Authors: Karpov Kinrade
WE LAY ON
Bridgette's bed staring up at the ceiling and listening to the silence for over an hour before I finally found the courage to ask the question I feared most. "How do you feel? About Ash killing Bradley?"
She didn't turn to face me, but I watched her profile as she answered, her blond hair spread out behind her like Sleeping Beauty. "I'm glad he died.
He deserved it for what he did and almost did to me."
"Buddhist
s believe in multiple lives," I said. "That we reincarnate and all our baggage and shit from our past life follows us into our new one. If they're right, he'll just come back less enlightened than ever and even more of an asshole."
She turned to face me, her blue eyes glossy from unshed tears. "I grew up Christian, and while we may not be devout, I still believe in
Hell. That's where he is now."
Bridgette and I didn't talk religion often. I had none to speak of, growing up in so many different foster homes. As an adult I'd studied many spiritual practices and found them all lacking in some way, so I meditated and believed in 'something' but couldn't articulate what that 'something' was. I knew Bridgette had been baptized and believed in the God and Jesus of Christianity, though she didn't practice any more than I did. Still, if there were past lives, which from my studies seemed inevitable, then killing someone just created a new cycle of
pain for everyone. Would Bradley's death bring Bridgette more peace or less? I hoped for more. Because she was my friend.
And b
ecause I wanted the person who had killed my parents to die, karma be damned.
I tapped my fingers on my pillow.
"Can I ask you something?"
She nodded, her head resting on her hand.
"You know I got that call from my parents' killer. He was the reason we found you. He said he gave the rape drugs to Bradley. Do you think they were working together?"
"I think Bradley was too dumb to help get away with murder. But then again, I think all criminals are kind
of dumb. A smart person knows they'll get caught."
"Maybe criminals are just confident." I rolled on my back. "They weren't partners. The Midnight Murderer tipped me off about Bradley, so he knew Bradley would get caught. He wouldn't have told him anything important."
Which made feel better about Bradley's death and the answers I'd thought he held.
Bridgette finished my thoughts. "So he pretended to be a dealer and sold Bradley the drugs, knowing what he would do."
"He knows me," I continued. "He knows you. He knew Bradley."
"Better than I knew Bradley."
"He's someone close to us."
Bridgette shrugged. "Or stalking you."
"Or both."
She gasped. "Who keeps bumping into you again and again?"
She clapped her hands. "Ash."
"No. He wouldn't…
"
"…kill anyone?"
"He wouldn't hurt me." But then I remembered how Ash hurt Bradley, and I shivered.
"No, you're right. He's not the type. He's not calculating enough.
He's a more raw anger, caveman, do anything to protect his woman kind of guy."
I sighed in relief. "
Right. So who is?"
She stood and walked to her rosewood dresser, pulling out a sheet of paper from the drawer. "This is a list of everyone at the party, and everyone who worked at the party. I figured we could go through it and see if anyone made sense."
I sat up. "Where'd you get that?"
She shrugged and smiled an impish grin. "I copied it before my parents gave it to the cops."
"You're one sneaky almost-doctor. If the med thing doesn't work out, you could always become a P.I."
She wrinkled her nose. "Ew. No. That job would be so boring. All those stakeouts and waiting and dealing with people's stupid shit problems. No thanks. I'll stick to medicine."
Wind howled outside her bedroom window, and a tree branch snapped against the glass startling us both so much we screamed, then laughed. But Bridgette's smile vanished as quickly as it appeared. She held my hand and kissed my cheek.
"What was that for?"
"You saved my life. I never thanked you for that. You and Ash, both. I know it scared you, what he did."
I was about to object but she cut in before I could speak.
"I can see it in your eyes every time his name is mentioned, but Catelyn, he saved me. Don't punish him for that. I think you two have something special. I can see it every time you're together. It's like you orbit each other like planets magnetically linked. Don't lose that, you might never find it again."
"Are you using
Twilight
quotes against me now?"
"
Maybe, but it's true. Just think about it, okay?"
I nodded
and reached for the paper in her hand. I didn't recognize most of the names. "There's so many."
She handed me a yellow highlighter. "Mark everyone on the list you know or have met."
I did as she said, and when I was done we reviewed the names. "I put a star next to everyone I met that night, since I don't know if they count or not. I'm pretty sure we can eliminate all of these people though. I mean, none of them seem like a serial killer or psychopath."
"Isn't that what they alwa
ys say about guys like these?" she asked. "They seemed so normal, so ordinary."
"I guess. But it's so hard to fathom
anyone at that party could be responsible. It makes me sick to imagine. We're talking about people like my college mentor, the Davenports, your family. This all seems ludicrous." I handed the paper back to her. "What about the people I don't know? Anyone jump out as dangerous?"
She scanned it. "Maybe. I mean, there's some high profile celebrities here, a few powerful judges and politicians, and then
your average rich investor or businessman. But I see what you mean, no one screams psychopath."
I sighed and flopped back on the bed. "Let's hope the police are better at this than we are."
Something about my words tugged at my mind.
"No kidding."
My phone rang, and I picked it up. Three minutes later I hung up and stood. "We have to go to the police station. They have questions about our guest list."
"Will we see that detective again?"
The detective… I scanned the list and found an Aaron Gray. It had to be his name. With my headache at the hospital, I wasn't able to make the connection. But the detective had been at the party. And when the Midnight Murderer called, his phone had been busy.
DETECTIVE GRAY MET
us at the front and escorted us to his office. "Where's Detective Reynolds?" I asked as Bridgette and I sat down.
"He had a heart attack while on leave and has been forced into an early retirement. I'm taking over his cases
permanently." He sat behind his desk and opened a file with a list of names we'd already gone over.
"Oh my God. Is he going to be okay?"
I shivered, partly for Reynolds, partly because Detective Gray may have killed my parents.
"If he takes care of himself, he should be. Look, I need to apologize." He scratched at the scar over his eye. "I was an arrogant asshole the first time you came in. It was a hard day. A friend of
mine was just killed on the job, and I had to tell his family. I wasn't in the mood to deal with a cold case, and I handled it poorly."
My attitude toward him softened
, and I remembered something my mother always used to say.
You never know what a person's going through. Someone who lashes out at others needs more understanding and kindness than anyone.
I felt bad for how I'd treated him and my suspicions. "I'm sorry for your loss. And, sorry I was a bit of a snarky bitch."
He pushed the file toward u
s. "We know the killer was at the party. We've interviewed everyone who'd been present, and only one person has a criminal record."
My stomach clenched.
Gray pulled out a picture and showed us. "Ashton Davenport the Third."
"Isn't it possible that the murderer doesn't have a record?" I desperately
didn't want Ash fingered for this. He couldn't be the killer. I'd know if it was him. I'd recognize his eyes, or his touch, something.
"It is. But the level of escalation this guy has shown makes it unlikely. Most people don't start by killing a family," he said.
"Right. They start small. Animal torture, acting out in other ways," I said, recalling my criminal psych classes.
"So for him to make it to adulthood with multiple murders under his belt
and no arrests is possible—"
"
But unlikely," I finished.
Bridgette flipped through the file, then put it down. "What if the killer isn't on the list?"
We both looked at her.
"What if he snuck in, or someone attended without an official invitation. It's possible none of these people are the killer," she said, tapping the list with a pink fingernail.
Detective Gray nodded. "We've considered that, which makes our job particularly difficult. I need each of you to go through the list, mark anyone you know, make a note about anyone who might be suspicious, and see if you can remember anyone at the party who isn't on this list."
Having already gone through
something similar at home, we turned in our notes quickly, hopeless that this would help.
Gray reviewed everything and frowned. "You don't remember anyone not on the list?"
"I don't know most of these people," I said. "So there could have been someone there who wasn't supposed to be, and I wouldn't know it."
Bridgette nodded. "I know most everyone, but I don't remember anyone unusual. However, I'd been drugged, so I'm not sure my memory is the most reliable. Have you talked to my parents?"
"Yes," he said. "We got nothing."
"Can you fingerprint the place?" I asked. "Run it through your database to see if there's a
match with someone we didn't expect."
He shook his head. "We don
't have the man-power for that. Besides, given the size of the house and number of people in and out, and the limited nature of our database, it wouldn't yield the results you're hoping for."
Frustrated, I stood and paced. "So there's nothing we can do?"
"There is one thing. I'd like to tap your phone in case he calls you again. We can try tracing him if he does."
Oh crap. "Um, sure, but then there's something you should know."
One embarrassing conversation later and Bridgette and I left the office, me with the horror of knowing my phone sex calls would be recorded by the police department who now knew my deepest secret.
When we left the building, Ash pulled up on his motorcycle, putting it in park and taking off his helmet.
Bridgette excused herself when she saw him. "I'll go wait in the car. Take your time."
"Hi," we both said at the same time when he walked up.
"How are you?" he asked, his eyes sad.
"I'm okay." All I could think about was our last call, when we'd come together in amazing phone sex.
"Bradley died," he said.
"I know." I rested my hand on his arm. "I'm sorry about what I said in the hospital. I didn't mean it. You saved my best friend and did nothing wrong."
"I killed a man, Catelyn. That's not nothing." He pulled his arm away and stepped back.
"It doesn't matter. Not to me. Not to us. I just… "
My mouth went dry. "I'd like that dinner date, if the offer is still on the table."
He shook his head and my heart sank. "You were right. We don't belong together. It would never work. You're going to be a great lawyer, Catelyn. You deserve better than the likes of me."
"I get to decide what I deserve." I pulled him toward me and kissed him with all the unspent passion building inside of me. At first he resisted, but then his body took over and he pressed me against him, the leather of his jacket rubbing against my exposed skin as my shirt rode up my back.
My knees felt week and my
heart beat so loud in my chest I knew he could feel it. His mouth consumed mine, and our lips bruised each other with raw need. His cock pushed against his jeans, and I wanted so badly to fulfill all of our fantasies, to do every spoken and unspoken thing we'd imagined in our call. I rubbed my hand against him, feeling his cock twitch, and he pulled away from me, breathless and wild-eyed.
"I'm sorry. I have to go. This was a mistake."
He turned to leave.
I grabbed his arm. "Wait. Ash, don't push me away. Let me be there for you." My heart was raw, bared to him so completely that it burned from exposure.
But he kicked me aside. "No, Catelyn. You're not what I need right now."
I stood shaking as he walked into the building without turning back. I'd lost him. One stupid fear, and I'd lost him for good.