Detzer84: Thank you so much. Good guesses on the hunter. Whether or not it's either one of them you'll have to wait a couple more chapters. If I say much about the hunter it'd be obvious who it is. All I will say is that it's a character that was introduced in the Supernatural show and the boys know him. The hunter is not a new character. Which I know is not much to go on but soon the identity will be revealed.
A.N. Thank you everyone for the feedback. I forgot to save it so I can't remember what people wrote
. Sorry this took so long to get out. While I have the next 20-25 chapters mapped out sometimes it’s hard to sit down and write. Thankfully once I started writing the words flowed out easily. It’s always nice when that happens.
This was going to be split into two parts due to length but I couldn’t find a good place to stop and break it up. It didn’t feel right splitting it so it’s one longer part (about 5-6 pages).
Song for Chapter 9: Moonlight Sonata by Beethoven
Chapter 9
July 9; 1:18 p.m.
It had been twenty-four hours since her failed lunch with the detectives. What happened at the restaurant would surely keep her on the suspect list. She wasn’t stupid, Malone clearly thought of her as the murderer. Yelling at the voices in her head to shut up hadn’t given them any reason to believe she was sane and incapable of killing her parents.
Liz stared up at the UFO crash landing into her family’s business. The double entrance doors were shut tight with crime scene tape still plastered over the windows. The bright yellow tape glared back at her, mocked her, and let her know that the restaurant and apartment above were no longer her home.
Through the window, which now because of interested people was smudged with fingerprints, she saw many chairs pulled out and not in the normal order it would be in if none of this had happened. She licked her chapped lips and sniffed softly.
Briefly she turned away from the front entrance and stared down the street. A few people on the sidewalk stopped and pointed at her. When they noticed her watching them watching her they had the decency to turn away and continue on their way, although not without sneaking peeks at her as they went.
Jose stopped by yesterday afternoon. She had only just returned from the liquor store when she saw Jose’s car pull up near her motel room. Quickly opening the door she hurried, as well as she could, to hide the alcohol.
He brought her pain medication and stayed and talked with her for a half an hour. For a small moment in time she contemplated ending it all. She had pain killers and alcohol; it probably would have been easy. However her faith stopped her from seriously considering the option. While not an overly religious individual she did believe in God and the consequences of taking her life. Eternal damnation didn’t appeal to her.
A little further into his visit Jose mentioned that since the Crashdown was technically a crime scene, even though the murders happened upstairs, that the restaurant couldn’t be opened during the gathering of evidence. He stopped by the place yesterday asking to get a few items of hers but the police wouldn’t allow him access since he wasn’t family. They probably wouldn’t have let her in either since she was a suspect.
Although he might not have meant to he made her feel guilty that he and the other staff members were at least temporarily out of a job. Dad and Mom were the manager/owners of the restaurant, but in the event that they couldn’t make it in they had a third party come in as an assistant manager and he’d take over while they were gone. However the contract never specified what would happen in the event of their deaths. Everyone was floating in the sea of uncertainty and she didn’t know what to do.
Sensing her guilt Jose changed the subject to other things like Carla and her pregnancy. Unfortunately her mind kept wandering to the tasks that were suddenly her responsibility. Did the staff get paid even though they weren’t open for business? What if she didn’t want the restaurant any more? What if she did? Who would take care of the Crashdown? And the one question that plagued her most of all, who would take care of her?
A few more minutes had passed and Jose noticing how helpful he wasn’t being, decided to leave. He told her he’d be there for her if she needed anything and he’d stop by tomorrow if he could. Since he was searching for a temporary job that came first on his list of priorities so he might not be able to come by till the day after tomorrow.
Liz limped over to the side of the building. Over the last couple days her injuries had gotten better, than got worse. The doctor’s at the hospital warned of that possibility occurring, sometimes on the third day it felt worse than when the injury was first sustained. Just one more thing to screw up her afternoon.
Even though there were more stairs leading up to the apartment on the side entrance she couldn’t quite bring herself to walk up the stairs in the Crashdown. Every time she closed her eyes she saw that creature snarling at her, dripping her parent’s blood from its wide ferocious jaws.
Her stomach rolled and she gripped the railing. Miraculously she kept her small breakfast down and continued on her way up the metal staircase. Finally she reached the top and took out her keys slipping them into the lock. The sound of the lock releasing pounded in her ears like a drum.
As if in slow motion she turned the knob and opened the door. Because the upstairs wasn’t originally an apartment the steel door opened out instead of in. Standing at the threshold she breathed one big inhale letting the air expand her lungs and calm her nerves as best it could. Gathering her courage she took one big step inside and shut the door behind her.
The heavy door sounded like the closing of a tomb. It wasn’t a far off analogy considering what happened there and the current empty and eerie atmosphere around the apartment. Swallowing passed the lump in her throat she took slow methodical steps further into the living room.
Each slap of tennis shoes on tile was carefully thought out. Heel, ball, toe. Heel, ball, toe. The meticulous execution of walking was the only way to continue her progress forward into the room.
A low hum could be heard around the room. The room’s cool temperature was a stark contrast from the baking heat outside. She wished she brought Jose’s jacket with her.
The darkness enveloping the space around her brought both comfort and terror. Comfort for the harsh reality it hid from her and terror of the known. She knew what was there; cut out pieces of carpet, some furniture most definitely missing, and while she knew what remained hidden in the dark, turning on the light would confirm the murder of her family.
Until then there had been a sliver of hope that all that occurred was just a horrible nightmare and she’d wake up and be held by Mom and Dad. But when she switched on the light her fears were realized. It wasn’t a nightmare that she could wake up from. It was real and it hurt like hell.
Liz violently bit her lip desperate to keep the sob locked inside. Her parent’s home was gutted. The living room lay practically bare of anything. The only two things that remained was a large book case with various knick-knacks and books on the other side of the room from the door leading down to the Crashdown and her parent’s television set and stand along that same wall.
She knew what to expect because the police told her that they took everything with blood on it. Seeing the room though empty and hollow made the expected seem unexpected. Even the door was taken out, but that she could see had been replaced with a new one. The police gave her the set of keys.
Sniffling she wiped her nose with the back of her hand. Liz continued through the barren living room toward the direction of her room. Beneath her feet tile gave way to carpet which quickly became tile again. The cleaners really did a good job; she couldn’t even see the blood that most definitely soaked through the carpet and into the tile below.
When she reached the hallway, once again carpet cushioned her footfalls. Liz’s chin quivered as she leaned against the wall. Her ribs ached painfully at her uneven breaths. Gently she rubbed under her arm and along her bruised torso.
Pushing away from the hallway wall she walked through more darkness, that time she didn’t turn the light on, she knew the way through the home by heart. Even with the meager glow from the living room’s overhead light she could barely see an inch away from her face but she never stumbled once.
Reaching her door she twisted the knob and pushed it open. The door got stuck for a second, as it always did when she opened it but it didn’t take much to push passed the jam. When she and her parents moved into the upstairs apartment Daddy tried to fix the jam. At five years old she thought he sounded funny yelling and swearing at the door when everything he tried helped nothing.
Liz flipped on the light and sighed as her room was bathed in false light. Although she could see okay with the light from the window she needed more to see everything in her bedroom. In the apartment, before moving in, there had only been two windows originally, one in her room and one in her parent’s. Later there had been one window added to the kitchen and another in her parent’s room.
Her bedroom, the one refuge from the craziness of her life was no longer a safe haven. Her home was no longer a safe haven. Steeling her nerves she got to work in packing up some of her things.
Liz grabbed a duffle bag and moved to her dresser grabbing a few pairs of pants and a few shirts. She didn’t bother to fold them. Socks, underwear, and a bra were stuffed into her duffle bag next. Once she got the clothes she went over to her desk.
The laptop Dad gave her for her birthday last year was exactly where she left it right in front of her chair. Getting the cord out of the wall didn’t make her side feel good but she managed and put the laptop into her duffle bag.
Around the room she went gathering a few things that she thought she would need. She didn’t plan on coming back to the apartment for a few days. She had to get everything ready for the funeral and inviting people and whatever else she had to do for her parent’s.
Earlier, before coming to the Crashdown, she got a call from a funeral director. The man, a regular customer at the Crashdown plus a good friend of Jeff’s, had offered to help her with anything to make the—experience a smooth one or as smooth as it could be.
Jeff and Nancy both set aside funds for their funerals, however neither expected to leave the land of the living so soon. There was only a little more than a thousand dollars in those funds. For the last five years they’d been slowly putting in money so by the time they were old and grey it would be enough to cover both her parent’s funeral expenses.
It didn’t take long to pack up the few things she’d need to bring to the motel. As she lifted her bag onto her shoulders she quickly swept the room with her gaze. So many happy memories were contained within these walls. Sad memories, angry ones, and meaningless ones too. So many memories shattered in an instant.
Silently she walked through the bedroom door and back into the hallway. Directly across from her door was her parent’s bedroom. Did she want to go in there? Nights of being sick and laying in Mom and Dad’s bed watching TV and sleeping the illness away. Borrowing Mom’s jewelry for a special occasion and the moments of pride that she had when she got to wear some of the more expensive pieces.
Taking a deep breath she set her duffle bag on the side of the door leading to the master bedroom. The door was ajar and she could see the lamp next to Nancy’s side was still lit. Liz clenched her jaw and rested her forehead against the door molding. Mom had been up waiting for her the night she was killed.
Every night Nancy would get prepared for bed at about seven in the evening. She’d go to bed at about eight thirty but not before reading a couple more chapters in the latest novel she was reading. Mom, most mornings, got up at two-thirty or three o’clock.
Nancy got started with the housework early usually beginning with cleaning the windows while watching movies or the television programs she frequently missed by going to bed so early. By the time Liz and Jeff awoke to start their day Nancy had their breakfast done or almost done. When Jeff would go downstairs to the Crashdown and she to school Mom would take a break and then an hour later would be back keeping the home clean. Only once stopping for a significant amount of time to watch
The Young and the Restless and to eat lunch.
The only time Mom stayed up any later was if she waited for Liz to arrive home. Liz and Nancy weren’t always the closest mother and daughter but it warmed her heart that Mom refused to go to sleep until she was safe and sound at home.
Gathering her frazzled emotions she pushed open the door completely. Her father’s dresser, near the door, had a thin coating of dust over the top. Mom normally dusted every other day after lunch. She liked order, everything in its place, everything clean, and everything on a schedule. Dad on the other hand would leave his things lying around, strewn about and most importantly in Mom’s way.
Liz ran a single finger over the spattering of dust rubbing it absentmindedly between her index finger and thumb. The book Nancy had been reading that night laid spread a quarter of the way through. A small glass of water sat right next to it on the end table and the top sheet cover was tossed back.
Liz sealed her eye lids shut and thought on those final few moments in her parent’s bedroom. It didn’t require much imagination on her part. Mom had been reading later than normal, waiting for her to return. She heard Dad answer the door or make a noise or even scream and shout. Mom would have set the book down and threw the thin covers off her body and raced into the living room.
{Growl}
Her eyes shot open. Whipping her head around quickly Liz searched for the source of the growl in her mind. She went to her parent’s bedroom window and looked out. There were a few people walking down below. That was the second time since Mom and Dad’s death that she’d heard people thoughts. She pressed the palm of her hand against her forehead and wondered, not for the first time, what was happening to her.
Who would be thinking a snarl and a growl? Maybe the better question would be what thought in snarls and growls? Erasing the question from her mind, at least for now, she spotted Mom and Dad’s closet door. Stepping over to it she grasped the gold round knob and pulled while pushing simultaneously. The well used door opened with ease. Rows and rows of clothes hung up neatly. From casual, to dressy and everything in between.
Liz ran her hand over the tops of Jeff and Nancy’s garments that hung on the hangers. Various fabrics slid under her fingers, a few tickling her finger pads. Looking fondly at a piece of clothing her hand stopped on she pulled out one of her father’s favorite shirts. Removing it from the hanger she stared at it for a moment.
Before long Liz held her father’s blue buttoned shirt that he wore when he wasn’t behind the grill helping out up to her nose. Smelling the collar brought a rush of memories. Stale cigarette smoke, a hint of leather from the chair in his office, and the slightest bit of cologne that Mom got him for his birthday wafted from the garment.
Needing the comfort those familiar scents brought she put on the shirt and wrapped it around her body. Looking in the closet again she found a similar shirt that Mom always stole from Dad’s side of the closet. Nancy wore it so often that she had replaced Jeff’s smell with her own.
Smiling sadly she remembered seeing Mom wearing the shirt when she was cleaning or doing laundry. Sometimes she’d see her put it on when Dad was out of town for a meeting or convention that she couldn’t go to.
As she did with her father’s shirt she brought the piece of clothing up to her nose and smelled it triggering more memories. The scent of cleaning solutions, fabric softener, and her raspberry lotion, that she always put on her arms and legs once in the morning and once at night, came from the shirt reminding her of hugging Mom and walking by her in the kitchen.
Carefully she set the shirt down on the bed and reached into the closet. Down on the floor was an empty box, it took a few painful tries to grab it but once she did she smiled. Liz put the box next to the shirt, lifted the shirt back into her hands and folded it neatly and placed it with care into the box.
Going back to the closet she found a few more items of clothing from her Mom’s side and folded them the same way and just as cautiously into the box. She limped over to Mom’s dresser and grabbed her raspberry lotion and the perfume that she normally wore when she ran out of lotion and put them beside her folded clothes and closed the lid. Liz wanted to keep that smell as long as she could and when she got lonely she’d be able open the box and just remember.
Wanting to do the same with her some of her father’s clothes she went to the living room closet, near the front door where they had kept more boxes and pulled one out. As she went to turn back toward her parent’s bedroom she spotted Dad’s truck keys on the wall. Mom hated it when he left his keys on the table closest to the front door. So she’d move the keys to the hook on the wall near the kitchen.
Liz breathed hard, she was overworking her battered body but she didn’t want to stop yet. She grabbed the keys from the hook and put them in her pocket she’d take Dad’s truck with her. “Dad won’t need it any time soon.” She spoke to the empty room.
At her gallows humor she laughed sardonically. Her ribs hurt but she didn’t care. Once her laughter died down she stood up straight again. Everything hurt. Her body, her mind, and her heart, she wanted it all to stop.
Mom would have appreciated her humor. That was one of the few things they shared. When something bad happened they joked about it with each other. She’d say a crass statement and it’d get Nancy going. Neither ever did it in front of anyone but Jeff, too many people might think they were cold and unfeeling.
The truth was they probably felt things too much. Joking about it though, laughing it out helped in the long run. Who would appreciate her macabre sense of humor now? Who would be right along side her making light of a man they didn’t know jumping to his death off a cliff?
For the next few moments she packed some of her father’s shirts along with a few things that would keep the articles smelling like him. She grabbed another box, this one smaller, from the hall closet and packed up some of her mother’s favorite and sentimental jewelry. Then she took Grandpa’s wedding ring, Jeff kept it in a ring box next to his dresser.
Once she closed the boxes tight she took them out to the living room one at a time. While fairly light weight she couldn’t carry more than one down the stairs. Her broken wrist and sprained ankle, along with her ribs wasn’t conducive to carrying multiple packages—oh yea, that’d be a comical sight. She’d step on the first stair and tumble down, like Meryl Streep in
Death Becomes Her. Only she wouldn’t be getting up after her fall.
Again she chose to go down the long way. She wasn’t ready to face the stairs leading to the backroom of the Crashdown. Four trips later she leaned against the truck catching her breath. Boxes filled with her parent’s things were in the bed of the truck. Her duffle bag sat in the passenger seat.
Able to breathe normally again Liz opened the driver’s side door, climbed in and started the truck. Late into the night yesterday she realized that she couldn’t stay drunk all the time. Being drunk when the detectives came was bad; thankfully they hadn’t found her fake id. Assumed the liquor store clerk hadn’t checked id and just gave her what she paid for.
Liz wouldn’t bring more attention to her by being the happy loopy drunk girl. She decided to do her drinking at night when there was little chance of running into anyone or going anywhere. Wasn’t full proof but it kept one piece of gossip out of the cities mouths.
She backed out of the parking lot where her parent’s always parked their vehicles and made her way back to the motel. When she got back she’d have to call the detectives and ask them when Mom and Dad’s—bodies would be released. She’d have to start planning the funeral. She could hardly wait, she thought sarcastically.
TBC
Coming Up: Liz gets an unexpected visitor. Liz with the help of her visitor make funeral arrangements.
Thanks for the feedback. 
