Part 11 (1/2)

”What do you mean?”

”Within the past two hours we've received dozens of calls asking about this case,” he told the detectives, ”And that's not including the reaction we're going to receive once Mayor Reynolds and his wife learn about this.” Johnson rubbed his temples and shut his eyes, ”This is all going to blow up in our faces if this keeps up...”

Felton shook his head, ”No, it won't.”

Sage agreed, ”Even if it did, eventually someone else would come across the same facts and they'd realize we were actually onto something.”

Johnson looked at him, and asked, ”How many people would die between now and then though? I mean,” he stirred a bit, ”Is there even a chance of this guy, this Cladis, relenting?” He looked at Detective Sage's wall and murmured, ”We're losing our grip on this city, aren't we?”

”More or less,” Felton admitted.

Sage however bitterly denied it. ”We're still doing our jobs, and to the public that should prove that we're containing this ma.s.sive situation. All we need to do is deny whatever REFOIA's telling them until we have a better understanding on how we'll apprehend Cladis. And until then I'll keep what I can off the computers and make hard copies only.”

”How are we supposed to notarize this investigation though?” asked Felton.

Sage made a face and regretfully theorized, ”We could either handwrite everything or resort to typewriters if we have to.”

Johnson rolled his eyes. ”This case continues to spin out of control...”

”Hey,” Sage locked eyes with him, ”We're going to get this under control, don't worry about it.”

”How the h.e.l.l am I supposed to keep calm when we've got a d.a.m.ned serial killer running amok and I've got both the commissioner and the mayor breathing down my neck?” he asked the detective.

Sage couldn't answer him. He only told him they were going to handle it, and although both he and Detective Felton knew it didn't ease their chief's mind, Johnson left and the detectives tried to make plans, changes, and headway in their case.

10:36 PM.

Both.e.l.l, Was.h.i.+ngton Jordan and Rachel sat facing one another in a booth with a window to the streets. The diner was quaint, as Rachel called it the first time they ate there. Jordan challenged her definition of the word when he pointed out the worn and bubbled red and black tiled linoleum floor and the scratched tabletops. Rachel in turn brought attention to the black and white photographs of the city of Both.e.l.l some decades earlier along with the quiet atmosphere, despite the traffic outside.

The diner was a few blocks from The Calming Wake, where Rachel worked as a barista. She had a s.h.i.+ft later in the day and as such she wore her crimson polo s.h.i.+rt, nametag included. Her black ap.r.o.n she kept stashed in her black backpack which she kept guarded between her feet on the black and red tiled linoleum floor. She also wore a silver bracelet that had an emerald in the center of the band. It was well worn, as it was, from her understanding, an heirloom from her great-grandmother.

Jordan set his hand around his drink and slid it across the table from one hand to another, which left a wet trail from the condensation that had settled at the base of his gla.s.s. He took a quick sip and apologized to Rachel. ”It really did slip my mind. I would have been there at the park if I'd remembered.”

She offered up a forced half-smile and reminded him that remembering was half the battle. ”Don't worry about it. Just be there and remember me next time we make plans, alright?”

Jordan slouched a bit and nodded in his understanding. He wiped the table off with his sleeve before he asked, ”You didn't get stuck in that storm, did you?”

Rachel shook her head. ”I would have if I hadn't made a new friend while I waited for you.”

”What?”

She took the gla.s.s of water that she'd left untouched so far and helped herself while Jordan stewed. ”I met this exchange student from Romania. He was a bit weird, but it might just be his culture that I don't understand.”

”Wait, you met him at the park and he what? Gave you an umbrella?”

She nodded. ”Exactly.”

Jordan let out a strained sigh and asked if she got his number as well. ”You seem to be pretty chummy for two people who just met. I mean, do you have another get together planned already?”

Rachel scowled at him, ”Jealous, are we? Just so you know, I wouldn't have met him if you'd actually remembered to show up and hang out with me, your girlfriend, rather than drive all the way to the other end of the state for your d.a.m.n weed. So don't get all b.i.t.c.hy just because I made a friend with some random exchange student, okay Jordan?”

He looked away and pursed his lips.

Rachel set her gla.s.s down and told him she didn't even know his name. ”I never asked and he never told me it. He doesn't know who I am either, and as for the umbrella, he was just being a decent guy. Chivalrous, he was being chivalrous Jordan.”

”Okay, I've got it,” he told her. ”Can we just drop it now?”

Their food arrived and ended the discussion. They both ordered the same entree which consisted of a small stack of pancakes, bacon, and scrambled eggs. The two ate in silence; Jordan ate without pause, while Rachel quietly stared out the window at the dark sky and watched the mountainous body of clouds slowly float away. Jordan poured amber syrup across his entire plate and covered everything, going so far as to use the fork he clutched in his left hand to evenly distribute the gooey substance. He promptly resumed eating afterward.

The diner was all theirs for the most part, with the exception of two other men at the counter. One was as far back as he could sit, with a newspaper, and coffee. He looked to be in his late sixties and sported a brown overcoat and gla.s.ses. The other man seemed to be nearly twenty and sat near the entrance. He wore a tight-fitting warm gray tee-s.h.i.+rt with one vertical stripe on the right side of his s.h.i.+rt that crossed a red star over his heart. A pair of black and red shorts completed his outfit. This man drank some fruit smoothie concoction and chatted politely with the waitress.

Jordan cleared his throat and gave a cautionary glance toward Rachel before he spoke, ”Did you hear about what happened to Ian? He was struck by lightning during the worst part of that storm.”

”What? Is it serious?”

”He's in a coma right now, but the doctors say they think he'll pull out of it in a little while and he should be fine.”

She took a breath, ”Still, that's really scary.”

Jordan carved off a small triangle of pancake and shoved it in his mouth before he continued, ”He's pretty lucky though.”

Rachel agreed. ”He could be dead.”

Jordan nodded but then quickly stopped eating and set his fork down. He swallowed what food he had in his mouth, washed it down with his drink, and then told Rachel about Nick's brother. ”He was killed that same day, right alongside Princ.i.p.al Summers.”

”Are you serious?” She looked at him as he gave her a confirming nod. ”What the h.e.l.l is going on around here?”

”I've got no idea.” He played with his fork for a moment before he brought up the funeral for Nick's brother, ”It's on Monday, so I'm probably going to be wrapped up in that for a while, just so you know.”

”Yeah, of course...” Rachel lowered her eyes and frowned. ”I wish I hadn't been so thoughtless when we were at the park with him. I feel terrible.”

Jordan told her to put it out of her mind. ”I'm sure it's the absolute last thing on his mind right now. In fact, I doubt he even remembers it. Just forget about it and try to remember to be all cheery and nice to him next time we see him, okay?” He glanced over his shoulder and saw the waitress approach them with refills. Relieved, he muttered, ”Finally, I was nearly out here.”

11:57 PM.

Lynnwood, Was.h.i.+ngton Nick sat in his living room surrounded by a few of his relatives. He didn't know any of them beyond their name, as his family was rather reserved and only seemed to meet for funerals. They arrived and offered condolences and offered to help cook meals and handle the arrangements for the funeral. Paul made the decision to cremate Victor, which turned Nick's stomach when he heard it. The idea of burial or cremation for any of his family members never crossed his mind until his mother died. She was cremated as well, though it was her wish which she indicated through a will of hers. Victor didn't leave any will behind and as such the decision was Paul's.

Paul discussed the details of Victor's planned service with one of Nick's aunts. A few of his uncles worked on calling and informing the rest of the family about the death. Nick merely sat in a chair with his eyes fixed on a stain on the off-white carpet, shaped like a blurry elephant. Nick a.s.sumed it was from one of Paul's beers.

Paul had always been a handful, so much so that Nick often questioned why his mother ever agreed to marry him after Nick and Victor's father died. Victor mentioned it to Nick once. He told him Paul had money, the two were friends from high school, both alone, and it sort of led off from there. Their mother had only a high school education and as such couldn't work as well as raise her two young sons.

Nick was hardly a year old when they married. He knew nothing of his true father, other than that he died in a car accident when Nick's mother was only a month pregnant with him. Victor mentioned how their father worked in an auto shop and how much he loved their mother, but beyond that he didn't know him either, as Victor was six when their father died.

Their stepfather never seemed to go a night without at least one drink, which worsened once he lost his job and worsened even further after Nick's mother died. He remembered how Paul cried at the funeral and how he cried for nearly a week; it was the only time Nick ever saw the man vulnerable. Through everything Paul subjected their family to; Nick knew that Paul truly loved his wife.

Nick shook his head and found himself back in the living room with his family. Every time he heard someone whisper his brother's name, another memory would flood back. Nick wasn't ready to accept the loss or to mourn. He walked out of the room and headed back to his room to grab his helmet, keys, and wallet before he left. Nick mounted his motorcycle and rode off toward the highway without any destination in mind. All he could tell from where he sat on his motorcycle were the evergreens, the road, the vehicles beside him, and the gray clouds that met the skyline ahead of him. The usual roar of the road washed out, the engines of cars faded, and even the light sprinkling of rain faded from his conscious thoughts.