Shadows Fall (8 page)

He leaned forward across the table, opened his mouth as if he might answer me. Then his phone rang. We both jumped as
Carry On Wayward Son
rang out from his pocket. I laughed at us and he smiled, pulling his phone out and checking the caller I.D. “It’s my partner. I have to take this. Will you stay?”

“Sure, I’ve got nowhere to be. I kinda work here,” I assured him with a wink, and watched him answer the call.

“Hey Sonny… They’re ready for us? No, no I’m just getting coffee… Sure, yes. Okay, I’ll meet you there.”

As he ended the call, Charlie gave me a weary, regretful look. “I’ve got to go back to work. Our latest victim’s family is ready to be interviewed.”

“Charlie, if I’m guessing correctly, you’ve been up all night. Shouldn’t you get some rest first?”

He sighed, already pushing back his chair to stand. “I definitely could use some, but it will have to wait—because they can’t. I don’t want to leave them twisting in the wind, waiting for the moment we’ll barge in and remind them of their loss all over again. We need to get this over with so they can have some peace.”

“You’re a good man, Charlie,” I said, taking a risk by leaning over and kissing him on the cheek.

He didn’t run away. He didn’t even flinch. He blushed furiously, but the heated look in his eyes told me he appreciated the gesture—and possibly might be interested in exploring my motivations later.

Taking one last look at me, he headed for the door. “I’ll see you later, Titus.” I had no doubt that he meant it.

“Take care, Charlie. Be careful.”

Chapter Seven

I always hated walking home alone at night on the deserted city streets. But I couldn’t ask my employees to do something I was scared to do myself, so I’d taken the late shift. In the dark, the wandering dead became nothing but sliding shadows and hissing whispers. The phrase 'jumping at shadows' is apt, because there were
things
in the shadows.

Those things slithered around me, feeling much more insidious in the murky stillness of the nighttime city. Hands in my pockets, I gripped my four inch pocket knife that I always carried. Fat lot of good it would do me against
mule
, but there was a killer on the loose after all.

It was ill-advised, but I still blasted my music inside my headphones. I didn't want to hear what the spirits had to say in gloam. I mostly kept my eyes glued to the sidewalk in front of me—
don't stand out, don't make eye contact, make yourself invisible
—but I cast glances all around my periphery to keep aware of my surroundings.

A tall, skinny man approached, heading toward me on the opposite side of the sidewalk. He wore dark jeans and a black hoodie with the hood pulled up, casting his face in shadow. I found that odd, as it was one of those warm, humid nights the Southern springtime was famous for. His dark eyes glittered at me from the empty void where his face should be, obviously a trick of the poor lighting.

As he passed me, he clipped my shoulder, throwing me off balance. I wanted to turn around and yell, but self-preservation intervened. I could probably take him in hand-to-hand, but he could be packing for all I knew. I put my head down and kept walking.

I yelped when a spirit appeared in front of me—unlike what movies and television showed, they didn’t usually just
pop
up. He was a young man, probably about my age, with pale skin, black hair, and eyes so blue they seemed otherworldly… and he was gorgeous. I blinked, hoping he’d disappear. No such luck.

He turned his head towards the building beside us that was being renovated, the entrance to which was blocked off with caution tape. Stretching out his left arm, he pointed to it, and I could see bone-deep gouges in his wrist and forearm. He glanced at me again.
Look.

“Not tonight, okay?” I mumbled, trying to step around him. In the blink of an eye, he disappeared and rematerialized right in front of me.
See!

“No,” I said, getting angry. I walked straight through him. Usually when I passed through a spirit, I just felt a slick, oily cold sliding through my body—but this burned like a vat of acid had been dumped over me. I screamed and fell to my knees.

He appeared in front of me again. As I looked up at him, still reeling from the pain, it occurred to me how new he must be. When a
mulo
first left its body, it still maintained some measure of its humanity. It was able to take and maintain a corporeal form more easily than the older spirits, and the ability faded with each day since its passing.

He pointed again and this time, his eyes took on a pleading quality. I could practically feel his anguish.

Struggling to my feet, I brushed myself off and sighed. “Fine, I’ll look. But then you need to leave me the hell alone. I ducked under the caution tape strung across the doorless entry of the run-down building. It was almost pitch black inside, but I got a vague sense of sawhorses and scaffolds. Tip-toeing for some inconceivable reason, I made my way into some kind of vestibule or foyer. I didn’t notice anything that this
mulo
would be so desperate for me to see, but I couldn’t really see much at all.

My foot hit something solid and I was afraid to go any further into the dark. Who knew what kind of hazards were strewn about the construction site. I dug out my iPhone and swiped it to turn on the flashlight app. A bright light shone out of the camera flash and illuminated the dusty room in front of me—and the man lying all too still on the floor.

I screamed for the second time in five minutes, stumbled back against a plastic-draped scaffolding and dropped my phone. I assumed it landed screen up, because the room was suddenly plunged back into darkness. With my skin crawling, I felt around on the floor for the hard case. Instead, I grabbed a cold leg.

“Holy God!”
I shouted, scrambling backwards and sideways until my back hit a wall. My pulse pounded and my head was spinning with the urge to pass the fuck out, either from fright or hyperventilation. My muscles were on lockdown, frozen into that gray area between fight-or-flight, but I knew I had to find my phone so I could get the hell out of there.

And the body… I’d have to call someone. I poked around with the toe of my shoe, carefully avoiding the area of blackness where I thought the body was. Finally I felt the phone. I dragged it across the floor with my foot until I was able to pick it up. Everything was illuminated once again. “Oh thank God,” I said.

But once there was light, I could see him again. His head was turned to face away from me, but I knew that it was the guy from outside. Obviously he’d wanted me to find his body. It was laid out like a sacrifice, arms stretched out to reveal the deep cuts on his arms. I shivered. My brain was finally catching up to the situation, and I realized it was entirely possible that the killer could still be here.

I quickly got to my feet and lurched toward the dim light pooling at the doorway. As soon as I was out of there, I pressed my back up against the cool façade of the building and panted to catch my breath. I see the dead all the time, but I’d never actually seen a dead
body
before. I wasn’t sure what to do; the only thing I could think was
call Charlie
.

With shaking hands, I pulled up his number on my phone—I may have entered it from the business card he gave me after chasing Jay out of the shop. I pressed send and he picked up on the first ring.

“Hale.”

“Ch-Charlie?”

“Who’s this?”

“Titus.” My voice was shaking and I was embarrassingly close to tears. “I need help.”

“Tell me where you are and I’ll be right there.”

I rattled off my general location, already soothed by the sound of his voice, the confidence in it. “Please hurry,” I said.

“Stay put, I’m on my way.”

* * * *

When Charlie pulled up in his unmarked black Charger, I was sitting on the cracked concrete with my knees pulled up to my chest. I was still shaking, though for once even the dead were silent. Either that, or my traumatized mind couldn’t process any more information than it already was, and I was blocking them out.

Charlie crouched down in front of me, took my chin in his hand, and tilted my face up. His eyes roved back and forth as if he were checking every inch of me for injuries. At first, I couldn’t meet his eyes; I was still seeing the dead guy floating across my vision.

“Titus,” he said softly. He waited until I made eye contact before he spoke again. “Can you tell me what happened?”

I shook my head. I wasn’t ready to speak; I don’t think I could’ve if I’d tried. Instead, I pointed to the door of the empty building, much like the young
mulo
had. Charlie glanced over and a look that I couldn’t interpret passed over his face. I got the feeling he didn’t want to see what was inside there anymore than I had.

He stood and walked to his car to retrieve a heavy black Maglite, then headed for the building. Stopping just outside the door, he looked back over at me. “Stay right there, okay? I’ll be right back.”

I made a sort of whimpering noise and kept on shivering—I wasn’t going anywhere without a big strong cop to take me there. Obviously taking the sound as my agreement, Charlie disappeared into the dreaded building.

It seemed like ages before he came back out again, but a glance at my watch told me that it had really only been about five minutes. He emerged looking pale and disconsolate. Seeing that look on his face only scared me more. It told me that this was likely another victim of his serial killer.

He came over and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, helping me to stand. Then, miracle of miracles, he wound his other arm around me as well—in public and everything—and pulled me into a crushing embrace. It was as if he thought he could stop me shivering if he only held me tight enough, not that I was complaining.

He smelled so good and felt so warm, I couldn’t resist the urge to snuggle into that deep chest, just for a bit. I may have imagined feeling his warm breath in my hair, but I chose to think I didn’t. After a few blissful seconds, he carefully set me away from him.

“I’ve got to call this in, Titus.”

I nodded, even though my heart lurched at the thought of him going off to do his cop thing and leaving me alone. He walked a few feet away so that I couldn’t hear his murmured phone call. When he hung up, he went to his car and said a few things into the radio that I couldn’t interpret.

“My partner Sonny is going to come here and observe while the crime scene techs collect evidence. I’ll stay with you,” he said when he returned to me. He waited until I looked at him. “Officially… I’m going to accompany you to make your statement. After we do that, I’ll take you home.”

“Th-thank you, Charlie,” I said through my chattering teeth. My whole body felt ice-cold, despite the thick, warm air that surrounded me. “I really don’t want to be alone right now.”

I shivered for a whole different reason when he put his arm back around me and ushered me to the car.

“I know,” he said. “You won’t have to be. Let’s go sit in the cruiser… we can leave as soon as the uniforms get here.”

Nodding, I let him lead me to the sleek looking car. I climbed inside and sank down into the plush leather. I turned my head and studied Charlie’s profile as he typed something into his on-board computer. Just being near him calmed me and as soon as my body relaxed, I went into full adrenaline crash and promptly fell asleep.

Chapter Eight

I wasn’t sure what I’d expected the police station to look like, but the room Charlie led me to could have been any old office building in the city. The periwinkle blue walls and beige linoleum flooring were disturbingly benign, considering the kinds of people who must have been brought in and out of there on a daily basis.

The room had an open design, with several pairs of half-cubicles dotting the floor. I imagined it must be a command center of some kind, because it was a flurry of activity—comings and goings, conversations, keyboards clacking, and soda cans popping. The cacophony of noise too much for my overtaxed brain to process, and I swayed against Charlie.

He took me by the elbow and showed me to one of the desks, pulling out a chair for me into which I gratefully sank down. He sat down in the wheeled chair that had been parked in front of the computer and rolled it over to face me. “Titus,” he said softly.

I continued staring at my hands. I didn’t want to look up and see the frenzy that surrounded us because for me, the number of presences in any given room was double what others saw, and twice as noisy.

“Titus, please look at me.”

Raising my eyes, I concentrated on his. I noticed the little crow’s feet at the corners, the brown flecks within the green of his irises that caused that hazel coloring, and they centered me in the swirling void of the station. Taking a deep breath, I tried to hold the tears back. The boy’s death was tragic, but I hadn’t known him. The tears wanted to come because of the stress, the adrenaline crash, and the overwhelming feeling of apprehension that had settled upon me. Nothing good would come of this, I was sure.

“I need you to take me through what happened one more time, for the record,” he said in that soothing voice of his. I was so lulled by it that I almost didn’t notice him pulling out a tape recorder.