She moaned lustily. If what she said was true, then Jade should have made the paper headlines by evening. He had better reach Derek before the poor man learned the fate of his lover.
Gunny rose, his leg creaking in complaint.
“Shut up you!” He yelled pointing an accusing finger at the prosthetic before continuing.
Shuffling to his cart he mulled her words over in his mind. One twenty-one Daniel… One two one… Fuck… Twelve, one… Daniel 12:1 She had quoted scripture before she was lost to reality. He knew the verse, knew it all too well. Now he understood why she had called him Michael. Furthermore, he understood her outfit.
“Michael, the great prince, the protector of your people, shall arise. There shall be a time of anguish, such as has never occurred since nations first came into existence. But at that time your people shall be delivered…”
Daniel 12:1
Mumbling and cursing to himself, Gunny retreated angrily in hopes of locating Derek before it was too late. He could not risk letting his friend go over the edge.
Chapter Thirteen
Jade could feel the anger bubbling inside her. It felt like she'd swallowed molten lava, her stomach churning with heat. Nik and Alexis had been discussing her; her body, her funeral, the investigation, all as if it were an everyday occurrence. How many people had they killed and dumped? How many police were on their payroll? In fact, if she'd understood correctly, even the D.A. or someone in his office worked with them to help them hide their crimes.
Here she knew the truth, but she was utterly helpless to do anything about it. She couldn't tell anyone, couldn't show anyone.
When the doorbell rang and the two detectives were escorted into the main sitting room, Jade followed, eager to hear them grill Nik. Or at least one of them would be grilling him. Apparently one of these men was already in Nik's pocket.
As soon as Nik entered, Alexis trailing him like the good little puppy he was, the cops stood up and started talking.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Fredrikson, my name is Detective Slater and this is Detective Schmidt with the DPD. We'd like to ask you a few questions about your... event last night."
"Certainly gentleman, please have a seat. This is Alexis, my associate, we'll be happy to answer any questions we can. Although, I'm not entirely certain what this is about."
"Well, sir, a young girl was murdered Saturday night, and it seems as if your party was her last known location," Detective Slater said.
Jade judged him to be the more senior partner, not so much by appearance as manner. They both appeared to be in their early to mid-thirties, but Slater was doing all the talking. Did that mean he was the man on Nik's payroll, or merely the man in charge?
"I'm sorry to hear that. Murdered, you said? How awful. And she was here Saturday night?"
"Yes, she was," Schmidt finally spoke up. "Can you please take a look at this photo and tell me if you recognize her at all." He showed a picture to Nik, who took it from him.
Peeking over his shoulder, Jade was surprised to see a picture of her. Only... not. She was hideously pale, her eyes closed, her lips a strange whitewashed color. It took only a moment for Jade to realize this picture was taken in the morgue. She was dead.
For a moment, she was swamped with a feeling of panic, almost as if she were drowning, unable to breathe, her lungs filling with terror, slowly suffocating her.
The room swayed, leaving her to wonder if she was going to black out or worse yet, zone out again like she had in the apartment.
"No, I'm sorry. I have no idea who she is."
Nik's voice lying so smoothly to the detectives pulled her from her panic, forcing her to refocus on where she was, what he was saying. He had lied so convincingly. Even she believed him and she knew the truth.
"Did you see her at the party?" Slater asked.
"No, I didn't." He showed the photo to Alexis. "Alex, did you see her that evening?"
Jade watched as Alex took the photo, shaking his head even though he pretended to study the picture.
"No, I'm afraid I didn't see her either."
"There were quite a lot of people here that evening. This is an annual gala I throw, and I have to say it is usually a full house."
"I was under the impression it is by invitation only." This came from Schmidt.
"Well, yes and no. Invitations are issued, however each invitation allows for a 'plus one' and there is no way to truly monitor who that may be. If she was here, she must have come with another guest."
"Do you have the guest list? We can simply check and see who brought her as their guest." This was again from Schmidt, leading Jade to believe she had been correct in her initial assessment. Slater was definitely in Nik's pocket. Schmidt... maybe not.
Nik's eyes hardened a little before glancing at Slater. After a moment, he smiled at both men before turning to Alexis. "Alex, would you be so kind as to print off a copy of our guest list for these gentleman?"
Alex rose and headed down the hallway towards the office they had just come from. Jade knew without having to look that her name wouldn't be on that list. Just as she knew that none of the guest would have seen her when the cops questioned them. It wouldn't have mattered if she had strolled into the ball stark naked and drawn every eye to her. The bottom line was, when push came to shove, these type of people stuck together. No one would admit to seeing anything that might in any way implicate their friend.
The anger started to simmer again, that helpless feeling bringing it back to the surface.
"Well detectives, I'm sorry I can't be of anymore help to you. If there are any further questions, please give me a call. Alex will meet you by the entrance with the list you require. I really need to get back to work now, if you'll excuse me. I'll have Franklin show you to the door."
Nik turned on his heel, gesturing toward the hallway where the butler had been silently waiting, completely unseen by the other occupants.
That was it? That was all they were going to ask him? They weren't going to call him a liar, or even bring him into the station so they could interrogate him or something? Jade was furious.
The gentleman shook hands with Nik before turning to follow the butler.
He had killed her and he was simply going to get away with it. She couldn't allow that.
Suddenly so angry she needed to hit something, throw something, slam a damn door at least, she swung out with her arms.
A vase of flowers sitting on the sofa table suddenly went flying off the table, crashing to the floor, causing everyone to jump, even her.
Nik spun around, looking for the source of the noise, before scanning the rest of the room.
Turning back to the police, he muttered some sort of excuse about the vase being too close to the edge of the table.
They merely smiled like the idiots they were and turned to leave.
Had she done that? Had she knocked the vase off with her anger? She had been close to it when she swung her arm, but she hadn't felt her hand connect with anything. Was it possible that she could move some things, but not others?
As she was trying to sort through the possibility, she heard Nik close the door to the living room. Suddenly he turned in a lightning flash movement, scanning the room again as if searching for something.
After a moment, she heard his voice, speaking to the air. "Is that you, darling? I know you're here somewhere. I can feel you, Jade."
Holy fuck!
* * * * *
As the cops strolled to the front hallway, Slater heard Schmidt muttering under his breath. Finally frustrated with the man, he turned and asked, "What the hell are you rambling about?"
"That's it? That's all you're going to ask him?"
"What else did you want me to ask? He says he doesn't know her. Neither did his man."
"You don't think they may be lying? That girl was raped and beaten, Slater. If they're the ones that did it, you don't think they're simply going to admit it, do you?"
"Look, we asked for t
he guest list. We will call every single person on there and ask them the same thing. But the bottom line is, we have nothing. No evidence. We heard from the girl’s slightly crazy boyfriend that they were here. Right before he went fubar and beat the crap out of Rodgers. That's hardly enough to charge him with anything. Hell, that's not really even enough to question him."
Slater watched as Schmidt processed what he'd said, finally sighing as he came to the same conclusion himself.
"You're right. But, just for the record, I still think he's lying. About something. This whole thing is just weird. I've got a bad feeling. Even this house is creepy, like that damn vase just flying off the table. Something's not right."
"Could be. But unless we find something to give us a reason to come back here, you leave him alone. Nik Fredrikson owns half this damn town. He is powerful in the kind of way that can cost you and me more than just our jobs. So, for now... yeah. This is it. We take that list, and unless someone admits something, we start looking elsewhere. You gettin' me?"
Schmidt nodded. "Yeah, I got ya."
Just as Alexis walked towards them, carrying the requested guest list, a huge thumping sound started.
It sounded as if someone was trying to break down the front door.
* * * * *
Derek stormed down the city streets a seething ball of rage; hatred drove him, anger lent him strength. He moved quickly, a man of singular purpose, listening to his characters. They guided him down the streets, told him where to turn; he was happy to heed their words.
Hell bent on hurting something, he rounded yet another corner. “Four more blocks to the mansion,” they reminded him. He was glad they, too, had not abandoned him. Instead they plotted and planned, giving him suggestions on how best to carry out his task. The task. The only thing that mattered.
Vengeance.
He moved like a man oblivious to the world, his strides long and fast. He had already stepped off a curb in front of a car that blared its horn as it shrieked to a halt. He had ignored it and continued walking. Nothing could stop him.
Even now, after over a dozen city blocks, his face burned hot from the blood that rose to his cheeks. Anger was not even the word for it. Derek doubted that any being had ever before felt loss as he had this day. Jade would have understood. She got him. She accepted him. But she was gone.
Beyond the next intersection, Derek could see the massive building, all stone and grandeur. He hated the building. It lied. Though it appeared pretty, he knew it was evil. Those within were evil. The ones who had killed her were evil and he would wring the life from them with his very hands given the chance.
Across the last street and straight through the yard, Derek strode and watched as a shadow detached from the building to intercept him. The man was nearly as large as he and wearing head to toe tactical black; it was sadly obvious that the man was security.
Coming to stand in his path, the man raised a hand towards Derek’s chest, a gesture that meant stop. Instead Derek closed the gap without slowing and grasping the man's wrist, he twisted it around, driving the man to the ground. The man was not the enemy, just hired help, a hurdle in his path.
“Leave me alone.” Derek said gruffly before giving the arm a violent twist. With a whimper the man nodded his head and Derek released him. Without hesitation he climbed the massive stone steps up to the main entry and testing the handle and found it to be locked. Too bad.
With nothing more to do he began to beat upon the great wooden door with his fists. Again and again he struck it, hitting harder than was reasonable. With no response after several seconds, he began kicking and shouting at the obstacle that stood between himself and those responsible. His characters joined in. Angered beyond belief, Derek roared like a lion, his hands clenched into fists at either side of him.
The door swung open.
Beyond it two men in cheap suits stood at the ready, their guns drawn upon him. Derek recognized the men, and they obviously recognized him. Were they in on it? Did they do something to Jade? Was this where they lived? What were the detectives doing here?
Derek looked to the one whose partner now lay in a hospital. He wondered if this one wanted to join the other.
“Where is Jade?” Derek demanded.
“Mr. Montoya, settle down, you visited Jade today,” the detective replied.
Derek knew that, he wasn’t crazy. He shook his head to clear it.
“Who killed her? Is he here?”
“Derek, listen,” the younger cop said, slowly returning his firearm to his holster. “We are following up on leads. You should go home.”
Go home? Seriously? Without Jade he didn’t have a home, just rooms with stuff.
“Where is he?” Derek shouted. “He needs to pay for what he did to her.” Derek took a step forward, the gun slid from its holster yet again.
“Mr. Montoya, leave now.”
“I can’t.”
“You have to.”
“She deserves this…”
“Listen to me, Derek,” the detective pleaded, understanding well his intentions. “If you come any further, you will go back to jail and miss her funeral. Does she deserve that?”
Derek’s head spun. He was angry, so angry, but the damned cop was right. He did not want to miss her funeral.
“Then turn around and go home. Think about what you are doing. Think about what she would have wanted you to do.”
“Argh,” Derek roared in reply, throwing up his hands in consternation. He knew Jade would want him home. Safe. But he needed to do this, they needed to pay. He began to turn back towards the yard then hesitated.
“You get it done or I will,” he growled at the cop, his eyes burning with hatred.
Derek turned and stormed back down the stairs; the so-called security guard scurried out of his way. He turned towards home as the emotions and pain returned like a tsunami, tearing through him as he felt he had failed her yet again…
* * * * *
She'd heard his voice, pulling her from her contemplation. Deciding that it didn't matter if Nik could see her or not, she needed to see Derek, she ran from the living room, just in time to see the cops swing the door wide, guns pointed at Derek.
No! Don't shoot him. Please! She yelled though no one could hear her.
When the cops talked him down, advising him to go home, she almost sunk to her knees grateful he hadn't been hurt.
When he finally grunted and turned to head home, she followed him out, running after him to keep pace.
He was in so much pain. He had been looking for her, she knew that now, and when the cops had told him she was dead, he'd gone off half-cocked, trying to avenge her death.
She couldn't allow that, couldn't allow him to throw away his life simply because she'd done something so incredibly stupid. If only he knew the truth about her, about how she'd died. Then, instead of feeling any desire to avenge her, he would simply hate her. Blame her.
Though the thought tore her heart to shreds, she knew it was better than this. Better than this anger, this rage that was pulsing off of him. She could almost see it rolling off his skin like water after a dip in a pool.
While he rode the bus home in silence, she tried to comfort him, tried to soothe him as best she could. Since he really couldn't feel her hand sweeping across his brow, maybe she was really only trying to soothe herself.
I'm sorry, Derek. So sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you, didn't mean to leave you. I know you never heard me say the words, but I love you. I only wish I had a chance to do it all over again. Everything, not just that night. I would tell you this time, everyday, just how much you mean to me.
She continued talking to him, apologizing, pouring her heart out to him, even though she knew he couldn't hear her. It should have made her feel better to have said everything she'd held inside her the last few months.
It didn't.
It made her angry, frustrated. Why was she still here? Is this what happened to everyone when they died? Was every
one still floating around haunting people they loved? And if so, wouldn't she at least be able to see another ghost?
She had read something a long time ago that said only people killed in violent circumstances or those with unfinished business stayed around after they died, their souls trying to find solace somehow.
Was this her unfinished business? To find a way to tell Derek she had truly loved him?
He exited the bus, heading up the many stairs to their apartment.
Despite the somber mood, she couldn't help but smile a little at the thought that at least now all these stairs didn't make her legs tired.
Derek strolled into the apartment, completely unaware that she was right on his heels. He peeled off the costume, stripping as he walked, throwing his clothes on the floor of the hallway as he headed straight to the shower.
She wished for a second that she could clean up after him, as he'd always done for her.
She had managed to touch the vase, maybe she could pick up a shirt.
After a few frustrating tries, she finally gave up and followed him down the hall. As she saw him climbing into the shower, in all his glorious nakedness, she couldn't resist the temptation to simply sit down and watch.
She realized it was probably a little creepy, definitely a little stalker-ish, but she had a chance to merely observe him. Something he rarely allowed.
Though sex with him had always been amazing, he had always been in control, never allowing her a chance to really explore his body.
It was amazing. All hard angles and planes, defined muscle, lean and corded without the weightlifter bulk. She could see a few scars, fine silvery lines on his back. Somehow they only added to the appeal. Why was it that people could only truly appreciate something once they'd lost it?
Beyond The Mask (The Beyond Book 1) Page 12
