Chapter 3

3

Seeing the claw marks,I bolted right back inside. I mean, how bad would it be if I became a hermit? I could order in groceries. I had internet and Netflix. Did I really need to leave the house?

I did if I wanted to be able to keep my apartment and pay for said groceries, internet, and Netflix. Not going in for work meant losing my paycheck and if I couldn’t pay rent, I’d end up on the street with whatever the fuck clawed my door.

Could it have been a dog? Sure, if any lived in my building. I’d yet to see any. A few cats in the windows, yes, but nothing that barked. Could be someone brought their pet on a visit to someone on my floor. But why the hell would anyone let them tear at my door like that? I didn’t even want to think what the landlord would say. I’d better not have to pay to repair it!

Taking a deep breath, I reopened my door, exiting my apartment and keeping my gaze on my hand—rather than the damage—while I locked my place. Heading for the elevator, I kept glancing over my shoulder as if I expected to see something chasing me. Nothing but dust bunnies rolled in my wake.

The elevator held a few people when it stopped on my floor. Two strangers in construction-orange jackets, leaning against the rear wall, eyeballing their phones, and Mrs. Fitzpatrick, who lived on the floor above me. I’d helped her bring up groceries a few times. More like got conscripted. She had this way of ordering people around. “You don’t mind giving an old lady a hand, do you?” she’d croak. Only an asshole would say no.

She smiled at me. “Morning, dear.”

“Hi, Mrs. Fitzpatrick. How are you?”

“I would be better if I’d slept. Did you hear the rats last night?” she asked. Then continued before I could answer. “They were scratching something fierce.”

“I must have slept through it.”

“I’m going to get some poison. Those bastards won’t be chewing on my toes while I sleep!” she fiercely declared.

“Sounds like a good plan.” Seriously. Maybe I’d pop by her place later and ask for some to put outside my door.

We parted ways outside with me rushing for the bus stop, and a good thing, too, since it came early. I made it on board, despite the crush of people. I stood and held the bar, my body swaying as the bus lumbered along its way. It didn’t stop at its usual space on my street. The driver drove down the road parallel to it before shouting, “Bulberry and Kline, get off here.”

“This isn’t the right spot,” someone in the front complained.

“I’m aware, but Bulberry is closed for an investigation. This is the temporary drop-off,” the driver stated.

“This is bullshit,” grumbled the complainer as the doors opened.

I hustled my ass off and walked a block over to see the street cordoned off and full of police.

A young fellow saw me approaching and held up his hand. “Sorry, ma’am. The street is closed for an active investigation.”

I pointed to Crack Kitchen Housewares. “I work there.”

“Doubt you’ll be getting any business today.”

“Yeah, but if I don’t go in, then the boss doesn’t pay me.” I shrugged.

“Fine. But don’t go near any of the taped-off areas.”

I didn’t plan to. I kept my gaze averted lest I see the bloodstains bound within the yellow tape. There were cops all over, some dressed in hazmat-style suits. Others manned the barricades at either end of the road or chatted over coffee and donuts.

I headed for my work and found the sign still flipped to closed but the door unlocked. I walked in, the bell tinkling to announce my arrival, to find my boss, Enzo, pacing and talking to someone in Italian on his phone. The moment he saw me, he chirped, “By-ah,” and hung up. “Sadie! Did you hear? We had a killer strike right out front!”

“I know. I was here,” I stated, heading for the back to hang up my coat and purse.

“What?” he screeched. “Are you okay? What happened? Why didn’t you call and tell me?” The last being the most important bit, as Enzo did love to gossip.

“Sorry, my phone got wet. I should have borrowed someone’s cell to text you, but I was so frazzled that I just wanted to go home.”

“Sit,” he ordered, pointing to the little bistro set we kept in the storage room as a place to have lunch. “Spill.”

I plopped into the seat and sighed. “You might not want to hear this. It’s pretty gory.”

Those words just whetted his appetite. His eyes got even wider and brighter as he turned from the coffee machine with a mug for me. “You saw it happen?”

“Yeah.” A dull admission as I accepted the drink and took a grateful sip.

“I heard it was an addict who went on a murder spree,” he blurted out.

I couldn’t blame him for the salacious interest. Usually, I would be the one dying for details, but I found myself strangely reluctant to admit what I’d seen. In the light of day, it seemed impossible. Blame the darkness and rain for muddling what I thought I’d witnessed.

“Honestly, I’m not sure who did it. It was hard to see, and once the screaming started, I hid inside the shop.” Only a half-lie.

“That must have been terrifying.”

I nodded as I cradled the hot mug of java. “Super scary. I mean, whoever attacked had some serious issues. They went after anything that moved.”

“I heard some people got away and are trying to claim it was as if the very air itself attacked them.”

That pursed my lips. “Surely someone got a video or pictures?” It had been more than twelve hours since the attack. Plenty of time for folks to upload footage. If my damn phone would turn on, I could have shown off the footage I’d gotten. Prove to that cop I told the truth!

Enzo shook his head. “Nothing that shows anything. Like you said, the weather was pretty bad, and that fog was thick. It hid everything. You can just hear the screaming.” I almost interrupted him to ask about the fog, which I hadn’t mentioned since I didn’t remember it, but he kept talking. “What’s weird is the videos after the cops arrive are all clear. No hint of a mist at all. Strange that.”

No shit, seeing as how I didn’t remember any kind of murk other than the rain. “Do they have any suspects?” I asked since he seemed well-informed for a dude who’d not even been present.

“Nope, so people are freaking. I mean there’s at least one if not more murderers on the loose. Some rumors say there’s at least two, maybe up to four perps.” His giddy excitement was macabre. Never mind I’d reacted the same way in the past. It felt different since it happened to me.

“Here’s to hoping they catch them,” I exclaimed vehemently. I intentionally neglected to mention the guy with the scythe who mowed down the sewer aliens. Last thing I needed was for my boss to think I needed professional psychiatric help.

“On a different note, the store won’t be open today. The cops say they’ll be processing the crime scene for hours. I tried to call and tell you to stay home. but your phone went right to voicemail and the text message wouldn’t deliver.”

“Yeah, it didn’t come back alive after sitting in rice overnight. I’m hoping it just needs a little more time to dry and that it’s not permanently dead.”

“Sorry you came out for nothing.”

“Actually, this would be a good day to do inventory.” A hated task that we usually did on the weekends when the part-timers were working the front.

“Are you sure you’re up to it? I’d be lying in bed for a week if I’d been a witness to a murder spree.”

More like he’d be on the phone with everyone he knew, but then again, Enzo liked people. Me? I preferred a book. I’d reached the ripe age of forty-two, and the few friends I had either moved away to places less expensive than Toronto or had started popping out babies. In other words, we grew apart, and I didn’t find replacements for them. Why bother? I enjoyed my own company. I didn’t answer to anyone. And for the few times I found myself lonely, I hit a bar called Cougarville, where the ratio of guys to gals looking to get laid made it easy to find someone who could give me an orgasm, and even easier to walk away. Their smarmy attitude reminded me why I never bothered settling down with someone.

Did I sometimes envy those posting happy pics of couple vacations and anniversaries? Yes. But not enough to truly put myself out there dating. I found it too demoralizing.

“I can handle the inventory if you need to go do stuff,” I offered, even as I hoped he’d stay. I might want to pretend I’d not seen monsters last night, but the fact remained: something violent did happen and I no longer felt safe.

“I’m going to clear out that junk cabinet under the register.” Enzo shuddered. “If I scream, bring the Raid.” We kept a large canister due to his spider phobia.

“You could always spray first?” I suggested.

His nose wrinkled. “And go around reeking of it bug spray? No thanks. I’ve got a hot lunch date with the barista on the corner.”

A guy half Enzo’s age, at least. But then again, my boss didn’t look anything close to fifty, given his hair remained jet-black. Me? I had straw-colored straight hair, also with no grays, but no one ever mistook me for being young.

We both went to work, me in the back with a tablet where I counted the stock and entered it, Enzo in the front, making more phone calls and talking animatedly in a mixture of Italian-English.

When the door chimed, I heard him call out, “Sorry, we’re closed today.”

A deep voice replied, “Hi, I’m Detective Williams. I believe one of your employees might have been a witness to the events of last night.”

I could practically feel Enzo’s excitement. “You mean Sadie? Yes, she was. Poor thing. I’m so happy she wasn’t murdered. I would have been utterly devastated. She’s such a sweet girl.”

I wasn’t, but I enjoyed the praise.

“Do you know how I can get in touch with her? I’d like to ask her a few questions.”

“I sure do. Oh Say-dee!” Enzo sang my name loudly, and I debated running out the back door.

Dumb. I wasn’t in any trouble. The detective wanted to ask some questions. Might as well answer them and send him on his way.

I exited the back room to see the detective from last night, his suit now wrinkled and his jaw dark with bristle as if he’d not been home to sleep, shower, shave, or change. No doubt the thing to blame being the number of bodies he had to process. His ragged appearance didn’t detract from his good looks, though.

As I emerged, Enzo made introductions. “Sadie, this is Detective Williams. He’s here about last night.”

“Hi.” I held my hands in front of me and tried to not fidget. How should I act so I didn’t come across looking guilty?

“Do you mind if I ask you some questions?” Detective Williams queried, eyeing me with the most beautiful green eyes. Striking when combined with his tawny complexion and dark hair cut short.

“Of course.”

The detective turned to Enzo. “Excuse me, Mr…”

“Call me Enzo.” My boss leaned forward eagerly. “What can I do for you, Detective?” Only Enzo would flirt with someone investigating a murder.

“Would it be okay if I asked to have some privacy with your employee? It won’t be for long.”

I swear my boss almost said no, but he glanced at his watch. “You know what, it’s almost time for my lunch date. I’ll be back in an hour or so. Be gentle with my Sadie.” He waggled his fingers at me as he headed for the door, and he mouthed something I didn’t understand but figured probably had to do with jumping the detective’s bones. Enzo was very much a casual relationship kind of guy, and he struggled with the fact I really had no interest in getting laid on a regular basis.

The door shut before the detective said anything else. “So you were here last night.” Stated, not asked.

“Yes.” And then because it would be dumb to lie, “I was here for the whole—” I paused as I looked for a word that wasn’t rude to the dead. Fiasco? Madness? Massacre? I settled on, “Tragedy.”

“Care to tell me what you saw?”

And have him look at me with the same dismissal the Officer Perez had? But how else to describe the events? “The rain made it hard to see things well.”

“Can you tell me the first thing you noticed?”

“I was waiting outside for the bus when someone jumped on the hood of a car passing by.” I used someone instead of something because, again, explaining that a Gollum wannabe emerged from the sewer with some buddies would have him writing me off as ready for the nuthouse. So sue me if I didn’t want the cute detective to think he dealt with someone he could easily write off.

“One assailant?”

I hesitated before admitting, “Four.”

His brows lifted, and he scribbled inside his notebook. “You saw four distinct attackers.”

“Yeah.”

“Can you describe them?”

“Not really. It happened so fast, and with the rain and lack of good lighting…” I trailed off, hoping that was a good enough explanation for him.

His expression told me nothing. “You haven’t mentioned the fog.”

Dammit. I’d forgotten people online had claimed they couldn’t see because of a misty murk.

I shrugged and offered my first real lie. “Yeah, it was kind of misty. I could only make out shapes.”

“You say one of the assailants jumped on a car, and then what?”

“I heard someone get out of that car and start yelling.” I paused and swallowed before adding softly, “Then there was screaming that cut off abruptly.”

“And during this time, you were…”

“Standing by the bus shelter waiting for my ride.”

“Literally right beside the vehicle and the accosted driver,” he pointed out. “And you didn’t get a good look at the perps?”

“I wasn’t about to be caught staring at them.” First rule in a city rife with violence? Don’t get involved. Don’t make eye contact.

“Yet my colleague says you claimed to take a video.”

Damn you, Perez! Despite the fact that she clearly hadn’t believed my story, she had obviously relayed our conversation to the detective. “I did.”

“May I see it?”

“My phone died because it got too wet.” My lame reply and I could see he didn’t believe me.

“You threw it out?”

I shook my head. “I have it in a bowl of rice at home.”

His lips pursed. “What about the bus? Were you still outside when it arrived?”

Given I didn’t know what the survivors said, I had to admit, “I was.”

“And?”

I shrugged. “Couldn’t see much.”

“On account of the mist.”

“Yeah. I heard the driver blaring on his horn, and that’s when I ran back to the store and hid inside.”

“You didn’t call for help?”

“I did!” I hotly insisted. “I called 911 and they hung up on me, and when I tried to call back, it was busy.”

“I’ll need your phone number to verify your call logs.”

“Uh. Sure.” I recited it, and he wrote it down in his notebook.

“So after you hid in the shop, did you look outside at all?”

“I did, but I didn’t really see anything. Mostly heard people screaming and stuff.” Then because it made me sound callous, I added, “I didn’t know how to help them.”

“You did the right thing. Chances are you would have been killed, too, if you’d gotten involved.” He glanced at the window in the door and wandered to it, staring outside. He glanced back at me. “The officer you spoke to last night said you claimed the assailants were short, naked, and hairless and that a man with a scythe took them out.”

I offered a weak smile. “Blame my panic and shock for seeing things. Most likely I assumed them hairless because they wore hoods.”

“And the man with the scythe?”

“Probably someone with a baseball bat.” My lame excuse, to which I added, “The mist made it difficult to make out details, and my imagination went a little wild. Sorry. I must have sounded so crazy.” In the light of day, and upon reflection, I changed my story. Let them think I’d misspoken due to shock.

“It’s strange how the only fog reported in the city happened on this street.”

“Very odd,” I agreed, especially since I’d not seen it.

“Anything else you’d like to add?”

I shrugged. “I wish I could be more help.”

“Me, too, because, as of now, there are four killers on the loose. I’m surprised you came in to work knowing that.”

Shit. It hadn’t even occurred to me since I’d seen scythe dude mow them down. I needed a quick and plausible answer. “Most crime tends to occur at night, and quite honestly, a crime like this is like lightning. It rarely strikes twice in the same spot.” A terrible answer but he gave a nod.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card. He wrote on the back before handing it over. “Here’s how you can reach me. I’ve put my cell on the back. You can call it any hour of the day.”

My nose wrinkled. “I’m sure if I recall something important it can wait for office hours, or I can leave a message.”

“Think of it more as in case of an emergency. Say, like those assailants return. Could be they’re part of a larger gang. They might look to eliminate witnesses.”

My eyes widened. Did the sewer aliens have friends who’d want revenge? What if there were more? All things I couldn’t say aloud. “Um, do you think that’s a possibility?” I squeaked.

“Until we know more, I’d tread with caution, Ms…” He paused.

“Butler. Sadie Butler.”

He smiled. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Butler.”

“Of course, Detective. Again, sorry I couldn’t be more help.”

“Call me if you think of anything.” His parting words as he left.

Me? I went to the back and slumped hard into a chair.

Had he believed a single word of that bullshit? A detective was trained to spot liars.

Guess I’d find out if they came back to haul me off to the police station.

The day passed without my arrest. Enzo returned from his lunch, looking pleased. I inventoried until three and then left while daylight reigned.

My paranoia had my shoulders tense and my neck sore from swiveling by the time I arrived home.

I locked myself inside and planned a night of reading when the knock came at my door.