Along Came a Spider Ch. 07

"I would," she said. The woman beckoned to her with a wave of her hand.

"I'd like to ask you some questions."

Frowning, Tabitha peered into the bookstore and saw Luke at a windowside cafe table with another officer, sitting rigidly in his chair. He looked ill, almost. When he caught sight of Tabitha, he shook his head and jerked a thumb at the CLOSED sign at the window.

"What's this about?" Tabitha asked, dragging her eyes back to the officer.

"Don't worry, you aren't in trouble," she said. "We're just trying to piece some things together."

"Are you talking about Ross?" Tabitha blurted out. "Does this mean you haven't found him?"

Her businesslike expression faltered, if only for a moment. "So you haven't heard." Unable to properly form a response, Tabitha only stared at her. The woman cleared her throat before she spoke, and somehow, from that tiny gesture, Tabitha knew that whatever was coming out of her mouth next wasn't going to be pleasant. "I'm so sorry to be the one to tell you this. I don't know how close you two were, but I know coworkers can be something like family. We found Mr. Schulz last night, but I'm afraid he's...passed."

Tabitha felt her heart stammer. "Oh my god," she breathed. "How? What happened?"

"That's what we're trying to find out." That notepad came out again, flipped to a fresh page. "We're still waiting on a timeline, but you and your boss might have been the last people who saw him before it happened. I'd just like to hear your side of the story. Do you remember the night of the fifth? It was only a few weeks ago."

"Um," Tabitha stammered, "I think so. I—I think I closed that night."

"So you saw him leave?"

"Yes. Well, I didn't see him leave," she corrected herself, "but Luke told me he was. He told me he wasn't feeling well."

"Okay." The pen flew over the paper, back and forth several times before coming to a pause. "And when you saw him that day, did he look unwell?"

"Not...particularly. I mean, he wasn't pale or hoarse or any of that. He might have looked a bit tired. He, ah...he would...often say that he felt unwell," she said hesitantly. Immediately after the words left her lips, she regretted them. Ross's hypochondriac tendencies had been a running joke at the store, but now it felt impossibly wrong to talk about. She expected scorn from the officer when she looked up from her notes, but her composure never wavered.

"Would you say that Mr. Schulz took a lot of time off due to illness?"

"Well, it wasn't anything excessive, but he did take a lot of sick days."

"Did he have any health conditions?"

"I don't know."

"Alright." The pen scribbled a few more lines and came to a stop. "So he left early?"

"Yes. I had to finish his shift."

"But you didn't see him walk out."

"No—I'm sorry. Maybe I did, but I don't remember." She was suddenly aware that she was mauling her fingernails with her teeth and lowered her hand. "I think I was balancing tills in the office. It was late."

The officer made an understanding noise. "Did you speak with him during his shift? Did anything come up?"

"I...I don't think we said much to each other. A delivery came in, so he was stocking shelves all day."

"How about before? When you worked together, what would he usually talk about?"

Tabitha furrowed her brow in thought. "Sometimes he would show me pictures of his cat," she tried, feeling ridiculous and not at all helpful.

The officer didn't write that down. "Alright," she said. "Did he tell you anything about his personal life? Were things alright at home?"

"I think so. I mean, he complained about his roommate a bit." When she lifted the pen again to write, Tabitha felt her stomach lurch. "But it wasn't anything terrible—just that he was messy and left the door unlocked sometimes—"

"We aren't going to arrest anyone for being a bad roommate," the officer said dryly. "How about work? Did he argue with anyone?"

"No..."

"Any tension between him and the boss?"

Tabitha blanched. "What? No, of course not—"

"I have to ask." She balanced the pen on her notepad and lifted her hand to take the toothpick out of her lips. The look she gave Tabitha was stony. "Look, I just need to know if you there was something odd about that night, or even that week. Can you think of anything?"

Tabitha shook her head slowly. "No," she said. "I can't think of anything at all."

The officer looked disappointed as she pocketed her notebook. "Alright," she said again, fumbling with the badge case that was hanging around her neck. She took out a white card and brandished it at Tabitha. Tabitha took it with trembling hands. "Thanks for your cooperation. This is my office contact information, and I'd like you to keep it in case you remember anything. I'm Detective Brooks, says so right at the top. You can go on ahead and head home. Your boss is keeping the store closed while we look at some footage—"

A light came on in Tabitha's head. "Wait," she said. Detective Brooks stopped mid-sentence. "There was, ah, a disturbance over at the bar," she said, waving her arm frantically in the general direction of the building across the street. "The owner called the police—they were there when we left."

"That night?" The notepad had appeared in her hands again. "What happened?"

"I have no idea," she admitted. "I didn't hear much, but he was yelling about something."

This time, when she looked back up at Tabitha, the detective seemed a bit more relaxed. "Thanks for that, Tabitha. I'll look into it."

"I don't mean to pry, but is it alright if I ask how it happened?" Tabitha asked meekly. "It just sounds like you're...looking for someone."

"I can't give out that kind of information right now, but we'll be in touch with his family. If they want to tell people the details, they will. I'm sure you understand."

"I understand. I'm sorry." The officer gave her a curt nod and wrenched open the door to the bookstore, where Luke and the other detective seemed to be wrapping things up. "Can you at least tell me where you found him?" she asked quietly. Detective Brooks paused halfway through the door.

"They found him in a storm drain a few blocks from here," she said, and then the door swung shut.

—

Saturday, 6:32 pm

Tabitha was huddled under a scratchy afghan on her couch, staring at her phone screen. There was a local news site loaded on her browser that she wasn't really reading; just scrolling down and down, story through story. She had thought about calling Lily when she got home, but that felt pointless since she was coming over later. Then she thought about calling James, but realized it was still early in the day. He would be sleeping. Luke hadn't answered when she sent him a text asking if he was alright, (and of course he wasn't, he had been interrogated by the police all day), the TV seemed too loud when she flipped it on, and she didn't even have the energy to knit.

She felt drained and wondered if that was the right way to feel.

Soft footsteps suddenly sounded from beyond the wall behind her. She heard a sliding door roar open and shut and when she looked out the window, she was surprised to see deep, violet sky peeking out from between her blinds. After a moment's hesitation, she opened her text messenger.

Are you home? she thumbed into the keyboard, even though she already knew the answer. The area below her message stayed blank for a long, long time, and Tabitha jiggled her foot restlessly on her knee as she waited.

After a lifetime, her cellphone buzzed. A little message box flickered into existence under hers. Yes.

Can I come over? she replied, and after waiting far too long for an answer, she simply tossed her phone into her purse, slipped on her shoes, and strode briskly out of her apartment.

When James opened his door, she leaned into him and rested her head against his chest. He jerked back at first, but then he reached around her and touched the small of her back. His arm hovered over her, just grazing her body. That frustrated her. She wanted something harder, cathartic.

"I know you work tonight, but I...I think I need to talk to someone," she said. "Can I come in?" In front of her, she felt James stiffen.

"Tabitha," he began, but she quickly shook her head.

"I only need a minute. Please," she insisted. His body slumped with acceptance, and he led the two of them farther into his apartment so he could shut the door behind her. Once it was closed, he gently pulled away from her and walked into his kitchen.

"Do you want anything to drink?" he asked quietly, and Tabitha shook her head. When she looked up to survey the apartment, her eyes went wide. Behind the kitchen, the living room was in a state of disarray. Pillows and blankets were strewn across the floor with beer bottles. The television was broadcasting a continuous bright blue screen. The coffee table was on its side, one of its legs snapped clean off.

"What happened?" she asked, and from the corner of her eye, she saw him shake his head.

"I...tried to rearrange the living room," he said. There was an air of resignation in the flatness of his tone, the bluntness of that lie. When she turned to look at him, she saw chalk-white skin under a hank of ebony hair. That pallor enveloped him in his entirety, spanning from the tip of his nose to his exposed forearms, turning his skin nearly translucent. She could see patterns of icy blue veins winding through his inner arms and vanishing under his black t-shirt. He seemed to sense her stare, because tilted his head just slightly toward her. His hair fell into his face, hiding his eyes. "Just tell me what's wrong," he said. "You can't stay long."

Tabitha stared at him, but then looked down at the floor. Her fingers played with the corner of his counter as she spoke. "It's one of my coworkers," she said. "He went missing and they found him yesterday. He's...dead."

James's demeanor softened. "I'm sorry," he said. And with an air of hesitation, "Were you close?"

"I don't really think he was that close with anyone. But we got along alright, and even though I didn't know him as well as I could have, I'm going to miss him." She huffed out a little breath. "I don't even know if I deserve to be sad for him, to be honest," she finished. "Is that strange?"

James leaned against the counter and exhaled through his nose. "It's never wrong to feel sad," he told the stove.

"But they found him in a gutter," she continued. He seemed to flinch, but he recovered so quickly that she wondered if she had just imagined it. "I don't understand how something like that could happen to him. I don't think he ever did anything to hurt anyone. And I just wonder if there was something someone could have done—maybe if he had somebody to talk to—"

"Nobody could have done anything," James said suddenly. Tabitha paused, and he smothered his face with one of his hands before continuing. "Terrible things happen to people sometimes. There's no logic or reason to it. It just happens," he finished, his voice muffled against his fingers.

Tabitha nodded. "I suppose you're right." She studied the weak tilt of his chin, the limpness of his limbs. "You sound like you're speaking from experience," she said quietly.

"I lost my brother. It was a long time ago."

Tabitha's mouth slid open in shock. "I'm so sorry," she said quickly. "Did...did something terrible happen to him, too?"

"Yes. Something terrible." He reached down and gripped the edge of the counter. "You should go," he said.

Tabitha took a step forward. "Look..."

James turned to look at her, his face slack with something like alarm. "Tabitha—"

Before he could finish his sentence, she had thrown herself into his arms. He backed up against the counter, but she wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest, eyes squinted shut. He wasn't warm and he wasn't soft, but he was something tangible and sentient that she could hold on to, and that was alright.

"I'm so sorry," she repeated into his shirt. "I didn't mean to make you talk about your brother—that was stupid. But...could you just hold me for a second? Please? It's just been an awful day and I think that's what I need right now." He hesitated, but then wound his arms around her and crushed her against his chest. "Thank you," she said, tightening her hold on him as he brought his mouth to her ear. His body was quivering against hers.

"Tabitha," he whispered helplessly, his breath fluttering against her temple. "Tabitha."

"What's wrong?" she asked, looking up from his shirt.

When their eyes met, she felt herself go pale.

"James," she breathed, jerking away from him, but he matched her steps until she was pinned against the door of his refrigerator. His fingertips trailed over her cheek with blatant fascination and came to a rest at the base of her throat, and she heard him let out a forsaken moan. His mouth skimmed her jaw.

"Wait," she said. "James, what are you d—"

"I want you," he crooned, as distant as a daydreamer. Tabitha's heart stopped. The first time he had said those words to her, she knew exactly what he wanted from her, but now...now she wasn't so sure. She lifted her hands to his chest, but he seized both of her wrists and slammed them against the door. She winced as the bones in her wrists hit the metal. He was all deathly white skin and pale, parted lips, staring down at her with a fierce sort of need.

Tabitha froze.

"James," she whispered, and he closed his eyes. She licked her trembling lips. "Please..."

His fingers constricted momentarily around her wrists, and then, after another deep breath, he opened his eyes. Almost immediately, his expression morphed into panic. He released her and stumbled backwards, one hand keeping a firm grip on his other wrist, like he didn't quite trust them. Tabitha only blinked at him, her body sluggish with disbelief. Her wrists ached and her hair was mussed from his mouth, but some treacherous part of her still wouldn't accept that the past five minutes hadn't been anything more than a lapse of consciousness. When he finally looked back up at her, the intensity of his gaze left her numb.

"Get out," he said.

Tabitha felt fresh tears prick the corners of her eyes and turned to hide them from him. She strode purposefully to his door and quickened her pace when she saw him follow her from the corner of her eye, but he only gripped the doorknob as she hurried into the hallway. He slammed the door shut behind her. For the first time since she'd started seeing James, she heard lock latches turning shut behind the wood.

When she slumped into her sofa, she saw a green light blinking slow and faint at the bottom of her purse. She dug out her cell phone and toggled on the display.

It was a text from James, delivered only seconds before she had rushed to his door.

Please don't.

—

Lily jumped as the building door clanged shut behind her. That sound echoed through the empty halls. She had never understood what sort of appeal Tabitha had seen in a place like this. It was too quiet, for one, and every light seemed to buzz at night, making the shadows flicker over the walls. The hollow stairs creaked under her boots, and she found herself eyeing the top of the staircase as she ascended it; scanning the area for twisted, crawling corpses or twins or whatever creepy things lurked at the ends of desolate hallways. If Lily lived here, she would have reveled in the building's eeriness, invited men over and loudly chalked up every groan and unexplained thump to the ghosts of some made-up, long-forgotten tragedy. But she didn't live here, and that made the place a little too foreign for her comfort.

Just as she reached the second floor, the door next to Tabitha's whined on its hinges. A spindly figure slipped out and shut it behind him, his leather jacket as glossy as a beetle shell under the overhead lights. His head was enshrouded by a black hood. She paused as he turned to stride down the hallway with his head ducked down, and he stopped abruptly when he saw Lily.

"Well, well; if it isn't Mr. tall, dark, and quiet," Lily said, offering him a wide grin. James said nothing. His shoulders were set rigidly, and as she watched, he carefully tucked his hands into his pockets. She thought she saw them twitch as they moved, like they were itching to touch something. "Are you hanging out with us tonight?" she asked as he began to stride forward.

James finally spoke in a voice like gravel under tires. "Not tonight."

As he made to move past her, Lily sidled in front of him and touched his arm, trying to hide her surprise. What little she could see of his face was a mask of flour-white, and his lips—which were tightly thinned, as if in determination—were tinged with blue. He flinched at her touch and went very, very still. "You, uh...you doing okay?" she asked.

His hands came out of his pockets and gripped her shoulders. He lifted his head to look down at her, and then Lily was staring up into a pair of big, dark eyes. Then again, maybe dark wasn't the right word. They looked more like black holes. Corners of bloodshot whites and sickly-red membranes stood out in stark contrast, but the rest was all black and empty like a shark's. There wasn't any mercy there. There wasn't anything at all. His fingers dug into her skin, his nostrils flared, and Lily's lips parted as she gazed at him in stunned awe. It was all she could manage. Her legs had stopped working.

"W-what's up?" she finally croaked, as casually as she could manage. James blinked, exhaled and, to Lily's relief, closed those terrible eyes.

"Excuse me," he said. He wrenched his hands from her shoulders with some difficulty, like they were covered in flypaper, and shouldered past her.

Lily stood frozen in place until she heard that door slam again, and then her knees crumpled beneath her. She gripped the wall for support and gulped in shaky lungfuls of air, her fingers trembling against the plaster.

Tabitha's door was unlocked. From the doorway, she could see her sitting on a couch, her wide eyes fixed on the television on the other side of the room. The screen was off. Lily pushed the door shut behind her, but Tabitha didn't look up at the noise.

Lily sank down into the couch next to her and folded her hands tightly in her lap. The two of them sat with their backs ramrod-straight, staring at the blank screen.

"I think we need to talk," Lily said in an unsteady voice. Tabitha swallowed.

"Yes," she said. "Yes, I think we should."

—

Hello, everyone!

I'm so sorry for the long hiatus on this story. This past year has been a pretty crazy one, and I'm only just settling into a place in my life where I can start writing regularly again. Still, I'm pretty confident that I'll have the next chapter out soon.

To everyone still reading, thanks for waiting. I missed you all!

Love,

Psychocandy