Deviant

Chapter 2

DEVIANT

Callie Hart

Copyright © 2014 Callie Hart

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This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to peoples either living or deceased is purely coincidental. Names, places and characters are figments of the author's imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously. The author recognises the trademarks and copyrights of all registered products and works mentioned within this work.

CHAPTER TWO

 

SLOANE

Eli isn't answering his phone. I've been calling for three days, and Eli—lying, manipulative, disgusting Eli—isn't answering his phone. I've only been to his PI office once, a dark, depressing studio above a liquor store in Rainier Valley that stank of stale Chinese food. I've skipped rounds at the hospital this morning so I can find out what the hell is going on. A small part of me has been going crazy since I left that hotel room.

You're a stupid fool. He tricked you. You slept with a complete stranger, gave up a part of yourself you're never going to get back. Ever. And now what?

And now what? I will only have an answer to that question once I speak to Eli.

The stairs up to his office are slick with hard-packed ice. I navigate them with the greatest of care, holding my breath as I take each step. His piece-of-shit car is parked in the lot below so I know he's here. I just don't know what I'm going to say to him. I can hardly threaten to go to the cops if he doesn't give me the information he promised me. That wouldn't work—I have zero proof that I have an arrangement with him, and besides, Eli's a private investigator. Would the police even take my word over his?

I go straight in, knowing that if I knock I'll only chicken out and run. I start talking as soon I see the man sitting in his chair.

"What the hell, Eli? I've been call—" My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth; my brain shorts out. This...this can't be happening. "Oh....oh, my god."

The smell hits me first. Oh god, the smell. I try to breathe in through my nose but the air actually stings my sinuses. I cover my face with my hands, trying to process the scene in front of me. Eli was a large man before but now his distended stomach has bloated to obscene proportions, pressed up against his desk. I've witnessed the same thing before on my rotation as an intern, primarily in the morgue. Bloating. All of that gas and bacteria wants out, and by the looks of things it will have its way sooner rather than later.

Eli hasn't been answering my phone calls for the past three days because he's dead. His office looks like someone went on a crazy, blood-fueled rampage in here. It covers the walls and his desk; it's crusted and dried in the already stained carpet. Eli's mouth hangs open in a grim yawn, his eyes rolled back in his head. His skin is a sickly grey color everywhere apart from his hands. They rest on his desk, his fingers tinged purple-black by all of the blood that has coagulated in his palms.

I'm crying by the time I finally regain control of my body enough to pace into the room properly and stand in front of the man who cheated me out of my virginity. Not because I feel bad that Eli's dead. No, I have reasonably positive feelings about the fact that he's been stabbed to death with his own letter opener (still sticking out of his chest). I'm crying because he's dead. He'll never be able to tell me where Alexis is now. I'll never know if he was telling the truth. If she's even alive.

But no, that can't just be it. It can't be over just like that. There has to be something here, some way of figuring out whatever he was going to tell me. My mind locks up as I realize what I'm going to have to do. I've seen far more horrific things than Eli's dead body, but it's not how gross he is that makes me feel like passing out. It's my anger. I'm so angry, so cheated, so furious that I'm scared of what I might do if I have to go near him. I certainly couldn't be arrested for stabbing him again since he's already dead, but still...

I don't even want a dead man's blood on my hands.

I suck in a lungful of air and hold it, and then I take an unwilling step forward. I just need to get through this, for Alexis. This is all for Alexis. Maybe he kept the information in a file somewhere. That's something a regular personal investigator would do, surely? Eli was more than a PI, though. He was a drug-dealing pimp, too. Admin probably wasn't very high on his list of priorities. I'm retching as I pick my way through the devastation of his office, climbing over an up-turned chair to reach the small, three-drawer filing cabinet. It's not locked. The top draw is severely dented, like someone took a crowbar to it. Inside, there are files. My heart soars when I yank open the middle drawer and find one labeled with my sister's name: Alexis Romera. Missing Person. With trembling fingers I pull the thing out of the cabinet and almost sink to my knees. I see right away that it's empty. There's nothing inside, not a single sheet of paper.

"No, no, no, come on!"

The other files all have paperwork inside them. Regular information about bail bonds and cheating spouses. It's just Lex's that's empty. What the fuck? There are no papers on Eli's desk and none on the floor either. No hidden drawers that could be containing the information I'm looking for. It's gone. Someone's taken it, and I have no idea who. I suddenly can't hold it in anymore—I lean forward and the past three days finally take their toll. I vomit, throwing up my meagre breakfast of dry toast and orange juice so violently that it strips my throat raw.

I'm sobbing as I leave Eli's office. I feel useless. So powerless. Weak.

"I'm so sorry, Lex. I'm so sorry..." She can't hear me, but I have to say the words. Admitting them out loud makes me own them instead of hiding them away inside my chest, letting them burn me from the inside out. I've let her down. All hope of finding her is gone. The very worst part of acknowledging that is the relief. It courses through me like a single exhaled breath, rushing from my head to my feet. There's nothing more I can do. The responsibility is no longer mine. I am the very worst of people. I don't even bother to report Eli's death.

I leave him there to rot.