Synesthesia - Chapter Eight
Jun. 15th, 2011 05:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: Sick author is sick. Blergh. But I've finally snagged an editor for this fic so yay! Except some grammatically fixed chapters in the future.
Title: Synesthesia
Rating: T (for mild violence and language)
Description: Ethan has lived with his gift -- hearing emotions as music -- his entire life. And he's learned to cope with it. But when a serial killer makes a home in his town, and he's contacted by different groups all wanting to make use of his ability, he finds himself dragged into the thick of things. And all he wants to do is be left alone.
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Chapter Eight
---------------------
Tuesday dawned grey and dreary, with thick clouds threatening rain and the sun a mere suggestion. It was noon before Ethan dragged himself out of Dray's guest room, barely more coherent than a reanimated corpse. This left him just enough time to get dressed, gobble down dry toast, and load Dray and Jaiden both into the Honda.
Sometimes, Ethan imagined it would be nice to have Dray's wealth. Then he wouldn't have to work for a living. Dray's job was just a hobby, something to make him seem responsible to his parents. Oh, for the joy of that kind of freedom.
Rain splattered on Ethan's windshield the moment he pulled ionto the main road. Dray groaned, muttering something about a game, but Ethan tuned him out. It didn't sound important. There was a blissful quiet in the car which left Ethan to his thoughts. For the moment anyway.
“Yo, Ethan?”
“Yeah?”
“Your mom called last night. Darryl needs you to close up tonight.”
Ethan didn't fight his aggravated sigh. “What? Why?”
In the back, Dray shrugged. “I don't know. I just said I'd pass along the message. You really need to get a cell phone.”
“I'll keep that in mind,” Ethan muttered.
The Archives closed at eight pm. Ethan was scheduled to be off at seven pm. Which meant he'd have to rush out of one job and head straight into the other. It was Monday so everything would have be reconciled for the week, meaning Ethan would be in there half the night. Lovely.
Gritting his teeth, Ethan glanced at the clock. He had just enough time to swing by and pick up the keys for the new apartment – hopefully as furnished as his other had been. This day was turning out so well.
o0o0o
The rain splatter had become a downpour by the time he arrived at work, nearly fifteen minutes late and destined for a scolding, if not a write-up. Jaiden followed he and Dray indoors, but then promptly disappeared, leaving the two coworkers to their fates.
“It's days like these I wished I was a cashier,” Dray muttered, shaking rain off his jacket and staring mournfully at his soaked khakis.
Ethan rolled his eyes. “We're thirty miles from Seattle. It rains like this eleven months out of the year.”
“Good of you gentlemen to show up,” Sheila said, suddenly appearing next to them with clipboard in hand. “Car trouble again, Ethan?”
Avril Lavigne jarred Ethan's senses as Sheila lifted her brows, in demand of an explanation. “Something like that,” Ethan answered, unclipping his name badge so he could clock in. “My apartment caught fire.”
Hazel eyes widened with shock. “What? When?”
“Day before yesterday. I've been staying with Dray.”
“Good to know he's good for something,” Sheila said, keys rattling as she opened the door to the service kiosk. “You'll have to tell me more later. Claudine's been clamoring for a break, Seth's been jamming up the computers for the last hour, and I've been waiting on you.”
Ethan grimaced. Claudine was one of his least favorite coworkers. “Which register?”
“Two.” Sheila grinned.
Ethan didn't find it amusing at all. Two was nearest the door and subject to random waves of weather, including bursts of chilly, rain-soaked wind. Sighing, Ethan resigned himself to a cold, damp day. He'd be lucky if he didn't get sick.
“Good luck buddy,” Dray said, clapping him on the back.
Ethan ignored him, dutifully trudging to register two, unblocking the lane and flipping on the light. He also ignored Claudine's comment – “It's about time.” – and plastered on a smile for his first customer. It was his fake, business grin and it had served him well for the better part of a year. Unlike Sheila, who as no good at hiding her annoyance with customers.
He lifted a hand to greet Seth as well, one of their part-time stockers who also happened to be a computer whiz. Ethan wasn't sure what the dark-haired man was installing, but judging from the amount of muffled cursing and clunks, it wasn't pretty. It was probably some new computer system designed to make SuperMart run more efficiently, but was so full of bugs that it would be useless for the first few months.
The day dragged on, the rain continuing to pour and Ethan was surprised that he never once caught glance of Jaiden. Either the Kinetic could make himself invisible, or he'd been a ninja in a past life.
Ethan was certain nothing abnormal was going to happen. Until two men stepped through the doors, grim-faced and official, and Ethan's heart dropped into his belly. He tried to feign indifference, but every chance he had, he stuck a glance at the ill-paired duo, certain they weren't your usual shopper.
One was short and stocky, with broad shoulders and thick arms. He was probably in his fifties and wore thin-rimmed glasses and an untamed beard that made him appear grizzled. Tough and mean, like weathered beef jerky.
The other man was taller, thin like a reed and just as flimsy. He had a sour expression, his lips turned down like a grouper fish and he walked with a slight limp. One Ethan might have missed if he weren't paying so much attention.
The two men made a beeline for the service kiosk and Sheila came strolling out of the office to meet them. Another customer approached, forcing Ethan's attention away, but he kept sneaking glances, insanely curious and strangely worried. In this crowd and with this distance, Ethan couldn't Hear them, so he had no idea what they were like.
Distracted, Ethan almost gave his customer the wrong change. He smiled apologetically, counted back the bills, and wished her a good day. She snatched the money from his hand like he'd personally offended her and grabbed her groceries, stalking out the door. Ethan sighed and focused on cleaning his register and straightening the candy racks, hyper aware of the two men and their dour appearance.
“Ethan?”
Sheila's voice was enough for him to nearly jump out of his skin. He chided himself for being too damn paranoid and turned with as much composure as he could muster, plastering on his fake, customer-friendly smile. “Yes?”
He faltered at the sight of the two men standing just behind Sheila and watching him with odd focus. Like their glances were weighing and measuring him from head to toe.
This near, their emotions washed over him with a noisy dissonance. Puscifer's Rev 22:20's minor chords from the thin man and the score from King Arthur echoing off his companion.
Shiela's brow furrowed as though she were going to ask him something before she changed her mind. “This is Detective Stanton--” Grizzled and Short. “--and this is Detective Wilkins. They came to ask a few questions.”
Sweat broke out on Ethan's forehead, though he had nothing to feel guilty about. “Is this about my apartment fire?” he asked, trying to sound naively hopeful.
“No, but now that you mentioned it...” Detective Stanton trailed off pointedly, sharing a glance with his partner. “We'd like to ask you a few questions about that as well.”
Ethan's heart was thumping so loudly they should have been able to hear it. “Sure,” he said with fake composure. “Right now?”
Sheila was already blocking off his lane and cutting off his light.
“Yes,” Detective Wilkins said crisply.
“You can use the scan room,” Sheila offered helpfully, pointing the way. “I'll send Claudine in as soon as you're done with Ethan.”
Detective Wilkins smiled. “Thank you, Ms. Greer.”
Sheila beamed back at him and scurried away, leaving Ethan with the two detectives and a growing panic attack.
He stepped out from behind his register. “Uh... you can follow me to the scan room,” Ethan suggested weakly and they fell into place behind him, their stares itching between his shoulder blades.
He felt like a criminal, even knowing he'd done nothing illegal. You could never be sure. Innocent people went to prison all the time.
“Tell us, Mr. McCormick, you've heard of the Valda Bomber, haven't you?”
Ethan chuckled nervously. “It's a small town. Who hasn't?” He glanced over his shoulder briefly. “Is that what this is about?”
“In part.” Detective Stanton looked grim, his bushy eyebrows drawn tight on his forehead.
Ethan opened the door to the scan room. Space was limited thanks to the clutter of filing cabinets, computers, and stacks of pricing supplies. There were only two chairs and Detective Wilkins gestured that Ethan should take one of them. He did, trying to appear confident and unconcerned.
“What can I help you with?”
“Don't be so stiff,” Wilkins said, almost cheerily. “We're not here to arrest anyone. We're just hoping to stumble on some new information.”
Stanton cut his eyes at Wilkins, clearly disliking his partner's interrogation method. Annoyance rang loudly through his emotions. “In other words, do you know anything about these murders? Or seen someone suspicious hanging around?”
Ethan resisted the urge to snort. He couldn't tell them about Melanie, Jaiden, or Taylor. They'd call him insane.
“Not that I recall,” Ethan hedged. He'd always been a terrible liar. “But I see a lot of people in a given work day. After awhile, they all become a blur.” He smiled in what he hoped was an innocent fashion.
Detective Wilkins nodded knowingly. “That makes sense. What about rumors, or anything of the like?”
Ethan shrugged. “I've never been much of a gossiper, so I don't know. Whoever it is, they must be crazy. It's an awful thing to do.”
“It's not the crazy ones we have to worry about,” Stanton muttered pointedly, and his eyes narrowed. “What about this apartment fire of yours?”
Ethan's palms began to sweat. “My TV went out and caught on fire, which activated the sprinkler system. The rest was mostly water damage.”
“Your TV,” Stanton repeated flatly.
“Yes.” Ethan licked his lips.
He was being eyed now, with greater scrutiny than before. It made him extremely nervous.
“So... uh.. why did you come here with questions?” Ethan asked, trying to change the subject and hide his anxiety. “Is that standard procedure or something?”
Detective Wilkins smiled reassuringly. “Yes. Don't worry, Ethan. This is just a general canvas for information.”
It didn't feel like one. In fact, it felt more like a witch hunt. And Ethan couldn't swim. How convenient was it that Ethan ended up being the first one they talked to?
He swallowed thickly. “Okay. Did you have any more questions?”
The two detectives exchanged glances before Detective Stanton shook his head. “No, that's it,” he said gruffly, and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Send in the next one, will you?”
Ethan all but pleat to his feet. “Sure,” he said, making a beeline for the door.
“And thank you for your help,” Detective Wilkins added with another beaming smile.
“You're welcome,” Ethan said, without a hint of stutter, and scurried back to the Front End, nearly colliding with Dray along the way.
Hands shot out to brace him by the shoulders. “Damn, Ethan, you look like you've seen a ghost,” Dray teased.
“Or something worse,” Ethan muttered, wiping at a bead of sweat on his forehead.
“What the hell are you talking about”
“The two detectives that are here asking questions,” Ethan hissed. “Where've you been?”
Dray shrugged, scratching at his chin. “Outside. Getting carts. What do you mean the police are here? Why?”
“The Valda Bomber case,” Ethan explained, and quickly lowered his voice. “Whatever you do, don't tell them about Jaiden, okay?”
“What kind of idiot do you think I am?” Dray retorted, sounding offended.
Ethan sighed. “You know what I mean. Just... be careful. Stanton's an ass but Wilkins is fake.”
“How fake?”
“Psycho shower scene fake.”
Dray winced and nodded. “Sure thing. I'll watch what I say.”
“Good.” Ethan didn't feel relieved though. Their investigation did not randomly bring them here. They must have had some kind of lead. Ethan hadn't done anything wrong but a lot of weird shit had been happening to him. Who knew what would be next?
o0o0o
The rest of Ethan's shift passed with no incident. Distracted by the detectives, he made a lot of mistakes and annoyed Sheila in the process. Avril Lavigne was a screeching harpy in the back of his head. So it was a relief when they let him leave early so he could head to Darryl's shop.
Dray claimed he'd find another ride home which left Ethan free to jog out to his Honda where Jaiden was waiting for him. The aerokinetic was casually perched on the trunk as though he belonged there and had somehow acquired a change of clothing. Ethan hoped they weren't stolen.
“The cops are sniffing around for suspicious people and you're making a spectacle of yourself,” Ethan said by way of greeting.
Jaiden hopped down from the trunk. “People see what they want to see,” he said mildly. “And I gave them no reason to look twice.”
“Except for loitering around dressed like a gang banger,” Ethan retorted with a pointed look at Jaiden's wardrobe.
To be fair, his casual jeans didn't sag and his shirt actually fit. But the hint of tattoos and the twists would put Jaiden at the top of any small-town cop's “suspicious man” list.
“I wasn't seen,” Jaiden repeated. If he were offended, Ethan couldn't tell. It wasn't like he could Hear Jaiden.
Ethan shrugged and climbed into the Honda. “If you say so,” he muttered and cranked up the car, wondering if the threatening sky was going to spill again or if it was just Washington's usual gloom.
He glanced at the car's digital clock. With twenty minutes left until Darryl had to leave, Ethan had just enough time to make it to the bookstore. It was only the fact that Darryl didn't often ask him to close which kept Ethan from getting angry. Their wedding anniversary was coming up. Maybe that was why. Either way, Ethan was, at worst, a tad inconvenienced.
It only took him fifteen minutes to get to the other side of Valda where the college was located. Driving by, Ethan noticed that the crime tape had been removed. That seemed a little too quick in Ethan's opinion. Had no evidence been found? Perhaps tonight would be a good time to catch the evening news.
With that thought in mind, Ethan pulled into the parking lot of The Archives, Darryl's bookstore. He easily found a space near the front and parked, staring up at the building that was squashed between Triple C and one of many campus bars. It was a quiet night, Ethan noticed, both for the bar and The Archives.
Jaiden came along with him, a silent and agreeable companion. If Ethan had to be saddled with one Kinetic, he was glad it wasn't Melanie the Obnoxious.
Inside, they were greeted with a blast of heat and the quiet murmur of a bookstore in motion. A dozen or so patrons were browsing the selection while two cashiers manned the front. Ethan headed for the office, waving once to the two cashiers, only one of whom he recognized. Dianne had been an employee for three years and growing, but Darryl still preferred to close up personally.
“Ethan!”
At the sound of his name, Ethan turned to see his stepfather hurrying down an aisle. He was already wrapped in a heavy coat and there was an anxious gleam in his dark brown eyes. For all his bookish inclinations, Darryl was built like an athlete. He and Ethan superficially resembled, enough so that people assumed them to be father and son by blood.
“I got your message,” Ethan said. “Something going on tonight I didn't know about?”
Darryl grinned sheepishly. “I'd tell you but you are terrible at keeping secrets.” One hand emerged from his coat, jingling a set of keys. “Thanks again for doing this.”
Ethan took the keys, as always, uncomfortable in the face of Darryl's gratitude. “You know that I don't mind.”
“Yes, well, I'm sure you have better things to do,” Darryl said with a smile, his uncertainty obvious.
They still weren't sure how to behave around each other, even after three years. Ethan was too old to need fathering and Darryl was too reluctant to put himself in that situation. Ethan liked Darryl because he treated his mother well, but he didn't think he'd ever form that kind of bond with the man.
“I'm a college student,” Ethan retorted, opting for humor to ease the anxiety. “I'm too broke to have fun.”
Darryl chuckled, sliding into his jacket again. “So you have mentioned many times before,” he said, adjusting his collar. “Just remember--”
“-- to turn the dial three times because it sticks,” Ethan recited with a smirk. “I remember, Darryl. Now get going before you're late for whatever it is you are doing.”
Darryl coughed into his elbow and nodded. “Of course. I'll see you later.”
“Bye.”
But his stepfather was already hustling toward the door with a parting wave to his cashiers. A few frequent customers even greeted him as he passed. He knew these by name, and returned the favor in kind.
“He seems kind,” Jaiden commented, startling Ethan who had completely forgotten about the aerokinetic's presence. Jaiden was far too good at blending silently into the background.
Ethan twirled the key ring on his finger with a loud jangle. “Darryl's okay as far as stepfather's go. It could be worse.”
“You are fortunate,” Jaiden agreed, his eyes sweeping past Ethan and surveying the bookstore.
He twirled the keys again. “Yeah, I am,” Ethan agreed quietly, then gestured for Jaiden to follow him. “Come on, let's get this place ready to close. I've got a paper to write.”
* * * *
Title: Synesthesia
Rating: T (for mild violence and language)
Description: Ethan has lived with his gift -- hearing emotions as music -- his entire life. And he's learned to cope with it. But when a serial killer makes a home in his town, and he's contacted by different groups all wanting to make use of his ability, he finds himself dragged into the thick of things. And all he wants to do is be left alone.
---------------------
Chapter Eight
---------------------
Tuesday dawned grey and dreary, with thick clouds threatening rain and the sun a mere suggestion. It was noon before Ethan dragged himself out of Dray's guest room, barely more coherent than a reanimated corpse. This left him just enough time to get dressed, gobble down dry toast, and load Dray and Jaiden both into the Honda.
Sometimes, Ethan imagined it would be nice to have Dray's wealth. Then he wouldn't have to work for a living. Dray's job was just a hobby, something to make him seem responsible to his parents. Oh, for the joy of that kind of freedom.
Rain splattered on Ethan's windshield the moment he pulled ionto the main road. Dray groaned, muttering something about a game, but Ethan tuned him out. It didn't sound important. There was a blissful quiet in the car which left Ethan to his thoughts. For the moment anyway.
“Yo, Ethan?”
“Yeah?”
“Your mom called last night. Darryl needs you to close up tonight.”
Ethan didn't fight his aggravated sigh. “What? Why?”
In the back, Dray shrugged. “I don't know. I just said I'd pass along the message. You really need to get a cell phone.”
“I'll keep that in mind,” Ethan muttered.
The Archives closed at eight pm. Ethan was scheduled to be off at seven pm. Which meant he'd have to rush out of one job and head straight into the other. It was Monday so everything would have be reconciled for the week, meaning Ethan would be in there half the night. Lovely.
Gritting his teeth, Ethan glanced at the clock. He had just enough time to swing by and pick up the keys for the new apartment – hopefully as furnished as his other had been. This day was turning out so well.
The rain splatter had become a downpour by the time he arrived at work, nearly fifteen minutes late and destined for a scolding, if not a write-up. Jaiden followed he and Dray indoors, but then promptly disappeared, leaving the two coworkers to their fates.
“It's days like these I wished I was a cashier,” Dray muttered, shaking rain off his jacket and staring mournfully at his soaked khakis.
Ethan rolled his eyes. “We're thirty miles from Seattle. It rains like this eleven months out of the year.”
“Good of you gentlemen to show up,” Sheila said, suddenly appearing next to them with clipboard in hand. “Car trouble again, Ethan?”
Avril Lavigne jarred Ethan's senses as Sheila lifted her brows, in demand of an explanation. “Something like that,” Ethan answered, unclipping his name badge so he could clock in. “My apartment caught fire.”
Hazel eyes widened with shock. “What? When?”
“Day before yesterday. I've been staying with Dray.”
“Good to know he's good for something,” Sheila said, keys rattling as she opened the door to the service kiosk. “You'll have to tell me more later. Claudine's been clamoring for a break, Seth's been jamming up the computers for the last hour, and I've been waiting on you.”
Ethan grimaced. Claudine was one of his least favorite coworkers. “Which register?”
“Two.” Sheila grinned.
Ethan didn't find it amusing at all. Two was nearest the door and subject to random waves of weather, including bursts of chilly, rain-soaked wind. Sighing, Ethan resigned himself to a cold, damp day. He'd be lucky if he didn't get sick.
“Good luck buddy,” Dray said, clapping him on the back.
Ethan ignored him, dutifully trudging to register two, unblocking the lane and flipping on the light. He also ignored Claudine's comment – “It's about time.” – and plastered on a smile for his first customer. It was his fake, business grin and it had served him well for the better part of a year. Unlike Sheila, who as no good at hiding her annoyance with customers.
He lifted a hand to greet Seth as well, one of their part-time stockers who also happened to be a computer whiz. Ethan wasn't sure what the dark-haired man was installing, but judging from the amount of muffled cursing and clunks, it wasn't pretty. It was probably some new computer system designed to make SuperMart run more efficiently, but was so full of bugs that it would be useless for the first few months.
The day dragged on, the rain continuing to pour and Ethan was surprised that he never once caught glance of Jaiden. Either the Kinetic could make himself invisible, or he'd been a ninja in a past life.
Ethan was certain nothing abnormal was going to happen. Until two men stepped through the doors, grim-faced and official, and Ethan's heart dropped into his belly. He tried to feign indifference, but every chance he had, he stuck a glance at the ill-paired duo, certain they weren't your usual shopper.
One was short and stocky, with broad shoulders and thick arms. He was probably in his fifties and wore thin-rimmed glasses and an untamed beard that made him appear grizzled. Tough and mean, like weathered beef jerky.
The other man was taller, thin like a reed and just as flimsy. He had a sour expression, his lips turned down like a grouper fish and he walked with a slight limp. One Ethan might have missed if he weren't paying so much attention.
The two men made a beeline for the service kiosk and Sheila came strolling out of the office to meet them. Another customer approached, forcing Ethan's attention away, but he kept sneaking glances, insanely curious and strangely worried. In this crowd and with this distance, Ethan couldn't Hear them, so he had no idea what they were like.
Distracted, Ethan almost gave his customer the wrong change. He smiled apologetically, counted back the bills, and wished her a good day. She snatched the money from his hand like he'd personally offended her and grabbed her groceries, stalking out the door. Ethan sighed and focused on cleaning his register and straightening the candy racks, hyper aware of the two men and their dour appearance.
“Ethan?”
Sheila's voice was enough for him to nearly jump out of his skin. He chided himself for being too damn paranoid and turned with as much composure as he could muster, plastering on his fake, customer-friendly smile. “Yes?”
He faltered at the sight of the two men standing just behind Sheila and watching him with odd focus. Like their glances were weighing and measuring him from head to toe.
This near, their emotions washed over him with a noisy dissonance. Puscifer's Rev 22:20's minor chords from the thin man and the score from King Arthur echoing off his companion.
Shiela's brow furrowed as though she were going to ask him something before she changed her mind. “This is Detective Stanton--” Grizzled and Short. “--and this is Detective Wilkins. They came to ask a few questions.”
Sweat broke out on Ethan's forehead, though he had nothing to feel guilty about. “Is this about my apartment fire?” he asked, trying to sound naively hopeful.
“No, but now that you mentioned it...” Detective Stanton trailed off pointedly, sharing a glance with his partner. “We'd like to ask you a few questions about that as well.”
Ethan's heart was thumping so loudly they should have been able to hear it. “Sure,” he said with fake composure. “Right now?”
Sheila was already blocking off his lane and cutting off his light.
“Yes,” Detective Wilkins said crisply.
“You can use the scan room,” Sheila offered helpfully, pointing the way. “I'll send Claudine in as soon as you're done with Ethan.”
Detective Wilkins smiled. “Thank you, Ms. Greer.”
Sheila beamed back at him and scurried away, leaving Ethan with the two detectives and a growing panic attack.
He stepped out from behind his register. “Uh... you can follow me to the scan room,” Ethan suggested weakly and they fell into place behind him, their stares itching between his shoulder blades.
He felt like a criminal, even knowing he'd done nothing illegal. You could never be sure. Innocent people went to prison all the time.
“Tell us, Mr. McCormick, you've heard of the Valda Bomber, haven't you?”
Ethan chuckled nervously. “It's a small town. Who hasn't?” He glanced over his shoulder briefly. “Is that what this is about?”
“In part.” Detective Stanton looked grim, his bushy eyebrows drawn tight on his forehead.
Ethan opened the door to the scan room. Space was limited thanks to the clutter of filing cabinets, computers, and stacks of pricing supplies. There were only two chairs and Detective Wilkins gestured that Ethan should take one of them. He did, trying to appear confident and unconcerned.
“What can I help you with?”
“Don't be so stiff,” Wilkins said, almost cheerily. “We're not here to arrest anyone. We're just hoping to stumble on some new information.”
Stanton cut his eyes at Wilkins, clearly disliking his partner's interrogation method. Annoyance rang loudly through his emotions. “In other words, do you know anything about these murders? Or seen someone suspicious hanging around?”
Ethan resisted the urge to snort. He couldn't tell them about Melanie, Jaiden, or Taylor. They'd call him insane.
“Not that I recall,” Ethan hedged. He'd always been a terrible liar. “But I see a lot of people in a given work day. After awhile, they all become a blur.” He smiled in what he hoped was an innocent fashion.
Detective Wilkins nodded knowingly. “That makes sense. What about rumors, or anything of the like?”
Ethan shrugged. “I've never been much of a gossiper, so I don't know. Whoever it is, they must be crazy. It's an awful thing to do.”
“It's not the crazy ones we have to worry about,” Stanton muttered pointedly, and his eyes narrowed. “What about this apartment fire of yours?”
Ethan's palms began to sweat. “My TV went out and caught on fire, which activated the sprinkler system. The rest was mostly water damage.”
“Your TV,” Stanton repeated flatly.
“Yes.” Ethan licked his lips.
He was being eyed now, with greater scrutiny than before. It made him extremely nervous.
“So... uh.. why did you come here with questions?” Ethan asked, trying to change the subject and hide his anxiety. “Is that standard procedure or something?”
Detective Wilkins smiled reassuringly. “Yes. Don't worry, Ethan. This is just a general canvas for information.”
It didn't feel like one. In fact, it felt more like a witch hunt. And Ethan couldn't swim. How convenient was it that Ethan ended up being the first one they talked to?
He swallowed thickly. “Okay. Did you have any more questions?”
The two detectives exchanged glances before Detective Stanton shook his head. “No, that's it,” he said gruffly, and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Send in the next one, will you?”
Ethan all but pleat to his feet. “Sure,” he said, making a beeline for the door.
“And thank you for your help,” Detective Wilkins added with another beaming smile.
“You're welcome,” Ethan said, without a hint of stutter, and scurried back to the Front End, nearly colliding with Dray along the way.
Hands shot out to brace him by the shoulders. “Damn, Ethan, you look like you've seen a ghost,” Dray teased.
“Or something worse,” Ethan muttered, wiping at a bead of sweat on his forehead.
“What the hell are you talking about”
“The two detectives that are here asking questions,” Ethan hissed. “Where've you been?”
Dray shrugged, scratching at his chin. “Outside. Getting carts. What do you mean the police are here? Why?”
“The Valda Bomber case,” Ethan explained, and quickly lowered his voice. “Whatever you do, don't tell them about Jaiden, okay?”
“What kind of idiot do you think I am?” Dray retorted, sounding offended.
Ethan sighed. “You know what I mean. Just... be careful. Stanton's an ass but Wilkins is fake.”
“How fake?”
“Psycho shower scene fake.”
Dray winced and nodded. “Sure thing. I'll watch what I say.”
“Good.” Ethan didn't feel relieved though. Their investigation did not randomly bring them here. They must have had some kind of lead. Ethan hadn't done anything wrong but a lot of weird shit had been happening to him. Who knew what would be next?
The rest of Ethan's shift passed with no incident. Distracted by the detectives, he made a lot of mistakes and annoyed Sheila in the process. Avril Lavigne was a screeching harpy in the back of his head. So it was a relief when they let him leave early so he could head to Darryl's shop.
Dray claimed he'd find another ride home which left Ethan free to jog out to his Honda where Jaiden was waiting for him. The aerokinetic was casually perched on the trunk as though he belonged there and had somehow acquired a change of clothing. Ethan hoped they weren't stolen.
“The cops are sniffing around for suspicious people and you're making a spectacle of yourself,” Ethan said by way of greeting.
Jaiden hopped down from the trunk. “People see what they want to see,” he said mildly. “And I gave them no reason to look twice.”
“Except for loitering around dressed like a gang banger,” Ethan retorted with a pointed look at Jaiden's wardrobe.
To be fair, his casual jeans didn't sag and his shirt actually fit. But the hint of tattoos and the twists would put Jaiden at the top of any small-town cop's “suspicious man” list.
“I wasn't seen,” Jaiden repeated. If he were offended, Ethan couldn't tell. It wasn't like he could Hear Jaiden.
Ethan shrugged and climbed into the Honda. “If you say so,” he muttered and cranked up the car, wondering if the threatening sky was going to spill again or if it was just Washington's usual gloom.
He glanced at the car's digital clock. With twenty minutes left until Darryl had to leave, Ethan had just enough time to make it to the bookstore. It was only the fact that Darryl didn't often ask him to close which kept Ethan from getting angry. Their wedding anniversary was coming up. Maybe that was why. Either way, Ethan was, at worst, a tad inconvenienced.
It only took him fifteen minutes to get to the other side of Valda where the college was located. Driving by, Ethan noticed that the crime tape had been removed. That seemed a little too quick in Ethan's opinion. Had no evidence been found? Perhaps tonight would be a good time to catch the evening news.
With that thought in mind, Ethan pulled into the parking lot of The Archives, Darryl's bookstore. He easily found a space near the front and parked, staring up at the building that was squashed between Triple C and one of many campus bars. It was a quiet night, Ethan noticed, both for the bar and The Archives.
Jaiden came along with him, a silent and agreeable companion. If Ethan had to be saddled with one Kinetic, he was glad it wasn't Melanie the Obnoxious.
Inside, they were greeted with a blast of heat and the quiet murmur of a bookstore in motion. A dozen or so patrons were browsing the selection while two cashiers manned the front. Ethan headed for the office, waving once to the two cashiers, only one of whom he recognized. Dianne had been an employee for three years and growing, but Darryl still preferred to close up personally.
“Ethan!”
At the sound of his name, Ethan turned to see his stepfather hurrying down an aisle. He was already wrapped in a heavy coat and there was an anxious gleam in his dark brown eyes. For all his bookish inclinations, Darryl was built like an athlete. He and Ethan superficially resembled, enough so that people assumed them to be father and son by blood.
“I got your message,” Ethan said. “Something going on tonight I didn't know about?”
Darryl grinned sheepishly. “I'd tell you but you are terrible at keeping secrets.” One hand emerged from his coat, jingling a set of keys. “Thanks again for doing this.”
Ethan took the keys, as always, uncomfortable in the face of Darryl's gratitude. “You know that I don't mind.”
“Yes, well, I'm sure you have better things to do,” Darryl said with a smile, his uncertainty obvious.
They still weren't sure how to behave around each other, even after three years. Ethan was too old to need fathering and Darryl was too reluctant to put himself in that situation. Ethan liked Darryl because he treated his mother well, but he didn't think he'd ever form that kind of bond with the man.
“I'm a college student,” Ethan retorted, opting for humor to ease the anxiety. “I'm too broke to have fun.”
Darryl chuckled, sliding into his jacket again. “So you have mentioned many times before,” he said, adjusting his collar. “Just remember--”
“-- to turn the dial three times because it sticks,” Ethan recited with a smirk. “I remember, Darryl. Now get going before you're late for whatever it is you are doing.”
Darryl coughed into his elbow and nodded. “Of course. I'll see you later.”
“Bye.”
But his stepfather was already hustling toward the door with a parting wave to his cashiers. A few frequent customers even greeted him as he passed. He knew these by name, and returned the favor in kind.
“He seems kind,” Jaiden commented, startling Ethan who had completely forgotten about the aerokinetic's presence. Jaiden was far too good at blending silently into the background.
Ethan twirled the key ring on his finger with a loud jangle. “Darryl's okay as far as stepfather's go. It could be worse.”
“You are fortunate,” Jaiden agreed, his eyes sweeping past Ethan and surveying the bookstore.
He twirled the keys again. “Yeah, I am,” Ethan agreed quietly, then gestured for Jaiden to follow him. “Come on, let's get this place ready to close. I've got a paper to write.”
a/n: Oh, those two detectives can't be up to any good. *grins* Next chapter is, by my definition, one of the best.
Feedback is welcome and appreciated!
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