Chapter 36
Damien
Play - The Winner Takes It All by Meryl Streep
Head underwater
She’s still sitting there, legs tucked under herself, eyes fixed on nothing in particular. It’s five in the morning, and yet she looks like she’s been awake for days, or weeks even.
I put a distance between her and I instead, hands in my pockets, telling myself it’s better this way. By the time I reach the car, my phone is already in my hand and I act without thinking.
Me: I’m going to the shore, if you want to join me.
I stare at the screen for a second after sending it, annoyed at myself.
I could’ve just asked. I could’ve stayed.
Instead, I’m here, engine off and parked like I’m waiting for permission I already gave her.
I had seen talented people before, and damaged minds too.
What I had not seen yet, was someone who carried both equally.
And somehow the tragedy of her no longer trusting her ability awakened something stupidly soft and curious in me.
Now she’s a part of my routine, and it feels right to make sure she knows that I understand her more than I would want to.
She replies a few seconds later, and that is surprising. I’m probably sure she’s laughing at how stupid I look now.
And I wait a few minutes before seeing a silhouette coming closer. She doesn’t knock on the window and opens the passenger door as she looks at me with a knowing smile.
“Do you even know how to access the shore, Mister Caldwell?” she says, settling in.
“I do,” I smile back. The house I have here is close to it, the landlords told me there was an access there.
“I’m impressed. Seraphin Bay is not easy to navigate.”
“You can always help me if I get lost.”
She glances at me and hesitates before finally speaking, “You could’ve asked while sitting next to me for almost an hour.”
“I like knowing you were probably confused when you received the text from ‘library’,” I say as I catch her throwing her head back and laughing.
Then I start the engine. The radio is on, the city half-asleep, streets quite empty for this hour.
And I watch her more than I watch the road.
The way she tracks every intersection, the way her gaze lingers on certain buildings like they mean something to her.
Memories. A life I actually know nothing about.
“You always look angry when you stare at this town.”
She looks back at me and smiles, “Why are you so focused on everything I do?”
“Curiosity,” I reply and she shakes her head.
“Sometimes, not knowing is better.”
She doesn’t talk anymore, and keeps staring at everything we pass by. I wonder why she’s always so quiet about her life. Why can't she find sleep? Why is she always in high places and looking calmer?
When we reach the shore, the wind hits first. We get out and she closes her eyes for a second, like she’s appreciating the smell of salty water and the cold air. Her hair is already a mess, her cheeks are turning red.
“Cold?” I ask as we start walking toward the rocks.
“I like it,” she says. “Funny how we keep meeting outside the academy and still haven’t thought deeply about the case.”
I laugh, because she’s right.
We only went through the same things for days now.
I already explained the basic info twice.
There was no real reason to keep her near me that much.
But I kept finding new reasons to do so, pointless excuses but she always answered them.
Hours disappeared in simple conversations, nights turned into our way of communicating when we shouldn’t even look at each other.
She was just… really distracting and I dislike distractions, but every time she’s near me, it’s like she’s erasing numbers from my clocks. And somehow along the way I stopped needing to know what time it was.
Is that what a distraction does? A curious and annoyingly interesting distraction.
“To work well with someone, you need to know them first,” I finally say after regaining composure. Goddamn she’s fucking distracting.
“What do you want to know?” She asks as she settles on one of the larger rocks, tapping on the space next to her so I can sit beside her.
“Why do you want to leave this after the year ends?”
Her eyes get lost as she watches the sunrise. “Because, like you said earlier, just looking at the buildings and the city, I feel angry.”
“And why is that?”
She smiles, leaning toward me and reaching into my pocket again, fingers brushing the fabric before finding the pack. “Let me grab one,” she says. “I’ll need it to talk.”
I put my hands behind my back, letting her take whatever she wants and watch as she lights it, taking a long and deep drag. The smoke curls around her face, softening her features, making her look distant. Sad, maybe. Or just tired.
“Can we share?” I ask.
She smiles again and passes me the cigarette she’s already started. “Second shared cigarette in less than two hours,” she says. “We’re getting close.”
“I noticed,” I reply as I take a drag before giving it back to her.
She keeps her eyes on the dark line where the sea disappears in the horizon. And it’s silent for a few minutes, then I ask, quietly, “Why were you so determined to say no.”
She doesn’t pretend not to know what I mean. “I have to finish this year,” she speaks. “And then I have to leave.”
“I understand that but why?”
“Anywhere that isn’t here would be better.”
I glance at her. “Doesn’t seem like a bad city.”
She exhales smoke slowly and laughs, “It is for some of us.” She looks at me then, searching my face like she’s checking whether I get it or not. “I really need to,” she adds.
“You will,” I reply.
She smiles softly. “Not so sure.”
“Why?”
She shrugs, handing me the cigarette again. “If I keep not sleeping, I’m going to shoot in the wrong direction during a drill one day.”
“Apart from car rides,” I say carefully, “nothing helps you sleep.”
She studies me. “You noticed that?”
“Difficult to miss it when you’re always sitting on that cliff almost every night.”
A chuckle escapes her before she replies, “Thought I was hiding it better.” She looks at her hand for a few seconds before turning back to me. “From what I’ve experienced, only car rides work.”
“I could drive,” I say.
She turns fully toward me now. “What?”
“I drive a lot when I can’t sleep,” I add, like it’s an afterthought. “I could be your personal sleep pill.”
She stares at me for a long second like she was caught off guard. “Why would you do that for me?” she asks.
I don’t answer right away and watch the waves instead, the soft and angry rhythm of them crashing against stone. “Why not,” I say finally. “I’m awake anyway. You sleep, I drive. Seems efficient.”
“You’re very bad at pretending this is purely practical.”
I allow myself a small smile. “And you’re very bad at pretending you don’t need it.”
“Okay,” she says eventually. “Deal.”
We finish the cigarette in silence, then she crushes it out before standing up, “You coming?”
“Yes,” I say, immediately.
She starts walking, and I follow, knowing full well that whatever this is, it isn’t a solution.
We walk farther than we should. The shoreline narrows here, rocks slick with seawater and uneven underfoot.
The waves hit harder, louder, crashing straight into rocks instead of dissolving into sand.
Then she slows, careful where she steps and I notice the smell before I stop walking and she notices it too.
“Something smells weird…” she says, confused.
“It does.” I know it too well. I stop immediately and reach out, catching her wrist before she can take another step. “Don’t,” I say.
She looks at my hand, then at my face. “What is it?”
I don’t answer and let go gently of her wrist as I move ahead instead, scanning the rocks, the waterline, the dark shapes that shouldn’t be there. There, between two slabs of stone. A body. My jaw tightens as I crouch, keeping my distance because I don’t want no footprints to disturb, no contact.
The tide hasn’t taken her yet. She’s young, too young. Again.
I straighten and turn back to Mireya. “Stay where you are,” I say, my voice has flattened into command.
She doesn’t move, it’s like she already knows. “Is she—” she starts.
“Yes.” She swallows, her eyes flick back to the rocks. “You can’t be here,” I say, already pulling out my phone. “You need to leave. Now.”
She takes a step toward me instead.
“No,” I snapped louder than I meant to, and she flinched.
Why is she flinching?
I lower my voice immediately. “Hey, you’re not supposed to leave the campus during the week, you need to understand that.”
“Are you sure she’s dead,” she asks quietly. “Did you check—Did you check her pulse? Is her body warm?”
She keeps asking the same questions over and over again. I stand up, turning toward her, but her eyes are locked on the body like she’s not here anymore.
“Miss Vitelli.” I shake her softly but she’s still not coming back. My hands grab her, and I squeeze on her shoulders. “Mireya.” She finally looks back at me, a small tear falling down her cheek. “She’s dead, and you need to leave now, okay?”
She nods, starting to turn back before I stop her. “You’re not walking back,” I say.
She blinks. “Then how—”
I press my keys into her palm. “Take my car,” I continue. “Straight back to campus. Don’t stop, and don’t talk to anyone. When you get there, you text me.”
She looks down at the keys, then up at me. “And you?”
“That’s not your problem.”
She frowns. “You can’t just—”
“I can,” I cut in. “And you’re going to let me.”
Her fingers close around the keys. “How are you getting back?” she asks again.
“I’ll handle it.”
She studies my face like she’s trying to find the crack, the lie, the place where she can argue. But she doesn’t.
“Text me,” I repeat. “The moment you’re inside.”
“Text me too.”
“Okay.”
She hesitates once more, then turns toward the path up the cliff. The rocks make it slow, dangerous so I watch every step until she’s far enough that I can breathe again. Only then do I turn back. The body hasn’t moved. The tide is still coming in.
I take out my phone and hear the sound of the car starting. I wait, five minutes, looking around the body, that’s when I notice the marks around her neck.
And then I called. It rings once, then twice, before someone actually answers.
“Emergency services. What’s your location?”
“I’m reporting a deceased individual,” I say. “Possible homicide.”
“Sir, what’s your name?”
“This is Special Agent Caldwell, FBI. Badge number, three-nine, eight, five.”
Another pause, longer this time. “Are you in immediate danger?”
“No.”
“Is anyone else with you?”
“No,” I repeat, as I look back toward the shoreline.
“What’s the condition of the individual?” the dispatcher asks.
“Early stages of decomposition. Female. I haven’t touched anything.”
“Understood. Where exactly are you located?”
“Southern cliffside shoreline, below the east access road. I’m sending my coordinates. And I’m wearing plainclothes.” I drop the pin and look around.
“We have units coming,” she says. “Local police and medical. Do not disturb the scene.”
“I’m securing it until local units arrive.”
I end the call and dial Kyle's number. He answers quickly, his voice half-buried as if he were still asleep. “Damien? What's going on?”
“I found a body, a woman around twenty years old. She has chain marks around her neck, Kyle.”
I hear him sit up before he answers, “Wait, do you think it's him?”
“I don't think so. I'd like you to tell the team to cooperate with the Seraphin Bay police on this case. Every piece of information they have, I want it: identity, age, background. And as soon as they do the autopsy, I want you to compare the marks to those of the other victims.”
“Okay, okay, we'll do that. How do you feel about this?”
“It's either an imitator taking up the mantle, or he's actually back, and I don't like that at all.”
“Focus on that, I can hear the sirens behind you, they’ll be here soon.”
“Go on, I’m leaving now, let me know if anything happens.”
“Be careful,” Kyle finally says before I hang up.
Time to wait.