drug addiction and a bitch with her hooks in him. I took care of it. I took care of Eli. Took care of all of them.”