Already lost, p.8
Already Lost, page 8
“Phonographs,” he said. “They’re an old kind of record player. I- I work at the community theater in town and we thought they might add a bit of class to our performances, but we needed three, you see – two to run in alternate scenes and one in case the others break down.” He was rambling, seemingly with nerves, his words fast and running into one another.
And Laura had a very bad feeling.
“Where did you get those from?” she asked.
“Antique Sound, over on Rose Avenue,” West said.
Laura’s stomach dropped even further.
“Have you purchased anything else from that store?” she asked.
“N-no,” West stammered, looking utterly bewildered. “Is there some kind of problem with the store? I only discovered it last week. It’s my first time buying anything there.”
Nate swore under his breath.
“Let me be absolutely clear about this,” Laura said, looking him dead in the eye. “You purchased three phonographs from Antique Sound last week. You didn’t purchase any gramophones?”
“No!” West said. “No, just the phonographs. I – I have a receipt around here somewhere, I can show you!”
Laura drew a heavy sigh. West was hovering uncertainly, halfway off the sofa with his arms in the air like he thought he was going to get shot if he moved too fast.
“He got the machines mixed up,” Laura said. “Phonographs, not gramophones. They look alike, but they’re not the ones we’re looking for.”
Nate threw his head back and groaned in frustration, and then rubbed his face. “Mr. West, please forgive the intrusion,” he said. “It seems this has been a case of mistaken identity.”
“So, I’m not in trouble?” West asked. “Do you still need the receipt?”
“If you could,” Nate said, as Laura stepped off to the side, unable to bear it. They’d hit another dead end. The only lead they had, and it had turned out to be nothing.
What the hell were they going to do now?
CHAPTER TWELVE
Laura rested her hands on the steering wheel, listening to the faint sound of the engine cooling down, and sighed.
“I know,” Nate said. “But it’s late. And you said it yourself yesterday. We work better when we’re rested.”
“If we had done any actual work today, I would probably feel better about that idea,” Laura scowled.
Nate shook his head. In the darkness of the parking lot, they were the only people around. Laura felt exposed under the car’s interior light, like everyone in the motel rooms above would be watching them. “We did a lot of work today,” he said. “It just feels like we didn’t because we haven’t caught the guy yet.”
Laura looked at her hands under the artificial yellow light. She’d had no vision today. Well, nothing about the case. It felt like that was all her life was lately. A constant stream of disappointment about not having the right visions. Even when she did, she was misinterpreting them.
Not for the first time and almost certainly not for the last, Laura wanted a drink.
“Tomorrow’s a new day,” Nate said, still trying to reassure her. “We’re going to get something tomorrow. Maybe the locals will come up with something for us on the night shift.”
“I just hope it’s not another body,” Laura said grimly, getting out of the car. She’d agreed to come back to the motel and get some sleep, but she couldn’t help feeling already like it had been the wrong decision. She glanced up at the moon hanging heavy in the sky above her. She’d never seen the appearance of the moon as a reason to quit before. Normally, she and Nate would argue constantly about when it was time to turn in. She always saw it as giving up.
But tonight, it looked like she had no choice but to give up. Nate was already halfway to his room, key in his hand, ready to sleep. Laura sighed and copied him, heading to her own room and unlocking the door before relocking it behind herself. She looked at the bed and for a moment almost couldn’t face it. She itched to go back out there and work on the case.
But work on what? They had nothing. Unless she was going to go out there and start fingerprinting every single male who walked past her in the center of town, she had nothing to contribute.
Maybe Nate was right. Maybe she just needed some rest.
Laura shrugged off her jacket and kicked off her shoes and then lay down on the bed without getting undressed any further. She needed a minute – a long one. She picked up her phone and found herself scrolling to Chris’s name and hitting call, forgetting for a minute about the fact she was supposed to be avoiding him.
Maybe it didn’t count if they only talked on the phone. If they didn’t see one another, then Laura couldn’t witness it happening. If they didn’t meet in person, maybe Chris would never meet Zach either.
“Hey,” he said, sounding sleepy. “Are you alright?”
“Hi, Chris,” Laura said, closing her eyes in the darkness of the room. The only light came from outside, sweeping through the blinds from the parking lot. “Did I wake you?”
“No, but you’re just in time,” he said. “I was about to turn in. How’s your case going?”
“Fine,” Laura said, then sighed heavily. “No, sorry, it’s going awful. I don’t think we’re getting anywhere. I feel a bit worn down by it all, to be honest.”
“You only just got there last night,” Chris said. “Give yourself time. You’ll get there. Doesn’t it sometimes take months to handle investigations like this?”
“Yes, but…” Laura hesitated. Yes, but I have psychic visions that mean we usually get these cases solved a lot quicker than most. “I’m just not used to that.”
Chris chuckled. “You mean you’re used to being such a great agent that those kinds of timelines don’t apply to you,” he said. “You better not get too big for your boots, you know. Karma has a way of proving you wrong when you think you’re awesome at something.”
“Oh, really?” Laura asked. She saw a loose thread and wanted to pick at it, even knowing it might make everything unravel. Part of her wanted to goad him into admitting he wasn’t what he seemed. That he was violent. Homicidal. “Has that ever happened to you before?”
Chris got quiet for a minute. “When I first started working with Medicins Sans Frontiers,” he said. “I had this thought that I was better than the others. There was a seven-year-old girl. She got hit by shrapnel when her aunt stood on a landmine. When I couldn’t save her, that was when I knew I wasn’t the hotshot I’d been thinking I was.”
Laura’s throat went dry. She tried to swallow. “I’m sorry, Chris, I -”
“That’s alright,” he said, making what sounded like a real effort to cheer up his tone. “Anyway, were you just calling to say hello?”
“Mostly,” Laura said. She didn’t really know why she’d called. Just that she’d felt down, and her instinct had been to call Chris. That was what was going to make all of this so much harder if her vision did happen. “How’s Amy?”
“She’s fine. Sleeping already,” Chris said. “Talking of the girls, are you coming over this weekend?”
“I don’t know,” Laura hedged. “I might still be on the case.”
“I know that,” Chris said breezily. “I get the deal. But we can make plans anyway, can’t we? Like normal. If you’re still out there Friday, just let me know.”
“Yeah,” Laura said, her eyes sliding shut for a moment. She didn’t know what to say. If she accidentally let it slip that she had been home in time, if that happened… or if Lacey decided to say something about it when she eventually did see Amy again… the lie just wasn’t going to work. “Actually, Chris, I don’t think we could make it anyway. I just remembered, Lacey has an appointment. Marcus told me one of us has to take her, and if I’m home, I’d like to go with her. But either way, that means we won’t be free for the playdate.”
“Oh, I see,” Chris said. He sounded disappointed, but accepting. “That’s a shame. We missed last week as well.”
“I know,” Laura sighed, doing her best to pretend she was sad about it. It wasn’t hard. She was sad to have not seen him for so long. It was just that she was also, now, terrified to see him as well. “We’ll have to try and make it for the weekend after.”
Even as she said the words, she cursed herself. Why bring up the promise of something that she didn’t want to happen? But part of her hoped that by the time a couple of weeks had passed, she’d be able to find a way to solve the dilemma of the vision. A way to stop it from happening, maybe. Or maybe she’d have some further details and know that it didn’t really mean Chris had a violent maniac lurking just below his surface, like his brother. Anything, really. Anything to put him back as the perfect doctor and humanitarian Laura thought he was.
“What about meeting up without the girls?” Chris asked, making her stomach drop. “I know you don’t want to schedule anything this week until you know how you’re doing with the case, but what about next Wednesday? Is that far enough ahead?”
“Sure,” Laura said, doing her best not to commit to anything. “We’ll see how it goes.”
There was a brief pause after her words. “Laura, are we okay?” Chris asked. “I’m starting to feel like you don’t want to see me.”
Laura closed her eyes, mentally shouting at herself. What had she expected? That she could just call him for comfort and then blow him off again, and he wouldn’t even notice? “It’s not that,” she said. “It’s just – this job. It’s getting to me. And I know I’m always letting you down with scheduling.”
“I’m a doctor,” he said, stressing his words heavily. “It’s honestly a blessing to find someone whose schedule is more unpredictable than mine, because it means I don’t have to feel bad about letting you down. Trust me. I’m fine with it.”
Laura bit her lip. She needed to get out of this conversation now, before she broke down and scheduled a date with him tomorrow and booked a flight there and back so she could stay on the case at the same time. “I know,” she said. “I just feel guilty. It’s my issue, not yours. But I’ll get over it. Look, I should really let you get to bed. I need some rest, too. I’ve got a long day of work tomorrow.”
“Right,” Chris said. There was another pause. “Goodnight, Laura.”
“Goodnight,” Laura said, hanging up the phone and feeling like the worst person in the world.
Except she wasn’t, because someone out there was murdering young women, tying them up, and stabbing them to the tune of an old song. And tomorrow, if she did everything she could to stop that person, maybe there was a chance she could redeem herself.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Tessa waved one more time and then turned around with a grin on her face, her long legs eating up the road as she walked away from the party.
What a night!
Her head was buzzing, full of the excitement of the evening and the loud music that even now was ringing in her ears. It faded behind her as she walked away but she could still hear it inside – especially the song that had been playing when he kissed her. She could have gone home with him tonight, but that wasn’t Tessa’s thing. She was careful. She knew even when she was drunk that it wasn’t a good idea to go home with someone you’d only just met.
And there was always tomorrow.
Tessa clapped her hands together in front of her as she walked, remembering his number stored in her phone with another grin. Someone who was walking a dog on the other side of the street jumped and looked her way, and Tessa didn’t even apologize. She was too giddy. High on the memories already.
It was a long enough walk back home and the night was cold, but Tessa didn’t mind. Her bare legs were still fortified by the alcohol, and the boxy jacket she was wearing – stolen from an ex and never returned even after they’d broken up – kept the chill out well enough. She always brought it with her when she knew she’d be leaving a party late in the cold and walking home.
She thought about taking off her shoes and walking barefoot, but discarded the idea. Not until she sobered up enough to actually feel the pain in her feet. She had to keep them on for as long as possible, because you never knew what was littered around on the sidewalk. Broken glass, needles, used chewing gum. Even the euphoria she was feeling from the night wasn’t enough to block out that thought, keeping her sensible.
The party faded far behind her and the reality of the night around her began to set in. Tessa held the jacket closer around herself, her arms firmly closed over her chest to keep out any of the chill breeze. She felt like she was walking too fast, maybe about to fall, but she couldn’t shut off her momentum fast enough to slow herself down. Besides, the quicker she walked, the quicker she got home. If she could do so before the cold and the pain in her feet started to get to her, so much the better.
The streetlights were almost blinding every time Tessa passed under them, the darkness of the street beyond near perfect. Each time she stepped out of the circle of illumination it felt like she was going to trip over something, totally unable to make out what was coming up next. The houses around were all dark and silent, and Tessa quickened her pace even further until she was almost running. Yes, better to get home sooner rather than later.
She felt like the alcohol was starting to wear off.
She stepped out of the circle of one of the streetlights and almost immediately her momentum caught up with her, making her tangle her feet and drop to the floor with a whoosh of breath. Tessa let out a gasp as she felt her knee hit the sidewalk – definitely not drunk enough anymore to avoid feeling that – and she sat up. There was grit on the palms of her hands where she’d gone down. She tried to brush it off and winced again, realizing it had ground in with her own weight.
Out of nowhere, a hand appeared in front of her.
“Thanks,” Tessa said, not even looking up. It was so dark, anyway, and she was still too drunk indeed to be confident about being able to get up on her own. She took the hand and felt it flex and pull, taking her weight as she was yanked to her feet so fast she almost fell again.
There was a blur of movement, confusing and much too fast, and Tessa thought she was going to throw up. She looked ahead. What was that? Wasn’t that – wasn’t that where she had just come from? Why was she facing the wrong way?
Something pressed against her face – something like a piece of cloth – Tessa squirmed, not wanting it there, but she felt the outline of a hand clamped over her mouth and nose – and there was something behind her holding her still – her hand – he still had hold of her hand – Tessa tried to break free, giving a muffled shout of complaint, trying to get a breath to shout again, a strong chemical smell filling her nostrils –
***
Tessa blinked slowly, trying to open her eyes. They were heavy. Like they had decided they wanted to stay shut. For a moment she wondered if she’d managed to glue her real eyelashes together under the false ones.
Then she managed to get a look at the room she was in, and her confusion deepened.
Wasn’t she at home?
She remembered leaving the party, but nothing else. That wasn’t too unusual. But – where was she? Normally she managed to find her way home. And this didn’t look like someone else’s home either. This was – it was like some kind of warehouse. Big and empty. A good venue for a party, actually.
But this wasn’t where she had been last night.
Tessa wanted to groan, but she moved her tongue slightly and felt how dry her throat was and held the noise back. She blinked her eyes a few more times to try to clear them. Why did she feel so heavy and slow? How much had she drunk last night?
Had she been spiked?
She turned her head slightly, just a tiny movement, but it sent pain ricocheting through her skull. Hangover. She knew that one well enough. What a time for it to strike, though. Where the hell was she? Was she going to be able to walk home from here, or would she need a cab? And why was she on the floor?
Tessa saw something move ahead of her and realized it was a figure – a person – someone shrouded in so much darkness she hadn’t even seen them. “Hey,” she croaked, thinking they might be able to tell her where she was and why. She moved to sit up, trying to put her hand down –
And failing.
What the hell?
Tessa moved her hands again and then her feet, realizing in panic that she was tied up. She couldn’t move. Not only that, but the figure she had seen had gotten up and was walking towards her – no, not towards her, towards the wall. There was something over there, some kind of box. He did something to it with his back to her and then a song started up, something old and soulful, something she didn’t recognize. It didn’t sound like it was being played over speakers, either.
He was my man, and we were so happy
Two fools in love, how now it may seem
Now when I think of how I was happy
I don't recall was it nightmare or dream
What was this song? Why was it playing?
To hide her screams?
Tessa stared at him. “Who are you?” she asked. “What are you doing?”
He turned and looked down at her, as if surprised to see her. He had the strangest look on his face. Like he was almost sorry she was down there tied up on her own.
“Allow me to help you up,” he said. He reached for her hands and she felt something loosen, and thought he was letting her go. It was weird that she’d been tied up in the first place, but if he was letting her go then she wasn’t going to argue. She would just get out of here and go.
He took one of her hands and pulled, and Tessa came right up into his arms, in a standing position. The surprise for a moment took away her concentration, but then she realized. Her feet were still bound at the ankles, making her nearly topple over and lose her balance. And the ropes around her wrists – they were still there, just looser. Loose enough she could move her hands around to her sides, but not much further than that. She tugged at them angrily, wondering what the hell he was playing at.
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