by Ana Medeiros
“Why not?” Grace asked, not letting him finish.
“Because you’ve a lot in your mind. It’s a bad time.”
“It should never be a bad time for us to discuss Seth and Eli.”
“What do you want to discuss?”
“Don’t you hate yourself? I’ve lost count of the many times I’ve laid awake beside my husband going over in my head what happened that night. I lie to him every day. The guilt is a horrible burden and it’s destroying me and my marriage.”
“At the time we made a decision that was best for everyone. Now all we can do is deal with the consequences of it.”
“Today, right now, do you still think it was the best decision for everyone?”
Julian locked eyes with her. “Yes, I do.”
“I don’t.”
“What do you want from me?” he asked, quietly.
“I don’t know. I don’t. I’m so confused.”
“Grace, we had sex one time while you and Pete were broken up. We were both drunk. When you found out you were pregnant, you were already back with Pete. You were happy to be with him and wanted to work on your relationship.” Julian was trying to keep his voice low and impassive. “You wanted to be married and have a family. I couldn’t give you what you wanted but he could. If you had told Pete he wasn’t the father none of that would have been possible.”
“If I had, would you have been there for me and the boys?”
“I have never wanted kids and I still don’t. I was honest with you.”
Grace got up from the kitchen stool and went to stand against the counter. She kept her eyes on the floor. “You know what breaks my heart?”
Julian turned to face her. “No, tell me.”
“You would have been a better father.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes I do. I do because tonight you dropped everything so you could be here for me and them.”
“It’s one night. Not a lifetime. I’ll always be there for you when you need me but Seth and Eli need a father; someone who’s there every day. I’m sorry, Grace.”
“Even with all your flaws you’re a better man than Pete.”
“You’ve no idea what type of man I am.”
“No, you’ve no idea what type of man your best friend is. If you do, you’re refusing to see it. I don’t know if I want him raising my kids.”
“You want a divorce? Do you want to tell him he’s not the biological father of the boys?”
In a gesture of hopelessness, she threw her head back. “I don’t know. I kept thinking that if I dedicated myself to my career, if I kept a more beautiful home, if I ate healthier, if I exercised more, I would somehow become a better wife, a better mother and my life would stop spiraling out of control. And then you showed up with Alana and you guys appeared to be so in sync with each other that it made me angry, you know? How dare you show up at my house with your charming new girlfriend? How dare you be happy when I’m not? How dare you move on when I’m left lying to my husband and my kids every hour of every single day?”
Julian made his way to Grace but stopped before he got too close. “Look at me,” he asked. She met his eyes. “This is not about me. It’s about you,” he continued, his voice gentle. “You’re a lawyer in a high profile law firm. You’re a new mother of twins. Your marriage is in crisis. You’re overwhelmed and you’re exhausted,” he said, taking a step closer to her. “You’re going to get through this, though. You’re brilliant and strong. Never doubt yourself.” Julian stretched his hand to Grace and waited for her to take it. When she wrapped her fingers around his palm, he took another step forward and closed his arms around her, hugging her. “I’m here for you and I’ll help you get through it.”
“Do you think Pete suspects?” she asked, hugging him back.
“He doesn’t.”
“How are you so sure?”
“If he did he would have punched me in the face or tried to ruin my life.”
Grace remained silent, like she was thinking about what Julian had said. “It would destroy him to find out Seth and Eli aren’t his and that you and I lied. He wouldn’t be able to cope with such betrayal.”
“I know,” Julian replied, closing his eyes. “I know.”
Grace removed her arms from around Julian’s waist and rubbed her temple. “I think I should get some sleep…I can barely stand up anymore. My head is killing me.”
With his hands still on her shoulders, he studied her face and saw how tired she looked. “Please make yourself comfortable in the guest room at the end of the hall.”
“I need to get Seth and Eli.”
“I’ll watch them. You go get some sleep.”
“They wake up throughout the night—”
“Grace?” he interrupted, “I got it. Just go lie down.”
She nodded. “If they get fussy, just bring them to me.”
“I will. Don’t worry.”
He watched her walk out of the kitchen and disappear down the hall. Turning off the lights behind him, Julian went into his bedroom. The nightstand lamp was on and the large room appeared cozier because of the warm, soft glow. He glanced at the twins in their improvised bed on the floor and he realized Eli was awake and staring at him with interest. Hoping he wouldn’t feel scared and start crying, Julian walked up to him and crouched down by the edge of the blanket.
“Hey you…wide awake, huh?”
Julian didn’t fully understand why, but he spoke to Eli in Hungarian. It felt natural to him to speak to the boys in his first language. Eli continued to look at Julian, his face serious. “I have problems sleeping myself, so I can relate,” he continued in Hungarian.
At that point Seth rolled over and soon enough he was also staring up at Julian with curiosity. “Now both of you are up,” he whispered, shaking his head. “No crying, okay? Your mom needs to sleep. She’s going through a rough time and we all need to work together to make sure she feels better.”
He quickly changed into a t-shirt and a pair of track pants. Opening the curtains, he moved the boys closer to the expansive window and, grabbing a pillow and some extra blankets, joined them on the floor.
While Eli was entertained playing with one of his toys over Julian’s legs, Seth started to cry and he held the distressed boy in his arms. Not knowing what to do, Julian did what his mother used to do when he was growing up—he brought Eli’s face to rest on his cheek and started to point out constellations in the night sky. Not long after, he was holding both boys in his arms. Julian knew it was merely the sound of his low-pitched voice that had lulled them to lie peacefully against his chest. But he was enjoying giving the twins their first astronomy lesson, one that they would not understand, let alone remember.
After talking at great lengths about the Orion constellation, his favorite, he looked down at the boys. “I’m undeserving of you,” Julian said, almost to himself, as he caressed their heads. “And I gave you up to a man just as undeserving. I’m so sorry.”
Chapter 19
With sweaty palms and her breathing shallow, Pam waited. Steven Thompson was thirty minutes late. As usual, they were supposed to meet at the Asian art gallery, inside the Art Institute. Meeting in public was safer but every time they did, she was afraid someone would see them together. Thompson hated that particular area of the Art Institute. He said it made him feel like Pam and her ancestors were conspiring to bring him down. Because she wanted to make him pay for the uneasiness that their meetings caused her, Pam continued to choose that spot. She took pleasure in watching Thompson, a paranoid man, behave like a caged animal.
“What’s the reason for our little date?”
Pam didn’t bother turning around. “I don’t have anything. I can’t make a move.”
“Did you drag me here to tell me this bullshit?”
“Don’t press my patience, Steven.”
“Why don’t you ask your stepdaughter, who has been busy spreading her legs to the nice folks at the club? I’m sure s
he could help you.”
Pam silently counted to five before she answered. She didn’t want to lose her temper. “Leave Meredith out of this.”
“Why don’t you have anything on him? It’s impossible. Four women, Pamela. Four.”
She hated when he called her by her full name. “Shut up. You don’t think I’ve done everything to find evidence I can use to link him, at least, to one of the deaths?”
“He did it.”
“That doesn’t help me. I need hard evidence.”
Thompson was silent. “So what do we do?” he finally asked.
“I’m going to speak again with everyone who might know or have seen something. If I end up empty handed, there’s nothing more we can do.” Pam didn’t take her eyes away from the ancient woodblock text on display in front of her. “The thought that he might get away with it makes me so mad.”
“He won’t stop. There will be more women. Sooner or later he’ll fuck up.”
“He’s got a type. Young, Eastern European, blonde, shorter than five-foot-four, ingénue looking. Can you get me a list of every woman who goes to The Raven Room and fits that description?”
“What you’re asking me is near impossible. I don’t think that information exists and if it does only the fuckers who manage the club have access to it.” Thompson shook his head. “I’ve been having problems with them.”
“Bribe, blackmail, threaten. Do whatever you have to do to find out.”
“We’re talking about some of the most dangerous people in Chicago. Do you want me to end up with a bullet between my eyes?”
Pam raised an eyebrow and Thompson chuckled. “Always such a cold bitch.”
The Art Institute was about to close and they were the only ones in that gallery. They were standing side by side but they still hadn’t looked at each other. From the corner of her eye, Pam saw Thompson’s black leather shoes. After all those years he still wore the same style of shoes.
She backed away from the glass box and turned without looking at Thompson. With her back to him, she stopped. They were less than two steps away from each other. “I’ll call you if I come across anything. Meanwhile, find out if there’s a list.”
The air between them had shifted and she knew he was now looking at her.
“We’re doing the right thing, Pamela.”
She wished what they were doing was only about justice but they both knew it went beyond that. “It’s not about right or wrong,” she said, not sure he could hear her. “It’s about stopping a killer and keeping The Raven Room out of the spotlight.”
“Besides being a cold bitch you’re also the smartest woman I know.”
Pam continued to walk away from him, eyes straight ahead. “Don’t let me turn you on.”
She was already in the hall when she heard Thompson’s laugh. They could have had that conversation over the phone and, like her, he was aware of the risk of them meeting in person. But regardless of whether it was him or her who asked to meet, neither of them ever said no.
She exited the Art Institute, hands deep inside her coat pockets. She had forgotten her gloves at her desk and it was so cold she couldn’t stand the strong wind touching her exposed skin. As soon as she entered her car, she turned on the heat, rubbed her hands together and pressed her palms against her red cheeks. She caught a whiff of the air freshener she had clipped to the car vent a few weeks ago. Tropical breeze. The sweet, fruity scent reminded her of fine, white sand and turquoise ocean water but also made her want to pound her fists against her frozen windshield. Instead, she hit the steering wheel over and over again. While she was at it, she swore, screaming as loud as she could.
She took her phone out of her coat pocket, knowing exactly what she would see when she looked at the screen—the icon of a little Christmas tree. As he always did after their meetings, Thompson had texted her. She had saved his contact under that icon because it brought her memories she was foolish enough to hold on to. She also knew exactly what his text would say. She deleted it without reading it.
Pam started the car and drove toward the police station. It was close to six o’clock and the sky was already pitch black but she had work to do before she could go home. It would be another evening of her running to the twenty-four-hour deli across the street and eating a sandwich at her desk.
It was past midnight and Pam was still at the station. She had turned off the overhead florescent lighting and only the lamp on her wood veneer desk, with its wobbly shade, remained on. Pam opened the bottom drawer and grabbed a large folder. Inside there were large pictures of four women. All of them had been found in their homes, naked in their beds. And in the same position—on their backs, head turned to the right, both legs bent at the knees and turned to the left, the right arm stretched out and the left arm bent over the head. She knew that pose held meaning but so far she hadn’t been able to decipher it. She would have Colton search pictures, images, sculptures of females, hoping he would come across something that resembled the position in which the women had been found.
No matter how hardened a homicide detective she was, she always took consolation knowing the victim hadn’t suffered. It helped her get through the job. People are not afraid of dying. They are afraid of pain. She was relieved that the women had been killed by heroin overdose. Compared to what she was used to seeing, it was the perfect death.
Pam went through her notes on the last victim and wrote down the address of the woman who had identified the body. She had already spoken with her but maybe she had remembered something since then. Returning to her car, she drove away from the station and turned on the radio. It was the beginning of April and they were still calling for snow.
Chapter 20
“What kind of camera is that?”
Julian and Alana were walking around in the Lakeview neighborhood. It was a clear day and, for the first time in several months, the temperature wasn’t freezing. After spending the night together and lounging in bed all morning, they had elected that Sunday was Alana’s day, which meant it would be up to her to decide what they were going to do. Julian had been enticed by the prospect of using that as a means to get to know her better.
“It’s a Holga.” She passed it to him. “You’ve never seen one?”
“First time.” He held it with his gloved hands and admired it for a while. “Looks like a toy.”
Alana laughed. “It’s a medium format film camera. You never know how your pictures will look when you take them with a Holga. It’s unpredictable. Colors tend to be very saturated, you get beautiful vignettes…it almost forces you to see the world in a completely different way.”
“Like They Live?”
“What?” She stared at him confused.
“You’ve never seen the movie They Live?” he asked, his eyes wide.
“You look shocked.”
“How could I not be? It’s a great movie.”
“What’s it about?”
“It’s about a guy who discovers this pair of sunglasses and, while he’s wearing them, he’s able to see that the world is being taken over by aliens….” He smiled.
“Aliens?” she asked, raising her eyebrows as she tried to contain her laughter.
“What’s wrong with aliens?”
“There’s nothing wrong with them. I’m just surprised you’re into aliens, that’s all.”
Alana took the camera back and pointed it at him. He raised his hands to his face. “What are you doing?”
“I’m taking a picture of you,” she said from behind the Holga. “I’ll name it, Julian and the Aliens.”
She was fast, and before he could say no, she pressed the shutter and got her picture. Julian dropped his head, his eyes on the pavement.
Putting the camera back inside her purse, she approached him and rested her hands on his chest. “Are you embarrassed?” Her tone was light and joyful.
“Not embarrassed. I’m just not used to having my picture taken, that’s all.”
Alana got
on her tiptoes and dropped a small kiss on his chin. Julian was quick to wrap his arms around her waist and, keeping her close to him, brought his lips to hers. He didn’t care that they were standing on the middle of the sidewalk. The feeling of her tongue caressing his, the way she moaned softly when he deepened the kiss, made it too pleasurable for him to consider his usual need for privacy. In that moment, Julian’s world consisted only of Alana. He lifted her off the ground and with one of her hands on the back of his neck and the other grasping his shoulder, she held on to him tightly.
The close proximity of a dog barking at its owner made them break the kiss. Julian lowered her to her feet but was hesitant to let her go. Looking down at Alana, he brought her infinity scarf closer to her neck and adjusted the winter hat she was wearing. He enjoyed feeling her body against his and he didn’t want to stop touching her.
“That look…tell me what you’re thinking,” Alana whispered.
“Do you really want to know what I’m thinking?”
“Uh-huh.”
Julian ran his gloved thumb along her jaw until it came to rest it on her still-moist lips. “I’m thinking how this morning it felt unbelievably good to have my cock deep inside of your tight ass. How I loved watching my come drip out of you while you were still panting and your body was trembling in front of me.”
She closed her eyes. “You’re making me wet.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Alana grabbed his hand and started to cross the street.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
She took them to small coffee shop, on the other side of the road.
“Here.” She passed him some money. “Can you buy me a coffee? I’ll be right back.”
Taking off his gloves, Julian shook his head. “I’m not taking your money. I’ll buy us coffee.”
“I’ll get the next round, then.” Alana turned around and walked toward the end of the coffee shop. “Black, please, no sugar,” she said over her shoulder.
As he watched her disappear through the large door, he got in line to order, wondering what Alana was up to. The place was packed, the usual scene for a Chicago coffee shop on a sunny winter Sunday afternoon.
