Here is Chapter 20. Think you know who the killer really is yet? Email me with your ideas and comments about the story so far. Aterovis@aol.com
http://www.steliko.com/bleedinghearts
Chapter 20
To say that I was preoccupied for the rest of the night would be an understatement. My mind was completely absorbed with the mass of swirling confusion that was my personal life. I couldn't concentrate on the conversation at dinner but I think Steve was talking about the house and the fact that another crew had quit. I think it was the electrician this time, but he'd had no problem replacing them this time. I was so distracted by my own thoughts that I almost forgot to tell Adam that Novak and I were going to DC the next day and not coming home until the following day.
After we ate, I went upstairs to my room to be alone and brood over my thoughts. It had felt so nice to be with Will tonight, I missed receiving affection. I missed Asher. The problem was: did I really miss Asher or just the affection? Maybe I just wanted a boyfriend to have someone to cuddle with. I didn't really believe that though, or else I would have been more comfortable with what Will and I had done. If all I was looking for was a physical relationship then having sex with Will would have been fine. But I wanted something more. So did that mean that Asher and I weren't right for each other since we hadn't worked out? I felt like my brain was spinning in ever-tightening circles, like a dog chasing its tail-a futile exercise. Eventually, I fell into a restless sleep.
"So, you're confused again, huh?" a voice said, startling me awake. I sat up and looked around the dark room. At first I didn't see anyone then they spoke again and I found them. "You make everything so difficult."
"Seth!" I gasped. He was sitting cross-legged in the center of the floor, the moonlight from the window making him seem to glow with an eerie white light. He looked like a ghost and then I realized that was most likely what he was. Some part of my mind knew I was probably dreaming but I didn't care. I was just so excited to see him again. I wanted to jump up and throw my arms around him but I was afraid I would just go right through him.
"Long time, no see, Killer," he said with a familiar grin. He looked exactly the same as he had the last time I saw him alive, hair sticking up in every direction, loose, baggy jeans and a short-sleeved shirt, with an impish expression on his adorable face.
"You don't look any different," I said.
"I wouldn't. You on the other hand...you've grown up, Killian."
"I have?"
"In some ways you have, and in others you haven't."
"What do you mean?"
"You're not the same little boy I first met. You're much stronger, more mature. You've been through a lot and come out a better person because of it."
"But you said in some ways I haven't grown."
"You still don't know what you want."
"What I want?"
"The first time around you couldn't choose between Asher and Jake, you were even interested in Kane until you found out he was straight. Now, some of the characters have changed but you still don't know what you want. Is it Asher? Will? Micah?"
"How do you know all this?"
"I keep an eye on you."
"I'm not really talking to you, am I? I'm just dreaming?"
"Maybe."
"I think it is just a dream. I'm way to calm about it to not be a dream."
"If that makes it easier for you then yes, it's just a dream."
"Why are you here?"
"I dunno. I thought you might want to talk it over with someone."
"Talk about my love life with a ghost?"
"I'm just a dream, remember? This is your subconscious trying to work out your problems. So, do you love Asher?"
"Yes...I don't know. I thought I did."
"There were promises of forever once upon a time. What happened?"
"I don't know. We didn't talk. Maybe we weren't right for each other."
"Or maybe you both stopped trying."
"Did we?"
"You tell me."
"I think we did. The question is, is it too late to fix it or has there been too much water under the bridge?"
"Are you asking me?"
"You are the supernatural being here."
"Doesn't mean I get to supply you with answers you have to figure out for yourself. Besides, how would I know? I'm not omniscient."
"Yeah, well, I'm new at this whole talking to ghosts thing so you'll hafta forgive me if I don't know all the rules."
"No prob. So am I a dream or a ghost?"
"I haven't decided yet."
"Well, while you're deciding, what about Will?"
"What about him?"
"What was that all about tonight? Do you love him?"
"No! I mean, I care about him, he's my friend, but I'm not in love with him."
"Then I'd advise you to be careful or someone will just end up getting hurt."
"It was a one-time thing. It won't happen again."
"Can you be sure of that?'
"As sure as I can be about anything these days."
"And Micah?"
"I don't even know Micah."
"He'd like to get to know you."
"I don't know if I want to get to know him. I don't even know if I want to get back together with Asher yet. It wouldn't be fair to anyone involved if I started seeing someone else before I'm ready."
"Are you sure you aren't ready? Maybe it's what you need to move on."
"So I do need to move on? It's over with me and Asher?"
"Did I say that?"
"I thought..."
"I didn't say that."
"So it's not over?"
"I didn't say that either."
"What the point of being visited by someone from beyond the freakin grave if they aren't going to tell you anything useful!"
"You want easy answers, Kill, and it doesn't work like that. You have to figure this stuff out on your own."
"Why does everything have to be so difficult?"
The bedroom door swung open, blinding me momentarily with the bright light from the hall. As my vision cleared I saw Kane standing in the doorway uncertainly.
"Who're you talking to, Killian?" he asked hesitantly.
I looked to where Seth had been moments before but he was gone, in his place was a small pile of dirty clothes. I blinked in surprise for a few seconds then said in a small voice, "No one, just myself."
"Ohhhkay," Kane drawled. He came into the room and shut the door and began to undress for bed.
"Do you still miss Seth?" I asked him suddenly. He stopped with one leg out of his shorts and one still in and stared at me as if I'd lost my mind.
"Of course I do. I miss him all the time. I guess I don't think about it quite as much as I used to but I'm always wondering what it would have been like if he had lived. Where'd that come from?"
"I don't know...I was just dreaming about him I guess."
"Really? What did you dream?"
"Just that he was here and we were talking."
Kane gave me a funny look. "I dream that every once in awhile too."
"When you're upset or confused about something?" I asked.
"Yeah," he answered slowly.
I lowered myself back onto the bed and thought about that for a minute. "Weird," I said.
"It's probably just a coincidence," he said as he crawled into his own bed, although he sounded far from convinced.
"Yeah, I'm sure that's all it is," I agreed, equally skeptical.
I had a hard time falling back to sleep but eventually I did, but I didn't see Seth anymore that night.
Novak and I left for DC shortly after I arrived the next morning. After my restless night I slept most of the way. I awoke to find Novak parking in the lot of the hotel we were staying at. It was a mid-priced place, not a dump but not the Ritz either. We checked in and deposited our suitcases in the room and then set out to look for Rachel.
We found the address Novak had on her. It was a small, slightly neglected apartment building with a security door that you either had to have a code to or someone inside had to buzz you in. The ground floor windows had bars over them. At least they had that measure of security.
We found the button for Rachel's apartment and pushed it but we didn't get a response. We waited a minute, then Novak pushed it again, just as an older lady with a small collapsible shopping card came out the door. She watched us carefully and she pulled the door to behind her.
"Are you here to see Rachel?" she asked in a tremulous voice.
I looked up in surprise, wondering how she had known that, and then I realized she must have seen what number Novak was pushing.
"Rachel Shannon," Novak clarified.
"She's my neighbor but she's not in right now."
"Do you know when she'll be home? We really need to talk to her."
"Well, she's at work now I suppose. She usually gets home around five-thirty, six o'clock and checks in on me. She's such a nice girl. She does my shopping for me when I can't get out to do it myself. I don't know why she doesn't have a man, but maybe she just doesn't need one. So many young girls today don't, you know. Not like it was in years past."
"Do you know where she works? I'm an old family friend and I haven't seen her in years. She doesn't even know we're in town and I'd like to surprise her."
The woman eyed us suspiciously. "I've known Rachel for several years now and in all that time I don't believe she's had a single visitor."
"We lost touch, like I said, it's been years. I was living away but we're back in the area now so the first thing I wanted to do was look up Rachel."
She still wore a rather doubtful expression but she seemed a little more convinced. "Alright, but if she gets angry I've never even seen you two. She works up the street at the convenience store on the corner. Not much of a job for a young thing like her but she seems happy enough. I keep telling her she's going to get shot one of these days but she won't listen."
"Well, thank you so much for your help, but we'd better get going now," Novak said.
With a grunt she snapped open her shopping cart and rolled off down the street in the opposite direction of the way she'd said Rachel worked.
"Good," Novak mumbled, "At least she won't be hovering around to hear that our stories are different."
"What are we going to say to Rachel?" I asked as he started off at a fast clip in the direction the old woman had indicated. I had to almost run to keep up.
"The truth I think."
"Works for me," I said. I never was a very good liar and all these different stories were beginning to confuse me.
We found the convenience store Rachel's neighbor had told us about and went inside. It was a clean, well-stocked establishment, brightly lit and very pleasant. It seemed to me that Ms. Cohen aka Shannon could have done much worse for herself in the job department. After a quick glance around the store I took in Rachel Cohen. She was small-boned and thin and bore more than a passing resemblance to her son, Caleb. Or actually I guess Caleb looked like her. She had the same unruly light brown hair and deep sorrowful brown eyes.
She didn't pay much attention to us at first, assuming we were just customers. Novak made a bee-line for the counter.
"Hi, can I help you?" she asked brightly as we approached.
"I hope so," Novak answered. "Are you Rachel Shannon?"
Curiosity flickered in her eyes but no caution or fear as of yet. "Yes, that's me."
"Formerly Rachel Cohen?"
That caught her attention. Her eyes widened in fear and she looked around the store as if she was looking for the nearest exit.
"Mrs. Cohen, it's important that we speak to you about your husband and son."
"Who the hell are you?" she hissed.
"We're private investigators working on behalf of your son."
She looked confused now. "Caleb hired you? Why? To find me?"
"No, Caleb believes you are dead. That's what his father told him."
Rachel turned deathly pale and for a moment I thought she was going to pass out. "I...I guess that's better than the truth; that I just up and left him."
"Mrs. Cohen..."
"Please call me Ms. Shannon. I haven't been Mrs. Cohen in a very long time and I don't intend to start again now."
"Ok, Ms. Shannon, are you aware of the fact that Ira Cohen is dead?"
Her eyes flew open wide again, "No, I had no idea."
"Don't you watch the news?"
"No, I don't. And why would Ira's death make the news. He was a narrow-minded, mean, son-of-a..." She faded out as she seemed to remember where she was. The only other customer in the store was an elderly Asian gentleman who was fondling the tomatoes. He wasn't paying any attention to us.
"Ira was murdered."
Once again, she looked surprised at first but then a funny little smile played at the corner of her mouth. "Can't say it surprises me all that much, really," she said, "After all, I never understood why someone hadn't killed him long before now."
"The police have arrested Caleb for the murder," Novak added, watching her face carefully.
For a second I thought she hadn't heard him, then she said, "Did he do it?"
"That's what we're trying to find out, ma'am."
She looked around the store again. "Do you think we could talk about this later, after I get off?"
"At your apartment? We know where it is."
"You do?" she asked with some alarm.
"We're PI's, remember? We're paid to know things like that."
"Fine, I get off at six, come by around six-thirty. I'll talk to you then."
"How do I know you'll be there?"
"I will be."
"Make sure you are or we just may have to call the police."
It was obvious from her expression that was not what she wanted. Novak produced a card and handed it to her.
"That has my cell phone number on it; if something comes up, make sure you call us on it."
He turned and left and I trailed out after him.
"Do you really trust her?" I asked him as soon as we were outside.
"Not a bit," he said without hesitation. "That's why we're going to pull a stakeout."
"My first stakeout!" I said excitedly.
"Yeah, be enthusiastic now because you'll be bored senseless by the end of it."
"Where are we going to be? Are we getting the car?"
"No, we don't need the car, in the city that would be more obvious that not. Let's see what we have around here."
We ended up parked at a small restaurant across the street that had a shaded outdoor deck with a great view of the store. Novak settled in with several newspapers and told me to keep an eye on the store.
Several hours later, after Novak had drank about a pot of coffee and I'd had more soda than anyone should ever drink in one afternoon, not to mention more than one dirty look from the waiter, Rachel finally emerged from the store. I glanced at my watch. She was early, thank God. It was only three o'clock.
"She's on the move," I told Novak. He lowered the paper he was reading, the fifth since we'd sat down and I'm pretty sure he's been asleep some of that time, and looked at me.
"On the move, huh? You really watch too many movies."
He dropped the paper on the table along with enough cash to cover our beverage bills and a generous top and we slipped out a safe distance behind Rachel. She was moving quickly and darting glances all around her. She didn't seem to notice though. She ran directly back to her apartment building, let herself in and shut the door behind her.
"I think she was trying to get the jump on us," Novak mused thoughtfully.
"But you threatened her with the police."
"If she was gone with a two hour head start there isn't much they could do. Especially seeing as how she hasn't really done anything wrong so they wouldn't really be interested in her anyway. I was just hoping to scare her into cooperating."
"It doesn't look like it worked."
"Thank you for that astute observation."
He walked over the call buttons and pushed the one next to Rachel's.
"Hello," came the thin voice of the old woman we had talked to earlier.
"Hello, ma'am," Novak answered. "We talked earlier; I'm the friend of Rachel Shannon's? We missed her at work because we decided to run out and get her a gift and it seems she got off early. We'd really like to surprise her so do you think you could buzz us in?"
"I don't know..."
"It would really mean a lot."
Her sigh was audible even over the intercom, but the door buzzed and there as a loud click as the lock disengaged.
"Thank you," he called out as he caught the door and we slipped in. We took the stairs up to Rachel's floor since the elevator didn't exactly inspire confidence. We found Rachel's door and Novak knocked loudly.
After a few seconds Rachel's voice came from the other side of the door. "Who's there?"
"It's Shane Novak, Ms. Shannon. We spoke earlier. I think you'd better open the door."
There was a long pause and then the sound of a safety chain being slid open and a deadbolt being turned. The door opened to reveal a very frightened looking Rachel Shannon, nee Cohen.
"May we come in?" Novak asked.
She gave a helpless shrug and stepped back to allow us in. The apartment was small and spartanly furnished. I suspected the furniture came with the rooms and there was almost no personal effects to make it look lived in. In fact, it looked like a model apartment, one that might be shown to prospective renters. Then I noticed a cardboard box sitting on the floor in front of the sofa with several items tossed haphazardly into it. Ms. Shannon had been packing.
I looked over at Novak and saw that he had also noticed the box.
"Were you leaving before we had our talk, Rachel?" he said softly.
She shrugged again.
"You've kept things light so it would be easy to move on at a moments notice. How many times did you move before you became complacent and settled in here?"
"Look, I don't know why you are looking for me. I haven't seen Ira or Caleb since Caleb was just a toddler. They are a part of my past, I did what I had to do and it's behind me."
"Is it?" I said, startling both Novak and Rachel with the edge in my voice. I hadn't spoken once in her presence but suddenly I found myself furious. "I wouldn't have thought it would be that easy to forget your own child like that, the child you abandoned to a life of abuse and misery."
Rachel looked as if she had been slapped and Novak looked like he wanted to slap me. Rachel responded first.
"It wasn't like that. You weren't there; you couldn't know what it was like. He beat me every day. I knew he would kill me if I didn't leave. He'd never laid a hand on Caleb. I didn't think I could support him and me, I thought it would be better for him if I left him behind. I didn't know Ira would hurt him too."
"Easier for him or easier for you?"
"Enough," Novak interrupted sharply. "This isn't why we are here."
"Why are you here?" Rachel asked suddenly on the offensive.
"The better question is: why were you running? What do you have to hide?"
"I wasn't running."
"Then why the sudden packing?"
"I-you don't know what it's like to live in constant fear of your life. To never know if he's going to find you and...and...kill you."
"We told you he's dead, you shouldn't have to worry about that anymore."
"How do I know you are telling the truth? Maybe he hired you to find me."
While they were talking I had walked over to the box and glanced into it. Lying near the top, partly hidden by an old photo of a little boy I assumed to be Caleb, was an newspaper clipping. The headline read: "Local Boy Accused of Killing Father."
I bent over and picked it up. Caleb's yearbook photo accompanied the piece.
"Or maybe you'd like to try again," I said as I held up the article.