CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

 

 

The next morning dawned with a sense of foreboding and I wasn’t sure why. A couple of scrambled eggs and a cup of coffee later, I turned on the television to see how Liz handled what happened last night. She seemed to shake off the disappointment well enough by the time we left.

“Good morning in the Valley!” Liz began with her normal greeting, again looking chic in a pink halter dress ending just above her knees.

“Thank you to those who tuned in last night to my Facebook Live attempt to interview the Firecracker Killer. If you watched, then you know that unfortunately, he or she did not show up for the interview.” Fake laugh. Guess she hadn’t let it go yet.

“Here’s the thing, everybody. This is too important to let go. So, I’m not.” Her eyes glittered. “Let’s go again, Firecracker. I’m calling you out. You heard me. I think you didn’t show up because you’re afraid to tell your story. Maybe you don’t have a story?” Her face looked ugly in that moment.

“I’ll be back on Facebook Live tonight, waiting for you. If you don’t come, I’ll know you’re scared. Oh,” she added like it just occurred to her. “I have a picture of you now. I’d hate to share that all over social media before you have a chance to tell your side.” She finished her not-so-subtle threat and smiled. I was flabbergasted that she told the world we had the murderer’s image.

“And, of course, for those of you watching, please share this all over social media, just in case the Firecracker Killer simply didn’t know about my invitation last time. We’ll be right back.”

The show cut to commercial and I waited for it. My phone started dinging as texts poured in from Catherine and Jacob. As if I had any idea she would throw down the gauntlet like this. I’d give the woman credit, she was tenacious!        

*****

It was Capture the Murderer, take two, that night at Liz’s home. Light from streetlamps glinted off of what I imagined were camera lenses in a couple of cars. That was about it. The circus mostly stayed away tonight; I guess they decided it wasn’t worth the time. Jacob came again, but he wasn’t here in an official capacity and he had no additional officers. Metro was chronically understaffed and his supervisors didn’t believe Liz’s “publicity stunt” warranted allocation of officers again.

Catherine and Evie were also present, mainly because, like me, they were worried that Liz might have truly pissed the djinn off.

Due to the lack of official support, no homes had been commandeered and the three of them camped out in an SUV across the street. They planned to watch the Facebook Live streaming on Jacob’s laptop.

I, however, was back in the office with Liz. She sat at her desk, gnawing on her lower lip. Worried about a repeat no-show performance? Or worried that the murderer would show up?

“Do you think she’ll show up tonight?”

“I don’t know,” I answered. “She clearly didn’t take the bait the first night, but the way you goaded her—”

Liz hung her head. “Yeah. I hope that wasn’t a mistake.”

“Do you actually want her to show up or not?”

“Yes,” she answered, that hungry look back in her eyes. “Are you ever going to tell me how you figured out the murderer is Juni’s sister?”    

The question was asked offhand but I heard the real question. “Probably not,” I admitted. “What makes you ask about it now?”

“I think there’s stuff you’re not telling me.”

“Everybody has secrets.”

“Indeed.”

We stared at each other, both trying to read what the other was hiding. Did she know something? I walked back through our conversations; I didn’t believe I’d let anything slip.

You guys ready? Five minutes until go time.

“You ready?” I asked Liz. “That was Jacob checking in.”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she answered. I gave her a thumbs-up and walked back to the guest room where I stayed last time.

Liz’s image glowed from my cellphone screen. I was seated in a bean bag chair, legs akimbo, the light from the screen all that was on in this part of her home. Again, I kept the sound off, but could hear her voice from the other room as the Liz on screen moved her lips.

“Welcome back to everyone who chose to join me again tonight.”

There were some comments but it was definitely not flying fast and furious like before. I guessed much of the audience also stayed away.

“A few people have questioned whether it was smart of me to challenge a murderer the way that I did.” I winced in the dark. Liz smiled.

“Probably not. But, when you want to get the story.” She shrugged with this admission. The comments below were a mixture of admiration for her gutsy move and chiding her for being an idiot. I was undecided at this juncture. I still believed what I told the ladies the other night. Our best bet was to bring Juni’s sister to us.

Liz continued to talk but I was no longer listening. Something changed. The air felt heavier. I’d actually never met a djinn before. I didn’t know if this meant her essence had arrived. Liz still chatted as though nothing had changed. I wondered if it was my overactive imagination.

POP POP POP POP POP

Guess not. I bolted from the chair at the firecracker sounds, a hair after I noticed Liz’s smile slip. The murderer was in the house.

“Hello? Is that you? Firecracker Killer?” Liz’s voice wavered only a bit when she called out.

I crept to the edge of the bedroom door, peeked around the corner. The house remained dark. Popping sounds filled the air.

“Hello? For those watching from home, you can hear the familiar sounds that have preceded the Firecracker Killer’s entrance on the prior three videos,” Liz continued in her newscaster voice.

I entered the hallway and made my way toward the front office.

“I hear the popping but I still have no visual on who exactly is present,” Liz told her audience. “Hello? Please identify yourself,” Liz instructed the apparent presence.

I almost laughed but didn’t want to give away my location.

No verbal response but, if anything, the popping sounded louder. It felt like a jackhammer in my skull. Something must be about to happen. I reached the final corner before the office. I rounded the corner, saw the office entrance five feet before me.

The air at the office door shimmered.

“Something is happening!” Liz told her audience.

I took a few tentative steps forward.

“A shape is forming in the doorway,” Liz reported.

An outline of a figure appeared.

“There’s someone—” She stopped speaking.

A feminine form had fully materialized.