Echo (Black Lotus #2)(9)

For that moment . . .

It was so good.

Picking myself up off the floor, I steady on my feet before grabbing my coat and keys. As much as I’ve been avoiding the reality of Declan’s absence, I need to face it. To remember that it was real and it’s worth this pain.

I pull my car out onto Michigan Avenue and start heading north. The city is alive and moving all around me. I ignore the excitement and smiles and keep straight to River North. Turning onto Superior, I slow down. Suddenly, I feel cold and my clammy hands grip the steering wheel more tightly. There’s a sick churning in the pit of my gut as I roll the car along the curb in front of Declan’s building.

Shutting the car off, I sit for a moment in the stillness. The only sound is the pounding of my heart as it beats through my chest. This used to be my solace. My little piece of heaven located at the top of this building. When I get out of the car, I look up and see the greenery on his rooftop courtyard, but I know that’s the only life up there. His name is no longer on the intercom system in the lobby, only the number for the realtor that is listed to sell his penthouse.

The coolness of the steel on my fingertip hollows me even more, and the masochist in me begs to push the button.

So I do.

I buzz his floor, knowing that this time, his sweet voice won’t be greeting me. Instead, it’s my phone.

Pulling my cell out, I look at the screen but don’t recognize the number. As I take a few steps back toward my car, I answer, “Hello?”

“Miss me?”

It takes a moment to snap out of my thoughts of Declan to recognize the voice on the other end of the call, and a surge of panic flashes through my system. Quickly composing myself, I answer steadily, “What do you want, Matt?”

“We need to talk.”

“About?”

“Do I really need to say it?” he taunts, and I don’t need a reminder to know that when I passed him in my car the day I shot and killed Pike, he was heading straight to his trailer. Words aren’t needed; we both know what I did.

“When?”

“Tomorrow.”

“I can’t,” I tell him as I get back into my car and shut the door.

“You have something better to do?”

“As if my doings are any of your business, but yes. I’m leaving town, so if you’d like to talk, it would need to be done today,” I bite in irritation. Matt has always been a source of friction for me. I’ve put up with him because of his friendship with Pike, but he’s always given me the creeps. Still, there’s a part of me that’s grateful for him, because it was him that gave me one of the greatest gifts, and he gave it from a pure heart.

Probably his only moment of selflessness.

Matt was the one that gave me my first taste of revenge when he set the stage for me to murder my foster parents. My payback for the years of abuse. So as much as I despise Matt, a part of me is thankful for him.

“Thirty minutes? Tribune Tower?” he suggests.

“Fine.”

Hanging up, I toss the phone over to the passenger seat. Hearing his voice makes me even more anxious to leave this town. To run far away from this place and from everything I know.

I start heading back towards Michigan Avenue, and once I’ve parked the car, I walk over towards the Tribune Tower. The streets and sidewalks are flooded with businessmen and tourists. Making my way through the crowds, I cross the street and wait for Matt.

My attention is on a street performer who’s playing an old Otis Rush number I recognize on the saxophone. As people walk past him, dropping dollar bills and coins into his open sax case on the ground, I get lost in the smooth melody. I watch the man, and wonder about him. He’s old and grey, dressed in tatters of worn clothes. His dark skin is aged with deep wrinkles, and even though his knuckles are worn and ashy, they move with grace along the keys. By looks alone, you’d think he was lonely and sad, but the sway of his head as he plays is a sure sign of happiness. But how does one, who appears to have nothing, find joy? I want to ask him how, but I stumble on my feet when I’m knocked off balance, only to find that I’m now in Matt’s arms. He grabs me from behind and turns me around to face him. With a hand on my back and the other holding my hand, he moves me in a slow dance to the music.

His sly grin rakes at me, knowing the pleasure he’s taking in having me this close to him. If it weren’t for the mass of people around us, I’d push him off of me. The last thing I need is to cause a scene, so I allow him to lead me to his liking while keeping my eyes downcast.

“Don’t look so miserable, Elizabeth. People are watching us.”

Biting down, I muster up a weak smile and raise my head to meet his eyes. They’re dilated dope black, but that’s nothing new. It amazes me that this druggie I’ve known since I was a freshman in high school hasn’t wound up overdosing.

Pulling me in closer, he rests his cheek against the side of my head, whispering in my ear, “You miss him?”

Yes.

I don’t answer as I focus to keep my composure in front of him, but inside I can feel my wounds ripping deeper.

His hand wraps further around me, tugging me in close while we continue to dance on the bustling sidewalk in front of the Tribune Tower.

“If you’re worried, don’t be,” he continues softly. “I took care of it.”