Monday, August 24th – 12:34 pm
Luys paused on the sidewalk before he turned toward the entrance of the local police department. He dreaded the next hour and prayed to a God he didn’t have much faith in anymore that he would leave the building on his own initiative.
He rolled his shoulders. They had nothing to point him to the murders.
He didn’t think the bug he and Avery found in his living room was from the police. He didn’t think it was from Mayor either. She’d never been into new advances in science. The question left him floundering for an answer.
He’d searched the rest of his condo and didn’t find any other microphone, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t one still there. Maybe he should have left the listening device alone and fed the person on the other side misinformation. It was too late to rehash his mistake and how he’d let his emotions get the better of him.
Sighing, he thought back to yesterday and how he’d investigated the reason for the sirens. When he hadn’t been able to learn anything from the neighbors or the police, he’d retraced his steps to find Avery had fled. He’d then thought of following her back to her place to make sure she was okay but decided he’d pushed her too far already with finding the bug and everything he’d revealed. Later that day, though, he hadn’t heard of another murder on the television or internet.
The relief that they hadn’t wheeled out a body had been immense.
But he felt anything but relief as he took a deep breath, opened the thick glass doors, and stepped into the police lobby.
The main area was crowded. He had to wait in line to go through the security checkpoint, placing his keys in a plastic bowl. In the last century, many things had changed. Lots of security, policing, watching from cameras, phones, and any imaginable device, and there was violence. Always violence. He had never been able to escape it.
He sat down and waited in a metal chair against the wall. Minutes later, Hatcher appeared from a secured door, his expression unsmiling, as he nodded and said, “Glad to see you were able to make it.”
Luys didn’t reply. It wasn’t like he had much of a choice unless he wanted to get legal representation, which would be a bold red flag to Hatcher.
Luys followed him through the same door and into a small windowless room with a table and a couple of chairs.
Luys didn’t bother with any preliminary small talk.
“Couldn’t we have done this over the phone?”
“I don’t like phones.” Hatcher shrugged. “Plus, I wanted to see you in person.”
“Am I going to need a lawyer?”
“I’m not charging you with anything. I only wanted to chat.”
Chat? Luys didn’t believe it for a moment. He had thought of hiring an attorney but doing so would have revealed guilt. “About what?”
Hatcher sat back in his chair and eyed Luys. “I mentioned it over the phone earlier.”
Luys couldn’t remember any such thing.
“Okay.” Hatcher straightened and clicked on a recording device by his elbow. “I won’t keep you long.”
“They are expecting me at work later today.”
“Oh, we’ll be done soon enough.” He rested an elbow on the edge of the table. “Are you familiar with Noah Harris?”
“I don’t know him, but I am aware he was murdered last week.”
“Really, you didn’t know him at all? He lived in the same building.”
“Yes, I’ve seen him in the complex. I might have said hello, but we were not friendly enough to have a conversation.
“What about others in the neighborhood? Do you know of anyone who’s familiar with Noah Harris and who might have known if he had any enemies?”
“No.”
“Did you see anything unusual the night of his murder?”
“No.”
“What about someone hanging around in the area? Someone you recognized or who looked out of place?”
“No.”
“What about days before his death?”
“No.”
Luys knew continually repeating himself made him sound belligerent, but he didn’t have any information on that night or Noah Harris. Right now, he was honest, but if Hatcher started delving into Avery, he might not be so honest.
“Do you know of anyone who might have something against Harris? Did you overhear anyone discussing Harris after his death?”
“No.”
Hatcher’s lips firmed. He drummed his hands on the desk. “I had hoped you might give us some additional information on the case. Maybe there’s something you might have missed. A neighbor or someone you didn’t recognize hanging around or entering his home within the last 48 hours before his death?”
Luys shook his head.
“What about someone who might have confided with you that might be related to his death.”
“No. Has anyone said something?”
“I am not at liberty to discuss that with you.”
Luys shouldn’t be surprised that the detective was unwilling to give him any information. But it would be nice if Luys knew what the police had, specifically if they were suspicious of a blonde-haired woman loitering in the area. Someone must have seen Mayor. She wasn’t invisible.
He shifted in his chair. The idea of discussing Mayor and revealing her identity rose to his throat, but he kept his lips shut. If he started talking, the detective would never believe him, and he would undoubtedly become their lead suspect. They would question his sanity. Who would believe such a story? A woman with a thirst for blood, with the ability to kill another with the twist of a wrist? A woman strong enough to overpower a man three times her size? Worse yet, a woman who had preternatural senses and the ability to vanish into mist? No, he would remain silent. Years before, Luys had revealed too much to someone he had trusted and escaped with barely his life. Superstitions still existed. He would be locked up and analyzed for years if they believed some truth to his abilities and history.
From across the table, Luys stared at Hatcher, taking in the other man’s salt and pepper hair, the age lines fanning from his eyes, the hard creases bracketing his mouth, and the inscrutable expression. No doubt the detective was an expert at keeping his feelings hidden. Luys wished he could delve into the man’s mind, but his abilities didn’t have that great a scope.
Trying to hide his frustration, Luys asked, “Do you suspect who is responsible for the man’s death?”
Hatcher stared at him without blinking. “Again, not something I can disclose.”
Even though Avery believed he was a person of interest, Luys still had to ask. “Am I suspect?”
After he’d hung up with Hatcher the evening he’d left the church, dread had filled his head until his meeting with the detective.
“Why would you? Unless you have a reason for killing Noah Harris?”
He had expected suspicion, prying questions. Still, the reality sucked the air from his lungs. “I told you, I don’t know him.”
“Glad to hear it,” Hatcher murmured as he sat back in his chair and eyed Luys, “but a witness has come forward and revealed that they saw you by the victim’s residence that evening.”
“That’s not unusual. He is—was a neighbor. He lived in the same building. Of course, I am going to be seen in the area.” Luys frowned. “Who came forward?”
Hatcher looked at him with disbelief. “I can’t disclose their identity. I would think you would know that.”
“But what are they saying?” Luys straightened, this time unable to mask his own suspicion.
Hatcher stared back for a long moment before asking, “Tell me about Avery.”
Luys stiffened. “What about her?”
“Just how well do you know Avery Fleming?”
“I’ve already told you she’s a neighbor. Other than the one time I took her to the hospital that day, we only said hi here and there when we passed each other in the complex.”
“I’ve heard differently. We have witnesses who have seen you pretty chummy since you dropped her at the hospital. Seems to me you might have been far closer to her than before her attack.” Hatcher cocked his head to the side. “Where were you the night of the murder?”
“I already told you. I was home.”
“Oh, yes, that’s right, you were alone that night.” A nasty tone entered his voice.
Tension cut into the muscles of Luys’ back. Hatcher had switched tactics, growing deliberately antagonistic, but he would not let the other man provoke him.
Luys wondered how much Hatcher considered him a suspect. He hadn’t arrested Luys. Of course he hadn’t. Because there was no evidence. Luys hadn’t touched Noah Harris. The other man could be fishing, trying to rattle Luys in hopes of getting information from him.
Yes, he didn’t have an alibi. He was alone, but Luys believed in the system, though flawed.
“Are Avery’s assault and Noah’s murder related?” Luys asked.
Hatcher’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Maybe you can tell me?”
“Okay, I think we’re done. I don’t appreciate being bated. If you want to arrest me, do it, but otherwise, I’m leaving.”
The other man’s eyes narrowed. “I know you know something. Either you killed Harris, or you know the person who did. I’ve been at this job too long now to ignore my instincts. I also think you know far more of what happened to Avery than you’re willing to tell.”
“This time, your instincts are wrong.” Abruptly, Luys rose to his feet. “Are you done?”
“For now.” Hatcher slowly rose to his feet. He then opened the door and nodded in the hallway’s direction and beyond. “I’ll be in touch.”
Luys kept his mouth shut. Nothing he said would change the detective’s opinion or suspicions.
Even when he left the building, stepped outside, and heat engulfed him from all sides, a chill still raced across his flesh. He needed to find Mayor, stop her. Only then would he feel comfortable enough to cut contact with Avery.
It was the only way.
~~*~~
I watch the father and daughter’s house. I have yet to find an opportunity where he is home alone. Focusing on him keeps me from thinking of my other challenges. I close my eyes against the sudden fear, but it clings to me like sweat coated to every pore of my body.
I hate the emotion. It is a sign of weakness, a sign of vulnerability I have always told myself I would not experience again.
Someone wants you dead. They’re watching you.
You don’t know that.
You need to kill them before they kill you.
Enough!
I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. Tears, no less. I bite down on a scream of frustration. Now is not the time to cave into the voices.
I try to center my thoughts. The voice inside my head never wants to behave.
I refocus on the house. The time has come. The mother and daughter leave their home and drive off in the car. He is alone. He thinks he is invulnerable, but he will learn.
Five minutes later, I slip into the house.
He is unaware. I walk on silent feet through the living room, through the kitchen, where I pause to pick up an eight-inch blade from the butcher’s block on the shiny, white-tiled counter. In a moment, nothing around him will be shiny but his blood.
I find him going through a top drawer of his dresser in the bedroom. How convenient. I don’t have to drag him here.
Something must have caught his eye because he looks over at me in the doorway. “What the fuck? What are you doing here?”
I smile, not moving from my spot in the doorway, but fury fills my pores, coats my skin, enters my lungs with each breath I take.
“You’re fucking crazy. Are you deaf? I asked what you’re doing here? You’re nuts if you think I’m going to let you rob me.”
“I don’t want to steal your possessions.”
“Then what do you want?”
“Retribution.”
“For what?”
“You are to protect the child, not abuse her.”
“What?”
I slash the air with the knife. His eyes widen, and fear creeps into their depths. Stumbling, he backs around the bed, but I lung toward him, slashing the knife again and again. The tip slices through his shirt to the tender skin below.
Reality seems to finally hit him that I am no joke, that I am serious.
The look on his face makes me chuckle. Then my laugh deepens and grows uncontrollable, as with my rage.
His fear turns to horror. He deserves his horror. He is a parasite on this earth, and no amount of begging will change my mind about his fate.
He scrambles across the bed to get away from me, but I am quicker. I am even quicker with the knife. A minute of struggle, and he surrenders like a rabbit within the jaws of a coyote.
He will no longer hurt an innocent child.