Chapter Forty-Two

Graves

Dust particles float through the air, highlighted by the light streaming through the window. There’s a thin layer of dust on almost every surface. Melissa King’s roommate sits across from me and every time she shifts on the couch, it groans. I’m honestly waiting for it to collapse at any moment. It looks to be at least fifty years old and the floral print has significantly faded. Julia, the roommate, is the last interviewee on my list and her constantly shifting gaze tells me she has something to hide.

“Do you remember anything specific about Melissa the last time you saw her?” I ask.

“No, she was her usual happy self.”

“Was there anyone new in her life? A man, perhaps?” I prod.

“Well…no.” She loosens her breath.

“What are you not telling me Julia?”

“What?”

“Listen, anything you tell me will be confidential. Unless it is information that someone else is in danger, I will only use it to track down whoever did this.” I try to be as encouraging as possible, but with the captain breathing down my neck and the time away from my little siren forever growing, I’m becoming impatient.

“Her parents… Did you meet them?” she asks. What are you getting at?

“Yes, I interviewed them,” I reply. She tangles her fingers in her lap and blips of Mallory behaving the same way pop into my mind. She does this when she’s uncomfortable and needs an outlet for her nervous energy. I’ve learned so much about reading people in the months I spent watching Mallory that I’ve improved the skills necessary to do my job.

“Are you on good terms with the King’s, Julia?”

She finally meets my gaze and it’s a baby step to forming a connection with someone you want information from.

“No. Her parents are extremely strict, so are mine. It’s what Melissa and I first bonded over.”

“How long have you and Melissa been friends?” I query.

“Since the last year of high school. We were inseparable, despite our parent’s persistent meddling.”

I sit in silence, letting the memories of her friendship flow through her. When she’s finally ready to open up, a torrent pours out.

“It’s my fault!” she sobs. Fuck, that was not what I was expecting. I jump up from my seat, looking for anything that compares to a tissue. Returning, I pass her a roll of paper towels. She shoots me a ‘what the fuck’ look and I shrug. It’s not my fault you don’t have a box of tissues handy.

“Julia, why do you think this is your fault? Do you know who did this to her?” I coax. Slow and steady wins the race.

“No, I don’t know who killed her.” Tears are free flowing down her face as she continues her story through gasping breaths. “I was always the bad influence on her. I never forced anything on her but I did encourage her to try everything once and step out of her comfort zone.” She blows her nose and the rough paper towel scrapes against her skin. Note to self: carry travel size tissues.

“What did Melissa do, Julia? You have to tell me so this doesn’t end up as another cold case,” I persist.

“She had been battling with her parents for months, even after she moved in with me. They never left her alone and were still trying to control her, despite her efforts to cut them off. They had a finger in every aspect of her life. Her schooling, friendships, and even her dating life.”

I nod my head in silent acknowledgement. She’s trying to justify whatever decision Melissa made that led to her death, along with her part in it.

“What happened, Julia?”

“She was getting really upset that every time she would meet a guy and spark up the beginning of a relationship, her parents would chase him away. Using fear or money to entice them to never see or speak to Melissa again. It was heartbreaking watching my best friend cry over the inability to be fucking normal, all because of her parents. I could only relate so much, once I moved out, I was dead to mine, they don’t even contact me anymore. She longed for that and didn’t know how to achieve it. I felt so bad for her, I just blurted it out before even realizing it. She latched onto the idea and nothing I said could deter her. I’m sure I only meant it as a joke, just to make her laugh and maybe say ‘Yeah, right’, you know?”

“Julia, what did you suggest? Whatever it was, this isn’t your fault. You didn’t kill Melissa,” I say supportively.

“I may as well have," she wails. "If I had kept my mouth shut and just comforted her, maybe she’d still be here.”

I extend my hands, grasping her small ones in mine. I look into her blotchy red face, pleading, “Please, Julia. I want to catch her murderer before he hurts another innocent woman.”

She heaves in a heavy breath then releases it in a slow, calming manner. Composing herself, she says, “I suggested she try online dating.”

∞∞∞

That’s a fucking lead I can use. Before leaving, I gather all the online information for Melissa that Julia was able to give me. I did ask if coloured contacts were something that Melissa wore often and they were not. Julia was actually taken aback, saying her friend had such beautiful aqua coloured eyes, she would have never allowed her to conceal them. She definitely wasn’t wearing them when she left for her date and told Julia, “Don’t wait up.” I’m thoroughly unsettled as I start the long drive back to Crystal Creek from the city. Why the fuck was she wearing those contacts?

This week has been absolute hell. I’m unable to see Mallory unless I let myself in when she’s sleeping. Which, of course, I do. The books I ordered for her finally came in and I left them as a surprise for her on the nightstand, along with a little note.

Little Siren,

Just because you don’t see me, it doesn’t mean I’m not around.

XO Ghost

The captain has been ramping up the pressure on the squad to catch this killer. He’s worried with the mill closed, the town will suffer from the lack of funds the schools bring in with the tours in September. He isn’t wrong. The Henderson Haunt will undoubtedly be cancelled if the crime scene isn’t released because the serial killer is still at large.

He’s partnered us up with the city police department now that there’s significantly more evidence, and they have the capabilities that our small town precinct doesn’t. Melissa is also from the city, so jurisdictions and whatnot make the team-up a good idea. I’m not complaining…even if they are pompous dicks. I’ll take all the help I can get at this point.

I update Sgt. Jefferds, my contact at the city station, and my uncle. He is overjoyed at the lead, but I know how long these things can take. Without Melissa’s phone, the tech team is going to have to work through a mountain of red tape to get access to her profiles and online information.

Myers did find out that Melissa had no prescription for corrective lenses, most likely the contacts were her choice. Maybe trying something new before meeting someone? She unfortunately strikes me as someone who wasn’t as safe as they should’ve been when engaging with strangers online. It's a downfall of being so smothered and sheltered during her upbringing, but only time will tell.

Did a date make her wear them? Was her last date with the killer? I don't know a thing about internet dating, where would I even start to look into something like that? There has to be hundreds of different sites and apps for hooking up and meeting new people.

My phone chimes, pulling me from my thoughts. It's a ring tone I picked especially for Mallory since it’s been torture being away from her. I don’t want to miss any messages from her, which I have in the past because all the sounds coming from my phone were the same. Why is she texting Ghost and not me? Fuck sakes.

Mallory:

Thank you for the books, I can’t wait to

read the one about the masked stalker.

I can read it from the stand my phone is propped up in on the dash. I’ll reply once I’m back at my desk. Bad Omens pumps through my speakers as cruise control carries me down the highway back home. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. The burner phone vibrates in the empty cup holder, over and over again. Shit, is she calling me? She’s never called me. I’m excited and fumbling, trying to answer the phone, but my pressing of the 'answer' button isnt registering on the touch screen because of these fucking leather gloves. I set the phone down on the seat beside me and attempt to pull the glove off with my teeth while still driving. My exaggerated flinging of the glove off my hand knocks the phone away from me. There it goes, falling down to the floor on the passenger side. FUCK! No! I’m going to miss the sound of her sweet voice caressing my name. I roar out in aggravated annoyance. The incessant need to know what she wanted burning in my chest all the way back to the Crystal Creek Police Department.