Page 2 of Quake
While I was busy squirming, I almost jumped out of my skin when Hayley, another assistant, peered over the top of my monitor.
“Hey, Juliette,” she said. “We’re all going out for drinks after work tonight. You should come with. You know, celebrate the end of your first week and all.”
I didn’t like going out after dark, but I was feeling indestructible lately. Besides, I had to start facing my fears of gloomy corners sooner or later.
“Sure,” I replied. “Sounds good. Where are you going?”
“This place called BearBrass,” Dom said, leaning back in his chair. He worked in marketing as a graphic designer and sat on my other side. “It’s pretty cool. It’s down on Southbank and has food and most importantly a very nice selection of alcoholic beverages.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “We usually sit outside, and you can see the river and the promenade, and there’s a nice view.”
“He’s got the hots for one of the bartenders,” Hayley said with a suggestive wink.
“Make that multiple nice views,” he said, not at all ashamed to admit he was crushing on someone. If it were me, my cheeks would be redder than the reddest red there ever was. You would be able to cook an egg on me I’d be that hot.
“I’m pretty sure he’s straight,” Hayley declared.
“That’s only because you want a ride,” he retorted with a pout.
“Count me in,” I said, smiling. “Sounds like I have to check out both views.”
* * *
We stayed out, downing jugs of margaritas and eating our fill of wood-fired pizza until nine p.m.?????
It was the end of February, so the days were still quite long, the sun not setting fully until almost eight p.m.? The air was warm, but the breeze off the Yarra River cooled the back of my neck.????
No one recognized me here. My face was just another in the crowd, my dyed black hair a nonevent. It was refreshing being able to go to the shops and not have anyone give me a wary side-eye glance like I was going to have a mental breakdown at any second or to have a concerned stranger passing on their condolences.
No one knew who Juliette Spicer was in Melbourne, no one at all, and I loved it.
Parting ways with Hayley, Dom, and a few other people from work, I crossed the river, weaving a path through the hundreds of people flowing into Flinders Street Station, and made my way toward the tram stop. It was slower than taking a train, but I enjoyed watching the comings and goings of the city out of the window.
Melbourne was a very different place than the Sunshine Coast. Up north, it was tropical all the time, but here, it was significantly less muggy, and there was no such thing as finding little green tree frogs swimming happily in your bathtub.
Hopping onto a waiting tram at the end of Elizabeth Street, I rode it through the city, then all the way along Royal Parade, and finally, I got off a few blocks up Sydney Road in the inner city suburb of Brunswick. The closest stop to my little unit was on Albion Street, and then it was a three-minute walk to my door.
It was a really diverse part of town with its large Lebanese and Turkish population, and the Italians and Greeks resided a suburb over in Fitzroy. It was a real melting pot of cultures, which made the restaurants and takeout places pretty darn tasty. The couple who lived three doors down from me in my block of flats always had spirited arguments in Turkish, the language sounding passionate even when they were screaming obscenities at one another.
Stepping onto the footpath, I began walking toward home. When the haze of flashing lights from a police car caught my gaze, my heart twisted, and I stumbled. An image splintered through my mind of a blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl stained in blood, and I almost popped, the contents of my stomach heaving.
“Miss, you need to take the opposite footpath,” a policeman said, gesturing for me to cross the street.
Glancing over the line of police tape, I was dazzled by the lights.Red, blue, red, blue…
Blinking, I shook away the image of the night the same colors had flashed through the windows of my childhood home, bathing the front yard in unnatural light.
“Miss,” the policeman said again, ushering me to the side.
“What happened?” I asked, the words spilling out of my mouth before I could stop myself. I’d hated all the questions, the rubbernecking, the speculation, and the assumptions… It was hypocritical of me to be even asking.
“A young woman was attacked,” he replied just as I spotted the white sheet covering the unmistakable shape of a human body. “I would advise you to go straight home.”
She was dead. I didn’t have to be a genius to understand. She was attacked and killed right here, just off the side of a busy road where thousands of people walked and drove past every day. Where trams rolled up and down, picking up and dropping off women just like the one lying underneath that sheet. A place I lived three minutes away from.
My gaze took in the little numbered yellow signs marking evidence on the footpath, and I swallowed my rising fear as I saw her blood staining the ground.
“Miss,” the policeman began, the sound of his voice snapping me out of my daze.
Backing away, I stepped off the footpath and onto the street, making a break for it between a lull in the Friday night? traffic. Hurrying down my street, I fumbled in my bag for my keys, holding them between my fingers like a weapon, ready to stab anyone who might be lurking in the shadows.????
