One of Those Faces (77)

I dialed his number one more time. It went to voice mail, but I hung up.

I drained the last of my rum and Coke. The bartender said nothing but slid a glass of water in front of me. “Can I get another?” I asked, pushing the water away from me down the counter.

He nodded and walked to the other side of the bar.

Embers flickered in the dark across the street. I squinted through the window. “Never mind,” I called down to the bartender. “Just give me the check.”

He rolled his eyes but quickly started punching into the computer, ignoring a drunk woman waving her glass at him from the other end.

I glanced at the check as he set it down and dropped my last twenty-dollar bill before staggering to my feet and out the door. As I turned the corner, I searched for cigarette smoke as the station came into sight.

I spotted him leaning against the brick wall, talking with a uniformed police officer in between taking drags from his cigarette, only the dim light of a streetlamp illuminating them. I cautiously hung back at the edge of the parking lot. He nodded and shook the officer’s hand before they parted ways.

He threw down his cigarette and strode toward the parking lot, halting his steps when he saw me. He quickened his pace. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?” He had reached me by now, standing a little too closely, the smoke on his breath making me gag.

I averted my gaze to the asphalt.

He cast a look around the lot and put a hand on my back, turning me around to guide me toward his car. I got in, and he closed the door before he climbed into the driver’s seat. “What’s going on?” he asked again.

I tried to focus on the layer of dust on the dashboard, but my vision rolled in small circles. “I need to see Erin.”

He hit the top of the steering wheel with his palm. “I thought I told you to cool it with that, okay? She doesn’t want to see you right now.”

I laid my head against the seat. “I need to see her.” My voice cracked. “I have to talk to her.” I should’ve drunk the water.

He sighed. “Are you drunk?”

I closed my eyes. “I’m sorry, I—I don’t know why I came here.”

“Do you want to talk inside?” He gestured back at the station.

“I thought you said I would get you in trouble,” I slurred.

“Where do you want me to drop you off?” he asked.

“Where were you about to go?” I opened my eyes and stared straight ahead. The streetlamp above the parking lot was flickering.

“I was about to go home. I just got off a long shift.”

“Okay. Let’s talk there.”

He said nothing and started the car.



His apartment was in worse shape than mine. It was buried in the less trendy side of River North and reeked of smoke. “Sorry.” He kicked a stack of old magazines away from the door so I could pass. “I wasn’t planning on having company.”

I waded behind him through the mess of cardboard boxes to his kitchen. “Did you just move in?”

He dragged a chair across the floor and put it by the table, then motioned for me to have a seat. “Yeah, eight months ago.”

I sat in the chair cautiously. “Why haven’t you unpacked yet?” I pushed a stack of mail and papers to the other side of the table.

He set a bottle of water next to me and sat in another chair across the table. “I thought you said you needed to talk. What does that matter?”

I peeled the label away from the bottle, ignoring his gaze.

“Did something happen?” He rested both his elbows on the table and leaned toward me.

I thought about Iann, about Alayna’s face in the photo. I tore the label in half, then into fourths. “I saw another girl,” I said.

He blinked. “What girl?”

I shredded the fourths. Alayna was too much. I couldn’t even begin to piece that together. “I saw another girl who looks like me and Holly and Sarah.”

He straightened in his seat. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw her walking around downtown.” I waited for more questions, but they didn’t come. “If Bug—Todd, I mean—if he killed Holly, did he kill Sarah too?”

He rubbed at his eyes. “I can’t talk about that with you.” He surveyed my face. “But that idea has been thrown around.”

My chest constricted. “Then what about Jeremy? What about the letter he wrote?”

He scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t know.”

“How can you not know by now?” I snapped.

“Well, in Todd’s case . . . I mean, being a pervert isn’t the same as being a serial murderer. And right now we only have absolute proof that he was a pervert.”

“What?” My blood felt like ice, carrying a chill through my veins.

He looked away from me. “There’s a lot going on in the case, but so far none of the physical evidence on Holly or Sarah points to Todd.”

“He tried to kill me,” I blurted out. “And he had pictures of Holly’s dead body. How can you try to tell me it wasn’t him?”

He leaned back in his chair. “Look, I’m leveling with you. At this point, we’re looking into Holly’s case again. The, uh . . . recent events have complicated matters a bit.”