by D.L. Miles
Chapter 5
I parked around the corner from Cherryhill Boulevard after seeing a number of police vehicles there; it wasn’t hard to guess which one belonged to Alex. As I turned my car off I heard an engine roar up behind me, my mirror showing me a reflection of a Dodge Charger pull up against my bumper. I began walking to the house Luke had been at hours earlier, dismissing the idling engine behind me.
When I arrived at the appropriate house I scanned the area for Officer Harley, or even his partner that had arrested Luke. I couldn’t see either of them through the number of people blocking the way but I saw two body bags being loaded into a coroner’s van. A woman near me gasped when she saw them but I remained motionless. Was I supposed to react like that? Probably. Maybe I was even supposed to be more distraught since I saw one of them only a few hours ago.
I moved through the crowd to get a closer look but was stopped by yellow tape. One small policeman stood on the other side of the barrier, making sure to keep people out. I wondered, would they answer any questions?
“What happened?” a man asked coming up next to me, as if reading my mind and helping me find out the answer. The officer’s walkie-talkie buzzed before he could answer. He held up a hand to the man.
“We’re all done back here,” the voice said, “we’re heading back.”
“Copy,” said the officer. I backed away just as he began telling the man what was going on. I had considered listening in on his story, but it’s not like he would give any real detail, not to a civilian. Walking back to my car I spotted a blonde television reporter, the same one that had told the world about Rosa’s tragic kidnapping and death. She didn’t have any cameras with her but she did have a small recording device and was talking with an elderly couple.
Trying to appear casual, I wandered past them at a slow pace.
“Can you tell me what you saw?” the reporter asked, the same gleam in her eyes as before.
“We saw the killer leave,” said the man, “a young boy, no older than my son.” The man described Luke perfectly, for what he must have seen in the dark at least. They were awfully sure he was the killer.
“He was just a boy,” his wife commented, “why would he do such a thing? He must be one of those…things.” The disgust in her voice was apparent but I was too far away to hear the reporters reply.
Anger burned through my body at her comment about the Eidolon’s. Typical humans. So they were the ones that had seen Luke, but how did the cops find him so fast? It wasn’t like they knew exactly who he was, it just wasn’t possible in such a short time frame. I needed to see this crime scene for myself, and I knew just the way.
The officers said that they were done in the back and headed somewhere else; that must have meant they were done checking the backyard and the house. I passed my car and the Charger, engine still running, trying to see if anyone was inside. The windows were tinted too much though and all I could make out was a figure; I couldn’t even tell if it was male or female. Continuing past, I rounded the block till I found the bike path that would lead back to Alex’s house. Checking behind me to make sure nobody was really watching, I kept going, thinking about what a stupid idea this was.
I was lucky Alex lived where he did. Cherryhill Boulevard was on the edge of a minuscule conservation area, filled with pathways and trees. The dirt road was empty since everyone was out in front of house forty-five, giving me the perfect opportunity to get in on my own.
It wasn’t hard to tell which house was which. The noise alone told me which one belonged to Alex; I could hear the people out front talking and the loud buzzing from walkie-talkies. The house itself was obscured by trees and bushes so I stepped a few feet in just to get a look. If any cops saw me I could simply lie and say I was curious. No strict repercussions until they found out I was Luke’s roommate, which probably wouldn’t take too long. Staying behind a tree I scanned the backyard.
It was simple, no flowers, just trees and leafy green plants that wouldn’t need much attention. There was a large patio just in front of sliding glass doors where a man and woman in suits stood. I could see the shiny golden badge on the woman’s belt, declaring her a detective but the man didn’t display his; I assumed he was her partner. An officer walked out the patio doors to meet them.
“There’s nothing here,” said the woman, “he left through the front after bringing her home from the club.” Officer Harley came out from the open patio door.
“Did you want us to check the rest of the back again?” the police officer asked, making a small hand motion to the back yard and I hunkered down lower behind a bush. I didn’t risk peeking out for another look, only then realising how stupid an idea this was. But what other way did I have?
“No,” said the male detective, “there’s no point, we have the killer in custody and we’ve found all we can here.” Poking my head just over the top of the bush I saw them walk towards the side of the house. “Let’s head back with the others and get the kid into interrogation.”
Kid, I scoffed. Luke was twenty and being called a kid by a thirty-something cop. It was a little stereotypical really. The three disappeared into the front yard but I remained motionless for a few more minutes. I heard cars drive away and the crowd sounded like it was dispersing. Once it was quiet I stood up and rubbed my legs, hoping to get the feeling back. Squatting like that felt worse than the jeans Charlie had made me wear.
There was no yellow tape in the backyard to keep people out. Not exactly on the ball here; they were putting all their hopes on Luke. Wouldn’t they feel foolish when the next murder happened. Very carefully I walked up to the glass doors.
“Tch,” I accidentally said when I noticed the door was still opened. Assuming someone was still inside I listened for any movement. Even though there were no sounds coming from inside the house my heart was beating quite loudly. Peering around the corner I saw an empty room and felt it was safe enough to pass through the threshold, careful to avoid the drops of blood.
I had entered into a basic living room and if it wasn’t for the very obvious murder that occurred here, it would look quite welcoming. The white couch had red splattered over it and when I moved closer I saw there was a drying pool on the floor. The glass table could have been where someone had hit their head, the corner was coated in a dark liquid I assumed was more blood.
The loveseat that sat kitty-corner to the couch was pristine, not a mark on it. I walked over to observe it, why was there nothing there? In the back of the cushion I saw something tucked away, almost completely out of sight. Taking a quick look over my shoulder I pulled at the string between the cushions to reveal a green stone necklace. I didn’t recognize it from the previous night, but it could still belong to Alice. I took a picture of it with my cell phone and placed it back where I had found it, moving on.
Across the room was a yellow sign with the number one on it sitting atop a cabinet. I saw a small white card in front of it and I had a feeling I knew what it was. As I got closer I could clearly see Luke’s face on it; his college ID card.
“Idiot,” I mumbled to myself. That was how they had found Luke so easily; his ID had been left with his name and student number on it. I didn’t have time to think about anything else, there were footsteps coming towards me. Just before I saw someone turn down the hall I dashed inside the closet next to the cabinet.
“Get the card,” a man said in a voice obviously used to mock his superior, “how could you forget the card?” I pushed myself against the right of the closet; if I stood anywhere else he could have seen me. He grumbled, “I already filmed everything, not my job to do this.” I waited until I heard the front door shut and checked if it was clear.
Seeing the living room empty again made me feel a little better. As I got out of the closet I noticed a tiny yellow butterfly sitting on the drops of blood by the back doors. The temperature seemed to drop as I watched it flutter its wings before ta
king off down the opposite hallway, following the blood trail.
I followed after it, avoiding stepping on any evidence, or anything that looked like it could be evidence. Each drop of blood had a yellow sign and a number to go with it, making it a little difficult to navigate the thin hall. I watched my feet as I walked. The signs ended when they reached the next room.
What first caught my attention was the black tape outline of a person. They were small and I knew immediately that it was Alice, not her boyfriend. There was no blood in this room, it was completely clean. The white carpeting was freshly cleaned and the bed was made. Matching lamps sat on either side of it atop mahogany nightstands. Taking another step inside my eye caught some movement.
At my feet was the butterfly, small and shimmering, flapping its wings as it sat on a television remote, just out of reach of Alice’s outlines hand. I looked around but didn’t see a TV, so was the remote for the one in the living room? Why would it be all the way over here, unless Alice carried it with her in a panic?
The butterfly flew into the air again, this time it floated over the bed, landing on the tall bookshelf. Below it I noticed some fallen books. They didn’t fit with the rest of the room; no blood whatsoever, everything else was in its place, but not these books.
I bent down next to them, reaching a hand out to touch them but quickly drawing back. I didn’t want to leave any evidence. The books weren’t familiar to me; all of them lying open to be read. They were paperback, so to get them to stay open on their own meant they had to be crushed down, the spine almost broken. All of them appeared to be different genre’s, different writers.
The only thing they had in common was they were open to page four and five. Was Alice or her boyfriend trying to tell the world something with this? I took a photo with my phone, making sure to get one of the outline and remote as well. I watched as the butterfly flew back into the living room. Taking one last look around I decided it was time for me to go as well.
Safely exiting the crime scene and finding my way to the bike path my heart finally calmed down enough for me to breathe properly and comb through the photos on my phone; Luke really was in trouble. Not only was he seen entering and leaving the house, he had somehow left his ID there. I was hoping that the fact he wasn’t coated in blood would help, but after seeing where Alice had died and how clean it was that hope was gone. I stopped at the end of the bike path as I came to the picture of the necklace.
It was out of place. If it was on a table, or even the bed, I would have brushed it off as nothing. But it was hidden in the back of the loveseat; placed there by someone. It was a clue; I just didn’t know what kind of clue it was.
I shoved my phone back in my pocket, anger and a touch of despair starting to take over. For now, the cops had nothing but Luke’s ID and a couple of witnesses. Soon they would find time of death, maybe that would save him; I told them everything, being very specific about times and places. Maybe Alice and Alex died after we had gotten home, after Luke had gone to bed. Somehow I knew that wasn’t going to be the case.
As I pulled my keys out of my pocket I heard a shuffling behind me. I spun around quickly, but there was nobody there. I stared around; nothing out of the ordinary. Turning back to my car I unlocked it and hopped inside, locking the doors behind me as fast as I could
I took a deep breath and weighed my options. There was no way I would be able to visit Luke in jail, so what should I do? Charlie was the first thing that came to my mind. She deserved to know about Alice and the cops probably hadn’t talked to her just yet. I dialled her number and she picked up right away.
“Hey,” I said, “are you busy?” I knew since she had answered instantly that she wasn’t and the tone of her voice said she still hadn’t heard the news.
“Nah,” she answered, “I’ve got the day off. What’s up?”
“I’m coming over; I should be there in about fifteen minutes. We need to talk.”
“About what?” Her voice was filled with concern now, as it should be. Someone saying “we need to talk” never ended with good news.
“I’ll tell you when I get there,” I said and hung up. It wasn’t going to be easy telling her, and it didn’t help that I had zero experience with delivering bad news. As I drove back to Luke’s I tried to think of the right words to use, but I just couldn’t find them.
