Chasing Shadows (32 page)

I smile. "Cool." He leaves and I lock the door
behind him. I'm stumbling into my bedroom when my phone vibrates. I
let out a wordless protest. Who would call me at this time of day?
Typically I'd let it go to voice mail but I'm irritated so I
answer, fully intending to give some telemarketer a piece of my
mind. "Hi."

"Meegan Jones." It's a male voice.

"Who is this?" I'm cranking up the
pissy.

"Craig Chambers, with the Tribune." He answers
brightly.

Oh, I guess I'd better be polite. Good thing I
answered. "Good morning, Mr. Chambers."

"Did I wake you?"

"It's fine."

"I'd like to get together and talk with you."
My how cordial he's sounding. Where's the pointy faced man from
last night?

"I thought you might." I say. "When's a good
time?"

"Whatever works for you, Miss
Jones."

I take a deep breath. "Sunday."

There's a pause. "I was hoping to talk to you
sooner than Sunday." An edge is creeping into his voice.

"I thought that too." I say. "I'm busy tonight
and tomorrow."

"How about today?"

"Listen, you've got me up now, so why don't we
just talk on the phone?"

"I'd rather not."

I sigh. "What happened with the dark room? You
call the cops?"

"A neighbor did."

I nod. "You get to see anything before they got
there?"

"Some."

"Did you check the drying book?"

"What's that?"

"Black book on a table by itself. There were
three pictures in there."

"No. I saw all the shots on the center table
and the ones of you."

"Yeah, who's the blond guy with Mads in that
one stack?"

"His name is Evan Sturgis. You know him?" Craig
counters.

Evan, okay, that's not ringing any bells.
"Maybe we should talk in person."

"Exactly." Craig returns. "How's 9
AM?"

"Too soon. I'm a night shifter. I'm not even
supposed to be up before 6 or 7. Do you know a guy named
Harley?"

Silence. "Where are you, Miss
Jones?"

"How do I even know you're Craig?" I ask a
little too late. "You could be the killer pretending to be
Craig."

"Who's killer? And we'll meet someplace
public."

"Madeline Cross's killer, Luis Finch's killer,
Maybe Kelly too, who knows? Barnes and Noble on Diversy off of
Clark, sometime after 5 on Sunday."

"You won't come sooner?" He sounds
irritated.

"No, I won't come sooner. I need to sleep and I
have plans tonight."

"I was hoping to run this in tomorrow's
paper."

I shrug. "So? You have enough to
print."

"But you have more."

"I don't know about that. I'll tell you what I
know, that is if you
are
Craig Chambers, in exchange you can
fill in a couple of blanks for me but really, I need a couple of
days off from this mess."

"Miss Jones, I think you might be in
danger."

"Why?"

"Not over the phone."

I sigh and roll my eyes. "What? You think it's
tapped? That's a little paranoid Mr. Chambers."

Craig's voice goes up an octave. "It doesn't
sound to me like you're taking this very seriously. I mean it. You
could get hurt."

Oh man, I've heard
that
recently. "Dude.
Anyone can get hurt at any time. Don't get your panties in a wad
over it. Unless there's something you want to tell me right now
that will help me out, then I'll see you Sunday." I can still hear
him talking as I'm hanging up. I hate when people are needy. I set
the phone on the night stand, flip the covers back and crawl into
bed. It is sooo pleasant. I'm just getting snuggled down when the
phone vibrates again. Fuck. I check the number. Oh.
"Hi."

"Hi." Qasim sounds surprised. "You're
up."

I laugh. "Yeah some other call just woke
me."

"Who was it?"

"Reporter."

There's a pause. "Well, that's not what I was
expecting."

"Ha. So what's up?"

"Oh, uh, I was just going to tell you that
Condition moved up our practice, so that I could have time to hang
with you. You can still come to practice if you want. We're having
it at 7 but we'll be done by 10. That's not too late
right?"

"Hmm." I say happily. "Sounds good. I can do
it. Where should I meet you?"

"Uh... Anywhere you want. Do you remember how
to get to Sergio's?"

"I've been to Sergio's?"

"The loft where we practice."

"Oh yeah. I know where that is."

"So, around ten then, unless you're early,
which would be fine. I just wasn't sure you'd want to sit through
the whole practice."

"Sounds good. I might be a little early to hear
you sing. I might not."

He laughs nervously. "That's cool. You'll come
to our gig Saturday?"

"Of course. I mean, unless we break up before
then. We
are
kind of on the fast track."

"Uh, that's..."

I yawn. "Forget I said that. I'm sleepy. I wish
you were here."

"Really?" he squeaks.

I smile. "Yeah really." I roll over. My eyes
are feeling heavy. Geeze this bed is nice compared to the
couch.

"What are you doing?" Qasim asks.

"I'm falling back asleep. What're
you
doing?"

He sighs. "I have to work."

"You work hard." I say dreamily.

He laughs. "How would
you
know?"

"Whatever. I'm sleepy. Goodnight."

"See you later."

"Yeah." I hang up and return to my happy
coma.

***

I haven't slept that well. Chambers keeps
calling. He's leaving voice mails that I'm not checking. I'm sorry
I gave him my number... If it
is
him. I sigh, I'm being
paranoid. It's still light out, but I need to get up and do
something so here I am standing, dressed and all ready to go for my
date. Its 5 PM. Only five hours to get there! Shit. I guess I'll go
for a walk. I exit by my back door and lock it up. Not that my
locks actually keep people out. I growl at the door, stupid
ineffective barrier. Then I turn, light up a Camel and trot down my
steps. When I hit the pavement I hear,

"Hey there neighbor!"

I blink, surprised, and look around.

"Up here!" It's a shout.

I crane my neck. "Oh, John. Hi. How's it
going?" I project my voice.

He's standing on his balcony leaning over the
railing. "Good. You have fun last night?"

"At the party?"

He laughs. "Yeah."

I smile. "Sure. Thanks for having it. I liked
your place."

"Yeah thanks for coming." He's coming down his
steps. "You didn't stay long." He says in a normal tone once he
hits ground level. Is he going somewhere, or did he come down here
just to talk to me? That would be weird.

"Yeah." I say

"But you had fun?" He asks.

I shrug and smile. "Sure I had fun."

"Would you come again, if I had another
one?"

I push some hair back, realize I want it up and
begin to twist it into a clippie while I'm answering. "Why not?
Especially if people I know are there."

"Cool." He nods.

"K."

"I gotta go." He says stepping towards the
alley.

"Have a nice day." I'm a little relieved. He
wasn't here to talk to me. He was talking to me on his
way
somewhere. Geeze, self, not everything is about
you
. He
waves. I wave and walk off in the other direction. Okay. That's
that. I check my phone, 5:04. Holy hell what am I going to do? What
did I used to do? That's right! Music! I smile and dig out my ear
buds. Cool. I walk north up the alley and then west over the Clark.
I walk south for a block on Clark before moving west again to that
road that runs by the train tracks. It's quieter back here. Not
that I can hear anything, just that I prefer having less people to
dodge. This road is nice. The little businesses on the corners: a
frame shop, an interior design store, are the kinds of places a
customer would have to
know
about and seek out. I'm sure
they get absolutely
no
walk-ins. I contemplate becoming
their first... Nah.

The sun is finally setting. I cut east again
back to Clark. I don't want to miss where Clark and State split off
at Joe's. I want to go that way. My meandering walks are a mix of
known routes and adventure detours. I get an intersection in mind
and head there. Then I try and get lost. Then I get another
landmark in my head and try to find my way back to it. As I go, I
attempt to remember which places are particularly attractive in
case I decide to go to them again. In this way I've visited almost
every area from here to Martin Luther King Jr. Blvd and a few south
of there off the green line. It's still chilly out, but it's not
snowing and the wind isn't bad. I breathe deep and wonder if I'll
be able to make it all the way down to the chocolate factory on
Kinzie before I need to double back to the loft. Man, this is a
nice day. Good to be lost in my own head again.

***

Still walking. My feet are getting tired. I
wonder if I'll be able to get Qasim to rub them for me. There's no
telling what favors I'd be willing to exchange for a good foot
massage. I smile. I'm lost again. It's not like being lost in a
foreign land or, you know, the woods. Not that I've ever seen the
woods except on TV. I'm told there are wooded areas all over the
country. Maybe I
should
learn to drive. I could get a car
and drive my ass outside of this city. What would
that
be
like? But back to the point, being lost in this city always feels
pretty safe to me. You can just head east if you start to get
nervous. Eventually you'll hit the lake and know where you
are.

I'm coming into a more retail oriented area. It
looks like a little town square. I check my phone, 8:45. I should
start trying to figure out where I am soon. This is pleasant. Store
windows cast cheerful swaths of light across the sidewalk. I laugh.
There's a little bar here with outside tables. It's cold. What are
they thinking? Somebody in management must be one of those
perpetual optimists, weirdo. Oh look, a glass. Huh. I guess they
had at least one patron who took them up on their offer to drink
and freeze. I'm about to pass by when I get this sick feeling so I
stop. The glass, my eyes keep going back to it. Its one of those
octagon shaped tumblers with the little air bubbles in the base...
Oh! Duh.
That's
where I've seen it. In my house. No big
deal, I'm sure lots of people use glasses like that. Except, of
course, that the one in my house appeared the first night I ever
followed the shades. I sigh and remove my ear buds. Well shit. I
hope I'm not late for Qasim, but I don't see any way around it. I'd
better go in and get me a beer.

With resigned movements I dig out my ID and
some cash. I look at the windows, heavily tinted. I can tell there
are people in there, but I can't guess at their character. I look
up and down the street... No one around. Last I check for the name
of the bar... I don't see a sign. Maybe it's broken. Oh well. Here
goes nothing. I step up and open the door. The interior is smoky.
The music is loud. I look around, seems respectable. There's an
ethnic mix and a good representation from each gender. I don't look
out of place except for my hair. No one is looking at me directly.
So far, so good.

I keep thinking I'll see a shade somewhere to
give me direction, but they're conspicuously absent. I maneuver my
way to the bar and order a Bud Light. The bar tender dutifully
checks my ID and takes my money. I lean on the bar and hold the
beer with both my hands for a minute. What now? I take a sip before
turning to face the room. It's all dark wood and neon signs in
here. Not bright, but not a hole like some places can be. Do they
serve food? There are some peanuts on the bar. I reach over and
grab a couple.

"Miss Jones." A woman says, startling
me.

I check her out, frizzy brown hair... She looks
a little familiar but I'm not placing her. "I'm sorry." I say. "I
forgot your name."

She smiles without much humor. "Darcy
Burns."

Hmm, nothing. "Sorry, still not clicking with
me. Where do I know you from?" I feel a little nervous now, like I
should be keeping my voice down.

The smile is still there. It's disconcerting.
"The Station."

Oh! "Officer Burns." I nod. I wonder why I'm
here.

"We tried to call you today. You're wanted for
questioning."

I blink wide. "Really? What did I do
now?"

Officer Burns shakes her head. "It's not bad.
There isn't a warrant. We just need you to come in."