The Blood In the Beginning

by Kim Falconer

  ‘Back on at nine, rested and ready to go.’

  ‘You’re doing too many hours.’

  ‘I’m fine.’ She checked her makeup in the full-length mirror.

  ‘You wearing a coat over that?’ This was so not what I wanted to say.

  ‘I’m on flyers until midnight.’

  I shook my head. ‘You’re parading up and down the street, handing out “one free drink” flyers? Dressed like that?’

  ‘If you saw my mortgage dwindling, you wouldn’t talk.’

  She had a point. I was being totally judgmental, like an uptight parent. I lowered my voice, moving on to my next concern. ‘I’d rather you didn’t tell anyone where I’m staying.’

  She laughed outright. ‘You’re so paranoid, Ava.’

  ‘Um, hello? A killer is targeting me and we’re trying to catch him, not lead him to my dearest friends.’ Where was her brain? ‘Cate, please humour me on this, will you? Don’t tell anyone, including Daniel Bane.’

  She wasn’t listening. ‘I’m up for promotion next month.’ Cate opened her purse and popped a capsule, threw her head back to swallow it.

  So many warning bells went off I didn’t know where to start. ‘What was that?’

  ‘I’m back on the pill.’

  Liar. It was the wrong packet, for one. ‘With your vasectomised boyfriend? You should be using condoms with him, by the way. Six of them at a time.’

  ‘Mind your own business, Sykes!’ Joey shouted from the kitchen.

  I guess I’d said it a little loud.

  ‘And I want to talk to you about my truck,’ he went on.

  Damn.

  Cate ignored the whole ‘safe sex’ issue and whispered, ‘Are you going to be okay, with Joey?’

  ‘I’m not going to sleep with him, if that’s what you mean.’ I hadn’t told her about me and the ménage à trois hallucination with Tom-Rossi-Bane the other night. Baby steps.

  She gave me a condescending look. ‘Of course you aren’t. I mean, will you please try to get along?’ Cate was being true to her Libra nature, making sure everybody played nice.

  ‘I’m going into town with you, remember, and he’s going to be … what’s he going to be doing?’

  ‘Watching a game, and when that’s over, coming down to the club with some friends so we can party after my shift.’

  My head came up at that.

  ‘I would invite you.’ She patted my shoulder. ‘But you’ll probably be with Daniel.’

  Probably not. As she checked her siren outfit in front of the mirror, I frowned. ‘Are you having any of the, you know, old issues?’

  ‘My relationship with food is fine.’ Interesting that she knew exactly what I had been referring to, though. ‘I’m working long hours, is all. The extra pounds are melting away.’

  When were there extra pounds? ‘What if that doesn’t stop? I know you took time off your degree program to save some money, but you’re going to go back, right?’

  ‘Don’t stress, Ava. I’m fine. Now tell me about your mother.’

  Whoa, whiplash. I swallowed the glass in my throat. ‘I don’t think we can call her mum.’

  ‘What then?’

  ‘Unwilling biological precursor?’

  ‘Too wordy.’ Cate’s eyes may have looked tired, but they were full of compassion. She took my hand. ‘That bad?’

  My palm was sweaty and I gently withdrew it. ‘Worse.’

  She listened to the story with her familiar openness, not interrupting, which was a surprise, considering what I was saying. I failed to mention a few things, the mental images of rape and my favourite, the attempted infanticide. I also left out the guts of my mother’s terror of me, and my emotional meltdown, mainly because I didn’t want to relive it. I guess I left out a lot, but she still had the gist.

  ‘Did you cry, Ava? Did you feel your feelings?’

  Oh, hell. Had I forgotten my best friend was still a psych major at heart? ‘A bit.’

  ‘Of?’

  ‘Crying and feeling,’ I whispered. That’s all I planned to give her. I still couldn’t believe I’d lost it over the whole stupid thing. Definitely not something I cared to talk too much about. Mother-daughter separation anxiety was so in the past. But even thinking about it, it felt like an elephant was sitting on my chest. Vulnerability was not my ally, so I forced my hand out to give hers a quick squeeze. ‘Thanks for listening.’ The door slammed shut on the subject. ‘Let’s go to work.’

  ‘You have to mourn, Ava.’

  ‘Yep. It’s on my calendar.’

  She hugged me a full five seconds longer than my intimacy issues could stand and whispered in my ear, ‘Love you.’

  Love you, too. I did, without a doubt, but I couldn’t get the sounds out of my throat for her to hear, so they stayed in my head.

  Joey drove us to Poseidon — his truck repaired and insurance picking up the tab. He muttered so much about his deductible that I told him he’d have two hundred dollars from me in the morning. That shut him up. The rest of the ride I tried to warn Cate about overworking, and how taking on her ‘promotion’ doing whatever the hell went on down in VIP wasn’t going to help, but I couldn’t convince her in the slightest. The entire student body at UCLA thought that club was the best thing since lecture-linked tablets. Hell, I worked there. How could I argue with that? Trying was way better than thinking about my birth mother, though, or the images in Rachel Paddington’s art, or my messed up relationship with Tom, not to mention Bane and Rossi. I pushed them, and the ‘family reunion’ from hell, out of my feng shui harmony, along with the other things plaguing me of late, and walked the two blocks from the bus stop to the Thai fusion cafe Daniel had chosen.

  * * *

  Brass bells chimed as I opened the restaurant door. Divine scents greeted me, softening my eyelids as I followed them in. Daniel waited at a table near the back, and stood when I arrived. The dark charcoal suit, with maroon shirt and black tie, way outclassed me. He didn’t even cock an eyebrow at my bouncer get-up. His calm, controlled aura wrapped around me and I exhaled. Relaxed. I wasn’t ready for the kiss as he stepped up to pull out my chair. It was like warm, melting honey. He stopped before it went anywhere. A civilised man. I sat in the chair he pulled out, catching my breath, and, for once, feeling in the present moment. It took all of ten seconds to shake it off. What the hell was that?

  ‘You’re upset?’ His hand covered mine for a moment before he filled my wine glass.

  ‘Can we talk about something else?’ I took a single sip and set it down. Working tonight.

  ‘You can have a glass of wine, Ava. Work is hours away.’

  ‘But …’

  He lifted it toward me. ‘I’m the boss.’ He gave a cocky smile. ‘Drink.’

  I nodded, and had another sip, the warmth heating my chest and spreading to my limbs.

  ‘Better? Now, what are you doing Thursday afternoon?’

  ‘One sec and I’ll tell you.’ I pulled out my phone and scanned through the calendar. There was study, as always, and the interview with Jen Bradshaw from LA-Live at 4.00 p.m. ‘I’m free between one and three p.m.’

  ‘Excellent. I have a meeting with the CDC Board of Directors. I thought you might like to attend.’

  ‘Really?’ Kid in a candy store. ‘What kind of meeting?’

  ‘I’m donating a new wing for the pathology laboratory. We’ll be talking about intended uses over the next decade. Perhaps —’

  ‘Yes!’ I couldn’t wipe the stupid grin off my face. Thoughts of killers and horrible mothers vanished. ‘I’d love to be at that meeting.’

  ‘Consider it done, Ava.’

  We chatted until the waiter arrived. He asked about my internship opportunities and listed the connections he had that might help. It was a lot of ‘me’ focus. I thought that maybe I could get used to it. Daniel ordered for both of us and then continued. ‘You’ve applied for a scholarship? You know their internships require funding.’

  I’d never been
out with a guy who took so much interest in the things that excited me. Maybe off-line dating isn’t so bad after all. ‘Sure I’ve applied, along with the thousands of other hopefuls trying for three, maybe four seats tops.’

  He chuckled, probably thinking it was an exaggeration, but I assured him it wasn’t. We were deep in conversation when the waiter came with chicken thigh gai yang, steaming rice, khao soi noodles and salt and pepper squid. The tastes were sharp, spicy and exotic. I’ll admit, I was feeling seduced by it all.

  ‘Anything new on the murder?’ He asked right out of the blue.

  The conversation shift made me babble. ‘I hope so. It’s getting to me, looking over my shoulder all the time. But he’s been out of sight for days.’

  ‘You’d be safe, Ava …’ he placed his hand over mine, second time tonight, ‘under my protection.’

  I started to pull back, but as soon as he touched me I relaxed my guard.

  ‘If you take me up on my offer, you’ll sleep easy, I assure you.’

  What did that even mean? ‘Thank you.’ I picked up my wine glass and toasted him. ‘I’m good for now.’

  ‘At Cate’s? Do you think she can protect you?’

  Had she sent him a memo? Damn. This wasn’t good. ‘I can protect myself.’ To demonstrate, I found myself telling him more details than I’d meant to, including my day trip to my mother’s house. Oh, boy. I hadn’t planned to go there. Damn men and their strong, sexy, protective hand-holding and gentle kisses that promised more. Where had that thought even come from? I squeezed my eyes tight and shook my head. What was happening to my willpower?

  The meal was over before 9.00 p.m. and Cinderella was back at Poseidon, bouncing the rowdies, but not before another honey-sweet kiss. The night went fast and I was home, at Cate’s, asleep by 3.30 a.m.

  * * *

  I’d been near unconscious when Cate and Joey came home at dawn. They disappeared into their bedroom and I tried to go back to dreamland. It took a while, with so many thoughts streaming through my mind. At eleven in the morning, I was up, showered and sipping coffee, still thinking about yesterday’s events. ‘Mother’ was pushed away, again, and I spent some time on the computer where I found a high-res image of Rachel’s painting along with the rest of the current exhibition. I couldn’t see the reflection in the tear, but maybe it would show up in greyscale. I tried it, and sure enough, it did, killer’s face paint and all. Had Rourke spotted it? I called to find out, but it went straight to voicemail.

  I left a short message. ‘Give me a ring.’

  I had the day off and decided that my pocketful of cash from last night’s work, minus a payment to Joey, needed to be put to good use, so I went computer shopping. Nothing like a little retail therapy for distraction. Besides, I needed a new one for studies. I hadn’t taken Zoe’s with me. It didn’t seem right to keep borrowing it. Better check in with Tom. He’d been trying to say something when I’d raced off to meet my mother. I wanted to share that episode of my life with him. Soon. But not yet.

  The best place to find a new laptop was the city’s largest computer outlet, Techno Inc, downtown. The computer in my budget range two weeks ago would be used, but not now that I was working at Poseidon. I jumped on the bus and gazed out the window. The green Subaru was nowhere in sight. Those guys knew how to stay hidden. The day was overcast, easy on the glare. It even looked like rain. Not that that was going to happen. My eyes were a million miles away when my phone rang. ‘Rourke?’

  ‘How did it go?’

  My denial must have been deep, because I wasn’t sure what he meant … oh, yeah. Meeting with my mother. ‘Couldn’t have been worse.’ I said it like it was good news.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Nothing. It’s a dead end.’ No way was he invited to the pity party. ‘What about you? Did you see the painting of Daina? Or even better, catch my stalker?’

  ‘Since when did murder investigation become part of your curriculum?’

  ‘I don’t know. Since I became a target?’ Was he kidding? ‘You saw it, didn’t you?’

  ‘What was I supposed to see, Ava?’

  ‘In the tear! I can show you. The image is online.’

  He sighed into the receiver. ‘How soon can you be here?’

  ‘On the bus, headed downtown. Fifteen?’

  ‘Fine.’ He swiped off.

  I was there in twenty minutes. It took another five waiting in line at security, even though I was unarmed. Busy day at the LAPD. Rourke’s office was stuffy, full of familiar scents: old coffee, printer ink, dust around electrical wires, microwaved burrito. He wore the face of a man in a crappy mood.

  ‘We’re looking for connections between the recent disappearances and your attacks.’ Rourke’s eyes were on his computer. They were bloodshot, exhausted.

  ‘And?’

  ‘Nothing yet.’

  I couldn’t see his screen, but I had a feeling it could have been his wishlist on eBay and not the missing persons database.

  ‘Wait till you see this, then.’ I was out of my seat and around to his computer.

  He frowned and closed the program, but didn’t stop me from pulling up a chair and taking over. I opened the Kerckhoff Hall exhibition site, downloaded the high-res image of Rachel’s painting and reopened it in his photo program. I turned it to black and white in two clicks, tripled the size and sat back. ‘What do you see?’

  He whistled. ‘A man with a bloody knife, and tribal face paint. Missed that.’

  ‘You know what this means? Rachel and Celeste, the two girls Daina went out with the night she disappeared, must have met the murderer.’ I thought about it. ‘Maybe they’d remember more if they were questioned by a shrink.’

  ‘You can’t jump to conclusions based on someone’s abstract art.’

  ‘Looks representational to me.’

  ‘She has no feet.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Inadmissible evidence.’ He checked his watch and stood up. ‘I’ll question Rachel again.’

  ‘She’s at her parents’ home for the summer break. I forgot to ask where that was.’

  ‘I know how to use the phone, Detective Sykes. Her parents are in Colorado.’

  ‘But you’ll want to email this, to show to her.’ I saved the black and white image to his desktop.

  ‘Thanks, Ava. You did good. Now go study for your exams, and graduate, like you planned. CDC or bust, remember?’ Rourke had pulled every string in the world to get me into UCLA. We both wanted me to succeed.

  ‘In between stalking sessions, you mean?’

  ‘Don’t worry. I have you covered. No one’s touching you. When he gets close again, we’ll have him.’

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The walk to Techno Inc was short. It took me past the new district with its uniform, bright, reflective buildings and further down Grand Avenue to my favourite part of the city. Here the structures alternated between old and new, the different heights letting in contrasting light. Weathered bricks were more prevalent than laminated glass. The world suddenly absorbed the filtered sunlight instead of bouncing it into my eyes.

  The sky felt close. Dark grey clouds rolled in, swallowing up every speck of blue. Maybe it was going to rain, after all. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Techno Inc was one street over. I took the crosswalk, moving with a crowd of pedestrians. In this traffic, it was the only sensible thing to do. Pulling out my phone, I rang Cate. ‘Awake yet?’

  ‘Don’t shout.’

  ‘You okay?’

  There were muffled sounds, snoring in the background.

  ‘Late night.’

  I smiled into the phone. ‘I know. I heard you come home.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘It’s your house, but Cate, when’s the sabbatical going to end? You were third year psych, a straight-A —’

  ‘I’ll call you back.’

  ‘Wait!’ I’d planned to grill her for giving away my location to Bane, but she sounded too wrecked to withstand it.
‘You need a break. You’re exhausted.’

  ‘You woke me up to say that?’

  This wasn’t going right. ‘Coffee before work?’

  ‘Love to, sweetie. I’ll call.’ She tapped off.

  I don’t think I’d persuaded her to drop that job and finish her degree yet. Meanwhile, she needed a liver cleanse. And time away from Poseidon. Time away from Joey, too, if I had my way. His idea of a perfect getaway would be a month long bender in Ibiza. Dog. I started planning the perfect holiday in my mind. It would begin with intensive jujitsu in the morning, green juice fasts and … hang on. That was my version of a perfect holiday. Cate would like something softer, like a yoga retreat in the mountains of Peru, or maybe the sunny beaches of Baja California, if the radiation was down. Which reminded me, Daniel Bane had a holiday house there. I wonder if he ever rents it out. Cate needed something. Who was supplying her with those pills, anyway? They sure weren’t for birth control. I readjusted a collision course with a pedestrian. He had his head down, eyes on his phone.

  ‘Sorry!’ he mumbled out the side of his mouth.

  I went back to my thoughts. If I worked all summer for Poseidon and landed research funding via a CDC intern scholarship, I really could take Cate on a holiday by next year. Maybe there was somewhere that did yoga and jujitsu intensives.

  Half a block before Techno Inc, I jolted out of my thoughts. Someone was coming up behind, closing in fast. Yeah, there were plenty of people around, but this one had a singular intention. I could feel it with my back turned. I shot a glance over my shoulder, spotting a guy on a mission, headed my way. His dress sense — black jeans, plain black shirt, boots, no backpack, shades — didn’t cry undercover cop with urgent question for Ava Sykes. Adrenaline pumped, tingling my limbs. When he was an arm’s reach away, I turned and shouted, ‘What the hell do you want?’ Shouting usually startled a person, threw them off their game. It certainly had the bystanders pulling back.

  But not this guy. He didn’t even slow his pace. Instead, he tackled me to the ground. My only thought, as my arms slapped the pavement a nanosecond before my spine, was, In broad daylight? Busy street? Hello. Witnesses? Beneath my hands, I felt the sidewalk crack like someone dropped an anvil on it. He fell hard on top of me, but my body responded fast. It wasn’t like this takedown hadn’t happened a thousand times in the cage. I smashed my palms into his chest and tucked my knees. Before he had time to register how flexible I was, or how strong, I kicked him, double-barrel, in the sternum.