The Blood In the Beginning

by Kim Falconer

  ‘It was clean.’

  A shadow crossed over me. ‘What about my DNA?’

  ‘Our records match it to the new you, all good.’

  One of the side effects of taking an assumed identity was the paranoia of being discovered. I willed my stomach to unclench.

  ‘Ava, you okay?’

  ‘Bit sore, and a bit hallucinatory with the treatments, but yeah, I’m fine.’ I leaned closer, keeping him in focus. Rourke was my mentor, one hundred percent on my side. I trusted him, as much as I could anyone. ‘I don’t want to dob myself in for the gunfire in the alley, or the “breaking and exiting” at Asian Jim’s, but I do want you to catch this guy.’

  He nodded. ‘Your description’s vague.’

  ‘Sorry. It’s hard to take notes when you’re slammed to the pavement and kicked like a sack.’

  ‘But you say his face was covered in tribal war paint?’

  ‘Sort of, but smooth. Like a mask, a second skin. Is that part of the MO?’

  ‘I’ll check. Haven’t seen it in the old case file.’

  I rubbed at my wrist. ‘You know, Poseidon, well it’s damn dark down there, and I don’t mean the lighting. You sure nobody’s getting hurt?’

  He patted my good arm. ‘I’ll check it out again, but Vice has done a few top to bottom searches. They found recreational drug use and consensual public sex. Charges are usually dropped, but the snuff film inspired performances, no matter how distasteful, are completely legal.’

  ‘That’s it?’

  ‘They booked a few patrons for coke, but as far as the LAPD is concerned, Poseidon’s a clean club.’

  ‘Sure it is …’

  ‘You just focus on healing. Finals coming up, right?’

  ‘Yeah, studying, but what about going home. Is this killer going to nail my ass while I sleep?’ That thought was enough to give me insomnia for the next twelve months.

  ‘Not his MO.’ He rubbed his temples. ‘I’ll put an extra patrol in your suburb, as a precaution. I’ve already ordered twenty-four hour surveillance.’ The cleft between his eyebrows deepened. ‘Anything happens, backup is there. Green Subaru. He won’t have another chance at you, but I don’t want him to know that.’

  It only took a second to follow his drift. ‘I’m bait?’

  ‘The profiler says he goes for the helpless, and you’ve shown him that’s not you. But if he does hang around, we’re on him. We haven’t had any luck otherwise.’

  ‘No survivors?’

  ‘You’re the first.’ He tapped off his tablet. ‘When you’re able, come in and look at mugshots.’ He stood. ‘And keep this quiet.’

  ‘How quiet?’

  ‘Don’t talk to the press. Now, go home, rest, and get back to classes. Business as usual.’

  I groaned at the thought of missing any more lectures. There was one this afternoon I could make. ‘You putting that tail on me straight away?’

  ‘They’ll be watching your house, be on you from there.’

  ‘I hope you catch him.’

  ‘I’m planning on it.’ Rourke gave me a quick nod and left. When he reached the elevator, he turned. ‘How long’s that shoulder going to hold you up?’

  He wanted me back on the training mats. No surprise there.

  ‘Day or two. It wasn’t fully out.’ Lie. Lie. Lie.

  He gave me one of those throwaway waves. The elevator dinged and he was gone.

  While I waited for Cate, I went back over the attack, making sure I hadn’t left anything out. It wasn’t doing anything for my nerves, reliving the experience over and over, but at least the jolting underwater scenes had stopped. Maybe the visions had all played out.

  ‘Let’s see about that.’ Rossi stood over me.

  Damn he was tall. ‘Pardon?’

  ‘How’d it go with the detective?’

  ‘Fine.’ I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

  ‘Did he believe you?’

  ‘Why wouldn’t he?’ I stood up quickly, to show him I could. ‘You’ll release me now.’ It was supposed to be a question. I knew the doctor-patient dialectic, but it might have sounded a little more like a command. Too bad.

  ‘How’s your rehab going?’

  ‘Fine. My stats are in the database.’ Suddenly I was feeling hot in my baggy hospital issue sweats, and not the sexy kind. The nurse had supplied them, along with some slightly oversized sneakers. I’d prefer bare feet, but that was not up to code.

  Rossi leaned in, and I anticipated the clean ocean breeze that seemed to follow this man. I wasn’t disappointed. ‘Look straight ahead.’ He flashed his penlight in my eyes. ‘Any headaches?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Dizziness? Nausea? Visions?’

  ‘I’m really feeling a lot better today.’ The contrast between being beaten to a pulp and fresh from a hefty transfusion was fabulous. I tried to keep the thrill to myself. Rossi was on a need-to-know basis and at the moment, he only needed to know how to sign my release forms.

  ‘I want you to take it easy for a few days.’ There it was again, that deep parental concern in his voice.

  ‘Not a problem. I’m in study mode.’

  ‘Are you going straight home?’

  ‘Via the campus. I’ve a chem lab at three.’

  ‘You have to be careful, Ava.’

  ‘Anyone in particular I should be wary of?’

  Rossi leaned closer still. His breath was warm on my cheek. ‘Use your intuition.’

  I pulled back and laughed nervously. ‘Thanks.’ I planned, then and there, to start that ‘be wary’ thing with him. I don’t trust you, Dr Rossi, and your test happy agendas.

  He sighed. I’d hoped you would.

  I did a double take. His words had been a whisper, but I’d caught them.

  ‘I’m going to give you a short course of prednisone, to keep the shock reaction down.’

  I wondered how much that would cost. My insurance flew economy class.

  ‘I’ve a sample packet in my office. Just be a moment.’ He left and I sat there with my thoughts, most of them circling around the copycat killer. I’d come face to face with this guy?

  Five minutes later the elevator dinged and Cate stepped out alongside Rossi. The lovely strawberries and cream scent, more than my no-contacts sight, gave her away, and I knew it was him because of the sea breeze. Cate tossed me a small backpack, which I caught as it came into focus, but her words were for Dr Rossi. ‘Can she go now?’ I could hear her eyelashes batting. Oh, boy.

  ‘All yours,’ Rossi said.

  ‘Give me a sec to change.’ And put my contacts in.

  Good idea. Rossi’s voice was warm in my head.

  I shot a look as Cate asked him another question. She didn’t appear to mind the one-on-one time with my doctor.

  ‘I’ll be right back.’ I don’t think either of them heard me.

  * * *

  Cate had packed jeans, a pale-blue tank top and a sleeveless black hoodie. At the bottom were black knickers and a sports bra. I put them on, slipped the contacts in and came out carrying the huge bouquet of flowers in both arms, backpack over my shoulder. I peeked around the fragrant blooms just in time to see Rossi, crystal clear now, hand Cate his card. Work fast, why don’t ya? My boots squeaked as I approached. It brought their heads up, like I’d caught them at something. Had I? That’s when I noticed Cate’s new eyelash extensions. Amazing, but they didn’t completely cover the bloodshot, dead tired eyes. Working double shifts? I wondered. Then I met Rossi’s gaze. The intensity nearly gave me whiplash. It was the first time I’d taken a real look at him, with the contacts in.

  ‘Ooh la la,’ Cate said. ‘Are those from Daniel Bane?’

  I blushed. Damned autonomic nervous system. ‘Seems so.’

  Rossi sounded remote. ‘Good luck, Ava. Remember to take it slow.’ He hesitated, his voice deepening. ‘If your shoulder gives you any trouble, let me know.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  He dipped his head and walked out.r />
  That’s it?

  Don’t know what more I expected.

  Squeak squeak squeak. I was face to face with Cate. ‘You washed ’em or something?’ I indicated my steel-toed Timberland boots. Yeah, there was an edge in my voice.

  Cate wasn’t the least intimidated, but damn, she looked wrung out. ‘You think a week of dried blood would be good for the leather? I tossed them in with the bloody towel and blanket.’

  ‘That must have made a racket.’

  ‘It did.’

  We headed down the hall, her open-toed, Jimmy Choo Portias clipping along, a total contrast to my Tims, which lost their squeak halfway to the elevator. While we waited for the doors to open, I cleared my throat. ‘What was that about?’

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘Rossi gave you his card?’

  ‘With his number.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘It’s for you.’ The elevator doors opened. ‘Hand me your phone.’

  I turned so she could pull it out of my pack. ‘I won’t need to call him.’

  ‘He thinks you will.’ She winked.

  Whatever.

  I held my breath the entire way down until the doors opened. Parking lot level. I certainly didn’t like the freaking things any better since the ‘underworld journey’ at Poseidon. I took a lungful of LA air as we stepped out into the lot. The sun beat down, shadows still short in the early afternoon. The breeze carried thick-brown pollution, a mix of diesel, garbage, carbon monoxide and something soapy, the kind found in public toilets. With it came the scent of the sea, which today wasn’t much better. My lungs burned as I sucked in another breath. ‘Are you alright, Cate?’

  ‘Working a lot, if that’s what you mean.’

  ‘Did they question you about me? Did Daniel?’

  ‘Don’t worry. I told him you were beat up on the way home and out of action for a week or so.’ She smiled brightly. ‘Looks like he’s thinking about you.’

  ‘Cate, about Poseidon.’ How much to say? ‘I don’t think you should try for VIP.’

  She stopped as if I’d slapped her in the face. ‘Are you joking? With the money I’ll make? And the promotion?’

  I didn’t want to think about the career opportunities for sirens attending a blood orgy. ‘Promotion how? You’re not doing … you know …’

  ‘Sex? No! Nothing like that.’

  As far as I could tell, it was already as ‘like that’ as could be without actually doing it. Fine, if she could compartmentalise emotionally, but I wasn’t sure she could and I at least wanted to talk to her about it. ‘Like what then?’ I reminded myself not to judge.

  ‘VIP is a big opportunity!’

  Wrong. ‘Hell no! You’re not going down there. Ever!’

  ‘Ava, stop tripping. Of course I am, when I’ve proven myself.’

  ‘Proven? How does one do that exactly?’

  ‘Oh, puh-leeze, get off your high horse. I can’t even hear you from so far above me.’

  I pressed my mouth shut for a moment. ‘I’m just saying, you don’t know what goes on down there, in VIP.’

  ‘Sure I do. It’s where the big bank is, where the sugar customers hang. Every employee at Poseidon wants in on that floor.’ She gave me a sideways glance and led the way across the lot. ‘We’re parked over here.’ Cate pointed. ‘Section E.’

  ‘We aren’t through talking about this.’ I followed her line of sight and frowned. Parked next to a white BMW was a familiar pale-blue double cab pickup. I’d forgotten Joey was back in the picture. Too short a reprieve. ‘Him?’

  She shrugged. ‘He offered.’ Her voice went whiny. ‘What was I supposed to do?’

  ‘You were supposed to say piss off.’

  She looked at me with those big, beautiful, rag doll eyes. ‘I … couldn’t.’

  ‘Clearly.’ I walked beside her. In a few steps, the squeak was back.

  ‘Please.’ Cate grabbed my good arm and gave it a squeeze. ‘Play nice?’

  A curious sensation moved up my spine and I looked over the top of her head. The parking lot seemed quiet. My attention returned to Cate. ‘When am I not nice?’

  That made her laugh. The tension had almost dissolved by the time Joey pushed open the passenger door. Almost. Cate slid in beside him. I hopped in the rear, bouquet and all, and strapped in, although it wasn’t that easy with my arm still in a sling. On the seat was my laptop. Perfect. They could take me straight to class. ‘Hey, Joey. How you going?’ See? I can be civil.

  He stared at the rear-view mirror, looking at himself. Oh yeah, he was hot with his thick, copper-blond hair, dark eyes and olive skin, but was it worth it? No.

  ‘What took you so long? I’m late for work.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, pretending he wasn’t a world-class asshole. ‘I’m much better after my stay in ICU. Good of you to ask.’ And, by the way, have you noticed your girlfriend? She looks like hell? Care to find out why? My head snapped back as he hit the accelerator. Great. Now he had road rage. ‘Dick,’ I mumbled under my breath.

  Cate turned back over the seat and gave me a beseeching look.

  I shrugged, adding a few things to my to-do list: 1) study, 2) oil boots, 3) avoid being murdered, 4) get Cate into relationship counselling.

  Joey peeled onto Washington Boulevard.

  ‘Slow down already!’ I yelled.

  He glared at the rear-view mirror. ‘Don’t tell me how to drive.’ The word ‘bitch’ wasn’t spoken, but definitely implied.

  ‘What’s with you?’ I put the flowers on the floor and grabbed my laptop. Priorities.

  ‘Some of us have to work today.’ Joey always was big on resentment, low on generosity.

  ‘Like I don’t?’

  ‘Uni isn’t work.’

  I wasn’t even going to grace that with a response.

  At the next stop light, Cate put her arm on Joey’s shoulder and he brushed it off. Prick. How a friend of mine could be with this guy was harder to figure out than Avo’s molarity in chemistry class.

  ‘Cate, you have to work on self-esteem.’ Hell, maybe we all do …

  Joey glowered at that; Cate clammed up. The feng shui harmony in the truck took a major downturn. We drove in silence through the stop and go traffic. At this rate, it would be another half hour locked up with these two. Maybe I should have taken a cab, or waited for the bus. As I stared into the rear-view mirror to glare back at Joey, I noticed a white BMW behind us. It was the same model as the one in the parking lot back at the hospital. Coincidence? I resisted the urge to turn around. Instead, I leaned forward and glanced in the side mirror as Joey changed lanes. The BMW followed. I slumped down in the seat. Probably nothing.

  Three turns later, I knew it wasn’t chance. This BMW was on our tail.

  ‘Joey, take the highway 405 exit.’ Technically, it was the old interstate 405, but post Big One, it hugged the coast, had unrestricted access and more cross roads than you could count. On all the new maps, it was highway.

  ‘Why the 405?’ It was across four lanes of traffic, coming up fast.

  ‘Stay on 2 and we can cut across to Wilshire,’ Cate said.

  ‘405!’ I shouted.

  Cate gripped the dash. ‘We’ll never make it.’

  Joey took that as a challenge. He slapped the right turn signal and went for the exit. Then realising there was still one lane and a semi between us, he backed off. ‘She’s right.’

  Like hell she is. The BMW was still there. A flood of adrenaline rushed through me. I released my belt and threw myself forward, screaming at the top of my lungs. I cranked the wheel toward the exit. ‘Floor it!’

  Cate smashed into me, our heads knocking. Joey had no choice but to stomp it, or be hit from behind. We sped in front of the semi, scraped the concrete traffic barrier on two wheels and flew down the twenty-five mph exit ramp doing sixty. He slammed on the brakes. I launched toward the dash, my grip on the backrest saving me from cracking my head open. We slowed enough to make the hairpin turn. It pl
astered us to the side of the truck before we straightened out, cruising north on highway 405. To the left, the Pacific Ocean ate away at the new narrow coast below. To my right, Cate clutched her shoulder harness, knuckles white, eyes unblinking. She didn’t look like she could breathe.

  Joey stared ahead. Sweat dripped down his temples. He glared into the rear-view mirror. ‘Are you insane, Sykes?’

  I was too relieved we made it to answer. Plus, at the moment, I was questioning my mental status as much as he was.

  ‘What the hell, Ava?’ he was shouting, but at least he had his eyes back on the road.

  I buckled back into my seat. ‘That was us, not getting killed.’

  He shook his head.

  ‘Take the Westward exit. It’s coming up in a couple of miles.’

  ‘Not happening.’ He changed lanes.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Taking you back to the hospital where you left your brains.’

  I glanced at Cate for support. She still hadn’t blinked. ‘Look, Joey. I thought there might be someone following us, is all.’

  ‘Following as in …’ Cate’s voice was a whisper. ‘Your attacker?’

  ‘I don’t know. It was the white BMW.’

  Joey frowned. ‘Who the hell did you piss off?’ He caught me in the mirror again. ‘Jack fucking Freeman?’

  ‘Not him …’ I whispered. The name Jack Freeman was well known, and equated with ‘mob boss.’ As untouchable as he was invisible. Nobody really knew what he looked like, but the urban legend preceded him. Or ‘them’. Most likely ‘Jack Freeman’ was a whole board of directors, running the New LA underworld.

  ‘White BMW?’ Joey’s eyes went wide and he hit the accelerator.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I yelled as we sped down the fast lane. The truck wobbled. The tyres must have been knocked out of alignment. There was a whining sound coming from the front right.

  ‘It’s back!’

  I shot a look in the side mirror. Sure enough, a white BMW, male driver, was catching up. As we careened along, the surf crashed onto the crowded beach some two hundred feet below. An exit sign came up, with a speed limit of fifteen mph. We were doing a hundred. ‘Don’t take it!’ Cate and I shouted at the same time, but Joey wasn’t listening. A bang exploded in my ear and the truck lurched, turned sideways and skidded down the road. My laptop flew off the seat and smashed onto the floor. The vase toppled and shattered. Shit! The safety belt snapped tight across my chest, winding me. Joey turned the wheel into the spin, righting it quickly as we dropped speed. He braked, downshifted, and slowly limped to the emergency lane. The truck thumped to a stop as the engine hissed and stalled. Steam rose from the hood. No one spoke. The only thing I could hear was the rush of blood in my head, and the traffic roaring past.