Shadows in the Mist: A Paranormal Anthology

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Shadows in the Mist: A Paranormal Anthology Page 18

by Kristine Cayne


  It didn’t make any sense at all.

  Another puzzling fact: How had the puker disappeared after the attacks on the bouncers?

  Even if he had been able to leap from one of the dumpsters to a fire escape, he couldn’t have kicked in a window quickly enough not to be spotted. And, despite my screaming, I surely would have heard glass breaking.

  The monster had to have climbed the gate. But how could he have gone from vomiting to disabling two muscular men then clambering over the gate and out of sight without anybody having seen him do it?

  Yes, I was horrified and distracted by the attack on Helene and the bouncers.

  But it wasn’t just me.

  No one had seen him disappear.

  My feet suddenly felt cold and shudders tickled up my back. Like a wet tongue stuck to a metal pole, I couldn’t shake it off. Though delusional, the creep certainly wasn’t a real vampire. He couldn’t scale a vertical wall or leap over an eight-foot high gate.

  I checked the lock once again in the gate, searching for a latch of some sort. Nothing. It was what it appeared: an obstinately immovable barrier.

  Leaning against the wall at the entrance to the alley, I contemplated the layout. The homeless guy ambled over to me, dragging his makeshift bed of a ragged sleeping bag out of which spilled dirty sheets. He licked his lips seductively at me, then his eyes widened and he turned and shuffled off toward the gate. I looked over my shoulders. A police cruiser was pulling up to the curb just over my shoulder.

  Was I busted? I expected to see Alex leaning out the driver’s window, preparing to launch into a lecture of leaving the detecting to the experts but, instead, a blonde crew cut popped out of the car.

  “What’re you doing here, Kim?” It was Mason, a member of Alex’s Saturday night poker group.

  I wasn’t quite sure what to say, so I blurted out as I approached, “Just trying to make sense of it.”

  “You can’t. Things like this don’t make any sense. If it did, we could predict who’d pop and prevent it.” Mason frowned. I imagine he realized he’d misspoken, since I was the sister of a woman seriously injured by a madman who’d popped.

  He studied me for a moment. I feared he could see the frustration and the hatred I was attempting to conceal. And warn me from involving myself in the investigation.

  “Just be careful, OK? We still haven’t caught the bastard.”

  He winked then he drove off.

  I steadied my nerves then resumed.

  I inquired at the antique shops and the mission about their backdoors. I got odd looks, but everyone cooperated, confirming their doors opened only from the inside to the alley. I donated twenty dollars to the mission, because the reverend in charge, with his thinning straw hair and haggard appearance, didn’t look much healthier than his clientele.

  The two clubs were closed, but likely I’d get the same answer anyway regarding their back exits.

  So that left me with these facts: The puker could have entered the alley from inside one of the businesses but how did he drag Helene back into the alley from First Avenue? Secondly, no one recalled seeing the creep in the area before the attack.

  It was very puzzling. I didn’t like it and neither would Alex, but I had to continue my investigation in the evening.

  Since I had the time, I arrived earlier than usual at the rehab center and spent an additional hour with Helene. It was difficult for Justin to spend much time visiting, occupied with ROTC and his university studies, so he typically stopped by on Sundays.

  Running out of things to say in my nightly monologue routine, I began reading to her. Wanting to stay away from anything remotely associated with crime, I had picked a safe classic, Little Women. Maybe it was because therapy was increasing her mobility, she was staring less at the ceiling and directing her attention more toward me. Sure, we could watch television together, but that seemed cold and impersonal. At least, by reading aloud, I was still interacting with her. Her depression appeared to be lifting, as there were times when she’d actually smiled during certain passages or when I’d stumbled over words.

  Yes, she was improving, but it wasn’t fast enough.

  Somewhere the monster who’d injured her was out there skulking about after other women to victimize, while my lovely sister remained confined to a steel bar and cotton sheet prison.

  My cell rang as I stepped into my apartment.

  “How’s your sister doing?” It was Alex.

  “They might release her in two months if in home care can be arranged.” I paused, pondering the implications. “But the problem is where. I can’t imagine her making it on her own back in Reno.”

  “Like they say, it’s better to cross that bridge when you come to it.”

  “Yeh,” I said weakly, not wanting to contemplate the decisions we’d soon have to make. Eventually Helene and I couldn’t continue to avoid them.

  “Want to go out to a late movie premiere, take your mind off things? I’ve swapped shifts with another guy who needs to pick his folks up at the airport, so I’m getting off earlier than usual tonight.”

  Crud! Not my plan tonight. No, I really want to go hunt down a creep and shoot his head off, except I don’t have my rifle yet.

  “Would love to see you,” he cooed.

  “I, uh, have a stomach ache.” I wasn’t sure how convincing I sounded, but I hurried on so Alex couldn’t interrupt. “Must’ve been the chocolate pie I bought from the vending machine at the rehab center.”

  “They have vending machines there?” Alex’s voice was dripping with skepticism.

  “Yeh, I think it was the whipped topping. Turns out it wasn’t fake cream after all.” I gritted my teeth, hating to lie but really not wanting to go to the movies.

  Alex paused, digesting the bull puckies being spoonfed to him. “I could bring over a bottle of Pepto Bismol,” he cooed once again.

  “You know how to show a gal a good time,” I laughed despite myself. “But can I take a rain check for tomorrow night? I can give you quality time then. Tonight, it’d be more of a moan and groan and feeling sorry for myself time.”

  “You promise?”

  “Sure. I’ll likely be well by tomorrow night.”

  “I was referring to the quality time.”

  “Yes.” I loved him, but at that moment, I’d say just about anything to get him off the phone. I was chomping at the bit to get going.

  “I’m disappointed but I’ll catch you tomorrow night.”

  “Ciao,” I said sprightly then sighed with relief when I heard the line go dead.

  After slurping down half of a can of chunky chicken soup and a glass of cranberry juice, I stepped out the door, grabbing a black cane from the umbrella stand on the way. When my maternal grandmother died several years ago, I’d inherited her collection of canes purchased during her travels to various countries. I sold or gave most of them away, but kept the shiny black one with the bulbous brass head of a bulldog.

  In the elevator to the lobby I passed the cane from one hand to the other, relishing the heft of the brass. For a potential weapon, it would have to do for now. I lacked the strength, and the skill, to defend myself with my bare hands. The memory of the few self-defense lessons had dimmed.

  I took a cab to First Avenue, over-tipping the driver by twenty dollars to keep him from complaining about the short fare. I was also feeling generous because I was looking good in my square-necked, black lace dress and favorite shimmering wool scarf, topped off by my black raincoat. When I neared the front door of Nefarious, I hobbled along pretending I required my cane for support so no one would take it away from me, citing a “no weapons” policy. It didn’t occur to me someone might question why I was going into a dance club while requiring a walking stick.

  My bouncer buddy was watching the door again, but waved me through without asking for my hand stamp.

  But I shook my head in refusal. “I need to talk to you.”

  He crossed his arms defensively across his chest, but
nodded his assent, stepping away from the door. The thundering beat of the dance music still seemed to emanate through the brick wall behind us as we spoke.

  “You ever seen that vampire wannabe before he attacked my sister?”

  “No. And I asked around the other clubs, too. Nobody’s seen him before. I tell you, if that little f… excuse me, freak is smart, he’ll keep staying away, because if I ever see him again, I’ll snap his neck in two before he can say hello.”

  “Can anyone enter into the back alley through this club?”

  He squinted his eyes suspiciously, echoing Alex. “No. The kitchen opens into the alley. And only staff is allowed back there. If you’re thinking of going after this guy, you’d better stop thinking, ‘cause he killed one of our employees…” He paused a moment, his eyes glistening, collecting his thoughts before continuing. “And he nearly killed a second before I could blink twice. You were way too easy to restrain. You wouldn’t stand a chance against him.”

  “Thanks for your concern,” I said with a weak smile that wouldn’t even fool a lapdog. “I take it he couldn’t have slipped by you tonight.”

  “That does it,” he said, yanking me through the doorway into the club. “I gotta keep an eye on you. You stay in here and behave.”

  Not that I was sad somebody besides Alex and my siblings was concerned for my safety, but I really wanted to check out the back alley access from The Icon, also. However, when I glanced back at the bouncer, he stepped to block the doorway, discouraging any attempt to leave through the front. I smiled and tipped my cane toward him, silently conveying, “OK, you win, buddy,” and pushed my way through the pulsating throng toward the long bar on the left.

  To the bartender’s chagrin I ordered a glass of grapefruit juice, but I tipped him a few bucks, so he kept any smart remarks to himself. The lead singer of the hard rock band on the stage was nearly swallowing the microphone in a primal scream while propping himself up with the accompanying stand, his legs wobbly with drink or some other strong substance. I scanned the room, scrutinizing each face in the crowd. It was unlikely I’d spot the puker in the nightclub. He was probably aware that there were eyewitnesses to his attack on Helene, because the newspapers headlined the details of her attack for several consecutive days till the next victim occupied their attention. It was unlikely he’d be hanging around where someone would recognize him when he apparently enjoyed a free reign of terror in the county at the moment. However, just by altering his hairstyle, he would be difficult for me identify again with any certainty.

  College students and sailors on shore leave sat around the tables, not the guy I was looking for: only overeager revelers and lonely bachelors on cruise control for heartbreak. A handsome brunette sprouting mutton chops and an electric grin elbowed me. I gave him the cold shoulder and pushed my way through the crowd and past the band toward the back hallway where the bathrooms were. I was devoted to Alex and didn’t want to be distracted: I had to get out of there. I strengthened my resolve by picturing Helene in her bed, staring up at a blank ceiling, and then ran into the kitchen.

  After rushing through the gauntlet of yells and raised knives, I slammed my shoulder against the backdoor, expecting it to pop right open. It didn’t. One Hispanic male exclaimed something in Spanish while he bounded over to me from behind the prep station. In desperation I tugged at the handle.

  And fell into the alley.

  The door swung shut behind me.

  It was gloomier and more desolate in the alley than I’d recalled. Dim light pulsed from small bulbs above each closed door lining the alley. I shivered and pulled my scarf tighter around my neck, not because I was cold, but because I was a little scared. It was one thing to picture yourself acting as a superhero, quite another to actually put yourself into real danger. I grasped my cane tightly and stepped briskly toward the neck of the alley.

  A shadow fell across my face, as if a gargantuan moth had slipped between the heavens and me. Just like the shadow that had passed between the street light and Helene the night she was attacked.

  My legs and my brain suddenly disconnected and I couldn’t move. Fear gripped my spine and wouldn’t let go.

  A tortured gurgling came from just above, an echo of the sucking breath I’d heard that night just before I was knocked onto my knees to the sidewalk. My heart seemed to force the air out of my lungs, its heavy thumping transforming it into a life-threatening bellows. Somehow I managed to find the courage to flip the cane upside down and grasp the tip, enabling myself to swing the heavy brass ball around.

  Was I panicking unnecessarily? Was an inebriated drunk passed out on the fire escape above my head, his tongue choking off his breath?

  Or was it closer than the fire escape? Would a hand once again grip my throat? It was unlikely someone would come around the corner and interrupt as the dreadlocked twins had before.

  Swallowing hard, I looked upward, willing myself face whoever was lurking in the dark.

  And saw no one laying on the metal platform above.

  A sucking wheeze drew uncomfortably close to my right ear and my scarf was pushed downward, away from my throat. A cold fingertip brushed my left earlobe.

  Like a bad dream, I was too frightened to move.

  The backdoor to the Nefarious slammed open, hitting the brick wall of the alley with a heart stopping “wham!” The bouncer dashed out, followed, surprisingly, by Alex.

  “I told you she was acting stupid,” the bouncer announced, pointing toward me.

  Like a wisp of cold air, the gurgling trailed away.

  “Damned right,” Alex snarled. “Get your butt back in here, Kim!”

  I was never so happy to see him.

  “You’re damned lucky I was swinging through tonight,” berated Alex from behind the wheel of his police cruiser.

  The blocks buzzed by as I stared out the window, searching for the puker while tugging at my earlobe, as if, by some strange osmosis, I could once again make contact with those cold fingers.

  “I knew you were up to something,” Alex continued. “You’re too squeamish to buy cream pie from a questionable vending machine. I had to give it some thought as to what you must’ve been up to. I’m really sad to discover I’d guessed right. What were you thinking, running around that alley in the middle of the night? Hell, you couldn’t possibly have been thinking at all!”

  “You’re right,” I said, keeping my back to Alex, wishing I’d had a chance to check out The Icon, also.

  “I knew you were being a little too quiet regarding the attack on Helene.”

  Alex must’ve noticed that I tightened and rolled my shoulders upward, guarding myself from his verbal onslaught. His tone softened, not realizing my reticent attitude was a ruse. I had no intention of quitting my search for Helene’s attacker, but if I argued with him, Alex would become a pest, keeping a close eye on my activities. It was better to pretend acquiescence, though it was difficult for me to continue biting my tongue and not lash back at him defensively.

  “I know it’s hard, sitting around, waiting, hoping for justice.”

  You’ve got that right!

  Alex paused, bringing the automobile to a hard right around a corner. “But you need to be patient and leave this to the professionals. This isn’t a TV show. This guy’s dangerous.” He pulled up to the curb in front of my building.

  Though it was tempting, it would’ve been inexcusably rude to bolt out through the passenger door when he was only trying to protect me. I turned to face Alex. Though he was berating me, his eyes were pained. He was truly concerned about my safety. Possibly he loved me more than I’d realized.

  I do have a tendency to sell myself short. Any boyfriend worth a flip would care if some weirdo hurt his gal.

  “Every available detective is working to catch this guy and still he’s managed to keep killing.” He took my left hand and squeezed it between his. “I couldn’t bear it if you were hurt, or…” He dropped my hand, slid out of the car, then came around and
opened my door. Alex was one of the few men I’d dated who actually opened doors for me, making me feel special.

  He usually picked up the restaurant tab, also, even when I offered to pay my share.

  “I’m walking you to your front door, then I’m sitting out here to make sure you don’t come back out again.”

  “For how long?” I asked as we walked up the few, front stairs.

  “As long as it takes to be certain you stay inside.”

  So glad I didn’t argue with him or he’d be nailing boards across my condo entrance.

  “I could go out the back,” I said, placing my key in the front door.

  “Not likely. I don’t think you’d be that stupid, at least not twice in one night.”

  I smiled then gave him a peck on the right cheek. “Thanks for caring.”

  There’d be time tomorrow to consider my next move.

  Chapter 5

  About forty-five minutes later a key slid into the lock and my front door flew open. Alex strolled in. My stunning black dress was tossed in the laundry bin. Wearing a frumpy granny’s pink cotton nightgown, I was stirring some hot cocoa in the kitchen while pondering the momentous decision of which DVD to slip into the player.

  “In the heat of the moment I forgot I was nearly off shift,” he announced, flopping onto the leather sofa. He slipped off his equipment belt and tossed it onto the end table. I handed him my cup of chocolate and returned to the counter to prepare myself another.

  “I thought you wanted to go to the movies?” I called out over my shoulder while stirring instant mix into a mug. I chucked it into the microwave, set the timer and nuked myself another cup. Tugging at the hem of my nightie, I pranced in front of Alex, demonstrating the virtues of the cotton nightgown.

  He laughed. “Yeh, I’d love to show you off to the city in stylish sleepwear. But you’ll probably try to give me the slip. I can keep a better eye on you if we stay out of the dark theater.”

 

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