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Aaand then carried on walking. Damn it.
Unlike a lot of guys around his age, he had no middle-aged spread. He was the type of guy you assume would put in a full day at work before driving to the gym for an hour-long session. You would assume correctly, because I stalked him and know it to be true. That’s how you make good assumptions, people. Make sure they’re factual first.
Since he did all that and no doubt ran marathons for fun, he had absolutely no trouble keeping up with a girl a third of his age. Especially when said girl was me, who thought a good day involved nothing but sitting, snoozing and of course, lounging.
‘Look, can you stop?’ I hissed, feeling the strain. ‘I’m trying to help you. That’s all I’ve ever done.’
Anybody looking at Rathers would probably think he needed a new battery. He stopped yet again, this time adorning the change of pace with a couple curses in my direction. Nice of him.
‘You- I- Just-’ he spluttered, going red in the face. He was pastier than an albino snowman, so it was pretty noticeable. Also a pretty unattractive look, but I was polite and didn’t mention it.
‘What is wrong with you?’ he finally managed to say, pouring a world of hurt into those five words.
‘Let’s not get into that now,’ I decided brightly. ‘What matters is Izzy’s killer is still out there. I know that you remember her. She was a young kid, celebrating being voted Prom Queen. Her boyfriend was found drunk and standing over her body. He was arrested and convicted, even though the murder weapon was never found. You found that suspicious, remember?’
In spite of his pretty clear hatred for me, the detective in him briefly took over and he nodded.
‘I was a rookie. It was my first arrest. From the outset, the guy- I forget his name, now-’
‘Chuck Manning,’ I told him. He looked at me as if in agreement, then suddenly came out of the spell and glared.
‘I’m not doing this with you. You’re nothing but a troublemaker. Worse than that, you’ve gotten people killed. Good people. People who actually wanted to help others; not like you. You don’t want to help. You just want attention or something. Shaun keeps telling me you’re sick, but I don’t believe that. I never have.’
Oh, sure. I just lurve attention. In fact, I love it so much that lucies have to practically force me to solve their dang murders.
Oh, and Shaun? That’s my dad. Yeah, he’s on first-name terms with my dad. Along with everyone else in Ohio.
‘I don’t want attention, I’ve never asked for any credit and I’ve specifically asked for my name to not be mentioned in case files. And for that matter, I’m not sick either. I just-’
‘-See ghosts. Yeah, I know. I got it the first two hundred times. And you wouldn’t be the first attention-seeker to hate attention, you know.’
What, going all therapist on my ass now? Man, and to think my dad was actually paying Tess. I could’ve sought out Rathers and got my therapy for free.
‘Can we forget all this, just for a second?’ I suggested, taking the high road. We could spend hours sniping at each other, and to be honest, it was getting dark. I was cold. I wanted to get home and take a real long hot shower. Today had been a long day. ‘Did you ever look for the murder weapon? Or find another suspect?’
‘Like I said, Mendes. I’m not doing this with you. Go home. Go back to school. Go to college. Maybe in a couple years, you could be an actual detective. Not here, though. I hear North Korea might have some promising careers.’
Cute. Real cute. But I wasn’t giving up that easily.
‘You never found the murder weapon, did you? Do you even know what it was?’
‘Ann, I think you’re pissing him off a little. Maybe tone it down a notch?’ George murmured.
A little? Understatement of the century. I pissed him off just by breathing.
‘I know what it was. Or at least, I have a good idea. No, we didn’t find it. Happy now? Unless you have it in your pocket, I have no interest in hearing what you have to say.’
‘Her pantyhose, right?’ I called out, just as he turned away again. He sighed.
‘Good guess.’
‘They were embroidered with her name, weren’t they? Written on the soles.’
‘I don’t know, Mendes. I never saw them.’
‘But I bet Chuck described them perfectly, didn’t he?’ I said, still talking to his back.
I could almost hear him gritting his teeth in frustration. Having been on the receiving end of my goads for years, he waited until I finally spat it out.
‘I know where they are.’
‘Surprise, surprise,’ he muttered. ‘Where?’
‘A sewer grate in an alley near Leo’s. Don’t get too excited, though. They were dropped around two weeks ago.’
Click, buzz, whirr. The cogs started moving as he pieced together those little tidbits.
‘Are you saying what I think you’re saying?’
‘’Fraid so, Chief.’
Bored out of his skull by our frankly crappy sparring, George took a trip to the other side of Rathers’ body, to give me commentary.
‘He’s mulling it over. He’s thinking about it. He seems to be agreeing with you. Yep, he’s coming around. He’s- nope, you lost him.’
‘No cameras, no witnesses. Where’s your proof?’ Rathers asked matter-of-factly.
‘Look-’
‘Go home, Mendes,’ he ordered, finally picking his pace back up.
‘But I didn’t get to tell you who did it,’ I called out.
‘I said, go home,’ he yelled back, without even bothering to turn.
George jogged over, giving me an apologetic grimace.
‘So, what do we do now?’
‘Nothing until Rathers comes knocking,’ I replied, as I started my long trip home. I was half-tempted to follow him and grab a coffee, but the nausea in my stomach still hadn’t dissipated. I had a feeling this was going to be my new unwanted friend. I guessed Nausea and my old buddy Migraine would get along swimmingly. I wished they’d both get it on already and move out.
‘Um, not sure you saw the same thing I did back there. He was not convinced.’
‘You’re right, he wasn’t. He did not give me the benefit of the doubt, nor was he ever going to,’ I said, whipping out my cell as cover as a family approached. ‘But it’ll play on his mind long enough to check it out. Not today. Tomorrow, after he’s rearranged his rolodex and cleared out his filing cabinet. He’ll twiddle his thumbs and finally delve into the old case file, pretending it’s for old times’ sake. Maybe he’ll find a few other things that’ll bother him. Then, he’ll wonder about the murder weapon at the new crime scene. He’ll drive over, grab a flashlight, and shine it down the grate like it’s no biggie.’
‘Uh-huh,’ George nodded, egging me on. ‘Then, what?’
‘One of two scenarios. He doesn’t see the pantyhose, but still finds it suspicious enough that I brought it up in the first place, and he eventually finds me and asks questions. Or, he does see the pantyhose and comes over straight away.’
Kinda hoping it was the latter, because it was easier for both of us. And also because that was really the extent of my knowledge on this whole mess.
‘Why, though? He thinks you’re a joke, you’ve said it yourself. Why would he not only follow your advice, he’d actively seek you out for more?’
‘Because he follows every lead,’ I said simply. ‘He’s a good cop.’
George was silent for a blissful few seconds as I tried to pick up the pace. I had done so much walking today and it totally didn’t suit me. I hadn’t properly walked since I’d gotten my license. Why waste a half hour when you can waste five minutes? Sure, I wasn’t doing anything with my time anyway, but that wasn’t the point.
I got a little worried that George still hadn’t spoken. That usually meant he was barking up the wrong tree and was about to infuriate me. As expected, he looked perturbed by something.
‘What?’ I groaned, ready to make myself look foolish and punch him.
‘You respect him, don’t you?’
Oh, was that it? I was expecting him to say I had a crush on him or something.
Which I don’t, by the way. Just making that clear.
No, really. I don’t.
‘Sure, I do. Just because I hate his guts doesn’t mean I can’t respect him.’
‘I feel like that’s an oxymoron or something,’ he frowned.
‘No, it’s not. See, that’s your problem. You think that I hate everyone because I’m an asshole, but you’re not looking at the reasons why. I hate him because he’s against me. He thinks I’m a time-waster and that I ruin all his cases. Obviously, I believe the opposite because I’m always right and I always find the killer in the end. But you wanna hear something crazy? He’s right, too. I do ruin cases, because I get involved where I shouldn’t and accidentally lose or destroy evidence, which the defense attorneys love to use on trial. A couple times, perps have been acquitted thanks to my interference. Luckily, they’ve always gone after me afterwards, so they went back to prison. But that’s not the point. I... forget what my point was.’
Seems George did too, since he decided there was nothing to add to my rambling monolog. We walked the rest of the way to the car in silence.
As we turned onto my street and I saw the old familiar sights, I kinda started to get a little antsy. I wasn’t sure why. I’d been looking forward to having the longest nap known to mankind all day. Now that it was within reaching distance, I don’t know. It didn’t feel right. Maybe it was because I’d dreamed about it for so long. Is that possible? Can you talk up a nap so much that you didn’t want it anymore?
‘Thinking about your mom?’ George asked, noticing my furrowed brow.
‘Why would I- holy smokes, my mom,’ I gasped, hand flying into my mouth in shock.
Ah, that’d be why my body was gearing up for good ol’ fight or flight. I can’t believe I forgot about that.
Though apparently, that was nothing new. Why change the habit of a lifetime?
Oh, boy. I could see the house lit up like a Christmas tree, so my dad was definitely home. He would ask about my session, and-
Blank.
‘Are you going to talk to him?’ George asked, because I wasn’t asking myself that very question.
I don’t know. I really didn’t want to, but I wasn’t sure if that was because it’d make me look crazy, or it’d cause a confrontation, or both. Look, I have never had to deal with something as weird and big as this. How do you even ask that question?
‘Hey, Dad. Did I have a mom for six years of my life or didn’t I? Totes crazy, but I don’t even remember.’
And they’d be the last words I’d speak before being put in the same restraints as Hannibal Lecter.
No, I couldn’t ask him. Not when my brain was screaming at me to run away right now.
Not when I wasn’t sure who to run away from.
‘Not yet,’ I said.
He nodded, probably agreeing that it was best to keep the crazy to a minimum for now. So, I’d open my door, chat with my dad about how well the session went, then I’d grab a few bites to eat and head to my room.
Sounded like a swell plan.
So, of course, life immediately crapped all over that.
I heard my dad talking and laughing with somebody as soon as I stepped over the threshold. My mind immediately thought it was Stacy, but Stacy wasn’t a male Texan. As George and I frowned in confusion, it dawned on me quicker than it dawned on him.
It was Theo Henderson.