Burning Kiss

by Angela Addams

  “I’m prepared to handle it if he does.” I sat up straighter and nailed him with a hard look. “I’m not a victim.”

  “You could use the help. And I want to help you. I don’t like seeing you in so much pain.” He paused again, perched himself on the edge of my bed, entwining a hand with one of mine, bringing it up to kiss. “I’ll stand by you, protect you because I love you.”

  Those words tumbled out of his mouth like a rockslide. My body clenched. My rage boiled over.

  “You know what, Eddie? I welcome that asshole to come for me because I will blow his motherfucking head off.”

  “You don’t mean that. You’re not violent like that. You’re hurt and angry—”

  “I baited him.” The words fell out of my mouth but I didn’t regret them.

  Confusion flashed on Eddie’s face. “What does that mean?”

  I leaned closer to him, making sure he was following what I was saying. “I baited that man. I intentionally came on to him, made him think that I was an easy fuck, so that I could threaten him, so that I could shove my gun in his face and make him cry.”

  Eddie didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. His face said it all.

  “And it’s not the first time.”

  The silence was heavy, but I didn’t break eye contact.

  “You’re coping. You’re behaving this way because you witnessed your best friend being raped and murdered by an ex-patient—”

  “No, I’m not. I like it. I take pleasure in their pain. Everything I do is to satisfy my needs. Even with you. I’ve been fucking Steve. I’ve been baiting rapists. Sometimes sucking dick to get what I want.”

  “Jade?” Eddie’s face crumbled, too much truth for him to handle.

  “Love me now, Eddie?” I laughed cruelly. “Am I still worthy of your affection?”

  A wave of nausea hit me hard. The pain meds making my stomach convulse. I heaved, fought to keep it down.

  “I will always love you, Jade. I just can’t be around you right now,” he whispered before leaving my room and then my condo.

  “The truth will set you free,” I whispered back, and then barfed all over my floor. Partially digested pills everywhere.

  33

  When I woke up it was daylight. I had drool caked on my cheek and the worst headache ever. I couldn’t tell you what day it was or how long I’d been out—only that the pain throughout my body was a little less agonizing than it had been when I had last been conscious.

  I pushed myself up, wincing with the movement. My gun was still next to me. The pills nestled against the stock. I snatched up the bottle then moved, slowly, off the bed.

  Bathroom. Clean up. Brush teeth. Down two more painkillers. I made it out of my room and into the kitchen somehow. I’d left my gun where it was, not having the energy or desire to try and drag it along for the ride.

  I called my property manager and gave him shit for changing my lock at Steve’s command. Then I commanded him myself to come up and change my goddamned lock again. This time, I was the only one with a key.

  By the time that was done, I was riding a pretty good high both from the pain meds and the food I’d finally managed to scarf down. Revitalized, my body was suddenly full of energy. My brain was sharper than it had been for days and so I turned on my laptop and started to catch up with the world.

  Eddie had done a horrible job keeping Devin’s murder and subsequent investigation out of the media. University officials were probably pissed with him.

  There were photos of the crime scene. Even a shot or two with me there, standing in the semi-dark, looking lost.

  I’d been out of commission for a week. A full week of my life, gone in a haze of pain and nightmares. And in that week I’d missed a lot.

  The media had gotten hold of some juicy details. Tabloids and notable papers alike. Although the former hypothesized that there was a Michael Myers type killer on the loose, there were surprisingly accurate details there as well. How accurate I didn’t know. And it’s not like I could call Eddie to confirm. But I wanted details, and details are what I got.

  Like the state of Devin’s body. Her missing eyeball. The fact that a poem had been left, contained in a metal vial that had been inserted in an orifice. The paper thankfully didn’t specify which one.

  Do Not go Gentle into that Good Night by Dylan Thomas. They even knew it was a pattern. The signature of a serial killer they’d named The Poet. Eddie must have been scrambling to figure out where his leak was. No way could the media have gotten info like that on their own.

  One article discussed suspects. The head caretaker, Ken Wright, had been taken in for questioning. So had Steve. Which didn’t totally surprise me. He had, after all, had a relationship with the girl. There was no mention of Arthur. Thankfully the media hadn’t gotten a hold of that information.

  Classes had been suspended while I was out of it. A curfew imposed. But now that they had a suspect in custody, all was beginning to return to normal.

  I did a search for Kiefer Jones and got a thousand hits just linking him to the murder. In the eye of the public, he was guilty already, even if no charges had yet been confirmed.

  He’d confessed at the scene apparently. Implicating himself. He didn’t have an alibi either or a lawyer of his own. The court had appointed him someone, I figured, which meant he was probably not going to get the strongest defence.

  And so it appeared that the kid was screwed. But was he a murderer? Hopefully Eddie’s investigation garnered some solid evidence proving one way or another. Why the kid would confess to anything was beyond me. Guilt? Confusion? Need for attention? Who knew? Or maybe he was guilty after all. Maybe my hallucinated Kassey had been right and he had warranted closer investigation because he was a killer.

  The buzzer for the front entrance went off. I moved gingerly to the intercom. “Yes?”

  “Jade Harris? This is Detective Bill Bean. I’m Eddie’s partner. Is Eddie up there with you?”

  Partner? I frowned. “No.”

  There was a pause. A throat being cleared. “Um, ma’am, you think you could let me come up there for a quick chat? I know what happened and I realize you probably don’t want a visitor at the moment but this is important.”

  “I don’t…”

  “Listen, Eddie told me about the gun. You want to keep it trained on me the whole time, I’m okay with that. I just need some information.”

  He sounded sincere.

  “You got ID?” I moved to the counter and pulled my laptop closer then flipped to the monitor that gave all residents a clear, albeit black and white, view of the front entrance. The man standing there looked like a cop. Bald, shiny head, goatee, cheap suit complete with a tie. I watched Detective Bean pull his badge out then hold it up to the camera.

  “Eddie never told me about a partner.”

  “Yeah, that doesn’t surprise me. I’ll explain if you’ll let me up.”

  “Nah, I’ll come down. There’s a coffee shop at the corner. I’ll meet you there in twenty minutes.” It was ludicrous to even think about leaving but something in the guy’s voice made me sure I wanted to speak with him. There was just no way I’d ever let a man come up to my condo ever again.

  He gave a nod at the camera then walked out the door.

  It took me thirty minutes to make it to the coffee shop. Bill was sitting outside on the patio, drinking a ridiculously huge cup of something. “You want a coffee?”

  I gave a nod, then motioned to the barista who knew my order by heart before sitting down across from him. “What’s going on?”

  People were staring at me. They’d been staring from the moment I hit the street. I hadn’t bothered with makeup, just sunglasses and a baseball cap, but the wounds were still visible. And I walked like an eighty-year-old cancer patient. It got me noticed.

  “Eddie is missing.”

  “Missing? I just saw him last night. He came to my place with a prescription.”

  “What time last night?”

&
nbsp; My coffee arrived and I nodded my thanks. “I’m not sure. I was pretty out of it. Early though. Probably around dinner time. Maybe a bit later.” I took a sip. Scalding, but good. “I’m not really in the mood for bullshit, Detective, so I’m going to need to know what the fuck is going on right now or I’m leaving.”

  If I shocked him, he didn’t let on. Instead he gave a wry smile. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” He sipped his coffee then continued. “Eddie seems to have gone MIA. Not answering his phone. No luck at his place. Vanished.”

  “And you’re talking to me because…?”

  “I knew you were the last to see him. Wanted to know what you guys talked about. Did he leave upset?”

  I gulped back the lump that formed in my throat and swallowed a mouthful of coffee before answering. “Yeah, he did. I was kind of a bitch.” Not that I felt sorry. Not really.

  “Did he say where he was going?”

  “No.”

  Bill sighed, rubbed his fingers through his goatee then pierced me with a look so cop it made me choke. “I shouldn’t be telling you this.” He shook his head. “Eddie found your attacker.”

  My rapist? Eddie knew who it was?

  “There was a DNA match on the semen they took from you. A low life with a track record. Problem is, he’s got diplomatic immunity. Son of a Brazilian diplomatic agent and here studying pre-med. We can’t touch him.”

  Rage burned through me but I dared not speak.

  “This isn’t his first rape, apparently. We dug up a case file from a few years back where he was accused of assault to a fellow university student. She said date rape, he said she was drunk. Either way, he was untouchable.”

  This just kept getting better and better.

  “So that’s what you came to tell me? That Eddie knew who my rapist was and didn’t say anything to me? And now he’s missing? What exactly does this have to do with me?”

  Bill cocked an eyebrow and leaned forward. “Your rapist was admitted to the hospital late last night. Beaten to a pulp. He won’t say who did it.”

  Now it was my turn for surprise. “And you think it was Eddie?”

  Bill shrugged. “I’m not saying that. Just want to find him, that’s all.”

  “And what happens when you do?” I wasn’t about to condemn Eddie for vigilante justice. Not with my track record.

  “He’s in the middle of an active investigation. I need him back. Healthy. Safe. Sober.”

  “So now he’s an alcoholic too?”

  “He was a heavy drinker. Stopped when he transferred to our division. He hasn’t had the best journey in his life or career. As I’m sure you know. Had a bad incident happen at his old station and came to work here to get a fresh start. He’d been battling with some heavy drinking then. When you guys broke up the first time, he hit the bottle again. Took a couple of months for him to wean himself off.”

  Was that supposed to make me feel guilty? I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms but didn’t say anything. What kind of shit had Eddie been into before he’d walked into my life? Why hadn’t I bothered to find out more when I’d had the chance?

  Bill noted my change in posture and straightened. “So that’s why I’m here. I figured you might know where he was. Or if something happened that would cause him to go AWOL. I need to get to him before anyone at the precinct catches wind that he’s missing.”

  But I didn’t know. I didn’t have a clue.

  “I’m sorry I can’t help you.” And I was. Eddie had been damn upset when he left the condo. Upset enough to beat the shit out of my attacker? Maybe. If he got himself into a drunken rage, then yes. But as it turned out, I really didn’t know Eddie all that well.

  Bill pulled a card from his jacket pocket. “If he contacts you, give me a call. Or better yet, get him to come to your place then give me a call. I’ll get him where he needs to be with none the wiser.”

  “Why cover up for him if he’s such a fuck up?”

  “He’s a friend. Loyal. Honest. I’d only known him a month when he proved that to me. We all have our baggage and sometimes we make mistakes. Eddie’s a good detective. He’s a good man. I’ve gotta at least try to keep his head above water.”

  It took me a long time to make it back to my place. Each step became more and more painful as the meds began wearing off. I took the elevator, letting myself lean against the wall and when the doors binged open, I thought about riding it back down again just so I wouldn’t have to get off.

  But just as the doors began to close, I pushed myself off the wall and made it out. There was a package next to my door. It was a parchment paper wrapped tube with an address label stuck to it. There was a notice taped to my door from a local delivery service. I snatched up the tube, wondering who the fuck had let a delivery guy up. Fuck, no reliable security to speak of. Maybe it was time to sell and move on.

  My first priority was to down another few pain killers. I thought about chasing them with some wine but that was too reckless, even for me. By the time I sat on the stool at the kitchen island, I was exhausted but curious to see what the package contained.

  There was no return address. Nothing to indicate who had sent it. I peeled the tape away and unscrewed the cardboard top. Peering in proved pointless so I stuck my fingers in and felt what seemed to be canvas.

  A painting?

  I grasped the edges and carefully pulled it out. It unrolled on its own, spreading out on the island. My breath caught. Tears sprang to my eyes. It was Kassey staring back at me. A painting done of a photo that I loved of her. Mid laugh, cheeks rosy, freckles popping, eyes vibrant.

  The painting was signed Devin Bells.

  I sucked in a deep breath. The only person who knew how much I loved that photo, apart from Kassey herself, was Steve.

  I traced my finger on the raised contour of the canvas, feeling the brushstrokes there, wishing it was Kassey I was touching. I wiped my tears with the sleeve of my shirt.

  My phone beeped.

  Maybe it was Eddie.

  I picked it up and saw a message from Steve. There was a video attached. It opened on its own.

  Eddie came into view. Bloody. Beaten. Eye swollen shut. His head lolling. Mumbling something.

  Another text came in. We need to talk. You know where to find us.

  I frowned, opened the video again and noted the room. Dark, dank, dungeon-like. Steve had Eddie in the tunnels and I knew exactly where they were.

  34

  “You know this is a bad idea.”

  Kassey had trailed me all the way to the archive entrance. I’d been ignoring her as she yammered. Or rather, as my delusional drugged-up brain did.

  “You’re not really here.”

  “I could be a ghost,” she said, moving her face into my line of view. “I mean, I know you don’t believe in ghosts but you could pretend I’m one.”

  “This is fucked up.” And I wasn’t sure if I was referring to my current hallucination or the fact that I’d gone to the archive room without telling anyone what was going on, hopped up on mega pain pills and carrying only my Taser. I wished I had my gun; at least it gave the security of knowing I could drop a man with it.

  Not that I planned on killing Steve.

  I gave my head a shake, my thoughts going in wicked circles, not making a whole lot of sense. I’d even thought about bringing my shotgun. That’s how high I was. Luckily I had sense enough to just grab the Taser.

  I hesitated at the archive entrance. My hands were shaking, my legs unsteady. But I felt very little pain. Nothing to stop me from attempting this whatever it was. Rescue? De-escalation? Heart to heart? Alone, no backup.

  “You should have called someone,” Kassey echoed my next thoughts. “That detective. Eddie’s partner. Yeah, you definitely should have called him.”

  “Steve won’t hurt me.” Much.

  His last text said he’d let me get Eddie to a hospital if I came. No police. If he thought I was bringing police then he’d make sure Eddie never walked
out of there period.

  That should have been warning enough. And yet, here I was. Following orders. With a fucking hallucination reminding me how stupid I was being.

  The thing was, Detective Bean had been right. Eddie was loyal. He’d stuck by me even when I’d pushed him away. He came back even when I treated him like shit. He didn’t deserve whatever Steve was giving him. Not when his crime was getting tangled up with me again. This was my fault. I should never have played the two of them off of one another.

  “You were trying to keep him from latching on,” Kassey’s voice was in my head now, the image of her no longer hovering.

  “I was serving myself, like I always do.”

  It was time to put someone else ahead of me. I, at least, owed Eddie that much.

  I patted my back to make sure the damn Taser was still there and then pulled it out, deciding that it would be better in my hand than in my pants. I slipped my security card into the reader and then opened the door when it beeped. The light flicked on as I descended the steps. No matter how quietly I moved, the metal stairs still creaked under my weight. It was making me more jittery, the hand holding the Taser shaking to the point that I feared I’d drop the damn thing.

  “Steve?” I whispered his name like I didn’t actually want him to come.

  Once I hit the bottom step, I looked toward the back of the archive room but couldn’t see the entrance to the tunnel. My skin was crawling with unease. My gut screaming against going any farther. But I did. For Eddie. I did.

  Thankfully, Kassey was silent.

  I heard a muffled groan and froze, eyes darting. “Eddie?” I moved cautiously toward the sound, not coming from the back but off to the side. I cleared two of the stacks, holding my Taser like I would my gun, except with my finger on the trigger. I wasn’t a fucking idiot.

  There was another moan. I moved around the next stack. And there, at the end of an aisle, was the creepy kid who’d kicked me out before.

  “Oh my god!” I scrambled to him, holstering my Taser as I did. “Are you okay?”