Deadworld

by J N Duncan

  “Yeah. Noon is fine. I’ll see you there.” Jackie clicked off and thrust the phone back into her pocket.

  Laurel still spoke on her phone. “Really?” She giggled like a young girl. “That sounds like fun. I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle before.” She laughed then, covering her eyes with her free hand. “No, no. That’s just fine. I’ll see you there. Thank you.”

  Laurel closed the phone with a sheepish grin, and Jackie watched in disbelief as her cheeks turned the slightest shade of pink. “Holy shit. You’re blushing again?”

  “Shut up!” Laurel snapped back, even more embarrassed. “I’m meeting Shelby for lunch. She wants to show me something. She agreed to come to the meeting.”

  “What?” Jackie wondered, already suspicious. She trusted Shelby about as far as she could throw her, and considering the woman could probably kick her ass, that was not very far.

  “She didn’t say,” Laurel answered cryptically. “Just that only I would be able to understand.”

  “Yeah, right. I have a pretty good idea what she wants to show you.”

  “Jealous?”

  “Hardly,” Jackie said a little more quickly than she would have liked. “I don’t trust her. I wonder if those two were together? Nick just asked to show me something as well.”

  “She wants to help us, Jackie.”

  “I don’t like this, whatever it is. Maybe we should all meet together.”

  Laurel laughed. “You are jealous.” She stood up and kissed Jackie on the cheek. “It’s so cute.”

  Jackie didn’t quite know how to respond. “You better call me as soon as you’re done. I want to know what she has to say.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  “I mean it, damnit.” It was sad. She almost did feel like a mother at the moment. “Seriously. You need to be careful with her.”

  “And you don’t?”

  “I can handle the Nicks of the world,” she said. “Shelby Fontaine is a whole other animal.”

  “Jackie, I don’t think there are any other Nicks of the world.”

  “You know what I mean. Watch yourself is all I’m saying. I’m still not convinced they aren’t trying to put us off the trail somehow.”

  Laurel’s grin faded to a gentle smile. “Don’t worry, I will. I think you can trust them.”

  “And we both know where I stand on that,” she snapped back. “I’m going to let Belgerman know what we’re doing just in case some shit goes down we’re not expecting.”

  “Quit being paranoid.”

  Jackie got up, pointing a finger at Laurel. “It’s my job.”

  Her voice followed Jackie down the corridor. “And you do it so well.”

  Chapter 25

  Ernesto’s was a quaint little restaurant tucked into the middle of a row of 1920s brick storefronts. One of those local eateries that had likely been in the neighborhood for forty or fifty years, where the owners knew 90 percent of the people who came in to eat. Not the sort of place one would expect a wealthy, blood-drinking PI to frequent, but, then, what was expected from them? Jackie stared in through the front glass window for a moment, seeing only her tousle-haired reflection. Rain pattered on the awning overhead and dripped behind her onto the sidewalk. The dull, gray backdrop matched her complexion all too well. She had looked better.

  And I am worried about this because? She shook her head and stepped into cool darkness, surrounded immediately by the soft sounds of Italian opera. Old black-and-white photos from Italy and Sicily decorated the walls, and pristine white tablecloths dotted the landscape before her. It was not so neighborhood as Jackie had suspected. It was more the romantic-dinner-for-two kind of eatery. For a moment, she pondered spinning on her heel and walking back to her car.

  “Ah! You must be the lady Mr. Nick is having lunch with, yes?”

  A thick-mustached, portly Italian man with a graying fringe of hair ringing his head stepped out of the kitchen area, clasping his hands together like he was entirely too happy see her. Mr. Nick? So he was a regular.

  “Yes, I’m supposed to meet him here.” Old Mr. Ernesto looked far too under the impression of this being some kind of date.

  “Excellent, excellent! Follow me, please,” he said with a wave of his hand. He dropped back in step with Jackie. “Mr. Nick did not say you were so beautiful a lady. The man needs a good woman.” He flashed a big, mischievous grin at her and winked.

  Lovely. Uncle Guido was friends with the vampire.

  At the far back end of the restaurant, next to an open pair of French doors that stepped out onto a small patio with a few more tables, sat Nick Anderson, a faint smile on his face as they approached.

  “Hello, Agent Rutledge,” he said, standing up as Ernesto brought her to the table. Even with the glare from the doors, his eyes had that soft, eerie glow about them.

  “Mr. Anderson,” Jackie said, nodding curtly and seating herself in the chair Ernesto had pulled out for her.

  Nick seated himself. “Two espressos please, Ernesto.”

  “Right away, Mr. Nick.” He gave a quick bow and walked briskly away.

  Jackie stared at his implacable mouth in order to avoid his eyes. It looked soft, relaxed. No annoyance or tension there. She realized hers was drawn tight. “I didn’t ask for coffee.”

  “You didn’t want any?” The question was stated simply enough, but that slight quirk at the corner of his mouth flared with sarcasm. “You strike me as a die-hard coffee person, Ms. Rutledge.”

  “Are we done with the small talk now?” she snipped back.

  Nick sat up, folding his hands on the table. “Sure. We can get right to it then.”

  “Great. Let’s,” Jackie began, meeting his eerie gaze for at least a second and a half. She got interrupted, however, by the bubbly voice of the waitress bringing their coffee.

  Nick smiled at the woman, something Jackie could not recall his mouth ever doing to this point, and for just a moment, the tired, stern man vanished into something warm and caring. “Thank you, Mia. It’s good to see you.”

  “You’ve not been here in months, Nicholas,” she said in a motherly tone. “And you bring this lovely woman with you, whom you’ve not even been polite enough to introduce to me.”

  Nick chuckled softly. “It’s a business lunch, Mia. Have no fear. If I bring a date, I’ll call you personally ahead of time so you can make all the necessary preparations.”

  “Bah,” she said, waving him off. “Ernesto foolishly implied otherwise. So sad. Perhaps you can make it both, eh?” She winked at Nick and gave Jackie the same mischievous grin Ernesto had.

  Jackie gave a halfhearted smile in return. “Really, it’s just business.”

  She leaned over and laid a conspiratorial hand on Jackie’s shoulder. “He’s a good man,” she whispered. “Very good catch, and I see the way he looks at you. He likes you.” With a little squeeze, Mia stood back up and turned to Nick. “So, Nicholas. What shall you two be having today?”

  “Honestly,” Jackie said, “I’m not really hungry.”

  “Surprise us, Mia. Something…” Nick looked back at Jackie for a moment, studying her intently. “Something seafood, I think.”

  Jackie watched Mia walk away, still trying to process the interchange that had just taken place. “What was that? They talk like you own the place.”

  “I do,” he replied, obviously pleased that something had come up she was unaware of.

  “Seriously. You own an Italian restaurant?” Why had it not shown up in their profile of him? “And what was the deal there with Mama Mia?”

  “I bought the place from Ernesto’s father about eighteen years ago. He was a friend of mine and about to lose the place, so I helped him out.”

  “And that other bullshit?” Jackie demanded. “You set them up for all that just to amuse me?”

  The humorous smirk faded. “No, Ms. Rutledge. Mia is the motherly sort, and it’s her way of showing she cares, that’s all. I’ll apologize if you were offended by the implication
s.”

  Heat rose up in her cheeks. Shit, shit, shit. Embarrassment was the last thing she needed. “No, no. That’s fine. I just don’t want you getting any ideas from them, that’s all.”

  “I don’t date, so you’re safe.”

  “Is that because you’re old enough to be most women’s great-great-great-grandfather?”

  He paused for a second, espresso cup poised at his lips, and then nodded. “So you believe the evidence now?”

  “To be honest, I’m still on the fence about what I believe.” She flicked her gaze back up to his and found him watching her, unblinking. “And would you quit with the staring already? It’s fucking rude.”

  He sat back, surprised at himself. “Oh. I apologize. It’s habit, watching for subtle changes of behavior and inflection. Easier to see what is going on with a person.”

  “And what is going on with me, Mr. PI?”

  The stare came back, and Jackie forced herself to defiantly return the look, feeling her guts begin to squirm like a bucket of angry worms. “This case is stressing you out beyond what you’re used to, but you also have personal matters that are making this case even more difficult.”

  Jackie bit off her retort. She wanted him to come back with her to the office, not start a fight. “That’s some awfully big assumptions just from looking.”

  Nick shrugged. “Lots of practice.”

  “There’s more to it than that.” She picked up the espresso cup and downed the strong, bittersweet liquid in one gulp to hide her shaking hand. She wished Laurel was with her now to help her navigate this supernatural no-man’s land she found herself in. She was supposed to be the cool one under fire. “Tell me, Nick. How often do you drink that fake-blood shit your company makes?”

  The relaxed mouth creased into annoyance. “What else did Shelby tell you?”

  “Enough.”

  “And there’s nothing I can say to convince you to stay away, is there, Jackie?”

  The personal note sent a pang through her. Was that a jab? A dare? A warning? “Not in my nature to just let a case slide, Mr. Anderson. Especially when kids are being murdered.”

  “Even if it gets you or your partner killed?”

  Jackie folded her arms on the table and leaned toward him. “That a threat, Nick?”

  He started to say something and then apparently thought better of it. “No. I just don’t believe you, Ms. Carpenter, or the FBI are prepared to deal with this killer.”

  “It’s not your place to make those kinds of presumptions. It’s our case now. Cooperate or get out of the way. I’d prefer to do it without tossing your ass in jail. Unless, of course, it’s supposed to be there.”

  Mia returned at that moment, a curious expression on her face, her tray loaded with salads and a fresh loaf of bread. A subtle look from Nick was all it took to send her away without a word. “I’ve been chasing this guy for a long time. You honestly don’t have any idea what you’re up against.”

  “Why don’t you show me then, Nick? Come in and show the team,” she demanded, finally fed up with his martyr routine. “You think it’s even possible for me to just let the case go? It freaking you out ’cause I’m a girl? That rub your old-school sheriff sense of justice the wrong way? This is a federal case now. You need to leave it alone unless we say otherwise. If we need your assistance in tracking him down, then fine, but if I find you interfering in our case whatsoever, I will throw you in jail faster than you can blink. Can I make it any plainer to you?” She really wanted to reach over and shake him, slap him upside the head, but part of her was afraid of what he might be able to do.

  Nick sighed and took a bite of his salad, chewing in silence. When he swallowed and drank down some water, he finally answered. “If you get too close to him, if your partner is able to home in on him or track him down, and you threaten to disrupt his plans, he’ll kill you and anyone else who gets in his way.”

  “Then explain it to me. Tell me what we’re up against. What can Cornelius Drake do that makes him so unstoppable, because he surely isn’t going to just sweep in and suck all of us dry, now, is he? Is he going to hypnotize us all? Let us do our job, damnit. Catching killers is what I’m good at.”

  “And I don’t doubt that for a moment,” he said, sounding surprisingly sincere, “but I don’t want your blood on my hands if you die trying to get this guy.”

  Guilt. Jackie sensed it was a major theme for Nick. His past overflowed with dead bodies. “That’s sweet, really, but you’ve had your chances with this guy and not been able to catch him. Things have changed a lot in the past… decades.”

  “Technology can’t really contend with this,” he countered.

  “Guys like you, you mean?”

  He paused so long she thought he might not answer. “Yes, Ms. Rutledge, guys like me.”

  “I could have you locked up in a psyche ward for an admission like that, you know.”

  “And you will never find Drake, and he may just kill a bunch of you to get to me.”

  “What is he, the Terminator?”

  Nick’s smile held no amusement. “Worse in some ways. Look, if I show you something, will you seriously reconsider pursuing this guy?”

  “Going to show me your fangs, Nick?” She wiped at the smear of butter at the corner of her mouth and tossed the napkin on the table. “I won’t agree to anything. I’ll consider anything you have to say or show me that is pertinent to the case. If this doesn’t change my mind, will you come in this afternoon to speak with our task force?”

  “Spoken like a true lawman.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” he said, bemused. He reached into the coat lying on the chair beside him and pulled out a small case. “I’ll agree to those terms.”

  “What is that?”

  He held it out to her. “A contact-lens case.”

  Ah, so the freaky eyes were fake after all. “I knew you must be wearing something,” she said while he removed one, and then the other lens, putting them into the solution-filled cups. “Let me tell you, those contacts give you messed-up eyes, Nick. They weird people out, but what’s this got…”

  Her sentence trailed off as Nick looked up and met her gaze, crystal-blue eyes, deep and glowing with no iris at all. They were just solid, pulsing blue, within which murky gray tendrils swirled around.

  “Look,” he said, a finger pointing up at his eyes. “Look in here and tell me what you see.”

  “What the fuck?” They were downright disturbing and oddly compelling. How could he have no iris?

  “Please, Jackie. If you want to understand the danger you’re in, just look. It won’t hurt. Trust me.”

  She leaned forward, staring at him, and there was something in there, moving, ebbing, and pulsing like a heartbeat. The beat began to fill her head, soothing, calming. Fear washed away in the cool, blue waters of his eyes, so deep one could easily drown in them, sinking away into dark and blissful nothing. Part of her realized what was happening. The word hypnosis ricocheted around in the far recesses of her brain, but she could not latch on to it. The thought swam away in the cool flood of his gaze. Jackie sagged back in her chair. “That’s messed up.”

  “What is? Me? You? This case?”

  His eyes looked right into her-cold, intense water that filled up every part of her, seeping into her bones, into the deepest parts of her soul. The layers of her just washed away, exposed by that pulsing blue light, until even those bottom layers of muck that Jackie avoided treading in were exposed to his willful stare. He could see it all, and Jackie offered it up to him with eager hands, unable to hold back. Some part of her screamed, filled with terror that he could just reach in and open that Pandora’s Box of nightmares, blood, and death, that releasing its contents could consume them, destroy them in the blink of an eye. The other part of her was sure he held the answers to all her needs, that he could simply cleanse her soul of the blight upon it with a wave of his hands.

  He did nothing, however. He acted as litt
le more than a tourist on safari in unknown lands. There was no judgment, no accusations, no blame, just the sense of knowing. He had opened a door into her most private self, or, worse, Jackie had opened it and invited him right in, like a best friend perfectly at ease knowing all the good and the bad.

  “Everything is messed up,” she said, aware of the words, but unaware of where they were coming from. “This case is freaking me out; my partner, Laurel, just came out of the closet, we had a big fight because… I… I drink too much. I fuck guys I can’t even remember the next day. Hell, I don’t even like men very much.”

  “Why is that, Jackie? They treat you badly in the past? Are you having feelings for Laurel?” His voice held the deepest sincerity, a father’s concern for his daughter, or one lover for another.

  “Laurel?” She laughed, and the words just kept bubbling up out of her, unbidden. “No. I love her to death but, well, no. She was in love with me, and it makes me sad I have been so oblivious to it, like she is this whole different person I didn’t even realize. Guys, on the other hand.” She waved a finger at Nick. “I’ll tell you some horror stories there. Can’t trust them for shit. They all secretly hate women, you know? Think they are dumber, less than human. They killed her, just beat her down until she gave in, and felt like she didn’t even deserve to live anymore.”

  “Ah, I see. Your mother?”

  Jackie sniffed and took a breath. “Yes, my mother. Fucking stepdad tortured her. Sucked the life out of her until there was nothing but an empty shell, too useless to do anything except crawl into the tub and die.” She wiped at the tear that spilled down her cheek. “I didn’t do a fucking thing. He just walked away and never looked back.”

  “I’m not like that though, Jackie. I’m one of the good guys. I have a great deal of respect for you. I’d never hurt you.”

  The tears kept falling. The aware part of her psyche, buried under that pulsing blue light, finally threw up her hands in disgust. “I know. You are a good man, but you’d never want a stone-cold bitch like me. God, I’m crying. I’m sorry.”

  Nick reached out and took her hands in his. “No, crying is just fine. You probably need to shed a few tears.” Jackie nodded at him and blinked at the faucet that had turned on inside her head somewhere. “Maybe after lunch we can go back to my place. I’m sure I could think of ways to make you feel better about yourself.”