Gwen immediately burst into the bar and tackled me with a bear hug. “I just got your message! Oh my god! I’m so sorry I didn’t get here sooner! What the hell happened?”
Clearly given the hour and my dad’s plummeting energy level from his rattled nerves, I knew that this conversation would be best served in the backroom, away from his office.
“Babe...” she whispered, seeing me still shaking as I closed the door behind us.
“I don’t know,” I spat out. “I don’t know... You hear anything from Ian?”
“No, I’ve been trying to reach him, but he hasn’t returned any of my messages.”
I wearily fell back into the couch, still shaking like a leaf. “Well, one thing’s for certain. We can remove Jack from the list of suspects.”
“What if this was about someone trying to get to him?” she asked, just as confusedly.
I shook my head.
“You sure? I mean, he is the kind of guy who attracts trouble. Look what happened with your car. Was it really just a coincidence that it took place when he was with you?”
“No, they were there for me. I’m certain of that. This guy had a number of opportunities to go out the side door when he was fighting Jack. He was determined to get to me.”
She sat down beside me and hugged me once more.
“This still makes no sense,” I said, pouncing up from the sofa. “Jack and I were there at the house talking. Whoever broke in knew someone else was home with me, and I know for a fact they snuck upstairs after we got home.”
“How?”
“I don’t know, but they wedged all the entrances shut with tools. They were determined to kill me and nothing was going to get in their way.”
“You notice anything about this guy that stood out? Tattoos? Piercings? Clothes?”
“I already went over this with the detectives. I couldn’t see his face. He had a hood on, and I’m pretty sure a ski mask of some sort. He was also wearing large, shapeless clothes, so I couldn’t even say what kind of build he had. And the harder I try to grasp at any fragment of memory I have, the more it seems to slip away from me.”
Gwen sat fidgetingly on the couch, fiddling with a DVD case in her hands.
“What?” I asked, seeing her look up at me nervously.
“Nothing,” she blurted. “It’s nothing, really. It can wait till tomorrow.”
“Gwen, whatever it is, I’m eager to hear it. I need answers.”
“That’s why tomorrow’s better,” she affirmed, “because the only thing this will do is raise more questions.”
Before she could react, I snatched the recording from her and ran it over to the television. Ejecting the door on the player, I dropped the disc onto the tray and quickly pushed it closed.
“Seriously, you don’t have to watch that,” insisted Meyer.
“When have you ever been hesitant in disclosing information to me?”
“Fine,” she said, “toss me the remote.”
I lobbed the clicker over to her and parked a seat beside her.
She pressed PLAY. “Alright, I picked up some surveillance footage from the bar that Brian Hanover was at the night his girlfriend disappeared. I know, I know. I obtained it through less than reputable resources, but I needed to know what we were dealing with here.”
“I’m too concerned with the crazed lunatic after me to care about your indiscretions at the moment, so please continue.”
She looked at me a bit more agreeably as she fast-forwarded through the recording. “Okay then... If you pay attention here, you can see Brian heading to the washroom at about one o’clock.” Gwen pointed to a bumbling drunkard who couldn’t walk upright without using support of the wall beside him as he headed down the corridor. “Seems normal given how much alcohol was in his system, but now...” She sped through the footage to a few minutes later when Brian returned from the bathroom. “Look at him.”
He walked down the hall without difficulty, appearing to be perfectly alert and sober.
“Tell me, what’s wrong with this picture?”
“He’s somehow lying about how much he had to drink, obviously,” I said.
“Or... something a bit sinister is at work.”
“Something?”
“Look closer,” she said, zooming in on the footage. “You see his eyes? The entire sockets are black.”
“Camera glare?” I speculated.
“That’s what I thought, at first. That brings us to the second part of my presentation,” she said, skipping to the next chapter. The image was that of the inside of a gas station. “I estimated the time line and tried to find all the security footage that could track Justin Tither’s position on the night that his girlfriend went missing as well. Look at the window right by the counter.”
Sure enough, Justin walked past the glass. Gwen rewound the footage and played it in slow motion, pointing out the same peculiar eye effect.
“I also had my guy run a thorough inspection of all other footage taken in the area of the nights that both cases took place. Surprise, surprise. He stumbled across a picture posted to Facebook by a local teenager of her and her friends on the night of Brian Hanover’s case.” She pulled up the photo of a group of girls huddled close together making goofy faces at the camera on a street corner. “Notice who’s at the light?” Gwen pulled up a closer version of the image, zoomed in on a particular driver stopped at the red light.
“Brian Hanover,” I muttered, seeing clearly the exact same eerie effect in his eyes once more. “What the hell...?”
“I know, right? What do you think we’re dealing with here?” said Gwen. “Clearly neither of these guys was in any state to do anything but be unconscious, so whoever this is has to be an imposter.”
“Yeah, but Brian and Justin look nothing alike. Bone structure, body type, height, hair, everything.”
“Shape-shifter,” declared Gwen.
“You did not just say that.”
“What? You have a better notion?”
“Better than some fairytale folklore? Yeah, it was Bigfoot. Or Elvis.”
“Come on! After everything that happened that night in the library, are you seriously going to discredit that some sort of supernatural powers are at work in this world?” sneered Gwen under a whisper.
“Fine, but that doesn’t mean I’m about to start accrediting the possibility of vampires, zombies, and werewolves too.”
She gave me a hard shove. “I’m being serious here. Shape-shifter, trickster, government experiment gone wrong. Call it whatever you want, but it’s still out there walking around.”
A knock registered on the door and we both jumped, only to see my dad poke his head inside. Gwen fumbled with the remote, trying to turn off the video. The disc ejected.
“Everything okay in here?” he asked.
“Um, yeah. Why-Why wouldn’t it be?” stammered Gwen.
“Oookay, then... yeah.” My dad’s bewildered expression stayed with him as he closed the door again.
“You really should get going,” I said to Gwen. “Go home. Get some sleep. One of us needs it if we’re gonna figure this out.”
“You sure you don’t want some company?” she asked.
“I’ll be fine. I promise. I know your parents want you home, and I don’t blame them. Besides, I think your suspicious behavior is only going to send up red flags around here. Remember, there’s a slew of cops just outside.”
We collected her things, including the disc, and I walked her to the front door as my dad headed from the bar with a bottle of water in his hands.
“Good night, Mr. Foster,” said Gwen.
“Night,” he replied, still baffled.
“Call me when you get home, okay? I want to know you made it there safely,” I said.
“Sure thing.”
Gwen turned and walked out the door as my dad closed his office door behind him. Just as I was about to lock up, I noticed the Impala’s headlights flash from a distance. Then my phone buzz
ed with a text from Gwen.
“LOOKS LIKE YOUR DARK KNIGHT JUST ARRIVED.”
Gwen waved as she pulled away, seeing Jack coming up to the front door. I waved to the officers to confirm he could approach.
“Hey, looks like they managed to save the whole arm,” I said, taking notice to his bandages as I pulled the door open again.
“Yeah,” he chuckled. “I just wanted to stop by, make sure you were okay.”
I nodded. “I should ask you the same.”
“I’ve had worse,” he said, pointing to his head.
“You wanna come in?”
“I really shouldn’t.”
“Please,” I mouthed.
He nodded.
I placed my pointer finger over my lips and motioned to the backroom.
“I need to know what happened tonight,” I said, closing the door behind us.
“What’d you mean?”
“I mean... I don’t know. My mind’s going crazy here. How did he get inside? How did he wedge the doors closed first? All the windows and doors were closed and locked before I left the house earlier, and there’s no sign of a break-in,” I rambled out. “I didn’t hear anything, did you?”
Jack shook his head.
“And why would he have come after me? He knew you were there, so why?”
I began trembling all over again, and my heart felt like it was about to burst from my chest.
“It’s okay,” he said, helping me over to the sofa and wrapping an arm around me. “Just breathe, okay? Control your breathing, and it’ll calm the nerves.”
I took several deep breathes until my heart rate regained a more natural rhythm. “Where did you learn to do that?”
“Breathe?” he chuckled.
“Fight.”
“You saw how weird people were about me back in Arlington. Last thing I needed was some conspiracy theory wacko coming after me and not have me be prepared, so I took some martial arts classes when I got out of physical therapy following the accident,” he confirmed. “I’m not too shabby. Good guy to have around when the chips are down.”
“Like when there’s a crazed wingnut out to get you?”
“Something like that,” he said lightly, stroking my arm as I started to tear up. “You’re safe now, okay? Every cop in town is on the lookout for this guy. Nobody’s going to get to you.”
I laughed painfully. “You know, I’ve been under the protection and constant scrutiny of others my whole life. I’d simply been saving living my life until later. I always thought there’d be one, but here I am. It’s the eleventh hour and I’m standing in the center of my entire existence, listening to the timer tick away the last seconds of my life as I wait helplessly for the moment that everything implodes on me.”
“Cassie... don’t talk like that-”
“I’m tired. I am so sick and tired of everything,” I gnashed. “All you’re ever told when you’re younger is that you have to prepare for the future, prepare for what’s coming up down the road. But what if there is no later? What if you don’t get down the road? You’ve delayed living your life for nothing. All you have is unfulfillment.”
“Cass, you’re not dead. You’re right here. You’re tangible. You’re breathing.”
“I’ve never been to a football game.”
“What?”
“I’ve never gone to a local sporting event before,” I affirmed. “I’ve only played hooky from school once in my whole life. I’ve never stayed out all night. I’ve never taken my parents’ car without permission. I’ve never been with unsavory guys. I’ve never thrown caution to wind and just been impulsive. Why not?”
I turned and kissed him without warning.
He regrettably pulled away. “Cassie-”
“Just shut up,” I said, kissing him again.
“But just so we’re clear,” he asked through a subtle smile, “is this you being impulsive, or am I just one of the unsavory guys?”
“After tonight’s display, I’m not sure if I can technically label you the second, but I’d still like to think both. More things to check off my bucket list.” My pulse began hammering again, but for an entirely different reason. Jack’s lips pressed to my neck as he turned to me. Goosebumps streaked all over my skin as his fingers raked gently down the small of my back.
He suddenly pulled away again with what best looked like a grimace.
“What is it?”
“Wow, I can’t believe I’m actually saying this,” he said, deflating. “I don’t think we should do this.”
I actually started laughing. “Are you kidding me?”
“You’re vulnerable, and I’d really feel like I was taking advantage... I’m sorry.”
I climbed off the couch with nothing left in me but a smile. “Wow... Thank you.”
“I’m not saying this to be offensive or anything, because you know how much I’d love this, and you know how much I’d really love this... I’d just want you to be in a better, um, state of mind, when you’d make that decision.”
He got off the couch as well and gave me a kiss on the forehead before heading for the door.
“That’s too bad,” I chuckled.
“What is?”
“Now I know for certain that I’m gonna have to look elsewhere for an unsavory fella.”
He returned the smile. “See you tomorrow.”
“Bye.”
I fell into the couch face first with a laugh as the door closed behind him.
“Well, that was unexpected,” I mumbled.
Chapter 26
How We Operate
Having not slept more than an inconsecutive hour the whole night, I surrendered to greet the morning and headed into the bar’s bathroom. Trying best to cover the dark circles permeating under my eyes, I dabbed on what felt like half a bottle of concealer and put my strictest concentration on adding some color to my cheeks with some blush. Unfortunately, the bar’s lights were far from flattering, so it was hard to tell if I had applied too much or too little. My patience was practically nonexistent, so I tossed the brush back into my makeup bag and called it quits after I slapped on some black eye shadow, liner, and mascara.
With a swipe of lip gloss and a change of clothes, I went out into the front of the bar where my dad already had some coffee brewing. Despite my typical distinction for my studded knee-high boots, I figured skyscraping heels and sleep deprivation would not prove to be a friendly combination for me and slipped on a pair of Chuck Taylor’s instead.
“Want any?” asked my dad, as he poured himself a cup of coffee.
“Absolutely,” I said, parking a seat at a stool and resting my head on the wood counter.
“Here.” My dad put two cups in front of me.
“Do I really look like I need both?” I chuckled weakly.
“The other is for your friend out there,” replied my dad, pointing to the window.
“What?” I climbed off my perch and headed over to the front. Just down the road, the Impala’s glossy body shone in the dim glimmer of dawn. “Did you see when he came here?”
“No, you did. He never left after your little chat last night,” he said, eyeballing me.
“...Sorry, I know I should have said something to you. We just really needed to talk, and I wasn’t sure if you’d agree to let him in here.”
“If these walls weren’t as thin as paper, we would have had a problem. But it’s fine,” he replied. “Next time though, a heads-up will be much obliged.”
“Understood.”
I grabbed the coffees off the counter as my dad unlocked the front doors. Pushing one open, he nodded to the cops who were still stationed outside. The brisk morning air bit through my clothing as I strolled off down and across the street to the driver’s door of the Impala. Jack’s head was resting up against the side window with his blazer bunched between it and the glass for a little cushion as his arms rested across his chest, his hands hidden behind the insides of his leather jacket. I tapped lightly on the wind
ow, but he didn’t respond. Knock, knock, knock. Still nothing. I eventually banged on the glass, and he shot awake, his right hand snatching out a stainless steel survival knife from inside his jacket.
I threw my hands up in surrender. “Relax, Rambo. It’s just me. And coffee.”
He chuckled as he breathed a sigh of relief, rolling the window down. “Thank you.”
I handed him his cup as he wiped the bleariness from his eyes. “No problem. Have you really been here all night?”
“Couldn’t think of anything else better to do,” he said, tucking the knife back away.
“What’s with the cutlery?”
“As you’ve said before, I tend to find myself in rather sticky situations. Maine’s laws don’t permit me the right to carry a gun for protection until I’m eighteen, so I’ve resorted to the next best thing.”
“Well, the cops do have the right to have guns, and I think they’ve have got a pretty good handle on the situation.”
“A couple of rookies with limited street action? Call me crazy, but that doesn’t give me much comfort.”
“Okay, you’re crazy,” I said smilingly. “You want some breakfast?”
“I wasn’t aware the bar offered anything.”
“It doesn’t, but the diner across the way does. And truth be told, I could go for an omelet and some bacon right about now.”
Jack rolled the window back up, climbed out, and locked the car. “Sounds delicious.”
The two of us headed across the way, and I poked my head back into the bar. “We’re going over to Nana’s for a bite. You wanna join?” I called out to my dad.
“Nah, I’m good. Just bring me back a paper if you could,” he replied.
“Will do.”
“Thank you.”
Ginger, our waitress, handed each of us a menu as we took a seat, but I didn’t need to bother looking it over. I had been to Nana’s so many times, I could recite every dish by heart. We ordered drinks and Ginger left us to decide on our meals. As Jack debated over his options, I pulled out my cell phone to see that I had been bombarded with a mass of calls and text messages. Most were from Trish and Minnie, demanding an inside scoop of the “terrifying events”. The rest were miscellaneous messages from other students that I didn’t even know had my number, giving me best wishes for what they called my “brush with death”. But still nothing from Ian.
Divine Vices Page 25
