Divinity (16 page)

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We need to find the source. It was not that waiter who caused Alex’s death, it was the thing in the woods. We must find it and stop it
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She knew he was right. That thing had killed Alex, not the waiter, even though she had seen the gun in Clyde’s hands. Her grief transformed into rage. Julia ground her teeth together so hard her jaw ached. She wanted to scream, but was afraid if she did that to Michael, inside her head, she might actually split her skull.

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Fine. I’ll do it
.-

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You must rejoin the living, girl. Go now
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Julia withdrew from the memories and blinked. She was sitting at a table in an unfamiliar conference room. She had no memory of entering it, or of sitting. There was a bottle of water and a box of tissues on the table. A stocky female detective sat across from her, eyeing her expectantly. Another detective, an older male, stood by the door with one hand on the doorknob. She vaguely recognized them as the detectives who had taken her from the scene.

“I’m sorry,” Julia said. “What were you saying?”

The detectives exchanged a glance, and the man let go of the knob and turned to listen.

“We were asking you if you needed medical help,” the woman said, concern obvious in her eyes.

“You were non-responsive,” the man said coldly. “I’m sorry,” Julia mumbled. “I just… Who are you?”

“I am Detective Alyssa Cole.” Her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail that made Julia’s temples throb just to look at. Cole gestured to the other detective. “This is my partner, Detective Frank Salter.”

The name suited the cop, given the flecks of gray sprinkled throughout his buzz-cut. Julia nodded at both and took in a long, shuddering breath.

“We understand, Ms. Samson, you have been through a horrible ordeal.” Cole sat back in her chair. “Why don’t we give you a few minutes to collect yourself?”

Salter nodded and stepped out.

The moment her partner left the room, Cole offered her a sad smile. “Can I get you anything, ma’am?”

“Do you have coffee?” Julia asked. Her eyes fell to the pile of soggy tissues beside her. She shook her head. She had never been so despondent that she had no memory of what was going on around her. She brought a shaky hand to her forehead.

“I’ll get some,” the detective said with a kind smile. She stood and walked out, leaving Julia alone with her thoughts.

By the time Julia finished telling the police everything, she was completely exhausted. An officer had driven her car back to the station, where it had been processed and cleaned—marginally. At least there was no longer a blood trail down the side of the driver’s door. Still, Julia couldn’t bring herself to drive it, so she called Sandra, who answered on the first ring.

“Julia? Are you okay, love?”

“I-I…” Julia squeezed her eyes shut. Her voice came out in a near-whisper. “Can you help me?”

“Where are you? Julia, are you okay?” Sandra’s voice became shrill.

“I just need… I just… Alex.” A sob wrenched itself from her throat. “He’s dead. The waiter… Alex is dead.”

“What? No!” Sandra’s voice cracked. “Julia, I’m so sorry.”

Her friend’s sympathy opened the gates that had held her tears at bay. Julia folded over and buried her face in her knees, pressing the phone to the side of her head like the hug she so desperately needed. A stammering, “Please help me,” was all she could manage.

“Where are you?” Sandra’s sniffles gave way to alarm.

“I’m okay,” Julia croaked. The last thing she wanted to do was to spark one of Sandra’s panic attacks. She took a deep, steadying breath and sat up. “I’m at the police station. I have to go home, but I can’t drive.”

“I’ll be right there.” There was a rustle of movement on the other side of the phone, and the jingle of keys. “Which precinct?”

“Second. Wait!”

“What?”

“I need…” She didn’t know how to ask. Finally, the words formed for her. “My car is here.”

“I’ll take care of it. I’ll be there in twenty.”

Julia stared at her phone once it disconnected. She dialed Alex’s number, but hung up before the voicemail kicked in. As much as she wanted to hear his voice, she thought it might send her over the edge.

Sandra barged into the station, her red-rimmed eyes scanning the foyer until they landed on Julia. She ran over, arms spread wide, and flung them around Julia, repeating, “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

After a few minutes, Julia pulled away. “Thank you for coming, Sandra. I just can’t…you know…but I don’t want to leave it here, either.”

“It’s no trouble, love. My Bobby drove me down. He’ll follow us back in your car and take me home. We’re happy to help.” Sandra took a deep breath. “I should have done something more last night after my car was…”

“No.” Julia held up a hand, cutting Sandra off. “You will
not
take the blame for this, Sandra.”

Julia knew there was much more to Alex’s murder than she could tell Sandra, but she simply didn’t have the energy to be the one doing the consoling.

“I’m sorry,” Sandra said, hanging her head as though she realized exactly what Julia had just thought.

“Let’s get out of here,” Julia said. “Please.”

Sandra wrapped a warm arm around Julia’s shoulders and led her out of the building and toward the parking lot. She shut off her memories and they drove home in silence.

“Let me come in and fix you some tea,” Sandra offered when they arrived at Julia’s townhouse. “You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“No, thank you, Sandra.” Julia unlocked her door and stepped inside. She turned and faced Sandra, blocking the entryway as though Sandra was one of those dreaded door-to-door salespeople. “I need to be alone.”

Sandra grimaced and eyed Julia with skepticism. Finally she sighed, shrugged, and reached a hand forward to give Julia’s a squeeze. “I’m right at the other end of the phone, should you need me, love.”

“I know,” Julia said, her tone softening now that she realized Sandra was going to leave her alone. “Sandra?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t open the restaurant tomorrow. I’ll pay everyone for their shifts, but I want it closed.”

“Consider it done.”

“And Sandra?”

“Yes?”

“Lower the flag.”

Sandra nodded. “Get some sleep, Julia,” she said before turning and heading to her car.

Julia watched as Sandra got in and Bobby leaned over to give her a kiss. A profound sadness hit her like a sucker punch to the gut. She closed the door, locking the bolts and drawing the chain into place. She leaned back against the door and sank to the floor, hands over her eyes as she wept.

After more than an hour, cried out and barely awake, she stood and dragged herself to the computer. She clicked on IM and waited for it to load.

She opened a window to Charlie and sat with her fingers hovering over the keys, unsure what to type. Finally, she decided to go with the plain truth.

The tears spilled down Julia’s cheeks as she read and reread her words. She raised her eyes to the ceiling.

“How do I live?” Once again, she buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

When she managed to gain control, she stared at the screen for more than an hour. No response. When she couldn’t keep herself upright any longer, she closed the laptop and went to bed, feeling more alone than she ever had.

“I should go to her,” Gabriel said. The clouds swirled behind him as he paced. “I might convince her that she does have family.”

Michael fixed Gabriel with a skeptical stare. “I think that would not benefit her at this time, Brother. She is in a delicate place, and right now she blames you for everything.”

“Me?” Gabriel’s eyes widened, then his shoulders slumped forward as his wings sagged. “She hates me still. I hoped she would focus her anger on the beast.”

“She has. But I fear if you were to stand in front of her right now, you would be the one to wear her wrath.”

“I do not understand this. She seems to desire family.” Gabriel raised his hand to his chest. “I
am
her family.”

“You are. And she does desire family.” Michael nodded and put a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder, stopping him mid-pace. “But she does not know what family really means, any more than you do. She was only beginning to learn, with Alex and his mother, what it might mean to have one.”

Gabriel waved an arm, opening a hole in the clouds. Through it, he saw Julia, curled into the fetal position on her bed. “Perhaps I should sit with her. That is what they do when they convalesce, is it not? Sit at one another’s bedsides?”

Michael smiled and nodded. “It is what they do. But she is not ill. We must allow her grief to fade, and hope she will find a reason to remain on Earth. And a reason to join us.”

“Hope,” Gabriel repeated, his words barely audible. “Do you think she will join us? After all this, do you think it is possible?”

Michael peered down at Julia’s slumbering body, her head nestled into her tear-soaked pillow. He adjusted his wings and stood in silent vigil, shoulder to wing with Gabriel, leaving the question unanswered.

XVI

T
HE
unmarked police car pulled up to the curb in full view of Julia’s living room window. The two detectives from the day before climbed out. Julia watched as they met on the sidewalk, exchanged a few words, and then continued toward her front door.

When the doorbell rang, she walked to the door on autopilot and swung it open, her swollen eyes squinting against the bright sunlight.

“Hello, Ms. Samson, we met yesterday,” the woman said. “Detective Cole? And my partner, Detective Salter?”

“Yes, I remember.”

“We’d like to ask you a few more questions,” Salter said, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“Do you mind if we come in?” Cole held her head high, her back straight. She seemed to be trying to put on a tough appearance.

Julia moved aside and waved them in. “Would you like some coffee?”

The detectives looked at one another; both opened their mouths to speak, but neither one did. Finally, the woman answered.

“We don’t want you to go to any trouble, ma’am.”

“It’s no trouble, it’s already made,” Julia said. She proceeded to the kitchen, came out with coffees for all three, and sat at the dining room table. With a glance and a wave of her hand, she offered the officers a seat, and they obliged.

Julia faced the female cop. “What can I do for you today?”

“There are a couple things,” Cole answered. “Do you know what happened to the vic—er, Alex’s leg?” The detective had the decency to look embarrassed for having almost called Alex “the victim.”

“His leg?” Julia had no idea what Cole was talking about.

“His left calf.” Cole watched Julia intently.

Oh shit. Where that thing cut him. “I’m not sure,” Julia said, glad that the swelling in her eyes would mask her sudden realization. She dabbed them with a tissue. “I think he tripped as we fled the forest. Sprained his ankle or something. He was limping.” Well, at least that part was true.

The detectives exchanged a look.

“What is this about?” Julia looked from Cole to Salter and back again.

“We’ve had to quarantine the body,” Salter said bluntly. “It’s infected, and still spreading.”

“Infected with what?” Julia asked, mortified as she pictured the scary stick fingers tearing through Alex’s pants.

“We’re not sure, Ms. Samson.”

“The whole left side has decayed,” Salter cut in. “Post mortem. And now what’s left is festering.”

The look of abject horror on Julia’s face must have convinced the detectives that she had no idea what they were talking about, since they both stopped talking and Julia was pretty sure that Cole actually kicked her partner under the table. It was a relief. If he said “post mortem” one more time, Julia thought she might lose it.

“There is one other thing,” Cole started after a moment of awkward silence.

“It’s about the man that killed your boyfriend,” Detective Salter cut in. He set a thick file folder down on the table, pulled out a picture, and slid it across the table to Julia. “This man. Clyde Warner. Do you recognize him?”