Lily
After being cooped up in that horrible hole, it felt so good to be back in my apartment. It was amazing how much the past thirty-six hours were starting to seem like a bad dream. The first night I was back, I didn’t get a ton of sleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I’d read and why Zed wouldn’t listen. But in the morning, I woke up with an idea.
“Do you remember when you worked for the library in college?” I asked Jackie over the phone.
“Unfortunately,” she said. “Why, do you need something?”
“Yeah, I’m going to go and look at old newspapers that haven’t been digitized,” I explained. “More research for this project.” I felt bad lying to Jackie about why I was hunting, but I couldn’t risk putting her in danger, too.
“You’re such a nerd. Do you want me to come with? I’m not working today.”
“Nah, it’s fine, I can handle it,” I told her. “Thanks though. Do you want to get dinner later?”
“Sure. I can come over with a pizza. Sound good?”
“Definitely. I’ll be home in a few hours, I’ll call you when I get there.”
It was a warmer day outside; the sun was out, for once, and I was starting to feel like this endless winter would be over soon. Dully, I wondered if the cold and snow would always remind me of Zed now. They had a reason to; I’d been completely absorbed with him for weeks now.
The drive to the library was uneventful. I kept checking to see if there were any cars behind me, but it didn’t look like anyone followed me for more than a turn or two. I was more and more paranoid all the time, but so far, it didn’t look as though I was actually in danger. I’d never seen any of the guys Zed had threatened me with. If I was being completely honest, the scariest people I’d ever seen were Zed and Peyton.
The library was almost deserted, and I found a computer in the back hooked up to microfiche. There were a few newsreels from the year Rose was murdered, as well as the subsequent years. I hadn’t wanted to tell Jackie, but part of me was curious to see Zed’s mug shot, or the article detailing his arrest. I still couldn’t believe that he’d gone to prison for heroin of all things. That was terrifying; it made him an alien. I couldn’t believe I’d lost my virginity to an ex-heroin addict! Just thinking about it made me cringe.
To my surprise, there were some write-ups in national papers covering Rose’s murder. I found one in the St. Louis Tribune from a few weeks after her killing.
Nation On Edge After Girl’s Brutal Slaying: Detroit, along with the rest of the country, wait by a thread as the nation searches for the killer of Rose McIntyre. McIntyre, 17, was stabbed to death over a week ago and police are still hunting for the clues to her killer. Authorities believe that her killer was a member of the Iron Angels, a fearsome gang known for their ruthless drug connections and running guns. McIntyre was a star student at her local high school, with a full scholarship to college waiting for her after graduation. Her death was a senseless and brutal tragedy that’s given new meaning to the term “degeneration”, and it’s likely that parents will be haunted for decades to come.
McIntyre’s only surviving family is her brother, Zed, 19. Zed has been in and out of jail for petty crimes since the age of 17, and now he’s reputed to be dealing with some much messier stuff. Might the connection of her brother be a reason for Rose’s killing? It’s a chilling question and one that we may never know the answer to.
Police are now advising all youth under the age of 18 to stay inside except for traveling to school. If you are under age and have a part-time job, it’s strongly recommended that you quit, or take a leave of absence. In special cases, children will be excused from truancy as police believe the killer is still out there and looking for more victims. A mandatory curfew is in effect for those under 25, and you can expect a $1,000 fine for violating it.
Leaning back in my chair, I covered my mouth with my hand. There was a picture of the crime scene. Rose’s body had been taken away, but I was left looking at a room covered in grotesque splatters of dark blood. There was a huge dark puddle on the floor and some bloody handprints on a fallen chair and the walls.
I stared at the photograph and tried to make out the interior of the house. It looked to be a well-decorated but somewhat shabby room, with an oak table and four chairs. The wallpaper in one corner was peeling. I wondered if Zed had always grown up in poverty; from his backstory, I guessed probably.
That made Rose’s death seem even sadder to me because she’d worked to rise above it. I thought sadly of the scholarship that she never got to use. She’d be in her early thirties now; I wondered if she’d be married and have children. She was so beautiful, and she seemed so gentle and sweet. I bet she would have made a good mother.
Part of me wondered what Rose would think of her brother now. As tempting as it was to dismiss the idea, I somehow had the feeling that Rose would forgive her brother anything. It was easy to imagine her taking him in her small arms and trying to provide some measure of comfort. I had a feeling she was always the kind of person who would turn the other cheek.
There was another article in the same newspaper a week later. The headline was Slasher Strikes Again, and with a grim feeling, I read on.
In what could have been deemed another brutal murder, the same attacker who killed Rose McIntyre, formerly of Detroit, has struck again. This time, however, the victim lived to tell the tale. Brenn Hobbs, 21, was attacked when she was crossing a mall parking lot last night. Hobbs works at a kiosk in the mall and was heading to her car around 11 p.m. She said that she noticed a large man following her, so she quickly ran to her car. However, when she got there, she was able to get inside and drive away with no problem. Once at home, another man jumped out of Hobbs’ back seat and attacked her, leaving her in the driveway. Luckily, one of Hobbs’ neighbors was arriving home and saw her. Hobbs survived, but she is in critical condition at the Lincoln County Memorial Hospital. Her family requests privacy.
If her family wants her to be private, why did the article give away her location? I thought, rolling my eyes. Leaning back in my chair, I wondered if it would be possible for me to talk to her. Brenn Hobbs couldn’t be that common of a name.
Heading to Google, I typed her name in and hit enter. The first result was a Facebook page of a business called Brenn’s Hens. It was a gourmet butcher shop in downtown Detroit. And the owner’s last name was Hobbs…
Grabbing my coat and car keys, I hurried through the library and got into my car. I had no idea if she’d be there, but I had to find out. I had to ask what she’d seen that night. It only took me fifteen minutes to drive across town, but it felt like an hour. I seemed to catch every red light and every slow driver. Finally, I pulled to a stop in front of the store. The lights were on, but no one was inside.
“Hello?” I called out. “Miss Hobbs?”
A plump brunette came out of the back, wiping her hands on her apron. “Hi,” she called out cautiously. “Can I help you?”
I tried to smile as genuinely as I could. “Hi, Miss Hobbs,” I said in a shaky voice. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
Her face instantly turned ashen, and I knew I probably wasn’t the first person who’d come looking for her. “Get out of here,” she said quietly. “I can’t tell you anything that you’ll want to know.”
I shook my head. “Brenn, I’m sorry, it’s personal. My friend’s life is at stake, my life is at stake!”
Her eyes blazed, and she squared her shoulders. I saw the traces of a long, pink scar starting on one shoulder and sloping downwards. I cringed as I wondered how much it must have hurt.
“That makes no difference to me,” she said in a curt voice. “I can’t risk getting involved with anything dangerous again. That time in my life has passed.”
I frowned. “Wait, were you involved in something bad? I thought it was random. Just like what happened to Rose.”
Brenn laughed, showing a mouthful of yellowing teeth. “Oh, honey. No one is innocent when The Manticore is involved.”
A shiver ran down my spine. “What?” I repeated dumbly. “The Manticore?”
“With his big machete,” Brenn said. She raised her eyebrows. “Didn’t I say to get out of here? Do I have to call the cops on you, too?”
“No, no,” I said in a shaky voice. “I’m leaving now. Thank you.”
“Bye now,” Brenn said in a calm voice as I backed out of the store. She reached for a cleaver, and I turned around before I could see where the blade would fall.
With my heart pounding, I slowly walked back to my car. Brenn had said The Manticore had attacked her, not the boss of the Iron Angels. And something about a big machete…
I knew I had to call Zed. He’d have to listen to me now.