“It’s nice to see that life has picked up and moved on for you somewhat.” She smiled at the thought.
“But your call was a blast from the past, and one I would just as soon not deal with.”
“Right, I understand. Listen. I have calls out to several other victims of similar accidents, and we’re going on a hunch with a current case. I would just like to confirm whether you know any of these people.” And she ran through the list of prior victim names.
“Honestly, Detective, I don’t know any of those,” he said in astonishment. “Are you thinking that somebody other than the person who hit my wife is connected to another murder?”
“It was vehicular homicide. Yes, she died by another hand, but…”
He said, “I know. I know. I know. I don’t want to get into the logistics. I went through a lot of anger and hours and hours of torment trying to figure out how to get revenge. And then I finally realized there wasn’t any such thing. He’s already in jail, and that’s just the way life is.” He stopped for a second. “He is still in jail, isn’t he?”
“Yes, the person who hit your wife is still in jail.”
“Good. In that case I’m the one who’s blessed. My wife had her life cut short, and there’s nothing I can do to change that. But at least that asshole isn’t going free. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d just as soon get off the phone and forget that I had any calls to make on this matter.” And, with that, he hung up.
She frowned, as she looked down at her phone.
“Problems?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Just another husband who didn’t want to have all the painful past brought up again,” she said quietly.
“It’s got to be painful for sure.”
“I know. I know, but what else am I supposed to do?”
“You do your job, the same as you do every other time,” he said gently. “But, right now, your job is to sit down and eat.”
And, with that, he put their plates on the table with a hardbang.
*
Very early thenext morning, long before the sun would rise, after Simon dressed, tiptoed out of Kate’s bedroom, and left her apartment in the dark, when he was heading down to his car, an overpowering scent once again hit him. He stopped outside in the fresh air, took several deep long breaths, smelling the same sweaty body odor. “Why body odor?” he murmured. “Makes no sense.”
He had yet to tell Kate about it. Mostly because he didn’t know what he was experiencing and didn’t want to be questioned about it. Like her and her cases. He was interested in everything going on in her world, and her cases fascinated him. But, at the same time, there didn’t appear to be anything he could do to help her. It wasn’t something that he could ask about on the streets. It didn’t appear to be anything up his alley at all. And the scents certainly weren’t connected to the nightmare going on in her world. It was fascinating; it just wasn’t relevant.
As he got into his car, it was like the leather in his vehicle… was just like that new-car fresh-leather smell. He inhaled deeply, smiled, and started up the engine. He could even smell the gas from outside. He shook his head and drove home slowly, even though at this sleepy time of the wee hours of the morning, not much traffic was on the road to hinder Simon.
Everything out here was highlighted, exasperating in a way. It made no sense, and yet here he was, outside of his penthouse in his parking spot underground, hopping into the elevator, which had a less-than-pleasant smell.
As he made his way up to his penthouse and into his living room, he tossed his wallet and keys on the countertop, putting away the few grocery items he’d picked up for his place. Hating the stuffy air, he walked over to the balcony, opened up the double doors and stepped outside, just smelling the city. The fresh air, the early morning, the coolness.
Everything from gas to sweat to fast food to flowers to the sea. He turned to face the harbor and just took a deep breath of the fresh salty air coming in off the water. It was stunning; then it was weird when he heard the sobbing. He groaned, as he stood here, his head bowed. “I don’t know what’s the matter,” he whispered, “but I wish you would stop crying.”
And, for the first time, he heard words, words that seemed to be directed outward.
“Why?” this woman raged. “Why me?”
Something was there, and he strained to see through the shadows. But nothing he could actually discern. “Why youwhat? Why? What’s going on?” he replied, in an effort to communicate.
She answered, but it wasn’t to his question. “Of course it’s me. It’s not like I ever had anything good happen to me. And this is just another cross to bear.” And, with that, it’s like she shifted somewhat, like the shadows around her became more… they just became different. They weren’t new; they weren’t old. They were just different shadows. Something that struck him as odd because how many shadows could there be? Was she a prisoner? That was the thing that bothered him the most. What if she were being held captive? He frowned and whispered again, “Where are you?”
Silence came from the other end, and then she called out, “Hello? Hello? Is somebody there?”
He froze. “I’m here,” he said urgently. “Talk to me.”
“Who are you?” the woman asked, clearly puzzled. “And where are you?”
He felt and heard the pain and terror in her words. “Oh, God. Don’t be afraid. I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m not here to hurt you,” he cried out again and again.