Alyssa couldn't help the tear that rolled down her cheek as Detective Pierce drove toward the hotel. She hadn't wanted to cry, and she wouldn't allow herself to continue. It was one tear, and it was all she would shed. She should have seen it coming. She wanted more than anything to have Liam there, to tell him everything from the beginning, but it was too late for that now. She'd be in America soon, back to face the music. Running had only made them more suspicious, but spur of the moment decisions made during a panic were rarely well thought out.
Something white appeared in her lap. She looked down and saw a handkerchief, the one that had been peeking out of his suit pocket earlier. She picked it up and dabbed at her cheek. "Thank you," she said meekly.
The detective stared through the window, casual as always. "I don't get you."
Confused, she turned her head to face him. "What?"
He kept his eyes on the road. "I've been watching you for a couple weeks. You go to work, you go on dates with your boyfriend, you entertain the family and eat Indian take-out. Where's this deranged killer I've been hearing about?"
She flinched at the thought of people calling her that. "I'm not," she replied, her voice rising an octave. "Sir, I swear. I can explain but you wouldn't believe me. No one would. That's why I ran!"
The man drove in silence for a moment before speaking again. "That why you didn't tell your boyfriend?"
That hurt. She looked away, out the window. Her answer was barely a whisper. "Yes."
Back to silence. The radio played smooth jazz. Elevator music didn't suit her mood at all. She could see the detective enjoying this, though. It was smooth and calm and classy. It fit.
Her stomach rumbled and she grimaced. She hadn't eaten all day.
"You're hungry."
"I'm fine."
The detective turned on his blinkers when a diner came into view. "Let's eat." He pulled into the parking lot and got out. As if the thought just occurred to him, he leaned down through the opening and met her gaze. "Don't think of trying to escape me. You're making a good impression so far; it'd be a shame to chase you down and cuff you. Understood?"
She had nowhere else to go, anyway. She nodded. That seemed to satisfy him; he closed the door and walked around to her side. He held the door open for her, waited patiently for her to get out, and then escorted her to the entrance doors. He held them open for her as well and gave her a nod. "After you."
He handed her a menu and took one for himself when they found a table. A waitress appeared to take their drink orders and then scurried back to the kitchen. His eyes roaming over the choice of dinner items, he spoke. "Ever eaten here?"
She kept her voice low. "No."
He shrugged. "Guess we'll both just have to trust the food isn't shit." After another moment of looking, he closed the menu and slid it toward the end of the table. "Speaking of trust, we have some ground rules to discuss."
She had been stuck between choosing the everything burger and the baked spaghetti when he spoke. She looked up instantly. "Yes?"
"It's fairly obvious, the rules. I'm a cop, a human being; I don't like being lied to. I won't lie to you, you don't lie to me. We clear?"
She nodded. "Yes, sir."
"You seem like a nice kid. So long as you're respectful, I'll be respectful back. I give as good as I get, Ms. Giordano. I came here on this lone mission because I'm a reasonable man and I'm good at my job. I came to listen before I bring you back. Call it utter fucking curiosity, but my gut is telling me there's more to this story than you being a stone cold killer since you were fourteen."
She wasn't sure of what the ground rule was there, but she nodded again. "Am I being interrogated now?" It seemed odd to be discussing this in a diner.
The detective's lips quirked; he huffed out a quiet laugh. "No. Not quite. I don't believe in witches and magic and visions. If you're crazy, then fine. But I know a little girl couldn't kill as many people as my colleagues want to pin on you."
Her heart sped up inside her chest. She was sweating. "What? How many?"
"As many as you told them when you came by the station in hysterics," he replied, reaching into his suit pocket and withdrawing a small notepad. He flipped to the first page. "I have six names here, all of which you rattled off before you split. Heather Mullaney, age twenty-three, killed by her boyfriend, James O'Connor. Stabbed her, and as she was bleeding out, injected her wounds with acid. We sure as hell never leaked those details to the press."
Alyssa tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. "I knew they hadn't. I mentioned things only the police would know. I wanted them to solve the murders I'd seen."
"Seen," he echoed, sitting back in his seat.
Shit, that sounded bad. "I didn't mean..."
"You said seen," he said when she trailed off. "Were you there? A witness?"
She was trying hard not to panic, but her nerves were getting the best of her. "No, sir."
"An accomplice?"
It felt as if someone had turned the temperature up in the place; she was burning up. Her skin was flushed, her brow beading with sweat. "Jesus, no! I swear!"
The detective looked around the diner; a few of the patrons had turned to check out the situation. They quickly looked away when the detective stared right back. "Calm down." The waitress appeared with their drinks, and Ezra nodded toward the glass in front of Alyssa. "Drink your water."
She obeyed, watching as he gave his order to the waitress. His eyes landed on hers. "What'll it be? The everything burger or the pasta?"
She had never voiced her options to him; she couldn't say he wasn't observant. She offered the waitress a small smile and ordered the burger. He had requested the same. When the waitress disappeared again, he leaned forward and folded his hands over the table. "So, visions?" he guessed. "Is that what we're sticking with?"
"I know how hard it is to believe. I've had them since I was fourteen."
"When the murders began," he added on to her statement.
She nodded. "When my dad died. When I died."
"The accident. You both drowned, they revived you. I've done my reading."
"I was dead, Detective. They brought me back. My mom and I think that somehow dying did something to me. That it made me able to live through the last moments of people's lives. I don't know."
"People die all the time, Ms. Giordano," he reminded her.
"I only see murders. I see deaths that happen when they're not supposed to."
She could tell he wanted to give up and conclude the conversation. He didn't believe. He likely didn't want to. But, true to his promise, he was respectful, and he was reasonable. He was hearing her out as he'd said he would. "Your mother and you have any theories on that?"
"We were hit by a drunk driver. He hit us, watched us crash into the river, and drove off. We didn't die a natural death. We were murdered."
He fell silent until the food came. It made her nervous to see the gears in his head turning. She didn't have a clue what he was thinking. Maybe he'd already shut the door between them and didn't want to hear any more. He demanded honesty, and none of this sounded like the truth. Not in the real world.
When he was halfway through his burger, she finally broke. She couldn't stand the guessing. "You don't believe me."
His eyes settled on hers, his lips set in a thin, hard line. He looked at her as if he was studying her. He dropped his burger back down on the plate and dusted the crumbs off of his hands with a napkin. He never broke eye contact. "The year I became a cop was the year you were born. Twenty-four years of being lied to and following my gut to find out the truth. Either you're the best damned liar I've ever come across or you're truly out of your mind. I'm leaning towards the latter."
The conversation had done nothing. She needed her book. She needed to show him the true scale of every vision she'd had. He would know for sure, then. She wasn't capable. It wasn't possible.
When they finished up, he drove her to his hotel room and retrieved a bag from the back seat. He led her inside and tossed the bag on the extra bed. "Your bed and a change of your clothes. Charlie packed you some things you'd need."
The book. She dove for the bag and ripped it open, desperate to find the evidence Detective Pierce would need in order to believe her. She sighed when she found nothing but toiletries and two outfits.
Ezra noticed her disappointment. "Missing something?"
She carefully packed what little she had back into the bag, defeated. "Just proof."
"Whatever proof it is, we'll get it tomorrow before we leave for the States." He sat down on the edge of his bed and reached for the television remote out of boredom. "If you need a shower, go ahead."
Without a word, she grabbed up her tank top, shorts, and a fresh pair of panties and took a quick shower before returning to her bed. He barely spared her a glance; his shirt was already off. She glanced away, feeling way out of her element. If he was intimidating in the suit, he was twice that without it. He had to be nearing the end of his 40s at least, but he obviously kept in shape. He was no stranger to heavy lifting, and she doubted he'd even break a sweat if he had to subdue her.
"I'm taking a quick shower," he announced, brushing by her and stopping himself outside the bathroom door. "Find something on TV, sleep, do whatever. Remember what I said about running."
He spoke like he knew she wouldn't try it, and it was merely a warning he was forced to give. She nodded nonetheless, and then listened as his feet padded around inside the small bathroom, as his toothbrush buzzed, as the shower came on. He was out in a matter of minutes, toweling off in a fresh pair of jeans. He glanced down at Alyssa - she hadn't changed the channel. She was staring down at her cell phone, looking dejected.
"We leave for the airport tomorrow at exactly 11:30," he announced. He nodded towards her phone. "You calling someone to bust you out?"
It sounded like an attempt at humor, but she held her phone up nonetheless and pressed the bottom button. The screen lit up and flashed with the same red screen, then faded to black again. "It died before we got back to my apartment tonight."
He pointed toward the bedside table. "Use my charger." He sat at the edge of the bed and watched her fumble for the cord. "Go ahead and call your guy."
She looked back up, surprised he was being so lenient. She may have hated the situation she was in, but he had her respect. "I can?"
He flipped through the channels, sitting back against the headboard. "Wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it."
She sat in silence for a moment, waiting for her phone to charge enough to be usable. He seemed to settle on the news. The next story caught her attention.
"Still no word on the man found burned to death two weeks ago outside a bar on Hackney Road. Friends have identified the victim as Malcolm Reed, a resident of Dartford. Police are still investigating and asking that anyone with any information contact...."
She took the risk and spoke, her eyes on the detective. "The killer wore a mask. Black with these white stripes. Vertical, varying in size, all jagged lines."
Ezra, his arms folded behind his neck, cocked his head toward her, brows raised. "Another vision, huh?"
It wasn't just a vision, she wanted to say. She wanted to tell him that she had burned right along with Malcolm Reed. "I felt everything he was feeling and I saw the killer light me on fire. He had an American accent. The victim didn't know him. He died confused. The killer said he was sorry, that he was getting back at a friend."
The detective remained patient. Tired, but calm. "What's that supposed to mean? He killed an innocent guy to get back at someone else?"
Alyssa shrugged. "I only know what the victims know. Every vision I've had, I have a witness to back it up. It's just that I told Liam they were cluster headaches. But I write down each vision, the date, every detail I can remember. He can verify when the last one happened. His whole family can."
Ezra's eyes seemed to want to drift shut. The slits between his eyelids were getting smaller and smaller. "Too bad I'm only investigating the murders in New York."
"That's the thing," she said. "He wore the same mask as the man from my earlier visions. In New York."
He breathed in deeply and adjusted his pillow. "Well, then, we can investigate further when we're back home."
Several minutes passed before she spoke again. Ezra's chest was rising and falling steadily as the sounds from the television filled the silence. She didn't want him to fall asleep before she asked him one favor.
"Sir?"
Bright blue eyes shot open and settled on hers. He grunted in response.
"Can Liam come? Tomorrow morning? I want to say goodbye and I think he has my book. I need my proof."
He grunted again and threw an arm over his eyes. "As long as his ass is gone before 11:30."
She watched her iPhone screen come to life. "Thank you," she whispered, and thumbed through her contacts. When she pressed down on Liam's name, she prayed like hell he would answer.
Last edited by PuppyWithATutu on Sat Nov 07, 2015 1:29 am; edited 1 time in total