Page 7 of The Shadows We Keep
I nod my acknowledgement and make my way into the back seat. The entire flight had been a parade of memories of Alina. The stranger in the cab doing nothing to help how my morning had started, if anything making it worse by shoving me down the rabbit hole my phone had become.
I pull my headphones out. “So, are they home?” I don’t have to specify who I’m referring to.
“No sir, they are out of town this weekend for a charity auction. They’re expected home Sunday evening.”
I could pretend be surprised, but I’m not. They knew I was coming to visit, or we could call it what it really was, a check in to make sure I hadn’t completely faded away in New York. Apparently, they’d been concerned enough to warrant this unnecessary trip, but not enough to be here when I arrived. Oh well, one and a half fewer days I’ll have to spend with them. Come Monday morning, my ass will be back on a flight to New York, and I’ll be back on my daily grind.
The ins and outs of my day that got me back on track without their help. Shocking that all it took to kick my ass into gear and off drugs was the space two thousand miles awarded. The near radio silence on my life in New York didn’t stop my dad from pushing me anytime we got together to join the family business. It didn’t matter that my body’s covered in head to toe tattoos. Or that I technically didn’t hold a college degree, even though I could out code any Ivy computer science graduate. He’d find use for me somehow. Shit, knowing how he dealt with his business, he’d probably use my computer skills for some sketchy business dealings. But I didn’t need his business backing me to use my skills. I did just fine on my own.
We ride up to the gates that section off my parents’ estate from the rest of the mansions in the area. Stepping out of the SUV, I scan the front of the sleek, modern home. It hasn’t changed except for the landscaping near the front window, but I have. Where I didn’t use to think twice of the blatant display of wealth, its bold statement irritates the shit out of me now.
The front door swings open before I can approach. A well-dressed older woman in sensible shoes greets me the same way baldy had at the airport. I don’t mean to be rude; I just can’t bring myself to care enough to interact with them. Nodding, I pass her and head down the hall to my room.
Dropping my bag on the neatly made bed, I shuffle through it until my hand meets the cold metal of my laptop tucked safely among the soft clothes. There was no way I was checking this baby through baggage claim. My whole life revolves around this damn thing.
Speaking of baggage claim, I want to see what I can dig up on taxi girl, Keira. I honestly wondered if I photoshopped one of Alina’s photos with dark hair and lightened her skin color if I could reverse image search for her.
But first, where had she come from? I didn’t see her as I left the building to hail a cab, yet she’d been right there as soon as I tried to get in. Pulling up the security camera feed for my building, I push through hours upon hours of footage until I have all four views synced up to the right time.
I watch myself exit the building and step up to the road, but she’s nowhere in sight. Seconds pass as my eyes flip from each small box dividing my screen. She must be somewhere; I know for a fact I hadn’t imagined the whole situation. I’m not that fucking messed up in the head. Then it happens. She pops on to the screen in the bottom left corner, meaning she would have come up from my left on the street. That’s something, or at least I want to believe it is.
If she’d been late for work, it meant she’d likely been rushing from her place to get out to the street. It’s possible she could have been at someone else’s place, but I don’t want to think about that possibility. That realization is jarring. This girl’s consuming my every thought, even if she is for all intents and purposes, a stranger.
I have a name, a place of work, a general direction on where she lives, and that she looks like my dead girlfriend. It isn’t much, but I’ve worked with less before. I watch the video footage on repeat, slowing it down to play frame by frame, looking for any little thing that might give me another bit of information about my mystery girl.
The California sun dips low through my west-facing window. The sunsets are different on the west coast. I’d give California that. Tall buildings don’t diminish the golden red glow that spreads across the sky.
A knock at my door pulls my aching eyes from the screen for the first time in hours. “Come in.”
“Sir, will you be needing something to eat from the kitchen staff? They didn’t prepare a meal but can make you something.”
Glancing at my wrist, I realize that the only thing I’ve had today was thanks to the airlines in-flight snack. “No, it’s fine. I’ll go out and grab something. Are the car keys still in the garage?”
“Yes sir, but I don’t think...”
“It’s fine. My car should still be here.” He nods, his hesitation showing behind his professional demeanor.
Thai take away and two Redbulls later, I’m ready to dive back in. Halfway through my Pad See Eiw, I have a new angle to work with. JFK has to have an employee register somewhere online. Baggage claim narrows it down slightly, but the airport hosts around seventy different airlines. I could cross reference her first name easily enough. Keira isn’t exactly your traditional American name.
“Gotcha.” I smile at the screen as her work badge photo pulls up. Keira Fitzpatrick. Baggage Claim. Delta airlines. Home address and phone number listed. Dividing the screen, I type in the address on file. It’s nowhere near my place and from the outside google view it looks like a bodega. Possible, but not likely. Irritated with the setback, my fist collides with the desk in frustration.
There has to be something else I’m missing. I work through my normal list that any amateur coder would know. My screen runs through the pre-programmed algorithm I added her information to. Time; I’ll just leave it running and give it time.
Standing from my hunched position, my knees creak from the sudden movement. I really shouldn’t have sat all night after sitting all day in the cramped airplane seat. I interlock my fingers and raise my arms straight over my head. Leaning left to right, my obliques strain against the stretch. Twisting side to side, my vertebra pop one after the other as my spine realigns. I could go for an alignment at the chiropractor.
I have to get my head off this girl. I feel myself being drawn into focus. A focus that isn’t smart to hyperfixate on. But her face won’t leave my mind. Where Alina was light and airy, this girl was rough and filled with sass. Maybe this is a second chance the universe is throwing my way.
FOUR
KEIRA
Dark Horse – Sleep At Last
It’s been four days. Four days of worry and wonder, anxiety, and desperation. I slide the dark heavy curtains over just enough to peek out across the street, his place sits pitch black. I wish I knew how long he was going to be in California for. If this was a year ago, all I’d have to do was check his Facebook and there’d be a post about it for the world to read.
That’s not him anymore, though. His socials are dead. The only updates coming from tagged post and photos, most being grossly offensive memes. The radio silence would kill me if I didn’t have the perfect view right into his home. His apartment takes up a huge portion of the third floor in the southeast corner. Must be nice to live in Daddy’s building.
My tiny, outdated apartment stands across the street from his east side windows, three floors up from the pizza parlor. The apartment building belongs to the owner of Luigi’s, but his skeezy son is the only one I deal with lately. If I wasn’t determined to live in this exact location, I wouldn’t put up with his constant come-ons and wandering hands. If only it was the worst I’d ever had to deal with. It isn’t, not by a long shot, which means I’ve had zero issue skirting his advances on the regular. Always keeping in mind to do so playfully and without aggression, less he tells his father to evict me from the rent control box that’s prime real estate in Brooklyn.