The Blood In the Beginning

by Kim Falconer

  ‘Ava.’ He picked up. ‘What the hell happened on the bus?’

  ‘Your copycat shot the driver.’

  ‘Yeah, they’re pulling him out of the wreckage.’ The phone made static sounds. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Charles E, heading north, tracking him.’

  ‘Are you hurt?’

  ‘Banged up a bit, but I’ll live.’

  ‘Eyes on him?’

  ‘Not any more.’

  ‘I’ve tapped your GPS. Sending two cars after him.’

  ‘He can’t be far. He’s on foot, wounded.’

  ‘Stay there. I’ll pick you up.’ With the sound of the cops behind me, I switched my phone to beacon and stopped running. Rourke picked me up five minutes later. By then, I was near catatonic.

  ‘Ava!’ He turned off the car and tore around to help me into the passenger side, checking me over, shining his damn bright light into my eyes.

  ‘Did they catch him?’ It was all I cared about.

  ‘Nothing yet.’ He handed me his water bottle and checked my head wound.

  I batted his hand away. ‘We need to stop this guy.’

  Rourke got into the driver’s seat. ‘We’re doing a house-to-house.’ He shook his head. ‘That’s not your blood?’

  ‘No. I shot him.’

  Rourke looked grim. ‘You were carrying on campus?’

  ‘Used his gun.’ I pulled out the 9 mm.

  ‘Hang on.’ Rourke grabbed the gun with an inside-out evidence bag, inverted it and sealed it shut. ‘This the same gun that killed the bus driver?’

  Our eyes met. ‘Yeah. I guess my prints are all over it.’

  ‘Maybe his too, and DNA.’

  ‘He also left me this.’ I pulled the ribbon from my pocket.

  Rourke snapped on a plastic glove and took the ribbon, studying it closely before dropping it into another evidence bag. ‘You shot him and missed?’

  ‘No. I thought he was dead. No pulse.’ I leaned back in my seat, closed my eyes and told Rourke what had gone down. In the back of my mind, hope flared. We had DNA from his blood, and maybe prints. I didn’t get a much better look at that painted face though. It was dark, and I was distracted with all the shooting and attacking and dying. ‘Why didn’t my tail grab him?’

  ‘Trapped in traffic. By the time they reached the bus, you were gone. They didn’t know the perp was involved.’ Rourke shook his head. ‘Flanagan’s over there chewing everyone a new one.’

  ‘Flanagan. Is he …?’

  ‘You don’t want to know.’

  ‘Bad cop?’

  ‘Only if he doesn’t like you.’ Rourke laughed. It didn’t sound funny. ‘Can you work with a sketch artist now?’

  ‘Definitely worth a shot.’ I wiped sweat from my forehead and we drove off. This was so not how I wanted my evening to go.

  Rourke drove me to Tom’s, his gun out as he led the way to the elevator. When we reached the apartment door, he called out, ‘LAPD! Open up.’ He searched the apartment, leading with his gun as he checked each room. Tom and a blonde girl watched wide-eyed from the couch. Rourke came back from Tom’s bedroom.

  ‘The place is clear. Stay put, Ava. I’ll come back to take your statement.’ He looked at Tom. ‘Lock the door after me.’

  I was left standing in the middle of the apartment, under the sharp scrutiny of the two blonds. Tom went to throw the bolt and said something softly, but I wasn’t focussed on him. My eyes went to the girl … and that wasn’t a cute, or possibly demeaning, label for an otherwise adult female. She was petite, blonde and big-eyed, and seriously didn’t look more than sixteen. I turned to Tom, his expression becoming more freaked-out by the second. Oh, yeah. I’m covered in blood and Rourke just did a Gestapo sweep of his apartment. Explanation time. ‘There was an accident. Nothing big.’

  The girl leaned back, hands covering her mouth. She wore sparkly nail polish. It matched the lace around the hem of her cutoff jeans. Defeated the purpose of ‘cutoffs’ I thought, but whatever.

  ‘Are you hurt?’ the girl and Tom asked at the same time.

  I threw out my hand in a ‘stop’ gesture and they both shut up. Tom was in the know, but not his girlfriend. The less she found out, the better. ‘Not a scratch.’

  ‘But the blood,’ she said.

  ‘This?’ I held my shirt away from my abs. ‘It’s not mine. I was helping out in the lab.’ It was a worry how easily I could lie.

  Tom frowned; she remained wide-eyed.

  ‘A sample case for the hematology exams exploded.’

  His brow pinched. ‘Exploded?’

  ‘Yeah. Bang. They think it was a prank. That’s why the cops are here. We have some serious diseases culturing on campus. They want to come down hard on whoever did this.’ I could tell Tom wasn’t buying, but maybe the girl would. ‘Good news is, no pathogens.’

  ‘Thank god!’ the girl said, swallowing my story.

  ‘And Rourke is taking your statement?’ Tom had crossed his arms.

  ‘Just ruling out a connection to the other night, is all.’ I went to the kitchen and poured a giant glass of water, added a pinch of salt and downed it while Tom introduced me to Zoe. I saluted her with my glass, put it in the sink, bloody fingerprints and all, and then headed for the bathroom. It wasn’t until I saw myself in the mirror that I realised they’d handled it pretty well. The right side of my head was caked with dried blood. Maybe I should have said a box of lab rats exploded on me. Too late now. As I peeled out of my soaked top, there was a knock on the door. Tom.

  ‘Ava? You okay.’

  ‘Perfectly.’

  ‘Can I do anything?’

  ‘Depends. Did you leave me any salmon?’

  ‘Maybe,’ he chuckled and walked away.

  I finished stripping and waited for the water to heat.

  The shower felt good. It washed away the fear that had been clinging to me ever since I had a gun pointed at my head, all the way up to when I pulled the trigger. I came out drying my hair with an olive-green towel. I knew it was olive-green, not tomato-red, because Tom was still in the habit of letting me in on those details. A quick check told me Zoe had gone home. Tom was putting salmon on a plate along with baked potato and salad. Good man.

  ‘So whose blood was it?’ he asked.

  ‘My stalker’s.’

  ‘Is he hospitalised or …’

  ‘He got away.’

  ‘Same guy?’

  ‘Yeah. Think so.’

  ‘They have his DNA now?’

  ‘It was all over the floor. Prints too, if I didn’t smear them.’ I sat on the couch and Tom joined me, a cold beer in his hand.

  ‘I know you lied for Zoe’s sake.’

  ‘Did it work?’

  ‘She’s …’

  ‘Young?’

  ‘I was going to say, she’s an art major. Not science. Your “exploding test tubes” sounded believable to her.’

  ‘Art major, eh? In high school?’ I took a big bite of the salmon, closed my eyes and moaned. Simple things seemed so damn good right now.

  ‘She graduated last year, and she’s really talented, really …’

  ‘Good?’ I said around another mouthful.

  He reached for my arm. ‘Ava, stop. Tell me how this happened.’

  I gave him the story between mouthfuls and waited for his response.

  ‘We going to see the bus on the nine o’clock news?’

  ‘Pretty sure.’

  His hands were on my shoulders. ‘Look at me. I don’t want you taking public transportation from now on. I’ll drive you to work, for your shifts. Pick you up. It’s always after class hours, right? Don’t say no.’

  I thought about it for two seconds. ‘Great. Thanks. My next shift is Friday night.’

  We talked a bit more about how a gunshot wound patient could present with no pulse, and then moments later jog away. Tom actually referenced a few herbs that voodoo practitioners used to create zombies; not the brain-eating kind, but the no-puls
e-for-days kind.

  ‘I don’t think that was it,’ I said as a knock sounded at the door. ‘He was too agile.’

  Rourke came in with the sketch artist and took my statement. Tom stayed quiet, doing the dishes, though he came out when the artist was done, to have a look. My ex was listening to every word, picking up on the finer details I’d not mentioned.

  ‘We have footage of him coming off the bus crash, video from bystanders. It’s dark though,’ Rourke said. He checked over the artist’s rendition. ‘I don’t know how much that’s going to help.’ The painted face morphed his features into a ghost-like creature.

  I glanced toward Tom and lowered my voice. ‘It’s not far off from the 1960s sketch. The one that was dismissed.’

  Rourke nodded. ‘I’ll see if the original’s in the archives.’

  ‘We’ll run facial recognition,’ the artist said. ‘It’s a long shot, but forensics might be able to do something with it.’ The artist packed up his portfolio case and left.

  I sighed.

  ‘We’re going to nail this guy,’ Rourke said. ‘Just …’

  ‘You need me to keep being the bait?’

  ‘If you’re up to it.’

  ‘I am.’ After the victims’ eye view of what this guy had done, my dedication was solid.

  When Rourke left, Tom was back to the couch, pressing for more info.

  ‘Tomorrow, Tom. I’m exhausted.’

  ‘You kicking me out of my own lounge?’

  ‘Yep.’ I flopped down and pulled the pillow under my head.

  Tom covered me with the lightweight sleeping bag. ‘I want to hear more in the morning.’

  ‘I have classes.’ My eyes were closed as I spoke.

  ‘Soon then.’

  ‘Sure.’

  It took me all of a minute to fall asleep.

  * * *

  Thursday was a steady stream of uni work, and plenty of food via Tom’s nurturing gene. I finally got caught up on my classes, and actually felt physically healed, almost. Rourke had no luck with the DNA, drawing or the video. No surprise there. It was like the guy wasn’t in the system, but he promised me they’d find him. I hoped it’d be soon.

  So much had happened in the last few days, I’d completely forgotten about Friday night’s tentative dinner with Daniel Bane. Cate, on the other hand, had not. She called me about it first thing in the morning to remind me. I’m pretty sure she hadn’t been to bed yet. We talked it over while I braided my hair in Tom’s bathroom, phone on speaker. The meal before work thing felt odd, but every time I tried to get my head around it, I slipped into a nest of cotton wool. A warning tone sounded in the distance. It dissipated before I could decipher it.

  Cate insisted that it was Poseidon policy for security staff to get to know the boss. ‘He takes them all out to dinner,’ she said. ‘Or the shooting range. Something like that.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s good business.’

  ‘More like monkey business.’ I wiped the mirror with my palm when it fogged up. ‘I’d rather be on the shooting range.’

  ‘Ava, just go to dinner. You’re working anyway, right.’

  I had to agree.

  ‘So you leave a few hours early and have a free meal.’

  Silence seemed my only defense.

  ‘He has connections,’ she taunted.

  I stopped braiding my hair and looked at the phone. ‘What kind?’

  ‘CDC for one.’

  That had my attention. ‘With the board?’

  ‘Go to dinner and find out.’

  I blew out my breath. She was impossible to argue with. ‘Okay, but I’m dressing for work.’

  She swore through the phone. ‘At least wear your long green skirt.’

  ‘The one with the slit up the side? You’re kidding.’

  ‘It’ll look great with a black top. Then all you have to do is change into pants and you’re ready for work.’

  ‘Okay, but I’m keeping the Tims, if I go.’

  She paused as if imagining the ensemble. ‘Perfect.’

  ‘I’ll think about it.’

  I swiped off, finished my hair and headed for the kitchen.

  * * *

  When Daniel rang, he said straight up, ‘How are you feeling?’

  It was such a normal question, I ended up telling him more about the stalker calling after he dropped me off, and the bus crash–second attack two days ago, than I’d planned.

  ‘You aren’t safe in your home.’

  ‘I’m at a friend’s.’

  ‘Where?’

  I had to fight the urge not to spill. ‘It’s secure.’

  When he confirmed dinner, I couldn’t say no. Literally couldn’t do it. In the back of my mind, I wrestled with puffs of air. Worries became formless, especially with Daniel’s confident voice in my ear. We agreed on a time before I realised I’d said yes. I did manage to cut him short when he offered to pick me up. ‘I’ll meet you at Poseidon.’ I swiped off the call, thinking about him for a moment. His influence pouvoir — persuasive power — was not subtle. All I could muster was hmm.

  I went about my day on campus as if it was the same as any other, and tried not to be paranoid. The house-to-house search turned up dry, so psycho-stalker was still on the loose. By six-thirty in the evening, I was back at Tom’s, getting ready for dinner and work. I checked the mirror for bruises. They were clearing up fast; a good thing, as I didn’t have any makeup on. My skin was smooth and always looked beach-girl tan. My eyes were lined with black lashes, brows tame and gently arched. I think one of my parents had Asian blood, but I’d never done a test. I was curious, but I was more worried about my real DNA getting into the system. Besides, what difference would it make? We all came from somewhere. More important where we were headed.

  I shoved clean black jeans into my backpack, strapped on my ankle holster and retrieved my .32 pistol from the broom closet shelf where I’d stashed it. One last check in the mirror, and I was set.

  ‘You ready to drive me?’ I said, leaning my head into Tom’s room. He was hunched over his laptop, an empty plate and mug on the floor next to him. I stepped in all the way. Long time since I’ve been in here.

  ‘Sec.’ A moment later, he closed his browser, saved docs and turned to me. ‘Ava?’

  I laughed. He was actually gaping. It couldn’t be my hair in its familiar French braid or the small gold earrings I’d chosen. He’d seen them a million times since gifting them to me three birthdays ago. Must be the green silk skirt and black lace top.

  He stood slowly. ‘I thought I was dropping you at work.’

  ‘You are.’

  ‘Dressed like that?’

  ‘Dinner first.’

  ‘With who?’

  ‘The boss.’

  He paused to grab his keys and wallet. ‘Is that wise? There’s a killer after you, and …’

  ‘Relax, Tom. Rourke has me covered if anything goes down, and you know I can handle myself.’ Tom wasn’t going to sway me, but I did like to have his support. ‘What can happen?’

  ‘Dressed like that, anything,’ he mumbled.

  We discussed it all the way down the hall, into the elevator, through the parking lot and on to Poseidon, the conversation verging on an argument. He didn’t think there was any universe where I should be having dinner with Bane. Way to ruin the ride in a perfectly luxurious Tesla.

  ‘Fact-finding mission,’ I said, trying a new tactic.

  ‘That’s what the internet’s for.’

  ‘He knows people at the CDC. People on the board.’

  Tom puffed up, ready to tear that line of thinking to bits, so I cut him off. ‘Don’t forget, you’re picking me up at three a.m.’

  That sobered him.

  ‘I thought it was one a.m.’

  ‘Friday night.’

  For the next few blocks, he focussed on the traffic and I enjoyed the ride. My phone buzzed as we turned down Grand Avenue, an incoming call. I caught the screen. Rossi.r />
  ‘My doctor,’ I said to Tom. ‘Hey,’ I spoke at the phone.

  ‘How’s the shoulder.’

  ‘Out of the sling and feeling fine.’ I waited for the real reason Rossi called.

  ‘Have there been any signs of …’

  ‘The stalker? Yeah. He tried to kill me last night.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Relax. I’m alive.’

  ‘Ava, we should talk.’

  He’d have to wait in line. ‘About what?’

  ‘Your origins, for one.’

  That floored me. I couldn’t respond. I mean, what could he possibly know about that?

  Tom pulled up in front of Poseidon. ‘We’re here.’

  I played it light. ‘Off to work now, doc. Keeping the clubbers safe from the rowdies.’ I held the phone away, kissed Tom on the cheek and thanked him. ‘Three a.m. I’ll text if it’s later.’

  ‘Be safe.’ Tom gave me a quick hug.

  ‘Is that Daniel Bane?’ Rossi said his name like it left a bad taste in his mouth.

  ‘What’s it to you?’

  ‘You shouldn’t trust him.’

  ‘And you shouldn’t tell me what to do.’ I hung up, tucking my phone back into my pack. Rossi’s opinion I couldn’t care less about.

  Daniel came out through the tall, black doors of Poseidon and a Caddy pulled up as Tom drove away. Jason got out and handed the keys to Daniel. He went back inside without giving me more than a nod. As Daniel opened the passenger door, I caught the scent of his cologne. Nice. Fresh and oceanic. I sat in the soft leather seat, wondering about Rossi’s warning. How the heck did he know Bane?

  ‘Ava, gorgeous. You look fantastic.’ Daniel took the driver’s seat. His eyes stayed on mine. No wandering to my legs or my breasts.

  ‘Thanks.’ He looked good too, but I kept that in my head. It didn’t stop him from smiling as I thought it though.

  He drove to a quiet cafe, fusion Italian, with checkered tablecloths and soft lighting. The air con filtered out the gritty night air and filled the dining room with aromas of freshly baked bread, olives, pesto and garlic. My mouth watered. Daniel ordered for both of us, in Italian. I found it a little strange to be out to dinner with a guy I hadn’t met online first. Even Tom and I had spent months chatting on Date Night’s science geek forum before we met face to face, and we went to the same uni. Bane and I didn’t know anything about each other, hadn’t met in a single online chatroom together. But in spite of that lack, the conversation was easy, the banter light as we enjoyed minestrone soup and homemade bread. There was only one awkward moment. Daniel said the security boys were happy to have me on board, which I took as an opening to tell him about my buddy, Jeff.