Possess (15 page)

“What is it,
Agatha
?” He asked through gritted teeth.

“Some big drunk guy downstairs is getting all belligerent after I cut him off. Figured you would want to take care of it before he starts breaking things.” I could hear the smirk in her voice.

“Fine. I’ll be down in a minute.” His eyes bore into her. “Next time try knocking.”

“Next time you’re trying to get it on, try locking the damn door!” She shot back and quickly slammed the door behind her as Nolan flung a cushion in her direction. With Aggie gone, he turned his attention back to me, his eyes a mixture of lust and frustration.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” He raised an eyebrow, no doubt hopeful that we could pick up where we left off. With the haze he’d cast over me now gone, I wasn’t sure if I should, but I still nodded, smiling up at him. He awkwardly adjusted himself, then headed for the door. I did my best to wait for him, but a few minutes after the door shut, I could feel my eyelids drooping, exhausted from work, from Alannah’s death, and from everything that seemed to be happening since I had moved to Midtown. I just wanted to sleep.

What’s in a name?

I was relieved to find Nolan was still asleep when I awoke the next morning. I quietly pulled off the blanket that he must have laid over me while I was asleep, careful not to make noise as I sat up. I braced myself and placed my foot on the floor before slowly pulled myself to a standing position. My knee was still swollen and stiff, but I could manage walking back home. I needed to get back to Remy, he had been alone all night. With regard to the slumbering Irishman in the other room, I wasn’t so sure I could face him after what had happened last night.

I slid my jacket on and slung my bag over my shoulder before tip-toeing towards the stairway. Nolan's sleeping form was visible through the gap of his open bedroom door, sprawled out on his back as his chest rose and fell in a slow tempo. As I watched him, an urge tugged at me, telling me to go to him. To slip under the covers, curl up against him, and let the feelings of want wash away any other worries once again.
If only it were that easy.

Slowly, I backed away from his door and reminded myself that I needed to go. I had to find out what I could about Brody's killer. I couldn’t stay here, hiding from the grim and overwhelming task at hand. As of right now, I had no idea where to even start. With everything else going on, I didn't have time to think about what transpired between me and Nolan last night.
It’s time to go, Harley.
Without any more hesitation, I took my leave, hurrying down the steps and slipping out the back of the kitchen downstairs.

The only thing that kept my feet moving up the steps as I reached my apartment building was the fact that Remy was waiting for me. I didn’t want to be anywhere near the place. As soon as my keys jingled in the lock I could hear the familiar “mew” on the other side. I smiled, relieved to hear him sounding like his usual content self. He greeted me eagerly, bouncing side to side playfully as I placed my bag down. He didn't appear to be any worse for wear after being left alone all night, but I made sure to put down food and water first and gave him a nice scratch behind his ears. He purred loudly as he buried his face in a bowl of wet food. After a few minutes of sitting there watching him, I pulled myself away, limping slightly to my bedroom.

I glanced over at the mirror. My face looked disjointed through the cracks and breaks, but no green eyes stared back at me as I searched the shattered reflection.
Still just me
. I sat down on the foot of my bed slipping my feet out of my boots before lying on my back.
Now what, Harley? Where do we start?
  I drew a blank as I stared up at the ceiling. The only thing I knew now, was that the killer might be a cop. Either that or he had contacts with one. Still, that didn’t really narrow my list of suspects. Not by a long shot.

“Dammit Brody, don’t you have anything I can go on?” The frustration in my voice came out to nobody in particular as I lay there. Who knew if he could even hear me? Alannah said he could, but it wasn’t like he could say anything back. I closed my eyes and tried to clear my head. I tried to think of anything that might help. But as soon as my eyes were closed my mind wandered to Nolan. My thoughts drifted back to the warmth of his body against mine, the feel of his lips as they pulled at mine. 
Ugh, that is not going to help anything.
I tried to shake him from my thoughts, but it had been a long time since someone had kissed me like that. Since someone had held me like that. With Jackson it always felt like it was about him. His pleasure, his strength, his bravado. When Nolan kissed me, it was like he wanted to become a part of me.

“No! Stop it.” I sat up as a shiver ran through me. I had to work with the man today, I could not be thinking like this. Even if I had enjoyed it, even if I wanted desperately to overwrite my last experience with Jackson with a much more pleasurable one, I could
not
let things go any further. There was too much I needed to focus on right now and a romp in the sack with my boss was not one of them. If only my body would listen to reason. I could still smell that same citrusy scent clinging to my clothes as I breathed in.
No, that certainly isn’t helping either.

Pulling myself off the bed I trudged toward the bathroom and discarded the Nolan-scented shirt. I stopped, hesitating in the doorway for a moment as my eyes stared down at the tub, imagining Brody laying there. Despite the last couple of times in here scaring the crap out of me, I finally knew the reasons behind what happened. The message Brody was trying to convey to me.

Still, my hand shook a little as I twisted the faucet on.  “I would really appreciate it if you don’t scare the shit out of me, Brody.” Thankfully, he seemed to have listened, but I was still on high alert, unable to relax as the water ran over me. I did get my mind of Nolan though, and that was what I needed.

As I stepped out of the shower, I could hear Remy racing from the kitchen and darting across the living room. Where that kitten put all that food I had no idea, but it seemed to have a direct effect on his energetic outbursts. After drying off and putting on a clean pair of jeans and my work shirt, I peeked out of the bathroom to see Remy trotting excitedly from the other direction as if he were chasing something. I followed him as he scrambled around the corner into my bedroom, his plump posterior nearly getting caught as he wriggled underneath one of the nightstands.

“Remy, what on earth are you going after?” I attempted to kneel down but it was no use with a bum knee. A moment later, Remy's backside wriggled back into view and he tore off back in the direction of the living room carrying a scrap of paper in his mouth. “Remy! Come back here!” I hobbled after him, following the trail of jubilant mew’s as his paws pounced against the floor. I found him sitting back on his haunches, pawing at the air feverishly, attempting to swat at something I couldn't see. He dropped the paper beside him; it was no longer of interest now that he had something else to hold his attention. 

As I watched Remy, I remembered what Alannah said about being more open. My mother always told me that animals, especially cats, were more open to spirits. Watching him now, Remy was acting just as he was the day I found him sitting on the counter. I slowly sat on the couch across from him. Whatever or
whoever
he was playing with, I couldn't see.

“Brody?” I felt a chill run up my spine, but nobody answered. I turned my attention to the piece of paper, a yellowed newspaper clipping. I flipped it over from the advertisement that faced up to find myself staring at Claire. I looked back at Remy in disbelief, then back to Claire's image.

The headline read “21 Year old Woman Slain, Body Left In Woods Behind Midtown University”. I scanned the article, but there was no mention of suspects, only a description of how she died. Blunt force trauma to the skull with signs of strangulation. Claire Stevens had been raped, tortured, and beaten in what the paper deemed was “One of the most horrific murders Midtown has seen in thirty years.” Her body had been buried in the snow for a week before she was found by a search party. 

That's going to be you
, a voice in the back of my head taunted me. My stomach lurched at the thought of her icy hand gripping my wrist. My eyes continued down the article, scanning for any information that might help. 
Nothing
. I let out a heavy sigh and dropped my hand back onto on the coffee table before returning my attention to Remy. He was watching me with two wide blue eyes, tilting his head curiously to the side. He suddenly reared up and jumped at my hand, swatting and pawing at my thumb where I was still gripping the yellowed newsprint.

“What? You want the paper? Maybe you can figure out what he’s trying to tell me.” I smiled as Remy continued, relentless and determined to pry my fingers away. After a moment, I released the paper from my grasp and he slowly backed away, plopping down on his rump and staring at me once more. If only he could just tell me what Brody was trying to show me. Just for show I glanced over at the article one more time, running my eyes from top to bottom. They stopped on two names I hadn't seen before, scribbled in red ink on the corner that I had been holding onto. 

Sophia Clarice Rollins

Ashley Tate- 1989

There was no mention of an Ashley or a Sophia in the article, but if Brody was bringing this to my attention then there had to be something he wanted me to find out about them. Either that or the crazy cat lady thing was starting to kick in. I didn't have to be at the pub for a few hours. There would be plenty of time to stop off at the library and look them up. I glanced over at Remy once more. I didn’t want to leave him alone again, but he didn't seem too concerned with my presence anymore. He’d found a piece of carpet sticking up that now held his interest.  His content purring assured me he would be fine with some food and water left out until I got home from work.

My teeth chattered as I made the trek to the library. The sky was a dark gray, with no hint of sunshine for so early in the day. 
Not cold enough for snow
, I noted. The tenseness in my shoulders eased slightly at this small reassurance and I approached the expansive steps that led up to the library’s brick edifice. An uneasy feeling still churned deep in the pit of my stomach, reminding me I was up against an impossible deadline, or that someone was out there watching me from the shadows waiting for me to fail. I let out a shiver as my hand gripped the door handle and looked back toward the street with a suspicious eye before heading for the computer lab.

The interior of the library was just as impressive as the exterior with its high curved ceilings, marble floors, and endless rows of books. If I made it through the next couple of weeks, I would have to remind myself to get a library card. 
Definitely would give me some variety from the flowery romance novels at the apartment
. I looked over the well-worn spines that stared back at me as I made my way to the back of the library. Some were old leather with gold stamping shining back at me, others were covered in laminated dust jackets, marked appropriately in the Dewey Decimal System, and even more were aged paperbacks, worn around the edges with numerous cracks running down their spines. In short, I was in heaven.  

In the back of the library, there were a couple rows of PC's, none currently in use. I sat down at the closest one to me, pulling up a search engine in the browser.  I searched for the first name, “Sophia Clarice Rollins”, and as I combed through the search results, I found myself once again staring at Claire. Confused, I looked down at the newspaper article again. Not the same name. It didn’t seem to make sense to me. I looked back up at the computer screen, studying the information about Sophia. She was from Abbeville, a town that wasn’t far from where I’d lived in Louisiana.

Even more intrigued, I typed in “Ashley Tate, 1989.” A few seconds later, search results came up. Nothing significant seemed to jump out at me as I scrolled down the page. Not giving up, I clicked onto the second page of results. 

What am I looking for, Brody? 
My eyes anxiously scanned the screen as I slowly scrolled down once more. Then there it was. A news article, archived from 1989. The headline read “Local Woman Found Dead On Bank Of Vermilion River.” My heart stopped for a second as I gawked at the headline. 
Ashley Tate was from Louisiana too?
 I was even more perplexed with this connection and it took me a few seconds to gather myself before I could click into the article.

“August 15, 1989, Ashley Tate, 18 years old from Abbeville, LA, was found dead in the Vermilion River Sunday afternoon after being reported missing one week earlier. A couple canoeing spotted Ms. Tate's body floating near the bank and notified authorities. The cause of death appears to have been strangulation, the murder weapon still around Ms. Tate's throat when authorities located her body. Ms. Tate's body also showed extensive signs of both physical and sexual abuse. Police are continuing to conduct a thorough investigation of the area and are asking anyone with any information to contact the Abbeville Police Department immediately.”

I read the article several times, trying to make sense of it. My eyes stared intently at Ashley Tate's image, a posed picture from her senior year of high school. The bright blue eyes and long dark hair were hauntingly familiar. I felt nauseous and lightheaded as I remembered Claire’s face from my dreams. Just like Ashley, just like me.

Bright blue eyes, long dark hair, straight out of Louisiana.

Strangled, beaten, raped.

That was what Brody had wanted me to see. Their deaths weren’t just similar, their deaths were related. Somehow I knew they were a grim glimpse of my future if I didn’t connect all the pieces. The acrid taste of bile burnt my throat as I sat there looking back and forth between these two girls. I felt the sickness threatening to escape.
Keep it together, Harley, this isn’t helping anything
. I took in a deep breath, closing my eyes, waiting until the hectic tempo of my heartbeat calmed to a slow trot. A few moments later I opened my eyes, gathered my things, and leaned forward to shut off the monitor. The screen flickered to black just in time for me to notice one more thing.