Chapter 7

7

Two officersin uniform came to the store and escorted me downtown, hence why I found myself in a room with gray walls, no window, and a small camera tucked in a corner to spy on me. The table bolted to the floor had four chairs, two on either side, and none that I wanted to touch given the grime on the plastic seats. I didn’t have a choice.

It should be known I’d tried to argue my way out of coming—"I haven’t done anything wrong. Are you arresting me? I know my rights. I want a lawyer.”

Apparently, I had the right to be escorted in the back seat of a police car, and since I wasn’t being charged, they assured me no lawyer was needed. I had my doubts about that. So I insisted, to which they said, “Call one.” As if I had legal counsel on speed dial. When I advised them that I couldn’t afford a lawyer, it led to the cops offering me public legal counsel, but waiting for one would take hours, hours I could spend sitting in a cell or talking to the detective. The same detective I’d already spoken to, who seemed determined to pin the murder of my neighbor on me.

Detective Williams entered the gray room, and my annoyed ass sassed, “You know, if you’re interested in me, there’s better ways of flirting.”

Rather than rise to my bait, he slapped a folder on the table before sitting across from me. “Ms. Butler—”

I interrupted. “This is our third meeting. Pretty sure you can call me by my given name.”

“Very well, Sadie. Some questions have arisen regarding your involvement with your neighbor. Your fingerprints were found in her apartment.”

“Well, duh.” I rolled my eyes. “I told you she asked me for help a few times.”

“Did you have a key to her place?”

“No.”

He made a note. “How did you enter her apartment the night of her murder?”

“By opening the door. It was unlocked.” I probably came across as sassy, but better than giving in to the trembling of my limbs and sobbing.

“Did Mrs. Fitzgerald usually leave it unsecured?”

I shrugged. “I don’t think so. Honestly, I didn’t really pay attention. I mean, the times I carried in groceries, she had it locked. I remember because I’d stand there hoping I didn’t drop the stuff while she went through her keys. She kept all of the ones from her old house even though she sold it.” Sad, endearing, and annoying all at once given she often took several attempts to slot the right key. “The times she called me to come up and give her a hand, she was expecting me and so the door wasn’t locked.”

“And did that happen often?”

My lips pursed. “Sometimes once a month. Sometimes twice in one week. It really depended.”

“The night of the murder you were at home?”

“Yes.”

“Any visitors?”

I hesitated before saying, “I had one.”

The detective lifted his head to fix me with his vivid eyes. “Could I have their name and the exact time they spent with you?”

“Name of Cain. He came around early evening. I’m not sure of the timeframe. He didn’t stay long.”

“I’ll need his contact info.”

“Um, that I can’t help you with. He and I aren’t actually friends. He just showed up at my door.”

“Why?” Williams fixed me with a stare.

How to explain without coming off as crazy? “He mistook me for someone and followed me home. I set him straight.”

More notations had me curious to see what the detective wrote on the paper in front of him.

“Are you sure this Cain person left the building?”

“Nope.” Then because the detective opened the door, I added, “He was there the night of the bus murders.”

“Oh.” The detective leaned back in his seat. “And why am I just hearing this now?”

“Because the first cop I talked to thought I was nuts. See, Cain likes to wear this long coat—you know, gunslinger style—and he has this scythe, a great big one.”

“Are you saying this Cain person killed the passengers?”

“No. He stopped the, um”—don’t say demons, don’t say demons—“crazy fuckers who were causing the trouble.”

“I thought you didn’t get a clear view of the perpetrators?”

“I didn’t.”

“Then how do you know this Cain handled them? For that matter, how did you see him through the fog?”

“I heard something going on, and he passed by the shop door when he was done.” I didn’t need a shovel to dig my own hole, apparently.

The detective leaned forward. “Ms. Butler.” Uh-oh back to my formal name. “You do know lying to me isn’t helping your case.”

“I’m not lying. He was there.”

“None of the other witnesses saw him.”

“Because he has an invisibility coat.” I dug my grave deeper.

“And a great big knife.”

“Scythe. Because he’s a reaper. Of demons. Part of a club.” The more I spoke, the more I sank myself. I’d be lucky if I didn’t get tossed into a psychiatric ward. But in good news, if they charged me with a crime, I could plead insanity as my defense.

The door to the room opened, and someone murmured, “Detective, they’ve got something to show you.”

“Excuse me, ma’am.” The detective rose, and I slumped in my seat.

Why, oh why, had I opened my big mouth? They thought I was certifiable and guilty. In their defense, I had been there and seen it, and I barely believed me.

I didn’t sit alone for long before the detective popped his head back in to say, “You’re free to go, Ms. Butler.”

“Really?” I pushed quickly to my feet. I wondered what the other cop had told him to put an end to this miserable interview. Maybe they finally found the real culprit.

“Despite your inability to tell the truth, we’re releasing you, but don’t leave town. You’re still a suspect.” So much for that theory.

“I’m innocent,” I grumbled as I slid past the detective, noting the spicy and pleasing scent of his aftershave.

“Then it shouldn’t be hard to stay out of further trouble.”

Trust me, I wanted nothing more. I exited the police station to a late afternoon sun far from home. A bus would take too long, as I’d need to switch at least three times. Meanwhile, there was a subway close by.

A subway with possible demons, or a two-hour commute?

I went down into the city bowels—it certainly smelled like them at any rate. The pungent aroma of urine made me wish I still had some of those COVID masks tucked in my pocket. The platform on the lowest level teemed with people, most getting off work. I saw no sign of monsters. Then again, they seemed to keep to the dark tunnels, steering clear of the light.

The train arrived in a rush of air and squeal of brakes. It stopped, and the people fixated on their phones suddenly jerked to life and surged for the open doors. I let the tide carry me and entered a cabin in the middle. The rush hour meant no available seats, so I grabbed hold of the bar and stared idly out the window at the empty platform. The doors whooshed shut, and the car lurched into motion, picking up speed, the compartment rocking along the tracks.

Surrounded by bodies, I felt protected. For once, I didn’t elbow the dude trying to grind up against me. The demons would never dare attack such a large group. In my train car alone there had to be close to two hundred people, the max it was supposed to carry.

The train slowed and stopped at the next station. Some folks disembarked, but more took their place. Off we went again, the sound and motion lulling. I held on to my bar and closed my eyes, swaying on my feet. Three more stops to go.

The crush around me lightened at the next station, not enough for me to sit, but at least I didn’t have any more random strangers groping me. I’d long ago given up trying to argue with guys who claimed they didn’t do it on purpose. Fucking pervs.

The train rocketed, and I opened my eyes to watch the flash of the walls that we sped past. Nothing to really see, just a dark blur.

Scree!

The sudden hard brake sent me, and pretty much everyone standing, stumbling. Like many others, I didn’t manage to keep my balance and hit the floor with a sharp cry.

“What’s going on? Why are we stopped?” someone shouted, as if anyone on the train would know.

The speaker crackled. “Hey, folks, sorry for that. There’s an obstruction on the track. Once it’s cleared, we’ll get going again. It shouldn’t be long.”

Given the amount of muttering going on around me, I wasn’t the only one unhappy with the situation. Most didn’t like being stuck in a stuffy train. Others complained about being late. Me, I eyed the windows and the shadows beyond them, wondering what lurked. So long as the doors remained shut, we should be fine.

I hoped.

As in every dire situation, there existed an idiot. A guy who brashly declared he couldn’t wait. The clean-cut dude in a suit gripped the door at the far end and heaved. I prayed the doors would stay shut.

No such luck.

All the doors whooshed open. More than just the suit jumped out. A handful of passengers exited, determined to brave the darkness rather than wait, but the majority of us remained in place. No one wanted to be in the tunnel once the train got going. Add in the fact I worried about what might lurk and no way was I going anywhere.

The lights on the train flickered. Not unusual. This actually didn’t count as the first time I’d been on a stalled train. What had never happened before? The strident screaming from those that ventured into the tunnel.

The shrieks of pain had me hugging myself and scooting until my ass hit the wall farthest from a door. At least the hollering didn’t last long. It cut off abruptly, and in that silence, no one spoke. No one moved. I’m pretty sure no one breathed.

A new voice bellowed, “No, stop. Argh!” Layered over his pleas, someone uttered high piercing shrieks.

People looked wide-eyed and worried. I heard someone whisper from my left, “I’ll bet the rats got them. My cousin says he seen one the size of his dog.”

Please let it be rats and not demons.

As if my thought conjured them, a face peeked around the edge of a door. A wrinkly, gray, and ugly visage that sent a shiver down my spine. Especially since it looked right at me. But did anyone else see it?

Nope. Someone yelled, “Is that smoke? Fire! Evacuate the train.”

Not fire, fog. As people panicked and began to flee the train, more screaming erupted, but the truly terrifying moment?

When the lights went out.