The Forsaken (9 page)

“It isn’t a sin to talk, Jude.”

“Not a big talker,
Rachel.
”

“Is there something about me that turns you inside out or something? You’re suffocating me.”

He slyly replied, “Crack a window.”

“You see, that’s what I’m talking about. You’re like a whirlwind of bad attitudes. Since the moment I met you, you’ve been a headcase.”

“That’s good. Study me real nice. Real thorough. Figure me out.” Jude choked down a mocking laugh.

“Are you ever gonna grow up? I’m not dropping this case. Even if I could leave, I think it’d be more fun to stick around and wear you down.”

“Don’t worry, you’ve made all the right plays. You’re well on your way to being his little treasured pet.”

“Is that what this is all about? You think I want your position? I came here for Mike. He and my father were close. He asked me to be a part of this case, to help you. Why is that so hard for you to believe?”

“It isn’t,” Jude spat. “It’s just stupid. I’m not some scared-stiff rookie. No one’s gotta come and save me.”

“It must be hard to be the only one at the top of that tower. Must be lonely.”

“Being lonely is better than getting knifed in the back.”

“Wow. I have tried to open up, and in less than a day, you’ve attempted to run me through the mud every chance you get. You don’t wanna talk, fine by me.”

Rachel tore at a hangnail. He knew he was making a significant impression on her. He smiled inwardly and turned the radio up a notch. She then lowered it. But a moment passed, and he raised it again.

“What is it with you? You hate everybody. You trust no one, not even the people who try to help you. Are those sessions doing
anything
?”

Jude paused. He never expected his sessions with Dr. Irons to be brought up. “How do you know—”

“People like to talk. It’s amazing what your colleagues are willing to share with the new girl.”

“Just proves me right,” Jude hissed. “Everybody chews on everybody. I hate it. Makes me sick. Bunch of vermin crawlin’ around in their own vomit.”

“Well, at least it’s finally safe to say with absolute certainty that he loathes all life, not just independent women, Rachel,” she said, rolling down her window.

“You refer to yourself in the third person?”

“When the occasion calls for it.”

“You had no right digging into my life like that.”

“Relax. You can hardly call it
digging into your life
. I just asked a few questions around the offices. Didn’t know I’d find such a colorful past.”

Jude’s jaw felt tight. He slung it back and forth during the tension of the moment. Half of him wanted to speed the car up then slow it down by slamming the brakes, but he didn’t want her to get hurt, only to shut up. Shut up and leave him in peace to think about the case, to think about how to fix his life. He had been well on his way to putting his world back in orbit before she dropped in.

“I don’t care what the chief says. This is my case.”

“I’m your partner.”

“On paper.” He was efficient at cutthroat replies. “And for the time being, we’ll play copacetic. But as long as you’re with me, you follow my lead. I’m not gonna get hurt because of you.”

“Skipping right to the break up, huh?” she said. “Nice.”

“None of this is permanent. Mike’s having a mid-life crisis or something. Thinks he can give his life meaning by taking in strays.”

“I forgot to add that you’re miserable and self-righteous too,” she seethed. “It’s no mystery you’re all alone.”

“I just don’t walk around with false hope. That ring looks expensive. What made him run?”

Rachel paused and toyed with the metal.

“Not so fun in reverse, is it? Please, it wasn’t that hard. It was on the other hand yesterday. Not to mention you’ve been toying with it since we got in the car.”

Jude steered the car down Hollow Lane. He knew this area. They were close to the projects she spoke of.

“Bravo,” Rachel said.

“And with a
catch
like you, I’d wager there’s more to that story.”

“Not really,” she replied, a little embarrassed. “You know, you don’t have to break your heart a thousand times to learn that it’s fragile.”

“Sound like an expert. How many times did it take?”

“Twice.” She hid her hands, and he could tell she wanted tears to cleanse her. “That’s all.”

As the car rolled atop the asphalt, Jude found himself studying the soul of this place. He didn’t have to search hard. It lived all around the space where they drove and where the one-day victims lingered. It crawled inside the children playing hopscotch when they should’ve been in school. It waltzed through the teenage mothers breastfeeding on their un-swept porches. It slept with the two wandering men exchanging “lunch bags.” It was a starved, forgotten spirit.

Rachel rolled up her window. Jude noticed her discomfort immediately. He felt sorry for her all of a sudden. It was like she was experiencing the darkness for the first time. He knew because he had felt the same too, once.

12

“LOOKS CURSED,” RACHEL SIGHED.

Jude studied the street graffiti and obvious neighborhood neglect. He knew all too well that city complexes lived and breathed and watched souls come and go with disdain and apathy. This environment was so similar to the battles Jude warred with all his life.

The buildings reached high into the limitless blue realm above their steel surfaces, with adjacent units marking the territory that stretched several hundred meters in either direction. He imagined the wonder this place might have been, the magnificence it perhaps once possessed. It was a member, a very real member, of things left behind, of duties time had abandoned.

“This is it,” Jude sighed.

Rachel stepped out of the car with him and followed, attempting to avoid various pothole puddles and pavement divots. A heavy wind tossed newspaper scraps from sidewalks to the crooked telephone posts. Jude looked up and saw used sneakers dangling around spiny cable wire. Yeah, he knew the territory. A few years back, he’d been brought here. Not to find a witness but to find his brother, beneath these same black threads.

“What number are we lookin’ for?” he asked.

“Four eighty-nine,” Rachel responded.

When they walked by an old man with a cane, Jude felt something. He suddenly wanted to reach for his gun. What was it? Where did this fear come from? Jude noticed that the old man appeared to be little more than shadow carved out of the late morning light. Black shades hid what might have been vein-filled, white eyes, and it was clear that the cane’s purpose was balance and guidance because the man was blind. Cigarette smoke engulfed his face charcoal skin. What was strange was that the blind man was neither confused nor unaware, but he seemed to sense the presence of created things around him. Jude kept his gun holstered, but the chills racing up his back decided to stick around.

The faint hum of an ice cream truck jingled in the far-off distance. After scanning the projects, he and Rachel walked into one of the units.

For a long moment he forgot to blink. The sensation was blistering through him. He didn’t like it. He led the slow ascension up the flight of stairs, and they didn’t stop moving until they reached the fourth floor.

“It’s filthy, that’s for sure,” Rachel mumbled. “How could people live like this?”

“Never been to the projects?” Jude replied.

“Yes, I have,” she bit back. “But this one’s…different.”

Jude paced the hallways. “Yeah.”

“Most of the numbers are scratched off,” Rachel added, touching several of the doors before moving on.

Jude suddenly came to a stop. “This one.” He knocked, but there was no answer.

“Nobody’s home?” Rachel offered. “Maybe you were right. Maybe this was stupid. A setup or—”

“Shh,” Jude said, pressing his index finger to his lips. He then pointed to the door’s bottom slit. A shadow moved on the other side, and there were sounds. “Hear that?”

Rachel put her ear to the surface and listened closely. As she did, a neighbor opened her door and began asking questions. Jude flashed his badge and told her to get lost.

“Did you hear it?” he asked, grunting as Rachel rolled her disapproving eyes. “What? The old hag was getting on my last nerve.”

“Who isn’t?”

“There’s someone in there.” Jude knocked again. “Hello? This is Detective Foster. My partner and I just wanna ask you a few questions. Can you let us in?”

“Partner, huh?” she said with an arched brow.

“Just playing by the rules,” Jude said, nostrils flinching. “Listen, we heard you moving around in there. Let us talk to you. Well play nice. Just a few questions, that’s all. Open the door.”

“He set me up!” came a scream from inside the apartment. “That mother—”

“Relax, sir,” Rachel tried. “Nobody’s here to arrest you. We got an anonymous phone call. Gave us a reason to swing by and talk. That’s all we want.”

“Beat it, you two,” the same neighbor ordered, stepping out of her apartment once more. This time she brought ammunition: a dirty broomstick and her television remote. “Just ’cause you’re cops don’t give you the right to come around here invadin’ people’s lives. You got a reason to be disturbin’ my neighbors and causin’ a ruckus?”

He grabbed the stick. “Ma’am, I’m three seconds away from breaking this stick off in your backside. Now crawl back into your hole and mind your own business.”

The woman slowly dragged her feet back into her apartment. She was too much of a distraction.

“Think he’s gonna run?” Rachel asked.

Jude cursed under his breath. “It’s gonna be one of those days, huh?”

Rachel grabbed her sidearm. He followed suit.

“This could get ugly, man. We need to talk to you. Last chance. Open this door, or I’ll invite myself in!”

Rachel’s back hugged the dingy wall. “Are we really gonna do this?”

“Gave him a chance.”

“We don’t have a warrant, Jude.”

He ignored her and swung his foot up into the door. The center splintered with a loud noise. He stepped back and repeated the motion. Then he shut his eyes and tore open the door using his right shoulder. Wood fragments sprayed the floor. “That isn’t gonna feel right for a week,” he moaned.

The dim room reeked of marijuana. Unwashed boxer shorts hung over a ripped armchair, and a bag of potato chips lay crumpled and unfinished on the coffee table.

Rachel scanned the rest of the apartment quickly while Jude listened for the sound of flapping blinds and an open window. “He’s gonna run!” he screamed, following the man leaping from fire escape to fire escape down below. It would only be a few short moments before he hit the ground. “Rachel, get to the bottom before he does,” he ordered. Immediately, she fled out the doorway and headed for the stairs.

Jude placed one foot out after the other and leapt onto the rickety fire escape. One wrong step and he knew it was over. Panic climbed into his throat. “Don’t run!” he screamed.

But he was ripped from the moment and taken back a few nights. The kid. A runner just like this one. But no gun this time. Just heavy breathing and a fear of falling fast toward a concrete grave.

The runner made another leap, constantly looking up to find Jude’s location, no doubt estimating how long he had before the bottom came. Jude could feel his legs scraping against rusted shards that stuck out. He blinked, and then he lost his step. Now hanging from holes in the metallic floor nearly fifteen feet above the ground, Jude felt a tremor invade his chest. His teeth were like razors. In the nerve-shattering seconds that followed, he chewed the inside of his lip. His blood might as well have been rust. Cold sweat bled across his forehead. The runner finally dropped to the ground, but Rachel had arrived at the bottom.

“I got him!” she shouted.

Jude’s grip was slipping, the metal dragging through his hands. He knew she was far too confident.

Bashing her in the face, the runner fought to shake off the dizzy spell. Then he slugged her in the gut and watched her drop. A loud snicker floated in the air to where Jude hung. This had gone too far. He had to end this.

At once, Jude let go, not caring if he would break bone upon impact. As he fell, he pictured what it’d be like to rearrange this cocky punk’s face; pictured blood drying underneath his fingernails. The harsh wind cut right to his sandpaper skin.

Finally, his shoes smacked the ground. The stinging vibrations pulsated through his feet and spiked into his calf muscles. He unleashed a violent scream, collapsing onto his back. Jude looked at Rachel. She was still reeling from the blow. His eyes shifted then and found her attacker. With a deep grunt, Jude ignored the shock of falling and stood up, continuing his pursuit.

In no time, there was a beat-up car pulling into the complex. The man glanced back when the car and his body collided, the Volkswagen’s front hood crashing into his ribs. He collapsed as Chase Vallace stepped out of the driver’s seat.

“They always run. How are you doing, buddy?” Chase said, grinning as the man hugged his sides, tasting concrete.