3am

Chapter 13

That night, I put Liam in my bedroom, while I crash on the couch. I strip and remake the bed right after we get home and grab a pillow and some blankets from the closet to make up the couch. Over dinner, Liam asks about the crank caller. "Is he still ringing you in the middle of the night?"

"Surprisingly, no," I admit. "He hasn't called me since the day we found James Mitcham. I think he might have been spying on that crime scene and when he realized I was working the crimes, he decided he didn't need to torment me anymore. At least that's what I am hoping, anyway."

"Seems a little far-fetched to me," Liam says. "But then again, nothing in this case makes a lick of sense anymore."

"By the way," I ask. "Who called in the body at the nature preserve?"

"Another anonymous tipster," Liam replies.

"Male? Female?" I ask, my mind already turning to a disturbing conclusion.

"Male, according to dispatch anyway," Liam says. "But I swear some of those 911 operators can't tell up from down. I had one report about a child calling in a burglary. Get there and it was definitely not a child. It was a fully grown man, with a voice to rival Michael Clarke Duncan."

"The guy from The Green Mile movie?" I ask incredulously.

"The very same..." Liam shrugs. "So it is a toss-up if the caller really was a guy or not..."

After dinner, Liam and I spend a couple hours discussing the case, tossing ideas back and forth and trying to pinpoint a line of attack. Eventually though, the events of the day catch up with us and we decide to turn in. I pile some blankets on the floor in front of the sofa, just in case I roll off in the middle of the night. Then I stretch out and tuck a thick comforter around me and fluff a pillow up under my head.

I drift off into an uneasy slumber. My dreams are plagued with vague nightmares. I am worried about Becca, Lila, and James and those worries play into my dreams all night long. At one point, just about three in the morning, I awaken to hear the soft strumming of a guitar emanating from my bedroom. I sit up for a moment and listen as Liam sings softly, his Irish brogue rumbling gently throughout the apartment. "When your sweet lilting laughter's like some fairy song..."

The next morning, I am awakened at the crack of dawn by a shaft of sunlight piercing through the living room curtains and shining upon my face. I groan and roll over, tugging the blanket up onto my shoulder as I snuggle back down and try to return to sleep. But it is a no-go. I can't seem to get comfortable. Eventually I give up and throw off the blanket, sitting up with a stretch and a yawn. I feel like I didn't sleep a wink the whole night.

Since it is evident I am not going back to sleep this morning, I decide to go for a run. I silently slip into my bedroom, taking care not to awaken Liam, and grab some running clothes. I change in the bathroom. Then I prepare the coffee maker and write a note for Liam, should he awaken before I return. I let myself out of the apartment and briskly walk over to the park. I pick a shorter trail than yesterday, setting off on it at a gentle jog. I pick up the pace a few minutes in, and by the time I am midway down the trail, I am all but sprinting. At that point, I slow back down to a jog.

I reach the end of the trail and rest for a moment. I stretch my legs out and take a chance to fiddle with my music and earbuds. Then I turn around and begin lightly jogging back up the trail. I begin to slow down in increments until I am at a brisk but gentle walking pace. At the entrance to the park I pause for a moment, trying to decide the best way back to the apartment. It is just coming upon morning rush hour time, and unfortunately my apartment is on the opposite side of the street and a few blocks away. Traffic is always a nightmare during rush hour by my apartment, and trying to cross the street requires an act of God, almost. Since the roadway by the park seems almost deserted by comparison, I decide to take my chances and dart across.