Scarred (14 page)

“I don't know...,” she started, searching the air around her for answers. “I...I guess it never dawned on me. He was so sweet...and he said he knew Ruby.”

“Jesus, Kris,” he cursed, clearly frightened for her, but angry all the same. “There's a killer loose in town and you're opening doors for random strangers.” In a moment of clarity, Alan's gaze shot to me, eyes fierce and probing.“Who was it?” he asked, hovering over me as I sat by Louie. The child played with my legs, placing his blocks on them strategically then knocking them off and laughing. I flashed Alan a look that told him that now was not the best time for that question to be answered. Kristy seemed too down on herself to notice.

Love,

Consider them a gift.

Don't disappoint me again.

It was my turn to pale. I handed the note to Sean, and though he managed to stifle the growl I saw building in him, it took nearly everything he had. I saw his eyes darken as he returned it to me before excusing himself to go outside.

“Let me see it,” Alan said, reaching for the paper. I let him have it. He read it quickly, his eyes looking over the top of the page down at me. “Do you know what this means?”

“I do,” I said, hesitating slightly. “We need to go somewhere else to discuss this.”

He nodded once, before kissing Kristy and Louie, and ushering me downstairs.

“I still don't understand how you knew,” Kristy said softly, calling after us as Alan and I descended. I looked back up to her and lied.

“I see things, Kris. I'm
psychic
.”

Alan didn't react to what I told her at all, but continued down without skipping a beat. He led me into the small office off of the kitchen and closed the door.

“Start explaining,” he said, his cop face in full force. “Who the fuck was that guy, and how did you really know he was here.”

“I'm not lying, Alan. I saw him come here. You can go out and ask Sean,” I said, pointing out the window to where he stood, leaning against the car, talking on his phone. “I see things as they're happening, and I saw that man walking up to the door, looking in the windows at Kris. We have some bizarre connection that I can't explain, Alan. You have to believe me.”

“Who is he, Ruby,” he asked, moving towards me. “Who is this freak leaving enigmatic messages for you at
my
house, with
my
family?”

I didn't know how to lessen the blow I was about to deliver. I stood mute, running sentences through my mind and rejecting them, rehearsing my delivery.

“Tell me!” he yelled, slamming his fist on the wall beside me. I saw Sean push off of his car, looking in the window at me. His eyes were still black. I waved him off with a subtle shake of my head, but his eyes were glued on me for the duration.

“I call him the Rev,” I said quietly, still not knowing how exactly to tell him about the murderer who tormented the city once and returned for more. The murderer I'd known about the entire time. “He's the Portsmouth murderer.”

“What?” he whispered. It was his turn to look white as a ghost.

“He's the one who killed all those women,” I said, sitting down delicately in a wingback chair. “I saw him do it. He made me watch.”

“The day I met you,” he started, sitting on the corner of the desk, “the way you looked down at the crime scene... I
knew
you had to know something. It was in your eyes.”

“I'm sorry,” I said, picking at my jeans, “but what could I tell you, Alan? That the sick bastard was telegraphing his murders into my mind? That I saw what did while he did it, but was completely debilitated so I couldn’t do anything to help? Would you have believed me? Would you have thought I was in on it? I couldn't risk it.”

“And now he's after my family,” he said, turning furious eyes on me.

“He won't be if I give him what he wants.”

“And what's that?”

“
Me
,” I whispered. “He wants
me
.”

“What does he want you for?” he asked, staring at me in horror.

“He thinks he loves me...well,
part
of me anyway. He wants me to be with him. Forever.”

“And why does he want
you
, specifically?”

“I don't know—”

“You must know!” he said, pounding the desk for effect. He was in full-blown interrogation mode.

“You have to trust me, Alan. I can't tell you. There are things going on that you couldn't possibly understand—things that could endanger the lives of everyone you love even more than they are now.”

“Ruby, I—“

“NO!” I yelled. “You can't push this any further. I don't know anything that could possibly help you find him, and above that, we're working on a solution.”

“
We
?” he asked, arms folding over his chest. I glanced at Sean, giving him away. “And how exactly does Sean factor into all of this? Is he a PI or something? Muscle for hire?”

“Sean is a
friend.
”

“Oh, okay,” he said, rolling his eyes. His annoyance was building to a palpable level. “Fine. He's a
friend
.”

“I wish I could tell you more, Alan, really I do. If there were any way...I would.” I paused, momentarily, a plan forming in my mind. Sean needed CIA access, and Alan wanted answers. I thought that maybe there was a way I could kill two birds with one stone. “Alan,” I said, with a questioning glance, “do you have any military buddies who went CIA after they got out of active duty?”

“Yeah,” he replied, his game face returning. “Why?”

“Long story, but the short of it is that we need somebody on the inside...someone with high level clearance and few people to answer to. Someone we can trust.”

“Hmm,” he said, scratching his chin. “McGurney is some big hot shot out there. He'll have that for sure.”

“But can you
trust
him?”

“He's an Army Ranger―one of the instructors who trained me when I went through the program,” he said, regarding me severely. “He's like a second father to me. I'd trust him with my life.”

“Excellent,” I said, trying hard to work an angle to get what I needed. “The fingerprints found at the crime scene...where did they get you?”

“Nowhere,” he said, looking curious. “The Feds said they only got a partial with far too many hits in the system to get anywhere. It was basically a dead end. We can cross reference anything else we find with that list, but on its own it's useless.”

“What if I knew which profile those partials belonged to?” I asked, choosing my words carefully. “What if they belonged to an ex-CIA agent whose file requires security clearance to access it?”

“I'd say you need to tell me who it is.”

“What if I told you that the reason he's ex-CIA is because he's
dead
?”

He cocked his head to the side, brows furrowed. “I'd say that doesn't make any fucking sense at all―dead guys don't leave prints at crime scenes. I want to know why nobody is following up on that.”

“Then I suggest you give McGurney a call and see what he can find out,” I said, heading out of the room, “but you need to keep me in the loop. That's the deal. I smell something fishy going on, and I don't like it.”

“Fishy how?” he asked, following my lead.

“A cover up. They're hiding something. I want to know what it is.”

“Dead guys don't commit murder, Ruby.”

“No, they don't, do they?” I replied, adding an eyebrow move that Sean would have been proud of. “Nor do they have files that require security clearance to access.”

“No,” he said, anger growing in his voice, “they
don't
.”

I hesitated momentarily, unsure of how to make my next play. I didn't want to endanger Alan by telling him more than he needed to know. If I was right about Keith's file being suspicious and he got caught by the wrong people, poking around where he didn't belong, I knew there would be consequences—bad ones. The sad fact remained that we still needed to know what was in that file. I had to play my trump.

“Keith James,” I said, heading for the door.

“Who is Keith James?” he asked, grabbing my arm to stop me.

“He's your ex-agent who's a little too dead and buried to be committing murder,” I said, pulling my arm from his grasp. “And he's Ronnie's late husband. Call McGurney...and pray he can help us out on this one. For all of our sakes.”

I walked away from Alan as quickly as I could, knowing that he was still processing the information I’d bombarded him with. I'd nearly made it out the front door when his final question stopped me.

“And what are
you
going to do?” he said, coming up behind me slowly. “You can't give him what he wants, Ruby. You know that, right?”

I turned to see his sad eyes looking down at me. He may have been pissed at me for unknowingly endangering his wife and child, but his face showed just how worried he was as well. I was family too.

“I know,” I said, reaching my hand out towards him. “But I'll do whatever I have to do to keep everyone I love safe...at any cost.”

He took my hand and gave a squeeze before pulling me into a crushing hug. “Do you need a gun?” he whispered, having heard Kristy's footsteps above. “I want you to kill that motherfucker if he comes near you. Do you understand me? You take him out. I'll worry about the rest.”

“I'll be fine, Alan,” I said, wiping the tears from my face. “Please, do your best to keep your family safe.”

I yanked the door open and slammed it behind me, narrowly getting out of its path. I needed to get out before he could say anything else to make me come undone. As I fled the house, Sean tracked my every move, eyes laser-focused on me. My attempts at covering up my waterworks display were futile, and I walked around him to the passenger side door letting the tiny drops slide down my face unstopped. I got in and shut the door. He followed suit.

“I've called in some of the boys. They're going to keep an eye on the house until this gets resolved,” he said, nodding towards the Beauchamp's residence. “They'll be alright.”

“If he goes near that child—”

“He won't get the chance,” Sean said, turning my face to his far more gently than he had only minutes before. His confidence was comforting, even though I knew that was a promise he couldn't really make.

“He's going to pay for this, Sean,” I said, snapping my head away from his grasp. I stared out at the cold, dark night ahead of me, thinking that it accurately reflected how I felt inside: bitter, numb, and slowly dying as a force of nature consumed me. But unlike the earth, I wasn't sure that, come spring time, I would be born anew. My changes felt permanent, as if the rays of my inner light were being snuffed out one by one until only a black, empty abyss remained. I wanted to think that was impossible, but wasn't convinced it was.

“He will,” Sean replied, firing up the Beamer. “I will personally see to that.”

* * *

It was fair to say that our “date” had been ruined. Any romantic sentiments either of us may or may not have had were flushed out by the adrenaline rush the Rev had induced. We ate the cold Chinese food in silence, and right after finishing, I left. I wanted to go home and curl up in bed alone—I needed to decompress. He seemed understanding about it, and offered to drive me home, but I declined.

The cold wind felt therapeutic as I walked, stinging my face as gusts sporadically blew down the streets, bringing the sweet smell of the ocean with them. I thought about Alan and Kristy. I wondered how I'd ever be able to keep them safe; I should never have befriended them and I knew it. It was selfish—
I
was selfish—and I worried that once again my indulgence in a normal life would be at the cost of someone else's.

I sighed and pushed those thoughts out of my mind. What was done was done, and, try as I might, I couldn't undo it. It was a problem for another day. I knew that tomorrow would bring a different crisis to the top of the pile; I had dance class with Matty. What used to be my refuge from the chaos in my life was now firmly enveloped in it, nearly topping my new list of clusterfucks.

I was really starting to hate that list.

11

I dreaded it all day, but, despite my best efforts to thwart it, evening came and I had to head to Boston. The problem at hand was not going to be made better by avoidance, so I sucked it up and left. I needed to act as normal as possible, not letting on that Matty was in for some seriously life-changing events in the very foreseeable future. All my fretting got me was fingernails gnawed to stumps by the time I arrived.

Matty was just heading in as I pulled up, and dutifully waited for me at the door as I collected my paraphernalia from the car.

“I've got quite a view from up here,” he called out to me from the top of the steps as I bent over to reach in the back seat for a stray shoe. I flipped the bird at him through the open door. “That only enhances it for me,” he said with a laugh. “Hurry up...you're going to make me late!”

“Nobody said you had to wait for me, Boy Scout,” I yelled, voice muffled by the interior of the car.