by M. Leighton
The moment was gone, but it was one of those that felt like such a compliment, you wanted to relive it over and over and over again, which I’m sure I’d do plenty of times in the coming days. It left the atmosphere in the car light and friendly, yet highly charged, like the air between us crackled.
We did the small talk thing on the way to get our coffee. At Starbuck’s, Grayson bought me a Cinnamon Dulce Latte and a plain black coffee for himself. Drinking coffee that way must be a cop thing.
“They didn’t give us napkins. Why don’t you get a couple out of the glove compartment,” he said, pointing toward it as if I didn’t know where it was located. He’s so cute! I thought with a smile.
When I opened up the compartment, I was surprised at how everything inside was neatly arranged and separated. The small area was divided into three distinct sections: owner’s manual, stakeout supplies and Fireballs. Though it wasn’t the largest section, I estimated that there were at least a hundred Fireballs in his glove compartment, maybe more.
The sweet cinnamon smell wafted up to tickle my nose and I thought immediately of how Grayson’s mouth tasted. Warmth spread through my belly.
Embarrassed at where my thoughts were going, I quickly grabbed us each a napkin from the stakeout supplies section and shut the door. Without looking up, I handed Grayson a napkin and said, “Now what were you saying?”
Inevitably, after the small talk had waned, the conversation had turned toward murder. And since there were no new developments in Lisa Bauer’s case, we’d moved quickly past her and started talking about the two newer cases. The second murder victim had been identified as Ariel Stoots.
“I was asking you if you saw any other kind of violence toward Stoots in your dream? Other than the knife to her heart and finger?”
I thought back and couldn’t remember laying hands on her at any other time. “No. I really can’t. Why?”
At the park, Grayson pulled into the same parking space he’d used before and then he cut the engine. A puzzled frown pinched his dark eyebrows together. “It’s so strange. She had massive brain damage. The ME said it was like she’d been shot in the head only there was absolutely no evidence of a bullet. Or a gunshot wound for that matter.”
I went back over my dream, played it back in slow motion, looking for anything I might’ve missed. A sinking feeling invaded the pit of my stomach when I reached the part where my hand had hovered over Ariel Stoots’ body and she’d started bucking like she was having a seizure.
As she grabbed at her head and thrashed about like something was hurting her, the pieces started to fall into place. And then I saw the blood dripping from her chin. That’s the moment she’d suffered the terrible brain damage. I’d bet my life on it.
I could feel the milk from my cappuccino curdling in my stomach. My guts contracted and roiled in distress.
“Are you alright?”
Grayson was looking at me suspiciously.
“I guess I’ve just had too much excitement. My drink isn’t setting very well.”
“This probably wasn’t the best night to do this. Why don’t you go home and get some rest? We can try this again some other time. Maybe this weekend. You know, since you’re in need of some…entertainment and all,” he teased with a wink.
“That’s probably a good idea. I mean, I’d hate to ruin your carpet. Or your upholstery,” I said looking around. Then my eyes came to rest on his crisp white shirt. “Or your clothes.”
He looked down and then back up at me. “Yeah, I pretty much like all my stuff cappuccino and vomit free.”
“Eh,” I said with a shrug. “To each his own.” I forced a smile into place.
“Call you Saturday?” That must be his thing, to ask questions in that way.
“Great!”
I sat for a few more seconds, not knowing exactly what to do. I thought he might kiss me again. I wanted him to kiss me again. Even though I felt like I could hurl at a moment’s notice, my hormones were still very much aflutter. Apparently his were not, however, because he made no move to do any such thing.
“Well, thanks for the coffee,” I said, pulling the door handle to let myself out.
“My pleasure,” he said, starting the engine.
Just before I shut the door, he leaned across the seat. “Call me if anything else happens.”
I just smiled and nodded. It seemed that his mind was always working.
He waited until I had reversed out of the parking lot before he pulled out. In my rearview mirror, I watched him speed away in the opposite direction.
My emotions were a mess. In the last two weeks, I’d started college, met two cute guys, and seen not one, not two, but three murders in graphic detail. I’d also caused someone to puke on Jake, inadvertently talked an innocent girl into attacking Trinity and her friends, possibly contributed to a man getting shot, mentally slammed a dog against a tree and now Grayson was leaving me high and dry. I couldn’t help but wonder if God punk’d people and, if so, how I’d managed to get on that crappy list.
I ran by the pharmacy to get my prescriptions filled then headed home. After I’d parked in the driveway and gotten my stuff together to carry into the house, I got the odd, but distinct feeling that I was being watched again. The hair on the back of my neck prickled and I rubbed at it with my empty hand.
I didn’t want to seem too obvious, so I sort of casually glanced around as I walked up the sidewalk, looking for strange cars, silhouettes or movement. I saw nothing, but that didn’t relieve the sensation.
I hurried into the house and was immediately bombarded by my parents. While it would’ve been more in character (lately anyway) for me to be annoyed by their attentions, tonight it was like a soothing balm to all my assaulted senses.
Mom took my bags from my hand and set them on the counter, insisting that I go and sit on the couch and let her take care of me. So I did.
She poured me some Coke for my upset stomach and brought me my first round of pills. She touched my forehead to feel for a fever and unfolded an afghan and threw it over my legs. She brushed my hair back and offered to fix me something to eat. No matter how much they aggravated me sometimes, my parents were awesome!
Dad sat quietly in his recliner during all this. He showed his support by totally disregarding the television. Dad only ignored the news for something really, really important. And tonight, that something was me.
CHAPTER TEN
The next days flew by in a blur. At home, Dad was curiously amused that I’d started to watch the news with him in the evening. He was probably thinking that his little girl was growing up and taking an interest in the world around her. What he didn’t know was that I was holding my breath each and every night, hoping that there was no mention of me in any of the reports.
“I’d love to know who these ‘anonymous sources’ and ‘reliable witnesses’ they keep referring to are,” Dad said one night. “If they’re so reliable, why don’t they know who’s doing the killing?”
I tried to seem casually puzzled. “That’s a good question. Of course, maybe it means the killer is just that good. I mean, it can’t be easy to get away with murder so he must be doing something right.” Dad tossed me an odd look. “You know what I mean.” He gave me a Hmm and then turned his attention back to the television.
When it appeared that I’d managed to go another day undetected, I excused myself to bed. Even though it was Saturday night, I was turning in early. Something had come up at work and Grayson had pushed our coffee re-date to tomorrow night and there wasn’t anything else that I really wanted to do.
I sighed happily at the mere thought of Grayson. I’d talked to him every day and was becoming quite addicted to it—and to him. I tried not to think too much about it. On some level, I think I was afraid that when the cases involving me were concluded, we would be, too. I don’t know why I felt that way; he’d never said anything to that effect. It’s just something that bothered me deep down.
Shaking off my
disturbing thoughts, I went to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. I thought I’d do some reading for pleasure for once. It seemed all I’d done for two weeks was read for academic purposes.
With squeaky clean skin and teeth, I was rubbing lotion into my hands as I walked across to my bed when something tapped against the window. I probably should’ve been afraid, but ever since I was a child, my parents’ house had always felt like an impenetrable fortress, like nothing could hurt me as long as I was inside these four walls. So it was with that feeling of perfect safety that I pulled up the blinds and looked out the window.
It was all I could do to stifle the scream that bubbled up in my throat when I saw a face less than a foot from mine. It was Jake.
Instantly irritated, I flipped open the lock and raised the window, hissing angrily, “What are you doing here?”
Jake looked immediately contrite and a little confused. “I wanted to see you. I’ve missed you at school the last couple of days and I don’t have your phone number so I thought I’d just stop by your house.”
“’Stop by’? ‘Stop by’?” I repeated incredulously. “Creepy-stalker-guy-outside-my-window and ‘stop by’ are not the same thing.”
“I’m not creepy and I’m not a stalker. I was walking up to your front door when I saw you walk through the kitchen. When this light came on, I figured it was your bedroom window.”
“And that makes it ok to just pop up right here in front of it and scare the bejesus out of me?”
I saw him roll his eyes and that further poked my already sensitive temper. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to talk to you.”
“So talk so I can close the window. Bugs are coming in.”
“Don’t you want to come outside?”
“No. What I want is to go to bed.”
“Alright,” he said patiently, obviously trying not to let my snappishness deter him. “There’s a band that one of the TKE brothers is in that’s doing a Sunday night jam session and I thought you might like to go.”
Oddly, my interest was piqued. I’d been a music lover since, like, birth. “What kind of music do they play?”
“They cover classic rock. Rolling Stones, Aerosmith, Def Leppard, stuff like that.”
“Hmm,” I said, really considering his offer. I couldn’t deny that I’d like to go. And it wasn’t the band that was the problem; it was the guy. If it was Grayson doing the asking, I’d have said yes in a heartbeat. But, alas, it wasn’t. “I don’t think so, Jake. I mean, it sounds great and all, but you and I- I think we’re—”
“Whatever you’re gonna say, let me just tell you this first,” he interjected before I could finish. “I can’t quit thinking about you. I don’t know what it is about you, but after that second day I saw you, I just can’t get you off my mind.”
I couldn’t help the frown that I felt puckering my brow. I thought back to the second time I’d seen him, the day I’d so wished he’d walk me to school. And he had. I racked my brain for what else I might’ve been thinking, but nothing came to mind. Had I hexed him or brainwashed him or something? Could my earlier desire for him to want me somehow have infected him? And, worse yet, could that have anything to do with Grayson’s attention, his pursuit of me (if that’s really what it was)?
That dark thought pierced my chest like big, rusty hooks that dug in deep and wouldn’t let go. It felt like my heart was being dragged out of my body through my toes.
“Mercy?”
I’d been staring through Jake, not really at him. But when he said my name, I focused on his face. “Sorry,” I said, shaking my head to clear it. “You know, Jake, it’s really nice of you to offer, but I just don’t think it’s a good idea. I—”
“Give me another chance, Mercy. I know I sort of blew it with that whole party thing, but I really like you. I mean, I just can’t get you out of my head.”
The look on his face made me feel a little sorry for the guy. I didn’t doubt that he couldn’t get me out of his head and he was obviously perplexed by the phenomenon. To think about somebody all the time, to want them and want to be with them and not be able to was a special kind of torture. If I wasn’t experiencing a little bit of the same thing with Grayson lately, I might’ve thought it was funny. Much deserved, even.
Concentrating as hard as I could, I thought about how very much I wished Jake would move on and find someone else to pour his attention on. I searched my mind for just the right someone and a face popped into my head. It was the face of the girl that had been in the coffee line in front of me at Ruger’s, the one that had attacked Trinity. She’d no doubt give Jake a run for his money if they hooked up.
I concentrated on the two of them. If this worked, maybe it’d bring a spot of brightness to both their lives. After what I think I’d done to her, she deserved a bit of happiness.
“You’ve got to go, Jake. You’ll feel better tomorrow. Just go home and sleep it off. You’ve had a tough week.” With that, I reached up to pull the window down and snap the lock in place. I watched as Jake turned around and walked off down the road. I guess he’d parked somewhere else, as I didn’t see any strange vehicles nearby.
After Jake had disappeared from sight, I was pulling the cord to lower the blinds when I got the feeling again that someone was watching me. I searched the pools of light on the pavement from the street lamps, but they were empty. As for the shadows, they could’ve been crawling with all sorts of things for all I knew. I could see very little inside them.
I let the blinds fall shut and walked over to cut my bedside lamp off. I’d save my reading for another night. It gave me the creeps to think that someone was out there watching me, that if they looked closely enough, they might be able to see in through a tiny crack or something.
Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, I thought of my relationship with Grayson and when exactly his attentions had turned in a seemingly romantic direction. The only time I could remember really thinking something specific that might’ve swayed him was the day he’d stopped by the house and looked me over when I got in his car. I’d really wanted him to kiss me, but rather than giving in, he’d just frowned and looked away.
What that meant I don’t know, but it didn’t help me to sleep any better, that’s for sure.
********
The next day, I got up and went to church with Mom and Dad, which always made me feel better. Even though it was ridiculous, it felt like the simple act of attending somehow made me a better person. Strangely, I’d never really questioned the type of person I was until recently. I felt like I was being slowly invaded by something else, something dark and unfamiliar, something angry and dangerous.
Grayson called in the afternoon to tell me he’d meet me at the park around seven for our coffee re-date. My outlook on life improved instantly at the mere prospect of spending time with him.
The closer the hour drew to 7:00, the larger and more putrid that seed of doubt about his motives became, though. By the time I was pulling out of the driveway to meet him, I had decided I was just going to have to swallow my pride and break down and ask him. And that was not something that I looked forward to.
Much as it had happened the last time we’d tried it, Grayson was already there. He rolled down his window and told me to get in, which I did. As soon as we were on our way, I closed my eyes and inhaled. The air smelled like him plus cinnamon, a scent I’d really come to enjoy.
Once we’d arrived back at the park, he sprung a surprise and suggested something different. “Come on,” he said as he got out of the car.
Following his lead, I grabbed my coffee and hopped out. He’d already made it to my side so he shut the door for me and put his hand on my low back to guide me out across the grass.
There was a swing set at the edge of some trees. It was secluded and deserted, as was the rest of the park. He held the chains of one swing still so I could sit and then he sat down in the one next to it. I turned slightly sideways in the rubbery cradle so I could s
ort of face him. He was holding his coffee in one hand, gripping the chain with the other and staring at the sun where it burned low in the sky just over the trees.
The reddish glow made his dark skin look warm and rosy, almost bronzy. It glinted off his short black hair making it look wet in the light. The two halves of his thick lashes nearly met where he squinted against the brightness. But it was his body language that gave me an ominous feeling, like he was going to say something I wouldn’t like.
Urgency to be the one to start what I dreaded was going to be a tough and heartbreaking conversation prompted me to speak first. “Grayson, what’s going on here? With us? Between us?”
