Celtic Cross | #ONC2019

IX.

Nick didn't answer his phone, and Mac never came back to my apartment.

    There were uniformed officers standing outside my building once I returned. No one said anything to me, but I could feel their stares as I made up way through the entryway. Like they already determined my guilt before I could get my thoughts straight. I don't know if it that was the reason I kept from looking directly at Mr. Johnson's closed apartment door, but the glaring yellow of the crime scene tape that criss-crossed over it burned into my peripheral vision as I hurried up the stairs.

A part of me wanted Mac to be there when I opened my door.

Mac and Nick both.

I needed to see them.

I needed reassurance.

I needed them to clear my name, and I needed them to help me find answers.

But the longer they stayed away, the more I began to doubt.

Them.

Myself.

Showering didn't help soothe my unease.

I needed the mundane to keep my thoughts grounded. After my  shower, I dressed in jeans and a sweater before I made my bed. I swallowed as memories of just the night before played behind my closed eyes, and I knew if I tried hard enough I'd be able to smell Mac's lingering musk.

Where the hell was he?

I spent the afternoon alternating between straightening and pacing my apartment, allowing my paranoia to get the better of me regardless of the efforts I made to ignore it. I called Nick every fifteen minutes and stared at my home screen in between, begging for either of them to call me.

As I washed my dishes, the events of the last few days bombarded my psyche, and I was beginning to get a headache trying to make sense of it all.

It all started with that damn card.

And then we've come full circle.

If I never pulled that card, would Leo still be alive?

Could Mr. Johnson have survived?

Would Nick not be so pissed off at me that he refused to answer his phone?

    And Mac...

    Where the hell was he?

    Maybe the police were correct after all. Maybe they had every right to assume I had something to do with all of this, whether I intended it or not.

    I wiped my hands on the dish towel and went to pick up my phone on the kitchen table.

    Maybe I could tell them the truth of it all. That I pulled the Tarot card that sent all of this into motion.

    I stared at my phone for a long moment, ready to type in the detective's number before my last conversation with Nick resurfaced.

    Doesn't it sound a little suspicious to you that this guy you don't know is suddenly everywhere you happen to be?

    I put back in my pocket.

As much as I wanted to blame the Tarot cards, could Mac be to blame just the same?

    He knew Leo was with Nick that night at the club. He disappeared before the left and reappeared when they had- was he watching Leo, trying to figure out where he lived or how to follow him?

    He found his way to Clear Portals, after all. Or was that my fault because I left my wallet behind?

    Did I even leave it behind?

I moved back to my living room, to my coat stand where my wool overcoat hung. Could he have possibly moved my jacket, and in turn my wallet, so that I would have purposefully forgotten them when I left?

    He found out where I lived before I even brought him home-

I went to my purse and pulled out my wallet. Flipping through the cards within, I realized I couldn't find my small stash of business cards. And my license was in upside down- I didn't remember taking it out, not even for Ned Devine's.

The business cards brought him to my shop.

Did my license bring him to my apartment?

Had he crossed paths with Mr. Johnson when the flowers were delivered? Or when he went out for the run that morning?

    The run that also brought him to Leo's crime scene.

    And now he was nowhere to be found...

    I felt cold as I sat down on the edge of my couch. I placed my phone on the cushion next to me as I wrapped my arms around myself.

    Last night, Nick began to question Mac's motives. And now Nick wasn't answering his phone and Mac was nowhere to be found.

    Were the Tarot cards at the crime scenes a taunt? Did someone who knew Nick and I would be affected leave those there to tease us? Or was there a deeper meaning?

    Leo fell out of his apartment window, just as the two figures on the Tower card from the burning building.

    The Star was found with Mr. Johnson- I didn't want to know what could have befallen him...

    I yelped as my phone rang, and I answered it before looking to see who called.

    "Nick?"

    "Not exactly."

    "Mac." I felt the chill crawl down my spine.

    "Don't sound so excited to hear from me." There was a humor to his voice, but it almost sounded forced for my benefit.

    "It's just- you haven't heard from Nick at all, have you?"

    A pause. "That's actually why I called."

    The chill seeped through my bones. "What's happened?"

    "Nothing yet, but I need you to come to Clear Portals."

    "Why?"

    "I can't explain now." His tone was becoming urgent. "I'll tell you everything once you're here."

    "But there are police surrounding my apartment-"

    "Not at your back entrance."

    I paused. "How do you know that?"

    "Just trust me, Siobhan. Please."

     "Trust you? How do I even know-"

    The line went dead before I could finish my inquiry.

    Staring at my phone, I let the short conversation process.

    Mac was at Clear Portals, and he had information about Nick.

    Was Nick at Clear Portals?

    Was Mac hunting Nick?

    Would Nick be the next victim?

    I wanted to throw-up, but if Mac truly was this Tarot Card Killer and was zeroing in on Nick at our store, I may be his only chance of surviving.

    Ignoring the fact that it could be a trap, I quickly glanced out my apartment's windows to see if the officers had remained. Like Mac said, they stood vigilant at the front of the apartment, but none monitored the back.

    And now I was about to make to the most foolish decision of my life.

    Throwing on my jacket, I quietly opened and closed my apartment door. The officers at the bottom of the apartments stairs remained focused towards the main door, so they didn't see me walk up another flight of stairs to the emergency fire escape at the back of our building.

    I clenched my jaw as every step back to get to the ground was loud enough to draw the unwanted attention, but I didn't care as soon soon as my feet his the pavement.

    I started running.

    My friend's life depended on it.