Page 27 of Pure Killers

The confession comes out two minutes later. Talisof all but begs to be kept in prison until the end of his days, and we're more than happy to oblige.

***

A long, steamy shower is my reward. I languish, face turned against the water, almost hotter than I can bear until I'm red and dizzy. It may not have been my guy, but it was his target. I'malmost sure of that. A confession, plus a psycho behind bars… it’s a good day.

And to top things off, when I got home tonight, Olivia was watching TV, so any vague concern I’d had about her absence since Saturday is relieved as well.

All in all, I'm not even thinking about alcohol tonight.

When I finally turn the water off, I can hear that it’s started raining again. Even that can’t dampen my mood. I'll fall asleep listening to it. I wrap the towel around myself, and then dry my hair with another. I'm still trying to wrap my hair up on top of my head as I step back out into my bedroom.

Everyone says don't bring work home with you, but you'd be hard-pressed to find someone in the department who doesn't. On my bedside table is a small binder on Needler. I pop off the end of a pen, holding my towel closed at my chest with the other hand, and make a small note under the copy of Talisof's arrest warrant,Who now?My hair drips on the paper as the towel unbalances from my head. I let it tumble down. I need to dry my hair anyway.

I'm staring at those two words, contemplating the options, when I first notice the small wet print on the inside of my closed bedroom door. I squint. Am I dripping that much? But I haven't left the room since coming out of the shower. So how…

I register the rain again and see the shape of the print… too big for my foot and shaped more like the back of a boot. The reality hits me with a spike of near panic. The window. He can get in…

My breath stops altogether as the cold prick pinches the tender skin at the back of my armpit. I know the presence behind me, close enough to feel the heat coming off him. I drop the pen, not moving. The needle presses a little firmer against my flesh.

Every breath scrapes the needle-point, pain by which to measure my too-fast breathing. I eye the door. Even if I could getto it, could call Olivia's name. What help is she? My gun is in the drawer on the other side of the bed.

“You’ve ruined my fun,” that voice, becoming all too familiar now, coos just behind my ear. “How are you going to fix that?” I feel the brush of his sleeve on the back of my bare arm.

I drop ideas of a daring lunge for the gun. “Why are you here?” I ask, voice trembling to a whisper.

“Why would you rather side with that filth than me?”

“I am on the side of the law.” My voice shakes in earnest this time.

"The law," he repeats with a chuckle. I have a vague impression of movement, right behind my shoulder, but then he's reaching past me, towards the bedside table. The silver mask stares back at me from where he's placed it, small droplets still sliding down the metal, onto the file. My heart quickens. If I turn around, I'll see his face. But it'll probably be the last thing I see.

Voice dipping to a whisper, I stare into the empty eyes of that mask. "Why did you kill my husband?"

“You want to know secrets, Little Shadow? This time tomorrow, join me at the cement mill. Come alone, no gun. Bring your partner, and I will kill him.”

My jaw clenches. I'd be stupid to take him up on that. Tomorrow, another dark sky. I open my mouth, but the shove takes me by surprise, throwing me sideways onto the bed. By the time I roll and look back, my bedroom door is ajar, and him and his mask are gone.

All remnants of peace are gone for the rest of the night. When I do fall into a restless sleep, I'm plagued by dreams, ranging from the almost real to the bizarre. In the former category is something sensual and dark. I wake up breathless from it in the darkest part of the night, half-convinced there's still someone in my room. But all is quiet, and the sensations of the dreamlinger with me long past the hour, yearning to be replayed and justified.

Sex dreams are not unusual for me. I haven't been with anyone since my husband, and even when he was alive, in those final months, intimacy became infrequent. He was seeing too much.

And though I remember the times with him vividly, the lazy Sunday afternoons, or the quick needy mornings before work, my dreams have never been of him. Usually, they're faceless.

Not this time, however. Something like horror worms its way in as I stare at the light spilling from my door across the ceiling. This time, there was that silver mask and the echo of the voice by my ear as I slipped into the vague ecstasy that dreams can give.You want to know secrets?

***

Five pm comes too quickly. I'm staring at the clock, willing it to go slower. To give me more time to decide not to go. But if I don't… I might never know; might never have the answers I need. Might never catch Needler.

"…El? You with me?"

I blink, turning away from the clock and back to Dirk, who's staring at me as though I'm supposed to be saying something. I clear my throat. "Sorry, what?"

He frowns. "I said I’m going home. I asked if you wanted a lift home too. You caught the subway in, right?"

"Oh right," I nod, as though I had indeed heard him the first time. That’s the problem with telling a single lie. Soon, it compounds, and before you know it, you're telling lies to cover up new lies. Should I have told Dirk about the man in the alleyway, or Needler on the fire escape? Even him in my room? Should I have told him I was the one who gave the tip-off about Talisof? Probably, maybe. But I didn't.

If I tell him anything now, that will be the decision about tonight made for me. Whether I’ll admit it or not, I’ve made that decision already. I need to know. Which means I need to go. “Um, no. I think I’m gonna stay a bit.”

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