The Crush List Killer

Memories

PoV: Clara

I can still remember them, the hands. Soft and warm. The only warmth I could feel in my body of chills and dread and shaking. I had been screaming for some time by then. Before he pulled me into his arms and wrapped his warm hands around me and told me a million times I was safe. 

I was safe.

 I was safe. 

And I clung to him as if the tide of nothingness that now threatened to drown me would pull me under if I loosened my grip. He was 20 then. The youngest detective in the cities history. And he held me and sobbed into my hair as I did into his shoulder. I did not see the blood stains I was wiping down his blazer as I clawed to feel closer. To feel safe. To be away from the mangled body of my older brother sprawled across the theater floor. 

That was nearly 4 years ago. Those same hands clenched in fist of iron as he approached from the hall now. I can hear my own name echo in my head as if Nicholas had said it before the doors closed. At the thought of him I turn to glance over my shoulder for a moment, as the detective bridges the gap between us. Nick still stands at the door, hand now pressed to the glass, eyes glaring. Not at me I notice as the detective stops near feet from away. And Nickolas nearly growls. 

"Hello little bird." His voice is clear, and gentle like it was then. Before Nick had clawed his way into my heart. Into my bed. 

“James.” 

His smile is godlike. Filled with heaven that I have not seen in two years. But the smile fades very quickly as he beholds the scowling male behind me. Hovering against the bounds of his jurisdiction. When his eyes finally meet mine they are no longer filled with that momentary joy. 

“It is good to see you. Even if it is under…” A glance up at Nick, “strained circumstances.”

“You mean the death,” I can see that me already knowing, has jarred him slightly as he blinks for a moment. 

“Yes.” Look up again, “I can see the fox has already told you what happened to your old classmate. It's the name the killer wrote that scares me. Your name.” 
I suck my lips in. Try not to wring my hands. He is close. I try not to think about his breathing or my lateness for class. Try. 

“Will I be next?” My voice echoes along the corridor. 

He does not answer, eyes glaring at the man behind the door. A man I have always known he hated. We had been together back then, when he held me kicking and screaming after the horrific events at the theatre. I talked to no one for weeks, that bleed into months. His job got more complicated. We would have made it I think, even with all of it, might even have been ready for marriage soon. But the man behind me. Had other plans. 

That seemed to be on James' mind as well. He takes a deep breath, “Perhaps, we can talk about this. Somewhere else.” Chin up to Nick. “Follow me if you would.” 

I don’t glance back at Nick before I leave. But having both my exes this close together brings up strange butterflies in the pit of my stomach. And lower. The idea of what we all would look like together. Togher. My spine tingles as I pull my bag harder over my shoulder and walk after James. 

I can hear him banging at the door. Nick wants in. But I keep walking with James deeper into the building until his pounding on the door is just a muffled echo along the halls. And then the calls start. I knew Nick did not like James, he told me every chance he got. That James had done something in the investigation. That he had let the people who killed my brother get free. I never believed him. Not even as he was buried hilt deep in me and moaning that James could not possibly feel as good as that. He was wrong. Of course. 

“In here,” James puts his hands against the door of a small classroom. “We can talk without being overheard. Although you might want to mute the phone.” 

It had been going off persistently in my pocket the moment I was out of Nick’s eyesight. Was this territorial nonsense. Concern? Or something else. I belonged to neither of them right now as far as titles were concerned. But something in my gut refused to forget how they both felt. I pressed the off button as I entered the room. Looking at the rows of desks and then at James as he closed the door behind him and rushed to pull me into his arms. 

Do you know what it's like to have a soulmate? It feels like this. That time is irrelevant. It could have been a week, or ten years. The time apart did not matter. The fact that I had bedded other men did not matter. The fact that we had not spoken was no more than a shadow of a thought in the back of my mind. As he pulled me tight to him and claimed my mouth with his. 

When we were all friends, all three of us. I would call them the sun and stars. Nick, with his dark hair and gloomy outlook on life, was the deep and mysterious lover that held every want behind his eyes. On his lips. James was different I think as we slam back into one of the desks and I grip the edge to keep his six foot frame from pushing us over. He has always been the sun, the go getter varsity athlete who helped out orphans and saved dogs from fires. With hair that was so light some people called it white when it glowed in the sun. 

I was always the mist between them. The twilight. Dark skin and hair and eyes and nothing truly remarkable save my wit and my tendency to attract trouble. Such trouble now ran his hand through my hair and moaned my name into my lips. Moans that turned into whimpers as I put my arms around his neck to pull him closer. He is warm. So warm. Not cold and calculating like Nick. 

When he finally pulled back I wined, already missing the warmth of his breath against mine. But he put my face in his hands, keeping our lips apart. He looks upset. 

“I..” He stutters, pulling me back into a rushed momentary kiss, “I was one of the first at the scene. There was so much blood Clara, so much blood. And I thought nothing of it. I once knew him but thought nothing of it until I… saw the note on the car's hood. Once I saw your name, I could not breathe.” He was almost sobbing now, his hands shaking. 

“I'm ok.” I whispered, brushing my lips against his. “I'm ok.” 

He was still shaking, “I tried calling you as I rushed over to your dorm. I did not know if you would ever want to see me again after…. You did not pick up. Why did you not pick up the phone. Your dorm was empty but I saw your class schedule and… I called Nickie boy to see if he could find you in class. Knew he was in the area for some shit, It does not matter. But seeing him, so close to you. I am a detective and I have totally forgotten how to act. What do you do to me, woman?” 

I try to smile but the idea of death still lingers behind his eyes. The idea of me dead. Did he expect to see me dead in my dorm when he ran there. I could imagine him running up the several flights of stairs to make it up to my room. Banging against the door so hard his hand started bleeding. My roommate probably came to the door before he broke it down, remembering him from freshman year. She either smiled, or tried to shove the door in his face. He ran around the dorm either way, screaming my name and demanding to know where I was. He probably saw the list then. Words that mean nothing to him, but a title that probably stoked some burning embers in his soul. He called Nick then, breathless with my roommate probably frantic in the main area. Maybe crying. But the coffee was newly brewed. Newspaper on the table. She knew I was ok. I had to be. All this was happening with me running to class in heels. And then running into Nick. No, Nick ran into me. So it was intentional. 

He still loves...They both do. 

I pulled him down, in all his official upset state and pressed a hard kiss to his lips. At least they care.

 It will make the rest so much easier.