The Scene (21 page)

CHAPTER 21

              “Why are you at my house?” I spoke into the darkness. I couldn’t see very well in the dark, but I knew who was sitting on my stoop.

             
“You did not sound well when we spoke this afternoon, I thought I would come see about you.” Oh so chivalrous.

             
“Dammit, Cyrus, how did you know where I live?” I was judging my running speed to his, just in case.

             
“That is my secret.” I could hear the smile in his voice.

             
“Bullshit.”
Where did I leave my gun?

             
“I am sorry to startle you. I saw the news this evening, about the girl they found. It was here. A woman mentioned you, well, not you. A woman who lives here told the newsman the girl she discovered looked just like her neighbor. She was very concerned for you, Dylan. I did not know the murder took place here when I spoke with you, I am sorry. I had seen the photo and I had hoped you were safe. I came here, where the body was found, to see if it truly was you the woman referred to. I was right.” I could tell that he stood then. I took a step down the stairs backward. That would not end well if I continued backward.

             
“So you just happen to choose the right door to wait in front of?” I attempted another step but hit my head on the limb.

Damn that limb.

              “No, I am not a psychic,” he scoffed. “I saw the lovely neighbor of yours behind your building; she was leaving flowers at the site of the…body. I asked her about you. She confirmed and said she hadn’t seen you in a few days. We both came up and knocked on your door. I told her I would wait for you to come home and she smiled. She even gave me a cookie.” See, innocent enough. Right.

             
“Uh, huh. Could you move?” I had about enough of his shit.

             
Cyrus moved, obligingly. Stomping up the steps, I squeezed my way between him and the door, shoved my key in the slot, and began the daily dance of unlocking my door. A wiggle and a shake. A kick and a bang. Cursing and begging, one last wiggle. At least, that was the usual ritual. Tonight, however, Cyrus took the lead. He slid his cool hand over mine, clasped softly and turned the key effortlessly to the right. Click. The deadbolt turned over. I reached for the knob, it turned fine. The door on the other hand sticks like a son of a bitch. I shoved my body into the wood; it didn’t budge. Once again, the boy took over, turned the knob over and pushed the door open with ease.

Why is it that he and Tatum are the only people who can open that fucking door?

              I moved around him, maneuvering all my shit into the apartment. Cyrus waited at the doorway like a gentleman. I tossed my bags onto the couch, slipped my shoes off, and slid my keys onto the desk. All the while, dear Cyrus watched from the darkened porch. It took everything I had not to slam the door and lock it. I very well should have. Something in me told me not to push him away, to let him in, to not judge him until I knew the truth. Something else told me to leave him on the porch to rot.

             
“If I invite you in, are you gonna go all psycho lunatic on me?” I was too tired to deal with his shit.

             
“Of course not.” He crossed his heart flashing his best smile.

             
“Sure. Whatever. Cyrus, won’t you come in?” I said halfheartedly.

             
He stepped through the doorway with a grin I’d never seen him have before. I believe the word for it is arrogance. I felt as though I would soon regret not shutting the door in his face and locking it swiftly.

             
“Where is your friend?” He always referred to Tatum as though he wasn’t sure who she was.

             
“She went home.” Then I added quickly, “She’ll be back in a few though.” Just in case he got any funny ideas.

             
“I see.” He stood too near the door for me to close it. All fine for me seeing as though you can hear a scream louder through an open door than a closed one.

             
“Is there something I can do for you?” Cyrus looked at me questioningly raising an eyebrow. “What I mean is, why are you here?” I asked bluntly.

             
“I came to check on you.” He spread his hands, palms facing up.

             
“Why are you still here?” All I wanted was a beer and sweat pants, neither of which was going to happen with this guy standing in my living room.

             
“Oh, I was hoping we could talk. I realize you were not very pleased with me after the incident at Embrace a few nights ago. I would hope you accept my apologies and understand that I was only trying to provide you with an experience unlike any other.” He stepped further into the living room then. Hands clasped behind his back, he viewed the room observing my lack of nick-knacks.

             
“Apology accepted.” Short and sweet. I moved toward the door to show him out.

             
“Would you accompany me to Macabre Saturnine?” he asked sweetly, his unwavering smile penetrating my defenses.

             
“I need to rest and change my clothes. A shower would be lovely as well. I’m sure I stink of spent adrenaline.” Assuming Cyrus presented no threat at this point, I plopped my ass down in my oversized chair.

             
“What was it that we needed to speak about? Nothing wrong I hope.” He took a few steps closer to me, but remained lingering near the doorway. 

             
“Not at all.” Lie.

             
“I can wait while you change and shower. I can escort you this evening.” He smiled that perfect gleaming smile. I was beginning to hate that damn smile.

             
“Umm. No thanks. I’ll get ready and meet you there. I should really wait here for Tatum anyway.” I stood, hoping he would get the hint. He didn’t.

             
“What has happened with your friend? Your voice holds resentment when you speak her name.”

             
“Nothing, I’m just tired.” He moved close to me at that.

             
“I will take care of you tonight. If you wish.” He was standing nearly three feet from me.

             
“I’ll be fine.” He moved a step closer. I resisted the urge to take a step back. From this distance, I could smell his very expensive, very pleasing, cologne.

             
“Are you certain? I have my car here. You could call your friend and have her meet us there if you wish.” I shook my head to answer him, afraid to speak.

I wasn’t even sure Tatum had plans to spend the evening with me anyway, let alone answer my call right now. I did need to call Mike; I wanted him with me when I penetrated the villain’s lair. I looked up into his eyes. He smelled very pleasant.

              “I need to make a few phone calls.” I stood staring into his grass green eyes.

             
“Do as you wish, Dylan. I will be here.” He didn’t move from the entryway.

             
“I’ll just be in the bedroom for a few minutes.” I turned at that and made my way to my bedroom.

Before I shut the door behind me
, I stole a peek toward the man in my living room. He still stood where I had left him; perfect and utterly still, staring right back at me. A smile developed across his face, the corners of his mouth moving at a snail’s pace upward showing a lot of teeth in the process. I flashed suddenly at the dream I’d had a few nights prior. Shining, sharp, deadly teeth I remembered. Not what I saw now before me. Bright and shining, but not overly sharp, although he may have a plastic pair hidden in a pocket somewhere. I smiled back, closed my bedroom door, and locked it.

             
Once behind closed doors, I pulled my cell from my pocket and dialed Mike, again. And again it rang and rang. I heard his simple, professional message pop on and waited for the beep.

             
“Mike. Hey, it’s me. It’s Dylan. Hi, umm, I’ve been trying to call you. I’m getting pretty worried. Please call me back as soon as you get this. I’m gonna head over to Macabre with Cyrus. He seems harmless and he can get me in to see the people I really need to talk to. I’m calling Tatum now. If you can just meet me there, at the club. Bye.” I hung up then and realized the ridiculousness of the message I had just left.

Oh, hey Mike, I’m gonna hop in the car with someone I hardly know and suspect of murder. Who by the way has drugged me once before and hangs with a seriously twisted set of friends. It should be alright. What the fuck am I thinking?

              I dialed Tatum next, my voice of reason usually, maybe not so much today, but I was desperate. It rang. I listened to her simple and not so professional message and waited for the beep.

             
“Hey, I have Cyrus here, in my house. I think I’m going to go with him to Macabre and talk to Reggie. This is a safety call. You don’t hear back in an hour, call Mike. I’ve been trying to call him and still haven’t heard back, so good luck. If I die tonight, sorry.” I hung up once again feeling as though I was being a complete ass.

             
My brain took over at that moment and told me I was probably not making the best life choices. I realized then that there was a distinct possibility that I was being hoodwinked by a potential serial killer. I scoffed at myself and stormed out of the bedroom in search of a fight.

             
“Cyrus, you ass. How dare you waltz into my house and try to con me into leaving with you. I mean really who do you think you are? I was about to…” I stopped dead in my tracks. The look on his face was classic. I had shocked the hell out of him. Good.

             
“Dylan, what are you talking about? I came to check on you. I was worried. I only offered you a ride because I know you are not very comfortable in crowds. Especially the crowd that frequents those places. I did not want you to get hurt. Regardless of what you may be thinking right now, I really do find you very interesting. You are unlike any other woman I have ever met in my many years. I would hate to hear of something happening to you.” He moved closer to me than he had in the last thirty minutes he’d been at my house.

             
“Many years, what are you like twenty-three? That’s not the point. The point is you pressured me into going with you. For what reason? I don’t know. According to you, it was innocent and downright chivalric. I nearly allowed you to talk me into getting into a car with you. You don’t really have a stellar track record with being trustworthy.” I stood, foot kicked out to the side, hands planted firmly on my hips. Bitch-stance executed.

             
“Dylan, I apologized for anything I had done that may have put you in harm’s way. It was only once and I thought it would give you wonderful perspective for your book. I took to you see McTavish when you asked and called to make sure you were well. Then I came here to double check on the horrible events from last night. Won’t you please trust me? I know you have your suspicions. They are justified. I will answer any questions you have. Help you in any way I can.” As he spoke he had moved in very close. Kissing close.

             
“I don’t trust many people, especially not right now.” I was trying to avoid eye contact. At this distance, eye contact generally leads to things I was refusing to consider. Lusty thoughts are not top priority when a serial killer is leaving dead look-a-likes at your back door. Now was the time for cautious action.

             
“Dylan.” I looked at him then.
Shit
. “Will you please accompany me tonight?” I held his gaze for a few moments, or he held mine, whatever.

             
“Let me get ready.”
Fuck
.

             
I couldn’t help myself. An idiotic spiral into recklessness. My cold, rough, sensibility wanted to kick him in the groin and call it a day. My inner fat kid wanted to continue the façade and allow Cyrus to woo me indefinitely. I was fucked in the head.

I wandered into my room yet again. I stood momentarily staring off into my closet at my many inappropriate-for-the-evening garments. I suddenly had that feeling
that I’d forgotten why I went into the room in the first place. I turned to walk out and back in; the desperate attempt to remember why you first entered the room routine. As I turned, I ran into a face-f of hard body. Much harder than I had ever anticipated, in fact.

             
“Oh! You scared me.”

             
“I am sorry. You had been in here a long while. I came in to check on you. Do you need help choosing an outfit?” He smiled and looked down at me.

             
“Okay.” I turned back to face my closet of crap. I watched as a very well dressed man sifted through my blouses and slacks.

             
“Here we are.” He held out my only little black dress. I use the word little very loosely.