by Ker Dukey
Shaking the water from my hair like a stray dog, I grab a basket and head straight for the cake aisle. There’s a drip coming through the roof, causing a puddle to form on the floor next to my feet.
Am I carrying a rain cloud above my head, being mocked by life? I won’t let the doom ruin the high I feel from the night I spent with Jack. Flashes of this morning sing like a lullaby in my head, making me glow from within. I grasp a single cupcake and head to the baking aisle.
Why do they only sell candles in packs of ten? I want one fucking candle. One!
Snatching the packet of ten multicolored candles from the shelf, I drop it into my basket and make my way to the checkout. A teenage boy grins at me from behind the counter like I’m the first female he’s been in contact with. His scrawny figure stands taller than my five-foot-seven frame, his small, round eyes dipping to my chest. I follow his gaze to see the rain has made my shirt almost see-through, showing my black bra beneath.
Placing the single cupcake and pack of candles on the counter, I try to ignore the toothy grin plastered on his lips as he looks down at me. “Just these?” he asks with a raised brow. If it weren’t, why would I come to the checkout? I don’t say that. Instead, I nod.
“Your birthday?” he asks with a smirk. It’s a pity smirk that makes me want to poke his eye out with the damn candle, like I’m celebrating myself alone.
“No.”
“Boyfriend’s?”
I stare at him until he frowns, taking the damn hint. “Five dollars and thirty cents.”
I take out the exact money from the change in my wallet and drop it into his hand, almost retching when he curls his clammy palm, brushing mine. Snatching up my products, I leave without my receipt.
I used to hate this day. I’d want to go to sleep and wake up when the ache passed, which was never. But today is different. Today, I have Jack.
Pulling open the car door, I sit in the luxury leather, a complete contrast to Charlotte’s rust bucket. Jack isn’t here. A note sits on the dash. “Had to use the bathroom. Be back in two minutes.”
Pulling a candle from the packet and stuffing it into the flaky chocolate frosting, I place it on the dash, a shiver racing down my spine—regret, guilt, the twinge that’s never left me since my mom was stolen from me.
Blood pumps hard through my body, resonating the pounding of my heart as I grip the lighter, waiting for Jack. The lonely wave that usually would be crashing over me isn’t as powerful today. There’s a light rumble in my chest, an aftershock rather than a full-blown earthquake.
Tipping my head against the headrest, a sigh deflates my lungs. It’s not normal to hold on to something that happened so long ago. Memories of her are fuzzy now, but I can’t help the way it shaped my life. Sudden tapping against the window makes me screech. Rain blurs the image on the other side, but I recognize the red apron of the checkout clerk. Rolling my eyes and holding a hand to my chest, I reach for the window button. Before I can press it to open, his body slams into the window. Once. Twice. I jolt, jerking back.
There’s a shadow behind him. Crimson stains hit the window. A soul-shattering scream howls from my lips as his body slides out of sight, his blood smeared all over the window. A black silhouette stands there looking in. He’s come for me.
I throw myself into the backseat and rush to open the back door, spilling out to the wet ground. My palms smart at the impact, the air whooshing from my lungs. Looking beneath the car, I see the clerk’s lifeless body, eyes open, staring at me from the other side of the car. My pulse roars in my ears. Tears leak from my eyes, mixing with the rainwater. I manage to gain movement in my legs, and with everything I have in me, I take off running without looking back to see if he’s chasing me. Fire burns my calves. Air is like acid in my lungs. I run until my lungs seize and my legs feel like they’re filled with stone, throwing myself at the coffee shop door. Struggling to grasp the handle, a startled customer opens it for me, and I crash inside, skidding across the floor, landing painfully on my hands and knees, dripping wet and shaking like a wounded animal.
“What the fuck?” Charlotte cries out. People whisper, their eyes piercing into me.
“He…he…killed him,” I choke out. “At the grocery store,” I finish, a sob ricocheting through my body like a ping pong ball.
“Who? Who killed who?” someone new asks. A crowd has gathered around me. Someone’s arms circle me in their embrace. “She’s shaking. Someone do something,” a distressed voice calls out, but I don’t know who it belongs too.
“I’m calling the police,” another says.
Warm material encompasses me as a jacket is placed over my shoulders.
“What happened, Lizzy?” the voice distorts.
“I was in the parking lot…and…and the clerk came to my window…then he just hit the window—his body—there was someone behind him. I ran—I got out and ran,” I sob. Guilt washes over me. What if the kid wasn’t dead? Should I have stayed to fight him off? Jack. Where was Jack? Oh god, I left him!
“Jack,” I scream, looking to the door. “Oh god, Jack.” I can’t breathe. I grasp at the air. My throat restricts and closes. I’m suffocating. I try to stand, but my legs fail me. “I can’t breathe,” I cry out.
“You’re having a panic attack. It’s okay. You’re safe now.”
“You’re safe now. Come out of there.”
“I can’t breathe,” I cry out, darkness closing in around the edges of my sight.
“You’re breathing right now. Try to calm down.”
Marco…Jack…Jack…
Blank blackness steals all the color, all the air.
Jack. I lost Jack.
Twenty-Six
Sharp stabbing shoots through my hand, jolting me awake. Bright lights hurt my eyes, making me squint to see through the slits. “Where am I?” I croak, lifting my hand. There’s a tube stuck in it. Fully opening my eyes, the room floods in. Charlotte jumps up from a chair, rushing toward me. “Hey. You’re awake.”
“What happened?” I ask, but the words stick to my tongue when the images of the clerk hitting the car window batters my mind.
“Jack?” I ask.
“I’m here.”
“Convenient,” Stephan growls from somewhere in the room. I scoot to a sitting position, taking in the IV and white sheet draped over me.
Catching my gaze, Jack strokes hair from my face. “You were dehydrated.” His smile is one of sorrow. “I’m so fucking sorry. I was gone for minutes.”
“Again, convenient.”
“Back the hell off before you’re the one in the bed,” Jack growls in a warning.
“He’s just saying what we’re all thinking.” Charlotte folds her arms, eyeballing him.
“Guys?” No way. I’d know if he had that darkness inside him. I’d sense it, right?
“Come on, Liz. He has you brainwashed. We don’t even know who the hell he is,” Charlotte snaps. She looks exhausted, dry, makeup-streaked tears on her cheeks.
“You just don’t like him because I do. First Stephan and now Jack,” I argue.
“This is different, and you know it!”
“Is it? How? You don’t like it when men see past you to me. It’s why you’re such a bitch to Stephan,” I accuse, sick of this shit.
Running a hand through his hair, Stephan keeps looking at Charlotte, then the tiled floor.
With a mocking laugh, Charlotte sneers, “Stephan is an asshole who bangs me whenever you blow him off, so you got that one wrong. And you’re wrong about this one too, you just can’t see it yet. You will when he’s cutting you up and stuffing you in a duffle bag. But I won’t be around to become his next victim. I’m done.”
Her words wound, her tongue a whip lashing out and cutting deep.
Stephan makes a grab for her, but she pulls free, growling, “Don’t fucking touch me. I’ve worn enough of your bruises for one lifetime.”
My mouth is agape as I stare at Stephan in disbelief. They hate each other, how c
ould he sleep with her?
“It was a mistake.” He shakes his head, rubbing the back of his neck, red blotches coloring his cheeks.
“Charlotte, Stephan?” I hear the disgust in my own voice. She’s my best friend. What they did was thoughtless, a complete disregard of my feelings.
“It was a mistake,” he reiterates.
“I can’t deal with this now.” I close my eyes, my thoughts muddled. “Just go, Stephan.”
“Liz.” I sense his movement toward me, but he must think better of it.
“Just go,” I bark, the strain hurting my throat.
“I’ll be outside. I’m not letting her come between us over something that didn’t fucking matter,” he rages, kicking a chair across the room and storming out.
“Were you and him…?” Jack asks, a mirage of emotions dancing in his eyes.
“No, we’re friends—that’s it.”
“There was nobody,” Jack says, changing the subject, the pad of his thumb stroking down my cheek.
No. There had to be. “I saw it. I saw him.” I pull the covers from my body, yanking some sticky pads from my chest.
“Whoa, calm down. I know. There was blood on the ground, but there wasn’t a body.”
“He’s toying with me,” I croak, a strangled cry tearing from me.
“Who?”
“Willis. It has to be him, Jack. It has to be.” Tears burn a path down my cheeks. Grasping my face, he kisses away the sorrow and clutches me to his chest. I listen to the pounding of his heart.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
“It can’t be him, Lizzy.”
“Why? Maybe he outwitted you like he has the police all these years.”
“He didn’t.” He pulls me back, his green orbs penetrating mine. “It can’t be him. I refuse to believe it.”
Boom. Boom. Boom.
My head shakes uncontrollably. “That’s not a good enough reason.”
“Can’t you just trust me?”
Can I trust anyone? “We need to tell Hernandez who you are.” I gulp as fear settles in my chest.
“I can’t do that.” He backs away like my words burn him.
“Jack.”
“No!” he snaps, sitting, his head collapsing into his hands. “They’ll take me away from you again, make me relive things.” He’s back on his feet, grasping me into his arms, his hold so strong, it steals my breath.
“I can’t lose you again.” His voice hitches. “I refuse to ever let you go. Please, Liz.”
“Okay.”
I scrape at the scars on my palm beneath the white sheet as Hernandez pins me with a confused gaze. “He didn’t speak to you?”
“No.” I try not to look at him, afraid he can see all the lies stacking up.
“Did you recognize him?”
“No.” I shake my head and reach for a tissue, wiping my nose. A smudge of blood soaking into the white quickens my breath. I’ve re-opened a scar.
“Sorry, I cut my hands on the ground.” I shrug, more lies coming with ease.
“We have something I didn’t want to tell you until it was proven.” He frowns. The grays through his dark hair are more prominent under this bright light.
“You found Willis?” I swallow, shock stiffening my body.
“A known location. Our officers are there now with Barnett.” He grips the railing at the end of my bed.
“Is Willis there?” my voice breaks off.
“We’ll know more soon. Until then, the store confirmed the clerk is missing.”
“I didn’t imagine it,” I snap. Everyone thinks I’m crazy.
“As soon as I have any information, I’ll let you know.” He nods.
“Thank you.”
Twenty-Seven
Listening to the nurse as she tells me to take it easy for a few days makes me want to laugh. I can’t go one fucking day without a body dropping.
Jack grabs up my stuff and guides me out, insistent on taking care of me. I bite my nails almost down to the quick, then hide them in my sleeves when blood blossoms there, embarrassed for Jack to see how I brutalize myself. Charlotte plays on my mind. Where is she? We need to forgive each other, be more open. “Are you okay?” Jack reaches a hand over to stroke my thigh. Inhaling, I lift my legs to my chest and gaze out of the window into the darkening sky. “I’ll be fine.” Will I?
Pulling up to the apartment building, anger flickers through me. My aunt is sitting on the step outside, a grocery bag at her feet. “Perfect,” I groan, stepping out of the car.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, a nervous flurry in my stomach.
“I’ve been calling. You always send me to voicemail,” she admonishes, her eyes flitting to Jack. “Who’s your friend?”
“Oh,” I wave a hand awkwardly at Jack, “my neighbor, Clark.” She wouldn’t understand, yet. This takes a much more planned conversation.
“What’s with the bag?” I gently tap it with my foot.
“Groceries. I know you and Charlotte live on scraps,” she tuts, her eyes dropping to my trim stomach.
“That’s thoughtful. Thank you.”
“So, should we go up to your apartment or are you keeping me on the street for a reason?” Fuck.
“Actually…” I teeter, hoping an excuse pops into my head.
“I watch the damn news, Lizzy,” she fumes before I can come up with something. “Why the hell haven’t you called, come home? Another girl murdered?” She throws her hands up in the air.
It’s apparent she doesn’t know about the duffle or the store clerk. “I’m booked in at the hotel off Candace Lane. When you’re ready to talk to me about all this, you can find me there.” She huffs, slamming the bag into my chest and waltzing off.
“Is everyone pissed at me?” I groan, looking up at Jack.
“I’m not,” he says, a proactive smile hooking his lip as he takes the bag from my arms. “Come on.”
I follow him up to his apartment and text Charlotte.
Where are you?
Kicking off my shoes, I go to the grocery bag and rummage through it. “What’s in it?” Jack muses, taking out a couple of glasses from the cupboard.
“Fruit,” I bitch. There’s some pasta and canned goods too, but nothing exciting to the palate. An incoming text from Charlotte gains my attention.
We’re allowed in our apartment. I’ll be by later to grab some things. Then I think I’m going to go stay with my parents for a bit.
Thud.
She’s found her limit and she’s leaving me after all.
“Liz?” Jack frowns, reading my face. He walks over to me. I can’t do this now. It will be safer for her to leave. This is a good thing.
“My apartment has been released.”
“So soon?” His shoulders drop. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he asks, “How would you feel about still staying here, just a night or two?”
A hint of a smile touches my lips. “I’d like that. Maybe you could come with me to grab some clothes?’
Pulling his hand from his pocket, he reaches out, and I clasp his palm, curling my small fingers between his large ones. “Let’s go.”
Coiling in my stomach aches as I push into my apartment, fragmented memories of the day we discovered the bag punishing me with each intake of breath.
“Do you want me to just go in?” Jack offers.
“No.” I smile tightly, walking farther inside. The trashcan is gone. Some cushions from the couch are missing. The knife block isn’t here. Can they just take whatever they want? Moving to my room, I don’t look at the bathroom, avoiding it altogether. My room has been searched—bedding tossed around, trinkets laying on their sides, drawers open with clothes hanging out. Assholes. Jack begins righting the order of things. This room must make him quiver in repulse.
The ringing of my cell fills the room. Smiling, I look over my shoulder to Jack and say, “I used to hear everything from your room in here.”
A dark allure resonates from his eyes, pulsing betw
een my legs. “Ditto.” He raises an accusatory brow, making me blush. Looking down at my phone to hide my giddiness, a shiver rakes over my skin. All joy flees my body like the sun disappearing into the night.
“You going to answer that?” Jack questions, righting the perfume bottle on my dresser. Yes.
Twenty-Eight
“Detective?” I answer.
“We found Willis’s remains.”
Boom. Boom. Boom.
The room spins, the floor shifting, my world turning on its axis. I reach for the doorframe to steady myself. Jack messes with crap on the dresser, unaware of my turmoil. “What?”
“They’re old, Lizzy. But they have identifying markers from a surgery Langford had on his knee after a motorcycle accident when he was a teenager.”
“So…it’s him?” My voice is barely a whisper.
“We need to get the remains tested, but we’re pretty certain it’s him.”
Silence—all but the piercing screaming in my mind. It’s not Willis. I need him to say it.
“What aren’t you saying, Detective?” I breathe. His tone is cautious. He’s withholding. His heavy exhale sends a swarm of bees through my blood.
“We also found other remains on the property.”
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Women? How many…
“A child. Bones. Old.” Swirling acid retches up my throat. “We need to have them tested, but it’s likely the remains of Jack…”
“No,” I say sharply, cutting him off. No. No. No. My eyes strain, staring at the man in front of me.
“I’m so sorry, Lizzy.”
I shake my head vehemently. “That can’t be.”
“There’s something else.” Rustling sounds echo around him, like he’s walking somewhere. “Your friend…he’s not who he claims. There’s something you should know about him…” Wind whistles. More rustling. “Are you still there, Lizzy?”
No. Please no.
My skin itches, the truth breaking the last part of me.
“Who is this?” Jack…or whoever the hell he is, mouths to me, holding up my photo of him and me, his mother’s arm around us both. It’s all I had left of him—my Jack, my lost boy.
