Dark City

55.

Life, for Tom, had been spotty lately. A needle between his knuckles pumped his veins with IV fluids. On his other hand, a pulse oximeter pinched his finger. The beeping noise quickened in tempo. Rain streaked the windowpane as the heavy falls formed lakes in the parking lot. Tom awoke tucked into white sheets and gray fleece. His father sat at his bedside, his hard eyes locked with the pages of a composition notebook.

"Dad?"

"You're awake," Carl said, closing the book and setting it aside on a pile of similar notebooks. "How do you feel?"

"My head is killing me."

"You were severely dehydrated. You had a seizure."

"What day is it?"

"Today is Thursday."

"How is that possible?" Tom asked, squinting through the garish hospital light.

"Do you remember any of our last conversation?"

"What?"

"You asked for Lacey."

Tom shook his head. "I don't remember."

"That's okay. I hate to have to tell you again, but Lacey hasn't shown up at her job the last few days. People are worried something might have happened to her."

"No."

"Also, I don't know if you know this... but Savannah was murdered. I'm guessing you two were seeing each other."

"I barely knew her."

Carl nodded. "Listen. This case is going to get snatched out from under us. Savannah's boyfriend Liam is AWOL which makes him look good for the murder. But you're still going to be questioned. I need to know what you know."

All the horror of that violent scene resurfaced in Tom's mind. His blood surged as his heart began to race. He remembered seeing Nathan. He knew where he was going next.

"Do you remember who choked you out?" asked Carl.

"Yeah. It was Liam."

"What happened?"

"He found me with his girlfriend, went psycho."

"Did you see him kill her?"

Tom revisited the crime scene in his head, fabricating what he could from the evidence. Hypatia had taken that first stab to the chest near the entrance. "Yeah. It's spotty though. He caught us together. She tried to calm him down and he stabbed her. Then he came after me."

"What did he use to stab her?"

"I don't remember. Like I said, it's spotty. I just remember there being lots of blood."

"Any idea where he might be?"

"He has a place in Freehold. I have the address in my phone." Tom grunted as he sat up.

Carl got on his radio. "Hersh. I have the address for you."

"Let's hear it, Lieu," a grainy voice said on the other end.

"Tom."

Tom took the receiver in hand and spoke into the mouthpiece. "On Sherry street. Let me just pull up the exact address. Where's my phone?"

"It wasn't on you when we found you."

"Damn it."

Carl took his radio back and tucked it into his jacket pocket. "How do you know about this place? You've been there?"

Tom nearly broke down into tears. "Some bad shit's been going down, Dad. Really bad. I don't know if I can handle it anymore."

"You don't have to, okay? You just gotta help me do my job."

"These people have been hurting everybody I care about. Alex is a junkie. Nathan's lost his fucking mind."

"What?"

The tears were impossible to hold back at this point. Tom belligerently described the evening on Halloween to his father, sparing no detail of his own negligence and stupidity.

"You took Alex to a party like that? Someone you didn't even know?"

"It was stupid. I'm so sorry for it."

"It's beyond stupid. You got a teenager drunk."

"It's not like I was pouring the alcohol down her throat! She was already high on coke when I got there!"

"But you know this girl! You should have driven her home! You're my son, for God's sake!" Carl's shouting reminded Tom of those nights he spent hiding under tables as his parents had it out. "You could have told me! You and Nathan are driving me nuts with this bullshit. What the hell are you guys thinking?"

"It was all for Hannah when her case went cold. And then it was for Alex... who never had a case."

"Tom," Carl said. "I know I'm hard on you but it's because I think the world of you. I just want you to reach your potential."

"We got to find Lacey, Dad. I'll do whatever it takes."

Carl lifted a box and set it down on his lap, weeding through composition journals. The collection included a dense grimoire, a modified book filled with poetry, recipes and incantations. He placed one of the lined notebooks in Tom's lap.

"All right, son. These are Savannah Mitchell's journals. Read closely. We might find Lacey somewhere in these pages."
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Music: Muse "Unintended"