I sat with Luke on the front steps of the police station and explained what had happened, speaking quietly so nobody overheard about finding Charlie and seeing the smoke figure.  We were waiting for a taxi to arrive; I didn’t want to risk running into the gunman on our way home.  Luke had asked why I didn’t drive down but I only told him I had felt like the walk.  He wasn’t impressed, most likely resisting the urge to ask me why I didn’t anticipate his need for pants.

“So the only reason I’ve been released is because Charlie’s dead?” he asked eventually, pain making his voice crack.

“It’s not your fault,” I said.

“I should’ve seen it,” he said, “I should’ve seen it with Alice and with Charlie and even Alex!”

“It’s not your fault,” I repeated.

“No, but I should’ve…seen it,”—he waved his hands by his head—“I’m an Eidolon, this is what I’m supposed to do Liv.”

“Do they have any real evidence on you?”

“No, nothing.  But they think I’m partners with that guy that took Rosa…so I just…I don’t know.” 

That was a blessing at least; them not having any real evidence.  A taxi pulled up to the curb and we climbed in.  As Luke told him the address, I wanted to tell him to go somewhere else—the last place I wanted to be was next to where Charlie died.  That, and the man in the leather jacket knew where we lived, maybe he’d even found the spare set of keys on top of the fridge.  But with so many cops there, I doubted he would do anything so soon.

That raised another question though; did the detectives know that Charlie lived right next door to their original suspect?  They must know by now, but if they didn’t, they were about to find out.

The taxi pulled up in front of the low-rise.  I paid him with the money I thankfully had in my pocket, forgotten from another time.  Luke quickly went into the building and pressed the elevator button.  I wanted to go around the back and check if the Charger was still there, at least have an idea if the man had come back or finally left.  But Luke hurried me, and all I could do was follow.

The elevator doors opened and we found ourselves facing the two detectives.  They didn’t seem surprised to see Luke standing in front of them though, and without a word they walked past us.  The one, a tall, muscular man with a buzz-cut moved two fingers to point at his eyes before shoving them in Luke’s direction.  Luke swallowed loud enough for me to hear and we went up without a word.

My heart was pumping when we came to our door.  Was he in there, waiting?  Would he have his gun drawn, ready to shoot, or be raiding our fridge like he owned the place?

I opened it to find an empty apartment, quiet and dark.  Glancing left and right, scanning the kitchen and living room for any sign of the intruder, I stepped inside first.  Luke immediately went to his room for a change of clothes and I went to mine.  I checked my closet first to make sure nobody was there, and then moved on to Luke’s.

“What are you doing?” he asked as he put on a fresh shirt.

“Nothing,” I lied.  I was going to keep the gunman to myself, along with breaking into a crime scene.  Luke didn’t need to know any of it, not if I wanted our lives to go back to how they were.  This would remain a secret, for now at least.  I smiled at him.  “Nothing at all.”

“I’ve been awake all night,” Luke said, “I’m going to lay down for a bit.”  I nodded and left his room, shutting the door behind me.  Peeling my sweater off, I tossed it into my room before walking into the bathroom.  I flipped the light on and splashed my face with some cool water.  As I looked into the mirror I felt a primal fear squeeze my stomach.

The shower curtain was all the way across; I always made sure to keep it open, and I made sure Luke did too.  It was a pet peeve, or paranoia as Luke would say, of mine from years of being scared by my brothers; a closed curtain was easy to hide behind.  That way, when it was closed, like now, I knew somebody was hiding behind it.  Slowly, I reached for the door.

“Please, don’t do that,” came a familiar voice. The curtains swung open, revealing the man in the leather jacket bearing his silver pistol.  He stepped out of the shower and crooked his finger at me.  “Come here.” 

I sighed and did as I was told.

From his back pocket came a pair of handcuffs that he quickly locked around my left wrist, and the other end to the centre drawer beneath the sink.  Obviously I was not a threat to him, otherwise he would have cuffed me to something a little sturdier—or maybe he didn’t realize that this drawer was fake.

“I have to say,” he started as I tugged on my restraints, noticing the wood was beginning to chip around the handle, “I wasn’t expecting you to run.”  I shrugged at him, looking into the mirror rather than making eye contact again.  He suddenly grabbed my face and forced me to look into his eyes.  “You’re welcome, by the way, for saving you earlier.  You were about to join your neighbour on the floor if it wasn’t for me.” 

He had me there.

“Thanks,” I said looking back down as he released me, “I guess.  Who are you?”

“No, no, no,” he said, waving his gun back and forth.  “I’ll ask the questions first.  What were you doing in the Stafoff house?  Your boyfriend forget something after he killed the lovers?”  My eyes followed his movements as he moved to the frosted window, leaning against the frame.  He must have felt my anger at his comment.

Instead of answering, I yanked on the cuffs with one hand, wincing as they slid around my wrist.  Pieces of wood scattered to the floor as the weak handle was ripped right off the counter.  The man raised his eyebrows, but didn’t try to stop me. 

I was careful as I moved towards the door; I knew he wasn’t going to hurt me, not now anyway.  He was investigating just like I was, in a strange and illegal way.

“What are you doing?” he said, grabbing my wrist and spinning me around.  He pressed the gun to my temple, but with it so close I could see the small safety tab was set in place.  I stared at him, wondering if he was testing me but not knowing why.  Finally, he holstered his gun beneath his jacket, glancing away.  “Look, I’m trying to find the killer and everything points to your boyfriend.”

“No it doesn’t,” I said.  My gaze fell to my feet.  “Just…go away.  Luke wants a normal life.”

As much as I would like to help the man catch a killer, I needed to think of Luke.  He didn’t need this right now, not after everything that had happened with the revolution.  Luke had always wanted a normal, human life and I was going to make sure that’s what he got.

The man took off the handcuffs, placed a hand on the door above my head, and leaned in close to my face.  A chill ran across my shoulders, forcing me to back up until I was pressed against the door.

“Too bad,” he whispered, “because you’re already involved.”  He set my cellphone onto the bathroom counter before nudging me aside by tapping his boot against my foot.  “I’ll be in touch soon.”