Under Dust Painted Skies
Chapter Eight"Zac, you need to eat."
Despite hearing Remy's words, Zac did no immediately answer, and after a moment, he could feel the heat of her stare. Forcing his eyes away from his laptop screen, he looked up. She stood next to the stove, scooping the leftovers into plastic Tupperware dishes, but she was looking at him furtively.
Sighing, he pushed his laptop to the side and pulled his plate in front of him and spooned a scoop of now lukewarm minestrone soup into his mouth.
Remy didn't look impressed, but she also didn't say anymore.
That was how it had been since yesterday afternoon when she came back from the art supply store and found him searching for missing women in the states Ted Cline had formerly resided in. She'd listened quietly as he explained what the background check said. She'd only briefly interrupted to say, "You had a background check run on him?"
Zac had shrugged her incredulity off and soldiered on with the information he had acquired. When she left to go pick up Luca from the Littleton's, she didn't come back that night. It had taken Zac longer than it probably should have to realize how long it had been since she left, and when he called her cell phone to check on her, she'd sounded distracted as well as slightly annoyed. Zac did feel bad about that, but he wasn't sure what he could do. This was too important to let drop just because it bothered Remy.
He'd half expected her not to return the next day with Luca, but she did. It was a bit later than usual - closer to nine rather than their usual arrival time of eight on Tuesdays and Thursdays. While she hadn't seemed angry with him, she certainly seemed preoccupied.
"Are you going to do any painting today?" she asked after a long pause.
Zac shrugged a shoulder. Since last night he'd been scouring the news and keeping tabs on women who could have been potential victims of Ted Cline. So far the list consisted of fifty women. It was sickening, and as much as Zac wished he could just turn away from it, he just couldn't. He felt like he was on the brink of something - something that was very important, too important to just ignore.
"I'm not sure," Zac answered slowly, but Remy seemed to understand that these words translated to a reluctant no.
"Zac," Remy sighed. He gazed at her, trying to anticipate her next words. He knew she'd been biting her tongue on the subject, and it seemed now she was finally ready to speak, but then before she could continue, Luca skipped into the room.
It wasn't until then that Zac even realized she had already ate her lunch and left the room. Where was his head? Normally, if he was aware of anything, it was what Luca was doing. This week, though, his mind was somewhere else entirely.
"Hey, baby," Remy smiled as the five-year-old hopped up into the seat next to Zac, grabbing her Capri Sun and sipping on it greedily.
Both Zac and Remy watched her for a moment; neither was willing to speak of the previous subject with her in the room. Even Zac, in his preoccupied capacity, wouldn't discuss a serial killer in front of a child.
As Luca sipped on the fruit punch flavored pouch, her big, always curious eyes swept the table. When they fell upon the laptop Zac had shoved aside, they grew wider.
Both adults noticed; Remy looked horror stricken, as if she thought that Zac might have left something inappropriate out for her to view, and Zac was simply confused because he knew he had not done what Remy was thinking.
"I sawed a pretty purse like that," she exclaimed, removing the yellow straw from her mouth.
Remy crossed the room to stand behind Zac's chair. She sighed in relief when she saw the laptop screen. Instead of a grizzly crime scene or something of the like, the screen was filled by a photo of a young woman - probably just a few years older than Remy herself - with wide hazel eyes, long dark hair and a smile spread so wide that her bright white teeth seemed to glint in the sun.
In the picture, the woman wore a pale blue sundress with an overlay of eyelet lace. Clutched in the woman's hand was a purse. It wasn't a common design as both adults had half expected to see based on Luca's exclamation. Instead, it was an off-white fabric with a pretty, large butterfly pattern studded with rhinestones that sparkled in the sun, right along with her pearly white teeth. The clear plastic handle was wound over the woman's wrist but she held the purse near the silver clasp.
Zac knew next to nothing of fashion. His first thought was to look to Remy, but he knew her well enough to realize that she was not well versed in fashion either. Realizing Remy would not be of much help, Zac glanced back at the screen. He was fairly certain that this purse was neither new nor common. It looked like something from the 50s or 60s if he had to guess.
"Her name is Sarah Benson. She was twenty-nine when she disappeared from a Las Vegas bar in 2006," Zac explained, reading off the screen. "She was a copy editor for a newspaper and liked to collect vintage accessories."
Remy didn't acknowledge Zac's words but instead swallowed and then looked at Luca. "Lulu, where did you see a purse like this?" she asked.
Luca paused for a moment, as if thinking it over, before she answered, "Acrossed the street."
"Oh." Remy almost sighed in relief. "Greta's mommy has a purse like that?"
Luca scrunched her nose and shook her head. "No," she said in sing-song voice. "At the new man's house. It felled out of a box."
Zac and Remy's eyes met. He could see that Remy was trying to come up with a logical answer to debunk the thoughts passing quickly through his mind. The stiff set of her shoulders, though, told him that her mind was coming up blank.
"When was that?" Zac asked casually.
"When Darcy watcheded me," Luca shrugged.
Zac's eyes moved back to Remy. Her eyes were far away, and Zac knew instinctively she was trying to remember the last time Darcy, the neighbor who lived on the other side of Zac, had watched Luca for her. It wasn't a regular occurrence, but there had been a few times - usually when Zac was in a particularly sour mood - when Remy had asked the middle-aged divorcee to keep at eye on Luca for her.
"Mommy, what's wrong?" Luca asked as she sipped at her Capri Sun.
This question seemed to shake Remy out of her head. "Nothing, baby," she smiled. "Why don't you go watch some cartoons while I finish cleaning up in here?"
Luca shrugged, sat her foil drink down, hopped off of the chair and then skipped off into the other room. As soon as she was out of sight, Remy turned to Zac. She pointed a finger at him and said, "Don't."
Zac held up his hands innocently, but it pained him to hold his tongue. He could tell from the set of Remy's jaw that she wasn't messing around but the flicker of recognition in her eyes also told him that she had remembered something - something she wasn't pleased with.
"Keep an eye on Luca," she said after a moment. "I'll be right back."
Zac frowned, "Where are you going?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she patted her pockets - presumably to check that her keys and phone were there - and turned and headed down the hallway. He heard the soft squeal of the partition door to the foyer slide open and then close a second later. He didn't have to hear the click of the locks to know that she was leaving the house.
Confused, Zac stood. He first checked in the living room. Luca was sprawled on the sofa with an episode of iCarly playing on the television. She seemed totally oblivious to the fact that her mother had left, but that wasn't much of a surprise. It was, however, a shock to see Remy's form pass by the front window a second later.
Zac glanced at Luca, making sure she hadn't noticed, and then crossed the room behind the sofa toward the window he saw Remy pass by. He watched her form move down the sidewalk and then turn up the walkway toward Darcy's front door.
What is she doing? he wondered as he watched her ring the doorbell.
Darcy appeared a moment later and motioned Remy inside. As soon as she disappeared from sight, Zac's mind began to race, but none of the thoughts were concrete. It was too much confusion, and it pained him to realize that he would not have any answers until Remy returned.
Rather than stand at the window, awaiting her return, Zac decided to try keeping his hands busy even if he could not quell the questions in his mind. He reluctantly retreated back into the kitchen. His soup was now cold, but that was okay. His appetite had vanished anyway. He emptied the remains in the garbage disposal and then gathered the rest of the dishes and loaded the dishwasher. He cleaned the counters and table, and while his laptop sat in plan view, he did not feel compelled to grab it and keep searching for potential victims. His mind was too much on Remy and her abrupt departure.
Luca's words, though, haunted him. How likely was it that the five-year-old would see the very same bag as a woman who vanished from Vegas nearly four years ago? Furthermore, why would a single man be in possession of a handbag? Zac was sure if he broached this subject with his brothers, they'd probably have some easy answer to negate all suspicion. Hell, even speculating that the man was a cross dresser would seem more likely to his brothers than the idea that he might actually be a serial killer.
Zac tried to push thoughts of his brothers from his mind. Every time he let his mind go there, he only wound up feeling angry all over again. The hurt was only secondary. He knew his brothers thought him unstable, so it seemed ridiculous, now, to think that they would have so easily believed in his theory. The anger was mostly aimed at himself for not realizing that sooner, but there was a small portion of it that was due to the resentment he felt toward his brothers for thinking him unstable to begin with. He had issues, yes, but he wasn't fucking crazy. Of that, he was sure.
Somewhere in the midst of thoughts of his elder brothers, Remy must have returned because when he turned from wiping down the counters, there she stood, leaning against the door frame with her arms crossed over her chest and the corners of her mouth dipping down.
"Shit," Zac muttered with wide eyes. "Quiet much?"
It seemed to take longer than usual for Remy's eyes to focus on him, and it was only then that he realized that beyond the frown gracing her face, she also seemed much too pale. Her eyes also seemed wrong somehow - wild, almost frighteningly so. It also didn't escape his notice that she didn't reprimand him for his language.
"Remy?" Zac asked cautiously.
When she finally met his eyes, her frown seemed to deepen. Zac felt the urge to go to her and wrap his arms around her, but he stayed rooted in place. For as well as he knew and trusted Remy, that just wasn't something they did. She generally bossed him around and told him to get his head out of his ass, and he sassed her back in turn. Zac ran their relationship back through his mind, and it seemed they did not, however, hug. How strange.
"I spoke to Darcy," she finally said, her voice low and a little shaky. Zac had to lean forward in hopes of hearing her better. "I asked about what Luca said - about the purse. I told her I was looking for new bags on the Internet, and I saw something like the one Luca saw on the Internet, and I really liked it.
"It didn't take much to get Darcy talking about purses and handbags," Remy laughed humorlessly. "She remembered it too - mostly because it gave her a reason to speak to Ted Cline. Apparently, one of the movers dropped a box and it split open. The bag fell out, and Cline came out of the house, throwing a hissy fit, stuffed the items back inside and hauled the box into the house himself.
"When he came back outside, Darcy went to introduce herself. You know Darcy. Fresh meat and all that," Remy smiled slightly. It was a running joke - or so Remy said - amongst the neighbors that Darcy was always on the prowl. It wasn't anything too shocking to see the aging woman prancing around in a bikini when the men from the lawn service she used showed up. 'Mowing the lawn' had a completely different connotation where Darcy Grant was concerned.
Zac had seen Darcy in a bikini more times than he cared to count. Also, when he first moved into the place, she had stopped by often. It was usually to drop off baked goods, like pies and cookies, but as soon as she started batting her fake lashes at him, Zac had began to conveniently not hear the doorbell. That was, of course, when he could still answer the door himself, and as soon as Darcy figured out that Zac was something of hermit, she seemed to decide that, while she was interested in 'helping him out anytime he needed,' that maybe it was best to move on and put her efforts elsewhere.
Zac shook those thoughts away. He did not want to think about Darcy hitting on him. As if he hadn't already been traumatized when he moved in, her simpering only seemed to add insult to injury. He shuddered and returned his mind to the topic at hand.
"So, she hit on him?" Zac wondered, prompting Remy on.
"You know she would never own up to that." Remy rolled her eyes. "But she did welcome him to the neighborhood and ask some leading questions, trying to find out if he was single. Apparently, the purse put her off a bit, thinking he was married or had a girlfriend. He told her that the stuff - she said besides the butterfly purse there were a couple of others, but she couldn't remember anything specific about them - but he told her the stuff belonged to his late wife."
Zac held Remy's gaze for several seconds after that, letting this all sink in. There seemed to be something significant to the look she was giving him, and once his brain processed everything she had said, he realized what it was; in the background check Zac had done there was never any mention of a marriage. Though the background check only went back five years, Zac doubted Ted Cline was ever married. After all, unless he was some sort of a Dexter or Trinity, killing women on Friday nights several times a year would be awfully hard to hide from a significant other. Unless, maybe, his significant other was also one of his victims. That might explain a change in identity, but Zac had no idea where to even begin to look for something like that.
"Why would he keep the stuff?" Remy finally asked, startling Zac. He'd forgotten for a moment that she was there. Her question, though, was even more surprising. He met her eyes once again, and he could see now that her doubts were slowly fading away and, if she weren't already convinced that Zac was right about this, it wouldn't take much more before she was.
"Trophies?" Zac guessed. Remy nodded, as if to say, "That makes sense."
Remy took a deep breath, as if preparing to say something, but instead she just bit her lip. It was a nervous habit Zac had picked up on almost immediately after meeting her. It wasn't something particularly easy to notice because Remy was not a nervous person by nature. She was easily the strongest woman Zac had ever met.
He waited, hoping she would find the courage to say whatever it was she wanted to say. Finally, after several more deep breaths, Zac was rewarded for his patience.
"I think I want to go take a look around over there," she finally said. At first, Zac was confused. Take a look where? What was she talking about? Then, he realized, she meant over at Ted Cline's house.
"What?" Zac exclaimed. "You can't just go over and snoop around in his house."
"I didn't mean inside," Remy hissed. "Just . . . he has that big garage, and Darcy said he went into the garage with the box and came back out a few minutes later. Maybe he left the box there."
"In plain sight?" Zac asked, doubtfully.
"It's worth a shot," Remy shrugged. Then she began to turn, as if it to leave abruptly yet again, but Zac grabbed her arm.
"Remy, no," he said firmly. She shook his arm off and glared at him.
"Hey, you started this," she said. "You were the one dead set on convincing me. Well, here I am, mostly convinced. Aren't you happy?"
"I don't want you going over there and putting yourself in harm's away."
"I'm not," Remy argued. "He's not home. I'm not going inside. I'm just going to peek through the window."
Zac did not like this idea, but he could see the determination written all over Remy's face. If anything, trying to stop her had probably only made her more resolute on following through with this idea. He held his hands up, as if to surrender, but the uneasy feeling in the pit of his belly seemed to squirm and wriggle, as if to say, "This is a bad idea."
When Zac offered no verbal objection, Remy touched his arm, gently, and said softly, "I'll be right back. You can keep a lookout from the window," she nodded to the window just behind him, "if it will make you feel better."
Zac sighed, mostly out of frustration. He really didn't like this idea, but even more he didn't like that he secretly wanted to be the one to go over there and snoop around. He knew he couldn't, which was why, despite his reservations, he knew he'd let Remy go.
She smiled, reassuringly before spinning on her heels. He didn't even bother to watch her disappear. Instead, he turned as well and walked to the kitchen window. A moment later, he saw Remy at the sidewalk at the end of the walkway. She glanced over her shoulder and spotted him watching her. She smiled and waved. Then she turned back to face the street. She glanced both ways, either to check for traffic or just to make sure no one else was watching, and then jogged across.
As she made her way up Ted Cline's driveway, Zac let his eyes wash over her. She wore jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt. He'd only vaguely heard the weather forecaster say that the high was supposed to be around sixty, which was fitting for March in Tulsa. Despite his best efforts, his eyes lingered a little longer than necessary on her backside. He'd nearly ripped Taylor a new asshole for once saying that Remy had a "nice ass," but despite his anger at his brother's comments, Zac found he could not argue.
He shook those thoughts away as Remy reached the side of the attached garage. She glanced around again, and Zac wondered how she managed to make it look so casual. If it were he, he knew a look of guilt would be etched into every facet of his face and body.
Once she was sure there was no one else watching, she lifted up on her toes and looked into the window right beside her. She stayed in this position for several seconds before rocking back onto her heels. He wondered what she was seeing and had half a notion to call her but decided against it. He didn't want to distract her.
After a moment, she rose back on her toes for another look and stayed in this position for about the same amount of time as before. This time after she rocked back on her heels, she took several steps farther back, apparently to the next window. As before, she stood on her toes to look inside.
Zac's eyes swept over her again. The graceful way she seemed to move up onto her toes reminded him of a ballerina. This thought, of course, led Zac's mind down an entirely different path - imagining Remy in a simple black leotard. Something seemed to stir in the pit of his belly, but it was most definitely not unease. He tried to banish these thoughts, but the idea was already there.
Thankfully, Luca chose that moment to skip into the kitchen. "Zaccy, where's Mommy?"
Zac paused for a moment. As a general rule, he did not lie to Luca. It set a bad example. Telling her the truth, though, was a bit complicated. Instead, he chose to go with a vague truth. "She went to check on something really quick," he answered. "She'll be back soon. Do you need something?"
"Fruit snacks," she declared.
"Already? Didn't you just have lunch?"
Luca shrugged her tiny shoulders, and, even though Zac knew Remy would probably make her wait at least another half an hour before giving her a snack, he relented and moved to the pantry door to grab the box of Dora the Explorer fruit snacks. He pulled one out and handed it to her. He started to put the box back but then, almost as an afterthought, he pulled one out for himself.
He ripped his opened and started to dig out one out, but then he noticed Luca struggling with opening hers. "Need some help?" he offered.
Luca pouted her lips and scrunched her nose. She was just as stubborn as her mother sometimes, so it was after another moment of trying to open it herself that she finally handed the package over to Zac. He grinned and handed her the small package he'd already opened. She grinned in delight and plucked a bright green fruit snack out of the pouch and shoved it into her mouth as she scampered out of the room, presumably to continue watching iCarly; they seemed to be having a lot of marathons these days.
He smiled after Luca as he tore open the plastic pouch she'd handed him. He shoved a couple of snacks into his mouth and walked back toward the window, and when he got there, he almost choked at the sight that greeted him.
Apparently, while tending to Luca, Ted Cline had arrived home. His car, a black sedan, sat in the driveway, and the man himself was standing off to the side of the garage, speaking to Remy.
Unlike the first time he'd caught sight of Remy speaking to his man, her posture was not casual. She seemed stiff and ill at ease now. They were both turned slightly, so Zac only had the side view, making it hard to interpret their facial expressions. He wondered how long Ted Cline had been there and what he might be saying.
Zac's whole body longed to move, to spring in and take Remy away, but that instinct was overpowered by the always present fear that seemed to paralyze him from doing what he so longed to do. Instead, liked a frightened kitten, he remained rooted to the spot, unable to help or hinder whatever was happening just beyond the glass.
He gripped the counter in front of him to steel his shaky knees, likely smashing the remaining fruit snacks in his hand to little more than mush in the process. His heart pounded rapidly, like an unknown beat to a yet to be written song. The lyrics would be frantic, indecipherable, something like a scream.
He tried to shake his head, to gain some perspective, but this did nothing but jumble the confusion and fear. Finally, after what seemed like hours rather than seconds, Remy turned away from Ted Cline and began walking back toward the house. Instead of feeling relieved, as he had the last time he watched her walk away from his man, Zac's heart continued to pound.
He did not move to meet her at the door, though his mind ached to know what had been said. Instead, he watched Ted Cline, who also remained rooted in place. His eyes were on Remy's back, but Zac knew that he was not appreciating the lovely view, as Zac had earlier. His eyes were narrowed, suspicious, and, though Zac had never spoken to the man himself and knew very little about him, it was as if he could see the wheels turning in head, plotting and planning something malevolent.
He was sure, if he were to voice this knowledge aloud, no one would believe him. They would say he could not know something like this with such certainty, but that was where they were wrong because the acidic introspection that danced behind Ted Cline's eyes was something Zac had seen before. It was the same caustic leer he'd witnessed in Brielle Jensen's eyes right before she pulled the trigger and shot Kate in cold blood.
Mentally acknowledging Brielle Jensen's existence seemed to transport him back to that day and that moment, forcing the images and feelings he usually only allowed to grace his thoughts while unconscious to encroach upon his knowing mind. Joy, hope, love, confusion, pain, blood and despair seemed to rush through his mind at supersonic speed. He thought he could even remember the feel of the hot sun beating down on his skin.
When a hand brushed his back, between his shoulder blades, Zac jumped. Spinning around, he was prepared to attack, but when he met Remy's bloodless face and frenetic eyes, he relaxed his combative stance and grabbed her by the shoulders.
"Are you okay?" he demanded.
Remy nodded, but this did nothing to convince him.
"What happened?" he asked, trying to curb the trepidation in his voice to sooth the very obviously rattled woman in front of him.
"I didn't hear him drive up until he was out of the car," she said, speaking softly. "He saw me when he got out of the car, and he came over to see what I was doing. I told him that I dropped the list I had and it blew over by his place. I don't think he bought it, but I'd moved away from his windows and was a bit closer to the Littleton's, so even if he didn't, I'm not sure he knew what I was doing."
Zac rubbed her shoulders, absently. He'd nearly forgotten he was holding onto her, but this gesture seemed to help relax her just a bit.
"Then he said and I quote 'So it seems you've been telling your boss about me, and he's been checking up on me.'" Her voice trembled just a little. "I tried to act like I had no idea what he was talking about, but, clearly, he must know about the background check. Somehow."
Zac frowned at that. "How would he know something like that?" he wondered. "That stuff is confidential, and it's not like they contacted him about it."
Remy bit her lip. That was twice in one day. Cleary, her nerves were set deeply on edge. "He's a computer programmer, remember?" she said softly. "What if he . . . maybe he knows how . . . like could he have hacked into our network or something?"
Zac's stomach seemed to drop at this. He hadn't even considered that possibility. He wasn't the most computer savvy. He could fiddle his way through things, but when it came to hacking and such, he didn't know. He was aware that fans used to break into different family or friend's account to find out more information or pictures of them. If fans, who were not computer programmers could do that, then it seemed quite likely that someone who spent his days working on and around computers could do the same.
His eyes flicked over to the open laptop that still bore the picture of Sarah Benson. What if, while he had been checking up on Ted Cline and his possible victims, Ted Cline had been checking up on him?
Remy glanced over her shoulder, following Zac's gaze, and without much thought, marched over to the kitchen table and closed the laptop.
"I think we should call the police," she declared, turning back to Zac.
He met her gaze. Part of him was thrilled that she was finally on the same page as him, but the bigger part of him knew that if his own brother didn't believe him, then it wasn't likely that the Tulsa Police Department would put much stock in the ravings of a former musician turned phobic hermit.