One Step Ahead

That's Not Good

11:30 PM

      Ashley sat in front of the television, barely noticing what was on the screen, idly strumming random chords on his acoustic guitar. Normally, this helped him relax, and clear his head, but this time he was unable to stop the thoughts that raced through his brain. No matter how hard he tried to focus on other things, he kept coming back to the grim look on Sanger's face as he had stood in front of them earlier, and said, "I'd hate for anyone to have to get in front of a group like this to talk about one of you..."

      He set the guitar aside and rose from the couch, walking across the room to the keypad mounted on the wall by the front door, rechecking it, even though he clearly remembered setting the alarm when he entered the house. Satisfied that the house was secure, he turned back toward the couch, just as his phone rang on the coffee table.

      He scooped it up and checked the display, seeing the word "JINXX" on the screen. Stabbing the button with his thumb, he said, "Hey, man! What's up?"

      The guitarist's voice fairly erupted from the speaker. "Dude! What the actual fuck is going on? I called Roland today, and he told me he'd spent most of yesterday down at LAPD headquarters, because that wardrobe you bought came from a crime scene, or some shit like that! What the hell was he talking about, anyway?"

      Ashley winced as he realized that he hadn't spoken to any of his bandmates for several days, due to an agreement they had to have at least two weeks away from each other after a tour,  devoted solely to family time, or simply decompressing. "Yeah, I probably should have called you guys, and let you know what's been happening," he acknowledged. "I guess my brain has just been a little overloaded the last few days."

      "Y'think? So, what's the deal with this stuff he was telling me? Apparently they got a search warrant for his sales records and everything."

      Moving to the bar, Ashley opened the small refrigerator underneath and grabbed a beer, before returning to his seat on the couch and recounting his discovery of the journal to his friend. Jinxx listened in silence until he finished, then said, "Damn, Ash, that just sounds fucking unreal! Have you talked to this detective since then, to see if she's figured anything out?"

      "No, that's not exactly possible now, dude."

      "Why the hell not?"

      "Because she's ... dead. She was killed the next night, they just had her memorial service today."

      The silence on the phone was nearly palpable for several seconds before Jinxx responded, in a shocked tone "Holy shit, man, that was her? The home invasion, where the daughter found the mom in the bedroom? That's not good, Ash."

      "No shit, Sherlock! And it actually gets worse. I got sort of ambushed by some internet reporter the next morning, who apparently pulled the same trick on a couple of other people, and he turned up dead in his place that night."

      "Are you talking about that Keel guy?" Jinxx inquired. "I was just talking about that with Alice yesterday. Apparently one of her friends is the sister of one of the EMT's that got sent out to that, and she said he went in and quit the next morning, because it freaked him out so much. I can't swear that it's one hundred percent true, but she told Alice that he said the dude's eyes and tongue had been cut out, and his fingers had been cut off and shoved into his mouth. The news didn't give out a lot of details about the detective, but from the way the cops danced around the question at the press conference they had the other day, it must have been pretty bad, too."

      "I had a meeting with her supervisor a few days ago, and I got that impression from him, too. I mean, you'd expect him to be angry and upset, since his friend was killed, but he actually struck me as being more worried. There was a girl there, too, who's a relative of one of the earlier victims, and he's been very clear about telling us to be careful," Ashley informed him.

      "Then for fuck's sake, do it, bro! Even if it means not going out scouting chicks for awhile, you'll survive not getting laid. You may not like it, but you will live through it."

      Recognizing the statement as Jinxx's attempt to lighten the mood a bit, he chuckled and agreed with the sentiment. The guitarist offered to bring the others up to speed on the situation, to save Ashley the need to rehash the tale multiple times, and he accepted gratefully. They ended the call, and he was once again left with the need to find something to occupy his mind.

      He picked up the remote and flipped through several channels, trying, and failing, to find something worth watching. As he turned the TV off, something that Briar Malveaux had said during their dinner with Sanger popped into his mind, and he went to the bookcase to retrieve the laptop that lay there. Logging into the band's private site, he pulled up the footage that had been filmed during the Wiltern show, and began scanning the crowd shots.

      After a few minutes, he finally spotted Briar, in the middle of the theatre, next to the aisle. Next to her was an older man, who looked as though he should either be an outlaw biker, or playing in a ZZ Top tribute band. To his left was a teenage boy, who leaned around the man's back at one point to speak to Briar, who face-palmed at whatever he had said, shaking her head as the boy laughed.

      He sat in front of the device and let his mind wander a bit. He had only met Briar twice, but he liked her. She was direct, unafraid to speak her mind, and even though Sanger had mentioned that she came from a wealthy background, she didn't appear to be arrogant, or feel the need to display the fact, demonstrating instead a great degree of empathy for the victims and their families. And, despite the circumstances, she seemed to have a ready sense of humor, which appealed to him. From what he had observed thus far, she seemed to be the type of person he would like to have as a friend, and he resolved to contact her within the next few days, in hopes of furthering this goal.

      He shut down the laptop, finally acknowledging that he was not going to find anything to distract himself, and deciding to shower and go to bed, hoping that sleep would help to calm the near-constant hum of his thoughts, as well as the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

      He checked the doors and alarm one last time, then turned off the lights and retired to his bedroom. Stripping himself down, and leaving his clothes in a pile by the bed, he went to the bathroom and turned the shower on as hot as he could stand. Stepping inside, he let the water beat against his skin for several minutes before soaping up, and washing his hair, feeling his muscles relax slightly as the steaming liquid pelted him.

      When the water began to feel lukewarm, he stepped out and turned off the water, drying himself with a large bath towel, and using the dryer on his hair, to keep from soaking his pillow. When he was finished, he padded naked across the carpet into the bedroom, turning off the light, and placing his phone on the nightstand as he climbed into bed. He eventually found a comfortable position, and began to drift off, but as he did, he heard sirens in the distance.

      Just before he slid fully into sleep , he mumbled to himself "Can't go one fuckin' night without something bad happening in this town. I wonder what it is this time?"