You Fit the Pattern

by Jane Haseldine

  “Different how?”

  “Different between you and me,” Prejean said, and reached for Julia’s hand, but she quickly took a step back.

  “What are you doing?” Julia asked.

  “Not what you’re thinking. What I meant was, we haven’t been getting along ever since I got off the plane. We’ve been buddies for a long time. You’re happy with the cop, then I’m happy for you. And as cute as I think you are, chérie, you’re not my type. It would be like dating my little cousin or something. I worry about you is all.”

  Prejean moved in front of Julia when the approaching car slowed to a crawl. “Looks like you’ve got company.”

  “Nothing to worry about. But thanks for being my human shield,” Julia said.

  A familiar blue sedan pulled to a stop in front of Julia’s house. Russell got out, along with his passenger, a tall, attractive blonde with a trim build. The two walked up Julia’s path, the blonde laughing as Russell looped his arm around her waist.

  “Oh, God,” Julia said. “I can’t believe this.”

  “You know Russell’s date?” Prejean asked.

  “You could say that.”

  Russell and the blonde got halfway up the path when the two spotted the company on the porch. “Hey, Julia,” Russell said. “Thanks for the invite. I’d make introductions, but they’re obviously not necessary.”

  “This is unexpected. Russell said he was bringing a date, but he failed to mention it was you,” Julia said to the blonde.

  “Am I missing something here?” Prejean asked. He reached his hand out to Russell’s companion. “I’m Doug Prejean. I’m an old friend of Julia’s.”

  “Nice to meet you. I don’t think Julia ever mentioned you before. I’m Julia’s sister, Sarah.”

  “Okay then,” Prejean said, his tone indicating that something had clicked in place. “Russell, let’s go inside and talk to Navarro for a minute. There’s something I wanted to run by both of you on the case.”

  “Yeah, sure. You and Julia catch up, and I’ll see you inside,” Russell said, and squeezed Sarah’s hand.

  “Nice night,” Sarah said. She pulled a Marlboro Light cigarette from her purse and lit it, the glow from her lighter showing off her still pristine skin and tight jawline, despite her years of substance abuse. “Thanks for the chilly reception. I tried to tell you I was dating Russell when I called you yesterday, but you cut me off.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “I met Russell at Ben’s service, so we’ve been seeing each other for a couple of months. He asked me out six times before I said yes. I’ve never dated a guy as old as him, but I’ve never been treated better. He doesn’t judge me for my past. And he respects the hell out of you, but you already know that.”

  “Russell’s a good friend. I’m not sure if I’m comfortable with this.”

  “You don’t have to worry about him hurting me. I’m a big girl. I get the sexist, womanizer vibe from him, but deep down, that’s all bullshit. He’s a sweetheart. He’s so proud of my sobriety anniversary coming up, and he’s going to take me to Traverse City for the weekend after the ceremony to celebrate. No worries, little sis. I’m not going to let him hurt me. I’ve told him every ugly detail about my past, and he hasn’t run yet,” Sarah said.

  She smiled at Julia and looked jaded but hopeful, like a beaten-down dog at a shelter who finally got adopted by an owner who found the misfit animal the perfect fit for their family, warts and all. But the smile slowly faded from Sarah’s face as a look of realization set in and her familiar mask of hardness settled back into its well-worn place. “I get it. You think I’m the one who’s going to hurt Russell. Just like I hurt you. That was a long time ago. I thought we were past that.”

  “Russell’s been a friend of mine for a long time. Sobriety is new to you.”

  “It’s been almost two years.”

  “I think you should wait. I’m proud of what you’re doing with your meetings and being a counselor, but I don’t think you’re ready for a relationship.”

  “Don’t patronize me. You’d probably be fine with Russell dating someone. Just not a girl like me.”

  Sarah sank down on the front step of Julia’s porch, reached for another cigarette, and kept her eyes level on the street. “You ever think about when we were kids?”

  “I do. I don’t like to talk about it, though.”

  “It’s not good to keep stuff bottled inside. That time when we were all together in Sparrow, before Ben was taken and Mom and Dad ran off, what we had, it wasn’t much, but it was something. Just enough to hold on to. Some days, I feel like if I just close my eyes for a second and open them back up, we’d be back there, all together again, like no time had passed. Maybe if I had a second chance to do it all over, I wouldn’t screw up. Who knows? I could’ve turned out to be a girl like you with a normal life. Stupid, right?”

  Sarah stubbed her cigarette out underneath the toe of her boot. “You want me to leave? I can’t blame you if you did.”

  A stab of guilt struck Julia over her critical judgment of her sister. Sarah had done some things to Julia that had crossed beyond even the brightest red line when she was using, including stealing from Julia and threatening Logan if Julia went to the police. But a sober Sarah had tried to save Julia’s life three months earlier. Julia studied Sarah sitting alone on her front step, and felt an ache of pity for her sister.

  “Come on inside. It’s shaping up to be an interesting dinner.”

  Sarah gave Julia a wink. “Tell you what. If anything gets crazy, I’ve got your back.”

  “I believe you would.” Julia looped her arm around Sarah’s and the two made their way to the dining room, where everyone was already gathered at the table in front of Helen’s lavish spread.

  “Now that everyone is here, we have a feast. But there are a few rules first. There will be no talk of your case at the table with little ears listening,” Helen said. “What I have made for you are pierogies, Polish red borscht, which is much more delicious than the Russian version, golabki, my cabbage stuffed with meat and rice, and breaded pork and potato dumplings. You adults behave, you get my paczki for dessert.”

  “What’s that?” Sarah asked.

  “Polish donuts. They’re really good,” Logan answered.

  Julia got Will into his seat next to hers and pushed his chair up to the table. She motioned to Navarro, but Prejean grabbed the seat beside her before Navarro could reach it.

  “Come on, buddy. How about I sit by you?” Navarro asked Logan.

  “How do you know my little sister?” Sarah asked Prejean.

  “I’m a cop. I met Julia down in New Orleans when she was green as could be. She was always feisty, though. I could tell she was going to be a good reporter, so I took her under my wing. She proved me right. But she didn’t always have the best taste in men. An old boyfriend of Julia’s was hassling her, and I had to chase him out of my fair city as soon as his plane touched down. Are you in journalism, too, Sarah?” Prejean asked.

  “No, I’m a counselor at a rehab center. I’m a recovering addict. I’ve been sober for a while now, but I learned the hard way. I did some time down in Florida after getting popped on a couple of drug and aggravated assault charges. I almost got busted once on a prostitution collar, but that was a bogus charge. I woke up under a park bench in Tampa once, with my underwear around my ankles, and the cops thought I was turning tricks. I was just high as a kite and couldn’t pull them back up after I relieved myself in the bushes.”

  Logan’s eyes shot open wide and didn’t blink.

  “We are so moving on here,” Julia said.

  “Oh, geez. Sorry, Julia. I don’t have kids, so things slip sometimes,” Sarah said. “Russell knows everything about my past, and we’re always encouraged to share in NA, so I got a little carried away. I promise, it won’t happen again.”

  “What’s ‘NA’?” Logan asked.

  “Narcotics Anonymous. It’s for recovering drug users. You se
em like a really good kid, so I’ll give you a piece of advice. Never take drugs. They make you do crazy things and destroy your life.”

  “Sarah, please . . . ,” Julia started, but Helen rushed in for the save.

  “One more word in front of little boys about drugs or losing underwear under a park bench, the paczki will not be made. This is not a recovery meeting. It’s a dinner table with children who are taking in every word of your colorful past. You are lucky you are Miss Julia’s sister, or I would not be so nice.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to mess things up. Logan and Will, you’ve got a great mom. I’ve always looked up to her.”

  “It’s okay,” Julia said, and then tried to redirect what was turning into a train wreck of a dinner conversation. “Logan, tell us about your magic set.”

  “I am not a fan of magic,” Helen said. “Magic can open the door a crack, just enough, to let the evil eye in.”

  “‘The evil eye’?” Logan repeated “What’s that?”.

  “And you gave me a hard time for talking smack in front of the kids,” Sarah said.

  “Pay no mind about the evil eye, Logan,” Prejean said. “Magic isn’t real. But if it’s done right, magic makes the mind believe it’s seeing something that is real. Magic is nothing more than an illusion done by a practiced hand.”

  “I will make my paczki now. You boys come into the kitchen with me and help. We let the adults have their conversation,” Helen said.

  “Did you find the student from Wayne State?” Julia asked Navarro.

  He nodded his head subtly in Sarah’s direction and shook his head.

  “I get it. You can’t talk to me because you’re working an active case. Julia’s okay because she’s a part of it. I understand,” Sarah said.

  “Sarah’s smart,” Russell said. “And beautiful.”

  “Not smart, just experienced. Julia’s always been the smart one, ever since we were kids. I’ve just spent enough time around cops that I picked up a few things. I’ll get out of your hair. If Helen will have me, I’ll help out in the kitchen. I’m taking my plate, though. This food is way too delicious not to finish.”

  Sarah still knew how to work the con, Julia thought, as she witnessed a slight smile rise from Helen over the review of her cooking.

  “I have an extra apron. You join us.”

  Julia waited until half her dinner party exited into the kitchen and then jumped into her line of questioning.

  “You didn’t find the student from the college then. We’ve got to look harder,” Julia told Navarro.

  “We’re looking plenty hard, Julia. And no, we haven’t found him yet. We have his picture from his school ID. I’d like you to take a look at it.” Navarro reached into the pocket of his jeans and slid the ID across the table toward Julia.

  The man in the photo had dark hair, intense dark brown eyes, and a scar on his chin.

  “I’ve never seen him before.”

  “Are you sure?” Navarro asked, and reached for his ringing cell phone in his pocket. He studied the number and gave a nod to Russell. “It’s Jeb Wilson.”

  Navarro answered and listened for a few seconds before he responded, “You’re positive? Okay. Make yourself available if we need you for anything else.”

  He hung up and stashed the phone back into his pocket.

  “Russell and I interviewed a guy at Highland Park earlier who may have met the killer. Jeb Wilson looked at the picture of the student from Wayne State. Wilson claims it isn’t the man he saw.”

  “The Voodoo King,” Russell said.

  * * *

  Julia put her boys to sleep after her guests left and was huddled over her computer in her office, attempting one more search for the elusive Raven’s Poe.

  Navarro rapped on the open door with his knuckles and then sat down on the edge of Julia’s desk.

  “It’s after midnight. How about you get some sleep and we’ll get back to this in the morning. Come on. I promise I’ll wake you up early. We have surveillance on the female English teacher.”

  “You and I both know it’s not her. I can’t afford to be wrong on this, Ray.”

  “We can’t afford to be wrong on this. Off the record, I told Chief Washington the same thing. The killer is complex but precise. I don’t see him changing the profile of his victim. Let’s go, Gooden. We’ll keep hunting in the morning. Your house alarm is set?”

  “I activated it as soon as Sarah’s and Russell’s feet hit the porch.”

  “Good girl.” Navarro grabbed Julia’s hand and led her to the bedroom. She took off her blouse and jeans and slipped on a T-shirt and sat cross-legged on the end of her bed.

  “You know I’m not a jealous man, but Prejean is territorial around you.”

  “You have nothing to worry about. Prejean and I are just friends. He thinks of me as his little sister.”

  “That’s not the vibe I get from him.”

  “I promise you have nothing to worry about. Prejean has always been protective. He looked out for me once a long time ago, and I think he feels like he still needs to be my bodyguard.”

  “He mentioned something about stopping an old boyfriend of yours at the airport.”

  “I dated someone a few years before I met you. He was a doctor who was older than me. His name is Alex Tillerman. I broke it off with him because he started to get possessive and demanding, wanting to know where I was all the time.”

  “Did this Tillerman ever hit you?”

  “No, nothing like that, but he got really possessive before I broke it off. One night, I had a late interview. I met my source at a coffee shop. The person I was meeting was a young male attorney. Tillerman followed me, saw me with the lawyer, and thought I was cheating on him. He caused a major scene and punched the lawyer in the face. It was humiliating and I felt terrible for the attorney. I found out Tillerman had a drug problem, and in hindsight, I think he was high at the time he beat up my source. I broke up with him that night. Tillerman wasn’t used to being on the other side of rejection, so he wouldn’t let go. He flew down to New Orleans after I moved there, but Prejean met him at the airport and scared him off.”

  “When was the last time you saw Tillerman?”

  “Yesterday. I ran into him at a restaurant.”

  “You ran into him out of the blue?”

  “Tillerman works at Harper University Hospital, so I’ve run into him before. I see where you’re going with this. Tillerman is a loser and may still have a recreational drug problem, but I don’t see him as a killer.”

  “I’m not ruling out anything when it comes to you and this case. Come on, beautiful. Get some sleep,” Navarro said. He pulled the covers down for Julia and then patted her side of the bed. “I’m going to stay up for a while, just to be sure everything is okay.”

  “Nothing is okay. I know the next victim’s still out there, Ray. I can feel it.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Christy King chugged back a Red Bull and pulled on her ripped jeans under her size-two, perfectly conservative navy skirt she wore for her day job as a bookseller at Barnes & Noble on Warren Avenue downtown. She slunk down low in her old Volvo, trying to avoid being noticed by the few patrons she spotted heading into the Magic Stick on Woodward Avenue, where the indie/rock band she fronted, Raven’s Poe, was playing in just five minutes.

  She ripped a fingernail down to the quick, snagging it on the zipper of her black jeans, ignored the pain, and started working the buttons on her white shirt.

  At thirty-one, Christy realized changing in her car made her just one step up from homeless, but she figured a quick change in the front seat of her Volvo was a better bet than trying to score a stall in the always jam-packed women’s room.

  The Magic Stick was a popular bar and live-music venue in the city, and she knew she was lucky as hell to have snagged the gig.

  Christy scrambled with the straps of her red stiletto heels. She was cutting it close this time, but goddamn, it was worth it.

  She
could’ve come straight to the club after her shift at the bookstore, gotten a bite, and warmed up with the band, but instead drove the twenty minutes back home to see her six-year-old son, Clay. The five minutes she spent cuddling with him on the couch was the best part of her day. By far.

  Right before she had hurried out of her house, Christy promised Clay they’d go to the movies after his soccer game tomorrow, but she secretly worried how she was going to fit it all in.

  Juggling her life, and always feeling like she was coming up short, sucked big-time.

  She looked over to the passenger seat and her duffel bag that was filled with what was left of her stage clothes, along with her notebook of lyrics and a lonely demo tape of her original songs. She always took the demo with her to her gigs in case some big producer might stumble into one of her shows.

  As if.

  Christy’s good friend, guilt, wrapped an uncomfortable arm around her with a reminder of how she had hurried out the door before Clay could see her cry. In small, seemingly inconsequential—but huge—moments like these, Christy often wondered if she was a selfish idiot, trading time she could be spending with her son for chasing a dream, something she wanted for them both. But most nights, when she was alone in bed, or with her little boy sleeping by her side, a voice inside her head gave her a scolding reality check: That shit was likely never going to happen.

  The paycheck from the bookstore was manageable, but she didn’t want to live with her mom forever. And Clay’s biological father was long out of the picture, a guy Christy dated for a couple of months, who once called her “perfection,” until she broke the news that she was knocked up.

  Christy unsnapped her bra and flung it into the duffel bag. The bag sat atop a few flyers she made announcing her new band’s name, Raven’s Poe, and their gig tonight, but she never found enough time to put any up, despite her effort.

  Christy squinted when a bright beam from a set of headlights shone through her front windshield.

  “Damn,” Christy swore, and reached for her red satin camisole that she hurriedly pulled over her head. God, she hoped the driver didn’t catch a glimpse of her chest. What there was to look at anyway. She could barely pull off a B cup in a padded bra, so if the driver was a guy and caught a look at her barely there breasts, it wouldn’t be on his “top ten moments of his life” list.