by Elen Chase
I could have done it during the party… if I had only put Cruise's poison in their drinks, instead of using a stupid drug on only one of them.
"What's wrong with you today?" said Dan with an emotionless voice.
"I'm not sure we should do this anymore," I said, and Sean, Chloe and Sara froze completely, hearing my words. Dan, on the contrary, was looking into my eyes, cold as ice.
"Drew, what do you mean?" asked me Sean.
"Getting scared now?" remarked Dan. He was in his asshole mode again, and I didn't like to be treated that way at all. "You're such a pussy," he said. That was too much.
"What did you say?" I grabbed him by the collar, angry. "You have no idea what's going through my head. Never talk to me like that again."
"I know exactly what's going through your head. You woke up now and realized that this is dangerous. Seriously, Drew? What did you think we were doing until now?"
"It's not so simple, don't you understand I just want you to be safe?!" I screamed at him.
"We're all fully grown people, Drew. We're aware of the risks we're taking." He was raising his voice too.
"Oh really? Good for you, because I have no fucking idea of what could happen to you at this point!"
"Enough! Stop it, both of you!" screamed Sara, slamming her hand on the table. I slowly let him go, and I couldn't bring myself to look the others in the eyes. "Drew, there's no need to decide tonight what we're gonna do from now on. And you both need to cool your head first. We're going back to Downtown now. Go get your things," she ordered us, and we did as she said.
Two hours later we were home, avoiding each other. Without a word, Dan went out, and the next morning, when I woke up with my head on the table, he wasn't back yet.
Chapter 55
I went out alone, through those streets of Downtown that I had learned to know. I had come to love that part of the City. It was chaotic, unsettling, some would call it dangerous, but it was real. Since I had learned about Shallie's death, Uptown seemed empty and fake to me. And so was I. I grew up as a puppet, an individual raised to believe the pretty lie of a perfectly functioning society. To what extent were my beliefs in fact just a prejudice? The drug dealers I hated so much saved my ass countless times. The good ones, the ones who were “working to make the world a better place,” killed my girlfriend. And then, there was Dan: a person able to fit perfectly in both realities, delicate and strong, sweet and cruel, perfect and completely messed up. I found him alone at the river spot where we played with those kids when I went out for the first time after being hit by Marshall's car. I sat next to him.
"Where have you been all night?" I asked him.
"At Jim's."
"What did you do?"
"… Do you want to know if I slept with someone else?" he said, coldly. I was tired of that attitude, and the thought that he might have seriously done it was discouraging.
"Dan, I don't want to fight again… did you?"
"No, I just needed to be alone for a while."
"Me too," I told him. I blamed myself for not believing in him enough. Why do I need to be reassured every time?
"What did you mean with what you said yesterday? Do you want to give up on everything, after all you went through?" he asked me.
"No, that's not what it was about."
"What then? You're not thinking something stupid, are you?"
"And what would that be?"
"You don't want to kill them, right?" he asked me. I turned away from him; how did he understand? He really knew what was going through my head then. "Drew, killing those people won't give you Shallie back. I understand what you feel, but do you really want to carry the weight of their lives on your back?"
"I've been thinking a lot, Dan. Having them arrested might not be worth of the risks we're taking. What if one of us gets hurt or killed while we try to stop them? Even if we can make it, what if they manage to cover everything up? What if they seek vengeance on my parents, on Sara, the others… or you? What if somebody else takes their place and everything begins all over again?"
"And becoming a murderer is the solution you've found? I haven't helped you until now to see you ruin your life with your own hands! Drew, you have a future in Uptown, you can't throw it away like this."
"My future in Uptown died with Shallie. I couldn't find anything about that tree in the stuff I read; you know why? The only thing that came to my mind, all the time, was the image of Shallie being found dead under that oak close to her house. That's my beginning. And the more I think about it, the more I grow angry. This world did this to her, a world led by their lies. Do I have to put the people I love in danger for a chance of a new life in this shitty town? I don't even want it, Dan. I don't want to start over like nothing happened."
"And what do you want to do? Do you want to become another Bart Robinson? An insane piece of shit who randomly kills innocent people? Do you want everybody to think this about you? Do you want your parents to believe this? Robinson was a good man, but for the public opinion he's just a killer; if you end up like him and nobody finds out the truth, his child will be born in a world of lies and hate. I thought you wanted to change that. I thought you sought justice."
"I wanted to! But even more, now I just want to stop them with the smallest damage possible for the people I love."
"Drew, I understand, you're scared. Life is unfair, it bends you to the breaking point, and I know that often your efforts don't bring any result. But things can change, Drew, you can change them. I believe that you can make this city a better place, without stooping to their level. Killing is just not for you. Leave that sort of responsibility to the scumbags who deserve it."
Upon hearing those words, my heart suddenly started pounding strong in my chest, an increasing pressure upsetting my stomach. What's wrong with me? Did I imagine that? I thought… "Dan," I called his name in a whisper. "Where…?" Words wouldn't come out. No, it must be a coincidence.
"I'm going to the graveyard today to see if that's really the place we're looking for," he told me. "You keep going your way, Drew. Don't be scared. I won't let you dirty your hands with their blood, never." I had a strange feeling. That conversation was off somehow. For the first time I got the impression that my goal and Dan's were different. “Keep going your way” sounds like my way is not the same as yours.
"You're in this with me, aren't you?" I asked him, worried. He took my hand in his and kissed it gently.
"I have to go," he said and stood up. "I'll see you tonight."
"You're staying away all day?"
"I'll keep an eye on that place and see if somebody comes or go."
"I want to come with you."
"No, stay away from there; remember that they know your face."
Again, I was left alone with my thoughts. We didn't really make up after our fight of the day before. I walked back, trying to think about what I could do next, but I was very confused. How could I get those people arrested? The chief of the police is one of them. Should I provide evidence? How? I also have to save the girl. I can't stand the thought of another victim dying. Shallie is the last. She has to be. I took out of my pocket Shallie's necklace, the one I found in the villa. I had always been bringing it with me since that day, even though I was never the type to keep mementos of people. I guess Dan changed me to that point. Shallie would never want me to kill somebody. That alone was a good reason to forget that crazy idea I had had. And my original goal was to prove to the world that Shallie hadn't committed suicide like the police said in the first place; how could I forget that?
"I'm sorry," I whispered to the necklace. "I'm so sorry." I closed my eyes and for a moment I had the feeling Shallie was standing right beside me, that she was alive and well. When I opened my eyes, the disappointment I felt once again confirmed me how emotionally unstable I had become. Rather depressed, I slowly walked back home. Just in front of our building the old lady was giving instructions to some movers. I didn't feel like shutting myself up in
the apartment yet, so I got close to her, and as soon as she saw me, she called me.
"Oh, Andrew, welcome back!"
"Madam," I greeted her, "is somebody moving?"
"Yes, one of my girls is getting married and leaving the job and house.”
"I see. Does that happen often? That they leave the job?"
"Everyone does sooner or later. Some are here for just a small period, some for years. But I'm glad to let them go, as long as they're moving forward."
"You must have seen a lot..." I said, and she looked at me with an enigmatic expression. "I mean, not because you're old or anything."
"Shut up kid, you're making it worse."
"I'm sorry," I apologized, and she burst into a good laugh.
"I'm just kidding, of course I'm old. And it's true, I have seen a lot. Maybe that's why I can never mind my own business and I pry into my kids' affairs. It's a bad habit I've developed trying to watch over them, though."
"You really consider your workers as your kids?"
"I deeply respect all the people that enter my house in need of a job, whatever their background might be. Of course when they stay here for years I grow fond of them, especially if they came here as kids."
"Like Dan and Sara."
"Those are two that get me worried, talking about not moving forward. But since you're here I can tell they're changing somehow, and I can only be grateful for that."
"I went to that center, by the way. They didn't tell me much, but now I know for sure that something traumatic happened to Dan while he was out of town."
"I thought so. They refused to give me any information when I tried, but I was sure you had more possibilities."
"I don't understand him. I feel I could lose him anytime."
"That boy is hard to understand. He was here for seven years, and I never found out what he was looking for."
"He was looking for something?" Information about the man his mother ran with, according to what he told me.
"Yes, I could tell from the way he approached the job. He never refused to work, not even once. He just needed to provide for his living expenses, so he could have worked way less. And that second job he had with that drug dealer… you have no idea how many times we fought over it. He wasn't working for money; he wanted to find someone."
"His mother's lover. That's what he told me."
"I see."
"Do you think it's the truth?"
"I can't tell for sure. But I knew his mother, and he didn't seem surprised when she left. Instead he immediately came here to ask me if he could work for me. I always thought he wasn't too attached to her."
"Maybe he just didn't show it. He can't really show his feelings openly." Of course he was attached to her; he left me to stay by her side. "He loves you too, I'm sure of it," I told her.
"Oh, stop it, that’s so cheesy," she said. That comment made me smile; the way she got so easily upset reminded me of Dan. "Say Andrew, wanna see the now vacant apartment on the third floor?"
"Eh? Me? Why?"
"Well, if you guys are planning to keep living together you'll need a bigger place. The apartment of the third floor is perfect for two people."
"I, we, I mean, we've never really talked about it."
"Of course, maybe you want to go back to Uptown when this horrible story is over."
"No, really, I don't know yet. Now I just want to be with him, that's all. Whatever will happen later, I'll think about it when the time comes."
"I understand. That's good too," she said, and was about to say goodbye. "So you really are a couple," she added, as if she had just thought about it.
"It happened just recently," I said, as if I needed to justify myself to her.
"Ha-ha-ha, good, good, take care of my boy, will you?" she said, patting my shoulder.
"I will, or at least I'll try," I replied, and went back home.
Chapter 56
How could I get the guys who basically own the police arrested? The only way is to have a lot of people see what they're doing. But how? With the help of a journalist maybe? I thought of calling back Walker, the very first person I met when it all started. He was told about the villa by a friend who worked in the police, he had said. So even if the higher ranks are corrupted, it's possible that most of the ordinary police officers would want to collaborate with us. Possible, but a hazard. I didn't want to follow in Robinson's footsteps and ruin everything for trusting the wrong person. Then I remembered that Chloe's father was also a detective. Could I get these people involved? Will they trust me? Will they believe my story? But now I have many who can testify on this case: Ms. Wilson, Hutchison, Cruise, maybe even Tyler, our prisoner. Yet we need luck. Despite everything, the sect can still win: for the public opinion to find out that so many important representatives of the Rosedeer high society are secretly corrupted crazy shits is a giant scandal, and it could seriously bring to an economic crisis in the City. What if the government is ready to support them in order to save face? What if what we're doing passes like an attempt to cause a riot? And last but not least, involving the police is a threat to Jim's group. I don't want them to get in trouble with the law because of me.
While I was struggling over these things, I got a message from Lilian, saying, “I figured out the date. It's September 10.” I called her immediately.
"Lilian, that's great! How did you figure it out?"
"Andrew, I was waiting for your call." Somehow her tone of voice wasn't as lively as I was expecting.
"What's wrong?" I asked her. "We finally have a date. It's what we've been looking for."
"No, I'm fine. This is… just when you think they can't hurt you anymore, those guys keep surprising you."
"Why are you saying that? Did you find out something else?"
"Yes… it'll take a while to explain."
"I have time. Come on, tell me." I sat down on the couch, ready to hear the news.
"Fine, remember that we said I would check the dates of the previous murders to see if I could find a pattern in them? I did, and I found out they really don't have fixed dates for killing. I think the day is usually chosen by the priest in charge of the cycle. But, they do have to stick to a criteria: they have to kill either in spring or winter, depending on the cycle that just ended. In the book, the first and the third cycles end in winter, while the second and the fourth in spring. And that's how they've always killed, alternating spring and winter."
"I see. Shallie represented the third cycle, so she was to be killed in winter. But how did you understand the date only from that?"
"Have you noticed that the message they sent starts with an ‘again?’"
"You're right, ‘again there won't be flowers nor snow on my grave.’ What does it mean?"
"It means that this time the victim won't be killed in the right season, but it's not the first time that has happened. Seven years ago, their victim was killed on December 12, fall. The second cycle was supposed to be completed in spring."
The spring of seven years ago.
She said, "Since this time they're moving the date because they've failed to kill Shallie, I thought that seven years ago they didn't manage to kill the predicted victim too, and moved the date to the 12th of December."
I don't like where this is going.
Lilian continued with her explanation. "I went through all the material Bart had put together in the library again, and selected the fourteen-year-old girls who died seven years ago. Three died in spring: one because of illness. Of the remaining two, one died exactly seven months and seven days before the victim, the 5th of May. Assuming that's how they choose the date for this ‘make up murder,’ counting seven months and seven days from the 3rd of February, the next victim is gonna be killed on the 10th of September."
There must be a mistake.
"I'm sorry," she said with cracked voice.
It can't be her. "You're just guessing. It could be the other one."
"The other one died due to a domestic
accident; she fell down the stairs playing with her brothers. Andrew, try to be rational: your sister was hit by that car because she was running through the street, completely ignoring the traffic lights. Has it ever come to your mind that maybe she was escaping from something?"
It has. Many times, I asked myself why she was in such a hurry, crossing that street. It was a little off from our usual route too. But this…
"I'm sorry, I really am," Lilian told me, but her voice seemed far away. I don't remember hanging up. I was in a total state of confusion all day. A voice in my head kept repeating that An died because of them, and another one that it couldn't be, that it was only a nightmare. I looked at my watchpad ringing, as Dan tried to call me countless times. I wanted to answer. I needed to hear his voice, and I needed to see him. I needed him by my side. But I never did, and I couldn't explain the reason to myself. Instead, I felt the urge to run away from that place. I didn't want him to come back or talk to me. I didn't want to tell him about An.
Why? I can count on him, he will be by my side. Once again, he will hold me and keep me anchored to life, like seven years ago. If I could just talk to him, he'll prove it to me.
Yet my fingers didn't move.
An, what am I doing? Tell me this is only a dream. Tell me you weren't running away from them. Tell me you didn't die because of them. Tell me nobody wanted to kill you.
Minutes after the watchpad stopped ringing, somebody knocked on the door. I hadn't heard anybody climbing the stairs, so I figured it was Sara, coming from the apartment next door. I didn't open the door, since I already knew she had a spare key. She came in, timidly, looking around to see if I was there.
"Drew, what are you doing here in the dark?" she said, and was about to turn the light on. Is it night already? I didn't feel time passing by at all.
"Don't," I said, and my voice couldn’t hide my distress. She walked toward me and sat by my side on the couch.
