A Sublime Casualty

by Addison Moore

  Her mouth opens and closes. “Gabby always invites me to tag along with her, but the Foxworthys are in another Ivy League, so I kindly bow out.” She says Ivy in air quotes. “And I’m right there with you about the turkey and football. I usually make a giant turkey and gravy sandwich and curl up under the covers while watching TV. It’s nice. The Hideaway is closed, so there’s nothing to do but relax.”

  “How about we do it together? Come out to my mother’s with me. I’ve got a big, obnoxious Greek family. You’ll love them, I promise. My sister Nikki would love to meet you. So would my mom.”

  “Mom,” she echoes, her eyes wide with wonder. “It melts me to hear you say that word. Is that silly?”

  “Nope. It’s adorable to hear you say that.” I pin a quick grin.

  She grimaces as if unsure. “Is I’ll think about it a good enough answer?”

  Charlie Neville is a tough nut to crack, but I like the challenge. “For now.” We finish up our meals and claw through a piece of chocolate double lava cake together. It feels intimate sharing a plate with her, special. The check comes, and I drop a few bills onto the table before taking off. I lead her out the front and head for the street.

  “Hey, the truck is that way.” She giggles, running just a bit to catch up with me, and I take her by the hand.

  “But the store is this way. I’m getting you a phone.”

  “What?” She lights up the night with her laugh. “No way. Gabby called it. I’m a cord cutter.”

  “That has nothing to do with having something in your pocket that can help you at all times.”

  Charlie wraps her arms around my waist and pulls me around to an abrupt stop. Her body bounces over mine, warm, and the scent of her sugary perfume makes me want to dive a kiss down over her lips. The navy sky expands above us, sparkling with a million stars like crushed diamonds. The moon has washed all of Wakefield an ice blue, and Charlie glows like an angel, like another worldly being.

  “I can’t let you do this,” she whispers as if fighting back tears and, sure enough, they’re already glinting in her eyes.

  “You can’t stop me either. Look, I know there might be a financial reason that you’re not interested, but I’m due for a new phone myself. And they’re having a sale. Buy one, gift one to a friend. I choose you, Charlie. You, my friend, are getting a phone. I’ll put you on my account. I’ve got space for three people. You can call New York. You can call the moon. I don’t care. I just want to be able to talk to you at all hours of the day if I feel like it. Feel free to block me if you want. I might care, but that’s not the point. My grandmother has a smart phone. It’s only fair someone as smart as you has one, too.”

  She struggles with a smile, but it wins out in the end. “You put up a good fight, you know that?”

  “Am I winning?” I brush the loose hair off her forehead and fight like hell the urge to kiss her. The kiss is coming I can feel it. Unstoppable as the sun rising in the morning.

  “Just this once.” She shakes her head. “But I want all the information on getting my own plan. I can do this.” She winces. “Just not today.”

  “I promise I don’t mind.” The air thickens around us, electrifying like a downed wire bouncing dangerously over an ocean of water. Kiss her, you damn fool. I try to will myself to do it, but I’d hate for the night to end in rejection. Phone first.

  We head into the cellular store, and Charlie and I each get a brand-new phone right out of the box, fresh as a daisy. I get a new wallet case for mine, leather, and Charlie opts for a clear hard shell to show off her rose gold finish. I ante up, and we take off for the truck. I drive her back to the condo, parking a good few meters from the gate, so naturally I get out and walk her over. Here it is, do or die. And God, I’m going to die if I don’t taste that smile of hers.

  “Thank you for a good time.” She dips her hands into her coat pockets. No holding hands. First dismal sign of the night. But it’s cold, and I’m still holding out hope. “Dinner was great. I really appreciate you sharing those things about your sister.” Her affect sobers up. “I think we should go back and speak to Thomas and Miles. Hey, is Neil friends with them? I mean, did he know them before her disappearance?”

  “He knew Thomas. Neil is a good friend of the family. As for Miles—” I blow out a quick breath, and a plume of white fog eats the expanse between us. “I think he mentioned something about having a few run-ins with him beforehand. Miles is what we like to call an easygoing troublemaker. Stoner, mellow most of the time. Stupid all the time.”

  “Got it. I just thought maybe his opinions of them might be tainted. It might be time to go back and see if their stories are still the same.”

  “It’s called an alibi.” Great. Correct her. Women love to be corrected. Nothing turns their engine faster than a reprimand.

  She gives a light laugh and slaps me lightly over the cheek. “Oh, honey. I know all about those. In fact, I think I can teach you a lesson or two.” She offers a quick peck to my cheek before bolting through the gate and saying goodnight.

  “Goodnight!” I shout back, grinning like a loon. My hand rises to my cheek, and I hold it there. She kissed me. We might not have busted through a ream of condoms tonight, but at least I got to first base. Okay, so I walked—but hell, we arrived.

  I’m still not sure if we’re stuck in the friend zone. A part of me wants to say I wouldn’t mind—but my head, both of them, and my heart say I would.

  I want something more than that with Charlie Neville.

  With Charlie Neville, I want it all.

  Charlie

  Wakefield in autumn is crowned with splendor, pouring out a rainbow of golds, scarlets, and plums. The countryside is an endless feast for the eyes as the meadow grass yields to its slumber, leaving patches of dryness blotching the vicinity. But it’s the trees that exude perfect bliss, with their dying leaves bleeding out all color, blazing like a red and orange inferno, so richly textured, so abundant in their animated fury, they beg you to walk a little slower, linger your gaze a little longer in their direction just to appreciate their caustic beauty.

  I skirt the outer ridge of the lake that’s north of Conrad University toward a skate park on the left bank, one mostly occupied by pre-teens on this early Sunday evening, but I’m not looking for a pre-teen, just a person with the mental state of one. Miles Wallis stands tall and lanky sitting on a concrete bench, smoking something small and decidedly illegal in this great state. With a little research on my new toy—the cell phone that cost more than I’ve yet to make at the Hideaway, not including monthly fees—I discovered quite easily his place of employment. Miles works for the Parks and Recreation Department, and Del Sol Park is his domain. Judging by the skateboard he’s flexing effortlessly between his feet, I’d say it’s not a wonder.

  For a moment, I wonder what I’m doing here, in Del Sol Park, in Wakefield, in Theo Stavros’ life. I once thought Wakefield would be my safety net, my savior, and here it was a sticky web all along. I ran from a lion, only to meet up with a bear. And even though every last part of me screams keep running, don’t look back, my stubborn feet refuse to leave. Instead, they carry me forward toward the tall gangly stoner with his Fu Manchu mustache, his ball cap on backward. The thick banded sunglasses mask him just enough for me to wonder if he could possibly be handsome. There must have been something Lizzy saw in him. A quick Google search yielded his pictures, his job location, and his home address. Thomas Hartley, Lizzy’s husband of two years, had less of a digital footprint, but I managed to find a few pictures of him, one at the Kruskal Law Offices Christmas party and one at a Fourth of July picnic just three days prior to his ex-wife’s disappearance.

  Miles nods over at me with the joint pinched between his fingers, sucking hard off it before extinguishing the tip and harboring it as if I were about to swipe it from his grimy hand. “What’s up?” He turns his head and expels a white plume over his shoulder.

  “I was wondering if you could help me. I’m lookin
g for a Miles Wallen? Vallis?”

  “Wallis.” He holds out a hand, and I’m loathe to shake it. “What can I do for you?”

  “Oh, nice.” I blink a smile, offering all the pleasantries I can muster. “First, I’d like to offer my sympathies. I hear your girlfriend is still missing.” He straightens as if someone just shoved a metal pole up his back. “We’re all hoping she’ll be found safe by some miracle. I’m from Conrad University, and I belong to a paranormal research club called the Messengers of Light. I hope you don’t mind, but several of us are fascinated by the recent accounts you’ve made public. Would you mind if I conducted a quick interview? I would consider it an honor just to be near you. Indeed, I feel as if I’m breathing rarefied air.”

  A goofy grin spreads wide over his face. I know his type. Stroke his ego and he’ll do all the party tricks you ask.

  “No, man, I don’t mind at all.” He whips off his sunglasses and pats a spot on the bench next to him. “Shoot. I’ve got all day.” He offers a toothy grin. Same eerie grin Lizzy gives me each day I pass her poster. His eyes hit me like a laser, crushed sea glass. So very pretty, stunning, breathtaking, actually. It must have been the eyes Lizzy was drawn to. Maybe if he lost the dead raccoon hanging off his face, the skateboard, and illegal substances, he would be a serious contender. Or maybe it was the fact that just the thought of him burying that beard over her body was enough to send her ex into a jealous rage. Ashley did say she liked to get a rise out of people.

  “Thank you. That’s very generous of you. Tell me how you met Lizzy. What happened the day of her disappearance?”

  He purses his lips into a pouty bow and, surprisingly enough, it’s an affable look on him. “Lizzy and I hooked up at a party.” He shoves his tongue into his cheek and creates an unnatural bulge. Hooking up at a party. Now there’s a shocker. “She was beautiful, man. Long hair, laughing eyes the color just before a sunrise. She had this magnetism. Lizzy would walk into a room and everyone would know it. Everyone wanted to be near her, be her friend. She was just that kind of person. Special. I don’t know how else to describe her.”

  “She does sound special. And beautiful. I can see that from her posters. So, did she approach you? I’m also a romantic at heart, which explains my addiction to hearing all the details of a brand-new couple.”

  His brows dip in a hard V as he contemplates this for a moment, his gaze locked behind me as if watching the scene play out again. “She did approach me. But you know, Lizzy and I knew of each other. We weren’t buddies. We never hung out. Then one night, she asked me to dance, and one thing led to another. Lizzy liked to party.”

  “Party?”

  “You know, beer, weed, just the light stuff.”

  “That makes sense. From what I’ve gathered, the media portrays her as a very passionate person.” That’s not true, but then he thinks I’m a student at Conrad.

  “Hell yeah.” His lips pull back in an eerie grimace. “That girl was wild, dude. They don’t make ’em like that. Lizzy broke the mold.” He takes another hit off his joint before he realizes it’s not lit and surrenders it back into his palm. “Lizzy had vices. I guess we all do. She loved the spotlight on her. She was high-maintenance, though. Liked expensive things. I couldn’t give her any of that.”

  “But she didn’t need you for the money, right? I mean, she was educated. She had a career.”

  His chest bucks with a sharp laugh. “She quit Conrad halfway through. Pissed her mother off. That place isn’t cheap, you know. It kind of screwed with their relationship. To Lizzy, family was everything. That’s why it hurt so bad when she turned on her. She didn’t approve of her new lifestyle.”

  “What?” I say, stunned, mostly to myself, but stoner Miles is more than happy to spill all the words.

  “They’re uptight. You know, old world. Italian, I think.”

  “Greek,” I’m quick to correct.

  “Right, right. Whatever. She was into some wild shit, and when her mom found out, she hit the roof.”

  “What about her brother? Brothers can be overprotective.”

  “I don’t know. I doubt he knew. He’s a cop or some shit like that, right? He’d have her ass. He’d be pretty pissed.”

  What in the hell was she doing?

  “I bet her sister was pissed, too. I mean, sisters share everything.”

  “No way. Lizzy wasn’t sharing that with no one. She got caught, though.” He sits up straight while craning his neck at a few boys catching air on the half-pipe. “Good job,” he howls and whistles so loud my eardrum sizzles.

  I’m losing him.

  “May I ask what she was doing?”

  “Aw, Lizzy? Nothing bad. Just you know. Underwear shots. Tits out. No one was getting hurt. It’s still up there.” He motions to the sky. “You can’t get rid of that once it’s out. The dirty dudes loved it.” He starts rocking at a manic pace, his eyes still glued on the legion of boys putting on a show.

  “Nude pictures,” I whisper, trying to process it. Up there as in the internet?

  “Nope. Never nude. Those dudes wanted to be teased. Little did they know they had an expert on their hands.”

  “Who were they?”

  Miles lets out an arduous yawn, his mouth stretching wide as an elevator. “I don’t know, man. But she got what she wanted, lots of green, and I don’t mean this.” He rolls the joint between his fingers. I bet his kisses taste like fresh dog shit. His brain has clearly left the building. Maybe it’s time to get down to brass tacks.

  “What do you think she was doing with you?” It’s as close as I’ll get to asking what the appeal was because frankly I don’t see it.

  “Me? Lizzy and I have known each other for years. I went to Wriggly High. She was at Wakefield. She’d make the trek across town because I had the good stuff.” His fingers unfurl, revealing the stubby white doobie before concealing it again with the lithe ease of a magician.

  And just like that, it hits me. “You were her dealer. It all makes sense.”

  “You got it. She cozied up for the goods.” He sniffs the air with pride, and his beard bounces. Everything about him reeks two steps from homelessness. But apparently, Lizzy had her financial challenges, too. I guess if you’re not budgeting your paychecks, you end up rolling them up and smoking them. Before long you have to do a little quasi-nude modeling to make the joint ends meet.

  “So, the day she disappeared, where were you?”

  “Who the hell remembers? I was at home.” His shoulders jump. “It was my day off, and that’s all I got.”

  He’s lying. My bullshit meter just jumped into the stratosphere. It takes a bullshitter to know one.

  I take a deep breath and catch the clean scent of jasmine bushes doing their best to clear the air.

  “You’re a smart, down-to-earth guy.” Roll him in butter. “Who do you think took her, Miles?”

  His lips pull into a straight line, his eyes averting to the sky. “If I had to guess—God, it could be anyone. The dirty dudes for sure. Maybe that nutcase that came after her. She was seeing someone. He could have done it.”

  “Seeing someone? One of the dirty dudes?”

  “One of them for sure. But she kept him hidden from me. I was cool with it.” He shrugs it off. “We were open. She wouldn’t bring him around, though.”

  “How long would you say she was seeing him?”

  “Month? Two? I don’t really know. Lizzy loved her secrets.”

  “How about Thomas? She ever talk about him?”

  “Thomas.” His entire body goes slack, typical theatrics of a thirteen-year-old boy. “The dude is miserable without her. It’ll probably kill him. She knew it, and she loved it. That girl was vicious.”

  “Why? Why did she leave him?” My entire body shakes at the prospect of gleaning yet another bit of vital information.

  He shakes his head, those crystal eyes of his locked over mine. “Ask me something else.”

  Thomas is a no-fly zone. Interesting. Maybe h
e doesn’t know enough? Lizzy did love her secrets, he said so himself. Maybe he knows too much, but then he didn’t list Thomas as a person of interest. Or Ashley—and I still haven’t ruled her out.

  “Is she really sending you messages from the grave?”

  “Yes.” He doesn’t miss a beat. “Look.” He pulls out his phone and takes me straight to them. Lizzy’s avatar is cute—her hair in a fuzzy ponytail, her nose wrinkled hard, two fingers in the air making a peace sign. Huh. I guess they have that in common. I remember seeing it in him. “There.” He hands his phone over.

  It’s a direct message. It’s so hot. So very hot! Help me Miles! Tell my family I’m suffering. I die every day here. They’re hurting me. So much pain. So very cold. Tell my mother. Tell my brother.

  My heart drops when I see that last part. Whoever is doing this just dragged Theo into it. And that odd reference to being cold snags my attention once again. “Looks real. I mean, I saw her account. It’s still live, and that’s her avatar, her name.” I scroll through and read each and every cryptic message, all of the usual suspects. The messages he relayed over his own account are all here. And then I hit pay dirt. “What’s this?” I rub my thumb over it. St. Regency Hotel. Ten. The date reads June nineteenth.

  “That’s from before.” He snatches his phone back. “I’m like Domino’s. I deliver in thirty minutes or less.”

  “Impressive.” I slap my hands over my jeans and wipe off the grime from his phone. “Well, thank you for your time, Miles.”

  “Yeah, sure.” He holds out a hand, and I shake it. I’ll have to bathe in hand sanitizer once I round the corner. “Anytime you guys want to come out and do it again, I’m up for it.” He squints over at me as if the sun were too much to bear. “You’re not really with Conrad, are you?”

  My stomach spears with heat as I rise to leave. “I am.” I wink and nod as if he understands. Miles Wallis is a good guy at heart. I’m not sure he’d have the wherewithal to kidnap, let alone lure a pistol like Lizzy off somewhere. No. He might be annoying as a gnat, but he’s harmless as one, too.