He surveyed the area, where was the voice coming from? All of a sudden it bellowed out from behind him startling him. Brad jolted around pointing the gun toward the sound.
“Nicole,” he paused, “I wasn’t going to kill her. I thought she was different. I thought maybe I would let her live. I loved watching her, Bradley. Emily was leaving. I would have had her to myself. I would give her a glass of wine and put one of these little pills in it.”
Brad could hear a bottle of pills used almost as a maraca. He still couldn’t see anything. He took a step slowly toward the bar. I have to turn on the lights. No shadows, no signs of an intruder--only hear Steve’s haunting voice. Where was he?
“I could have enjoyed her all night and she wouldn’t have known anything. It was perfect. It was a perfect plan, but she left. She left, Bradley, without even saying goodbye.”
Bradley looked toward the door. Where is Pete? Where the hell is Pete?
“How deep is your obsession for her? Would you die for her? Would you sacrifice your life to save her?”
“Take me, if it will save her. Yes, kill me instead.”
“That would be too easy now, wouldn’t it? We can help each other, Bradley. I want her, I will get her back.”
“Don’t you touch her, don’t you lay a hand on her.” Brad’s eyes darted around the bar. Where could he be?
“You help me get rid of Dylan, and I won’t tell anyone your little secret.”
“My secret, what are you talking about?” Dylan knows I have a crush on Nikki.
“How you murdered that poor girl, how you murdered that sweet little waitress.”
“What are you talking about? Katie? Are you talking about Katie? I didn’t touch her!”
“I have the surveillance tape, Bradley…You walked into the apartment with her, shortly before she was murdered. Remember those beers you sold me? The ones with your beautiful finger prints all over them? It is amazing what a little Cyanoacrylat, A small dash of glycerene, a dummy mold, some wood clue and theatrical glue can do now-a-days. Your fingerprints are all over her apartment and the knife that slashed her neck.”
“I didn’t touch her. She was alive when I left her.”
“Is that what you will tell them?” Steve let out an evil laugh. “I will help you Brad, I won’t give them the tape or the knife if you help me. I have friends you see. It is your choice Bradley. Where does your true loyalty lie Bradley? Perhaps Dylan isn’t exactly who you think he is.”
Bradley stood quiet. Where is Steve? He squinted, searching the darkness. The voice seemed to keep moving. Just when he thought he’d knew where it was coming from, it sounded from somewhere else.
“Why did you do it, Bradley?”
Finally Brad placed the sounds of the voice. There was only one place it could be coming from. He fired the gun over and over in the direction of the voice until he emptied the clip
“Such a shame, you missed.” Steve’s voice rang out again. “You so hostile Bradley, no need for violence.”
“Damn it. Pete where are you?” Brad said under his breath.
“Oh your friend, don’t worry, he won’t be joining you, he was you see, detained.”
Shit
“Why did you kill that poor waitress? Did she turn you down like Nicole did?”
Brad grabbed a chair and charged the wicked voice, “I didn’t touch her!”
There was nothing there. It was as if Steve had disappeared. The voice appeared across the room. “Bradley, shame on you. Don’t you want to be friends? Let’s get rid of Dylan together. I’m going to leave right now, but remember. We can help each other.” The voice disappeared--disappeared into thin air. He had to turn the lights on. Brad rushed over to the lights bracing himself for the worst. He flicked them on.
He searched the bar. There was no sign of him. Then he noticed the infrared camera overhead. He took a chair and smashed it down. Where did the voice come from? He turned over tables and chairs in the line that the voice came from until he found the first one—a tiny sound device. He wanted to smash it, but perhaps Chris could figure something out about it. He continued to search the bar until he found three more audio devices.
Pete staggered in the door. “They jumped me, man. I’m sorry I took so long. Oh my god what happened?”
“Steve was watching through the camera and responding as if he was here through these damn things! It seemed so real. It was as if he was here!”
“The police are outside, arresting the guys that didn’t get away. Are you okay?”
“Are you? I’m sorry Pete. I’m sorry I got you involved in this.”
The officer entered the bar, looking around at the damage. Should I give the evidence to the cop? What if he is dirty? There had to be a reason no one had caught Steve. His friends…they must be cops. He decided to only give one device to the officer. He would lock the others in a storage unit so Chris could see them uncontaminated.
He turned to the officer, “It sounded as if Steve was here.” Brad explained how he had been there the night before dressed as an African American soldier. He made sure the officer knew how dangerous Steve was. He couldn’t let another one of his employees or patrons get murdered.
As the policed surveyed the area Brad turned to Pete. “I understand if you don’t want to run the club while I’m gone. I’m really sorry about this. I figured in the daylight with the cops coming, we would be okay.”
“Don’t be silly Brad,” Pete tried to lighten the mood as he rubbed his jaw. “I haven’t had a good fight in a while. There is a reason I became a bouncer. The cops will be here, I will make sure no one gets hurt. You do what you have to do. I will make sure nothing happens at the bar.”
“Thanks man, make sure to be careful.” Brad gave Pete a hug.
“You be careful! Really, he is a sick SOB. You keep Nikki safe.”
Brad got in the car and took out the device, bringing it to his lips to speak into it. “We are going to find you, Steve. You are going to die.”
No sound responded. Perhaps it was no longer live. He put it in the duffle bag along with the devices he collected and the camera and tucked the duffle bag into the storage unit. In case there was a tracking device, he didn’t want to risk bringing it to New Orleans. He pulled down the metal door to the unit. The chains and rusted track screeched as he lowered it. “We are going to find you, you S.O.B. You will never lay a hand on Nikki again.”
Chapter 53
His stare tickled me, as he pressed his fingers over my lips. “Shh, you’re adorable.”
~Dylan Richarson
Obsession and Sacrifice
Tiffany Carmouché
*Nicole*
I sat in the crowded, open-air New Orleans’s bar on Frenchman Street. Apparently, Bourbon Street is where the tourists go, and Frenchman is where the locals come to. Justin was right; he and Dylan had the girls eating out of their hands. The Spotted Cat was a small, but the girls chanting their names echoed through the bar as if it was a stadium as the band commanded the place. It was hard to take my eyes off Dylan even though I had promised I wouldn’t crush on him. How could I help it?
His fingers danced on the guitar in ways I had never seen before. He glanced in my direction, our eyes met and he winked at me. A tickle went up my spine. I can’t like him. I can’t like him. I couldn’t take my eyes off him though. The way he moved, the way he played, the way he handled his guitar…the way he held me when we were dancing…the way he…
I felt like one of his frantic fans, wanting to scream and reach for him on stage, but I sat calm, sipping my Hurricane and at least tried to give the impression that I wasn’t again falling under his spell.
As the song ended, the screaming erupted. I could barely hear the waitresses asking me if I wanted another drink. I nodded, looking back to
the stage. Dylan took a seat by a mic and he started picking a song, changing the mood in the club. He grinned out to the crowd of people then turned and looked directly at me.
“I want to dedicate this to a lady I have grown quite fond of and who I can’t stop thinking about. I know she isn’t quite sure what to make of me, but I want her to know, I’m pretty into her. Nicole, this is for you.” My eyes opened wide and my breath fluttered. He gazed at me while he sang. I tried to look away, but I was so caught up in his voice—in his words—I just disappeared into them.
I flashed back in time, feeling the urge to rush to the stage and throw my arms around him. A serge rushed threw me and for a moment, I remembered. I remembered the surprise that overwhelmed me. I felt much the way I did, sitting here in New Orleans. The song was so beautiful; he wrote the song for me? I wanted the moment to never end--I was lost in his eyes, lost in his lyrics.
I remembered him singing to me in the bar in Alaska. I was carrying a tray of drinks, staring at him. Drinks flew everywhere and I looked up horrified. I fell? He sang me a song and I fell in front of him? The memory disappeared.
I gazed back to the stage. A warmth came over me and a feeling that started in my stomach and permeated through my body. As he gazed at me, it felt so familiar, so right. A wall melted within me. I blinked to break free of his spell, but the intense way he looked at me, his words and his beautiful voice had me captivated and as much as I tried to I couldn’t look away.
The song ended and he put down his guitar. Nodding at Justin, he jumped into the crowd making his way to my little table. He picked me up in his arms as if he was going to carry me over a threshold. I knew it was all for show--for his family, but OMG I just about died. I promised. I promised. I can’t get a stupid crush on him again. But it felt so good to be in his arms.
When we got out to the street, he burst out into a laugh. “We fooled them, huh? You should have seen Justin’s face. I’m sure this will get back to my folks by tonight. I saw my brother-in-law in the crowd and some family friends. We’ll go see my dad tomorrow.”
I looked into his eyes. I didn’t mean anything to him. The gaze…the song…his carrying me out to the moonlight. All just a show. I got so caught up in the moment, a small piece of me, okay a big piece of me, hoped he felt the same way I was starting to feel. A friend. He is a friend. JUST A FRIEND. Don’t mess this up. I couldn’t let on that I was head-over-heels for him. I had to pretend. I had to pretend. I began laughing too. “That was brilliant. You should get an Oscar.” He realized I was still in his arms and put me down.
The streets were crowded with people. Many dressed in costumes, others just enjoying the night. Couples, groups of friends, old and young decorated the streets, all sharing in the festivities and overwhelming life that spread throughout the Quarter. As we passed clubs, the different bands’ music seeped into the street, and a sound drew me toward a crowded club. I grinned as the music brought me back to my daddy’s records.
The live jazz had richness, a melodic spontaneity. I closed my eyes. I could see my mom and dad dancing with me in the kitchen when I was a little girl.
“You had a memory, I know that look.” Dylan tried to yell over the crowd. I could feel my cheeks lift the corners of my mouth. I nodded. The vitality and creativity of the musicians as they interacted with each other in the sound made you want to sit, close your eyes and escape. We couldn’t go in, it was too crowded. I couldn’t see the stage or the musicians, but for a moment it brought me back to a time I could remember. For a moment.
I would have loved to stay there if we could sit down, but I knew my legs wouldn’t be able to handle too much more and I wanted to experience the Quarter. I took Dylan’s hand and led him back out into the sea of people in the streets.
“We’re just outside the Quarter, only about seven blocks or so away.”
It may as well have been a million. My legs were tired but I loved being with him. I tried not to show it in fear it would come to an end. But he noticed I leaned on his arm a little more and my stride became slower.
“You okay?”
“Yes, yes I am fine.” Before I knew it I was on his shoulders towering over the crowd.
When we got to the Quarter, Dylan lowered me. We ducked into some of the bars and shops that lined the streets, laughing at the outrageous statements and blatant sexuality. I was sipping my daiquiri when Dylan grabbed a mask off the wall. The feathers outlined the eyes elaborately, in what I assumed were the Mardi Gras colors—the colors were everywhere. He brought the mask to my face.
“I think you need this one.” He brought me over to a mirror and my brown eyes peeked out from behind the purple, gold and green feathers. “Perfect.”
“So, do these colors symbolize anything?”
He turned me around and took his finger and traced the feathers on my face, “The purple, the purple represents justice. The green represents faith. And the gold, the gold represents power.” He stood before me, his eyes gazing into mine. I liked the way the feathers tickled me as he touched each one. I bit my lip. Butterflies invaded my stomach. God I wish he would kiss me. My eyes broke away from his stare. I tried to take a step and started to wobble and almost fell. He caught me. That was the last thing I needed, to be in his arms. It wasn’t just the alcohol, it was him. I inhaled.
“Did I fall?”
“What?” It was obvious I had.
“When you sang me that song, did I fall? I had the strangest memory.”
He started laughing, “That is what you remembered?”
“I remembered being in the bar with a tray full of drinks and them flying everywhere.”
“It was quite the show. You had tequila and assorted alcohol all over you. You were drenched. You looked quite delicious.”
“Are you serious? And the whole bar saw me?”
“Yep, pretty epic.”
“How embarrassing.” My hands went over my face.
“It was actually really cute.” He took my hands away from my face.
“Even when I could walk, I was falling? I’m such a klutz.”
His stare tickled me, as he pressed his fingers over my lips. “Shh, you’re adorable.”
As we traveled through the crowded streets decorated with wrought iron balconies and half naked women we got to a street with a row of horse and buggies. I walked over to the chestnut horse and ran my hand down the white stripe on its nose.
Dylan helped me into the carriage and we rode through the Quarter at twilight. I lifted my mask. “I feel like I’m in a fairy tale. That can be our castle. I pointed to Saint Jackson’s Cathedral. “Thank you, Dylan. Thank you for the song and for this. I can’t believe I’m at Mardi Gras. I can’t believe I’m in New Orleans. My friend, ” I tilted my head. “She has blue eyes and is really tall. She use to talked about New Orleans all the time and make me jealous.” The memory was disappeared. “And I’m here. I am here…with you.”
He put his arm around me as he pointed out things on our journey. Was this for show? Did he see someone? I didn’t care. Even in the heat of New Orleans, goosebumps prickled my body. The crowd of people disappeared and there was only him and the sound of the horse’s hooves beating against the brick roads as if we were riding off into the sunset. The driver slowed down. Please don’t end.
Dylan leaned over and tipped the driver and jumped out of the carriage and lifted me down. We stood right in front of the cathedral and gazed at each other for a moment. Kiss me. He didn’t.
He took my hand and walked me across the street. “My dad does a lot of business down here so I came down often. I can’t say I remember much about my trips. I was trashed most of the time. I think you’ll like it even more when it’s not Mardi Gras. The Jazz Fest, you’ll love the Jazz Fest. Maybe I can bring you back down.”
“I’d like that.”
&nb
sp; “My dad’s hotel is throwing a party tomorrow. It is not an official part of Mardi Gras, it’s a private ball. It’ll be elegant and you’ll have a lot of fun. It’ll be good for them to see us together. We’ll need to get you a dress for it tomorrow and I know the perfect place. And that jeweler is here in town from Aleta’s Accessories. The one who made the necklace for my sister’s wedding.”
I stared at him. I had no idea what he was talking about.
“I’m sorry, that was before your accident.” He paused for a moment. “Anyway, if you think this is great, wait till we get you to a parade.” I could tell he was changing the subject to not harp on my stupid amnesia. I felt so dumb sometimes. Who was I kidding? All of the time. Why couldn’t I remember?
“I know your sister? Is she here?”
“No, I wish she came but she couldn’t make it.”
“This is the place I told you about. You can’t come to New Orleans and not visit the Café Du Monde.” We arrived at the outdoor café, the green and white striped awnings gave it a charm. The smell of pastries filled the air as we entered. “Have you ever had a Beignet?”
“A Ben what?”
“Trust me you will love them. Coffee or hot chocolate?”
He brought the tray with plates of the little puffs of dough covered in powdered sugar, to our table and set one in front of me with my cup of cocoa. A mountain of whipped cream hid any sign of chocolate inside. As I took a sip, the whipped cream got caught on my upper lip. “This is not really lady like, is it?” I licked my lips and picked up my first Beignet drenched in powdered sugar. The sugar snowed all over my shirt and lap. Dylan laughed out loud.
Obsession and Sacrifice (Alaska #2) Page 21
