Trial by Twelve

by Heather Day Gilbert

  I am trying to show compassion toward these women, to focus inward with my meditation and not allow their behavior to undermine my happiness. Sometimes I think being antisocial is the only way to achieve nirvana. Buddha must not have been surrounded by women.

  DANI UNLOCKS THE DOOR right after I text Thomas to see if he’ll be home in time for his Mom’s picnic tonight. I’ll be glad to have some down-time with the Spencer family, even though I’ll probably need to make polite small-talk with Stella.

  Today, Dani sports a flowing blouse, buttery-looking ankle boots, and stick-straight jeans. Her oversized hoop earrings, Chanel tote, and loose braid complete the look—a look I could never put together in my wildest imaginings. Some women are born with fashion sense, some regret not having it, and some don’t care. I fall into the middle category.

  She ignores me as I sheathe the Glock. “Time for a swim? I thought you’d be ready to roll.” She strips off her gorgeous outfit, right down to a navy bandeau swimsuit that probably cost over two hundred dollars.

  “Sorry. I’ll go change in the dressing room. Dani, you’ve got to talk with this computer guy. I really think he’s giving you the runaround.”

  She shoves her boots and clothes into the seemingly bottomless black tote. “I really don’t want to talk about it yet. Honestly, I need to cleanse myself of all this negative energy and I think the pool and sauna are the way to go. I’ll fire up the sauna while you change.”

  I don my orchid lap suit and store my gun in a spa locker, which is wood-paneled and stocked with peppermint shampoo, cocoa body butter, and a thick white bath robe. I don’t know how Dani afforded this kind of luxury, but people will come from quite a distance to experience it. A log cabin this spa’s size would have bankrupted most people around here.

  In the pool room, Dani cuts a flawless backstroke toward the deep end. My backstroke looks more like I’m flailing for my life. I squeeze on my swim cap, snap on my goggles, then dive in and commence my overhand stroke. The nice thing about this pool is that it has extended, marked lap lanes. We swim in silence for about ten minutes, then she pauses, draping her arms over the mosaic tiles. I pull up at the opposite wall and wait.

  “Everything is convoluted,” she says.

  I nod, trying to listen more than speak. Sometimes it’s an effort for me.

  “I moved here to find peace and quiet. To find harmony in nature and in humans. Rural living should be closer to perfection, I would think.”

  “Adam and Eve came from the Garden of Eden and one of their sons murdered the other.” I grip the pool’s edge, treading water. “There’s no perfection on earth, doesn’t matter where you live. We do notice the bad things faster in a tight rural community. Difference is, we rally around each other because we’re related or we’ve grown up together.”

  “Or maybe you just care more,” she muses.

  “To be honest, much of the compassion you find in Buckneck comes from Christians. Yes, there’s sometimes judgment passed along with the gossip. But in the end, we support each other, because no one’s perfect and we all fall on hard times now and again.”

  She nods. “I’ve decided to close the salon for a month. I won’t have all those clients around if there’s a killer up here. Or is he up here, Tess? I don’t know. Why would someone choose this spot to bury women? Were they trying to shut me down?”

  I hadn’t thought of that angle. “Who knows? But I think that’s a great idea. What about Teeny? And your henna and spa treatments?”

  “We could keep those up, just the three of us. But are you up for manning the front desk?”

  I nod, because I’ve committed to Detective Tucker, not because of any strong motivation to work.

  Dani smiles, and I’m hit with an unexpected wave of protectiveness toward this enigmatic woman who’s been so beleaguered in our small town.

  “You want to hit the sauna? Should be toasty by now.” I suggest it because I know she wants to unwind and maybe she’ll continue opening up…not because I want to go in there.

  Even in the extra-roomy sauna, with its blue recessed lighting, my claustrophobic tendencies kick in the minute the door thuds closed. I have to will them away by singing something utterly distracting in my head, such as “Battle Hymn of the Republic” or “Mr. Tambourine Man.” My penchant for Bob Dylan songs stymies Thomas as much as it does me.

  Once we’re settled in the dim light, I imagine the cozy warmth permeating my skin, my bones. I try to breathe evenly. I think about those bones out back…bodies swaddled under that dark soil for years, while their family and friends longed for closure.

  Dani seems to follow my thoughts. “Detective Tucker didn’t tell me how the women were killed. Said that’s under investigation. Do you know?”

  I don’t like lies, but sometimes I have to reword the truth. “I don’t know all the details.”

  She sighs. “Seems like if there’s a serial killer, we need to know how they’re killing, wouldn’t you say? I know you have a gun.” She winks and I stiffen, surprised she noticed. She continues. “But some of us don’t. I want to know what I’m up against.”

  I understand Dani’s feeling, but I can’t share anything Detective Tucker has deliberately kept from her. Word could leak out to the press.

  I jump up. I totally forgot about Tawny!

  “What’s wrong?” Dani leans forward.

  “Tawny Creeden came by this morning, determined to get a scoop. She said she’d wait around for Detective Tucker. I didn’t see her leave, but her car was gone when the repairman left. I should have checked on her.” A premonition sweeps over me. “I need to call Detective Tucker and see if she caught up with him.”

  Water droplets sizzle on the hot coals as I walk to the door to retrieve my phone. When I twist the knob, the door doesn’t give. I try again, shoving at it. Panic threatens to choke me. “Is there a lock on this door?”

  “Yes, there’s a high slide lock to keep children out when no one’s around. Wait—you mean it’s locked?” Dani rushes to my side, helping me push at the door. Her blue eyes widen. “I left my phone out in my bag, too!”

  “And my Glock’s in the locker.” I sag onto the bench, the weight of the heat and the windowless room pressing on me. No amount of singing is going to get me through this.

  13

  I SUPPOSE THERE ARE some things about marriage I miss, like hot meals on the table when I get home from work, or someone to care when I don’t show up on time. But I am a person who values individual freedom and I’ve never liked being closely monitored like that.

  There’s a girl in our commune who calls herself Sea, but of course that’s a trumped-up name if ever I’ve heard one. She was waiting for me one day when I got back to the central house. It’s a large building where we eat together and have a shared bathroom and shower area. Anyway, she’s probably twenty years younger than I am and quite clueless about what to do with her life. She served up a bowl of tofu stew she had cooked (to be honest, it turned my stomach), and she asked me some big questions, like what is the purpose of suffering, what happens when we die, and more. Apparently someone had told her I’m a philosophy professor.

  After spending about an hour talking her through things, I felt lonelier than ever. I wished I could share my insights with you. I feel so much of my wisdom will be lost to the sands of time that separate us. I tell you all this so you know I do miss you and think of you often. No matter what your mother tells you, remember that.

  THE STUFFINESS IN THE room seems to siphon air from my lungs, like a parasite. I might die in here, without saying goodbye to Thomas or Mira Brooke or my family. My arms start shaking and I crunch over on the bench.

  Dani takes the fire poker and tries wedging it near the lock. She glances back at me.

  “Tess, hang in there. I forgot you’re claustrophobic. Want to talk about that?”

  “No.” My voice comes out in an unfamiliar croak.

  Dani keeps talking as she jiggers the poker. “I have a t
ouch of arachnophobia, and where I grew up there were some pretty huge spiders. I’m talking tarantulas. Well, one night I woke up and found one crawling on my shoulder. I decided I’d had it with my fear. I got up, turned on the light with the spider still on me, casually flicked it to the floor, and then made myself pick it up. Of course, it was stunned, so it wasn’t super-active. But I learned I didn’t have to fear them. Not that I didn’t have the overwhelming urge to stomp it into oblivion.” She drops the poker near the coals and sighs. “This isn’t going to work.”

  I register everything Dani is saying, but I won’t be distracted by talk of spiders. I can’t tear my eyes from the solid walls, which seem to be getting tighter. If only I had my Glock—so help me I would blow that door off its hinges.

  Dani prowls around the sauna, searching for something to get us out. “Really, we’ll be okay. The coals are cooling off. We have that decorative waterfall unit over there…we could drink that water if we got desperate. All we need to stay alive for several days is air and water, you know.”

  How does a city girl like Dani know all these random survival facts? Even though she’s speaking reason, my mind and body have gone beyond that point, into the realm of this will kill me.

  “So, tell me how you and Thomas met,” she says.

  My brain whirs and fills in the memory. “I had moved to Buckneck with Miranda.” I focus on Dani’s tan face and her half-smile.

  “Miranda,” she repeats, as if it’s a magic word.

  “My mother went to prison,” I continue.

  Her half-smile tightens, flattens to a grimace. “Go on.”

  “I moved out, worked for a little consignment shop. Met Thomas’ mom there. She went home and told him about this ‘cute little brunette’…and the rest is history.”

  Dani’s pale blue eyes pull me in, lined flawlessly in rich brown. Her champagne eye-shadow and bronzer catch the dim light and shimmer. Even as I wonder how she gets her hair that perfect shade of streaky blonde, my eyes travel to the locked door. My mind snaps back into fear mode and I suck at air like I’m drowning. I can’t even pretend to be chill in this situation.

  What if Dani had someone lock us in on purpose? What if she’s the serial killer? I study her face for signs of guilt and her eye twinges. I will my hand to form a fist, but can’t get my arm to follow-up and punch her.

  “Another thing.” Her voice is soothing and she moves to the bench behind me. “I was in the Marines. You’d never know it, would you? And I learned a little trick.” In one swift move, her arm locks around my neck. I hear her say “chokehold.” All the colors fade to black and white, and then I’m out.

  WHEN I COME TO, DANI‘s taking apart the water unit. Who is this woman?

  I groan from the bench, where she’s stretched me out. “What the stink did you do that for?” I ask.

  She glances at me. “I could tell you were freaked out of your mind and planning to hit me. Knowing your phobia, you might have started flailing around and knocked the one composed person in this room senseless. I just got to you first. Now please lie there and don’t move. I plan to get us out of here somehow.”

  “By disassembling the water feature?”

  “Maybe I can get some pressure built up, then redirect the water flow toward the lock and blow it.”

  “Are you serious? Do you know what you’re talking about or just making it up from a MacGyver episode?”

  She shoots me a glare. “Have a little faith in me.”

  I have to admit that Dani has provided a major focal point for my anxiety. Now I’m more stressed about what she’ll do next than the possibility of dying in this locked sauna.

  “No…wait…” She pulls wires and tubing as she talks herself through it. “This should go here…”

  “How about we try smashing through again? Maybe we didn’t ram it hard enough.”

  “What did I say? You have to—”

  A click interrupts her. Someone’s shoving the lock back. Dani drops everything, grabbing the poker faster than I can say scat. She’s at my side, poker raised, when the door opens.

  The person standing on the other side does not compute in my fear-fogged brain.

  Towering man with white-blond hair, chiseled chin, and muscles not even vaguely hidden by his green polo shirt. Thick German accent as he says, “Tess Spencer. Now I have found you.”

  Before I can say a word, Dani swings at him like a wildcat in a cage. He catches the poker with one hand. He could probably bend it in two if he wanted.

  Axel Becker, enigmatic local florist and my personal college stalker, has walked back into my life.

  14

  YOUR MOTHER FOUND OUT I work at Woolworth’s and came to visit, bearing what I assume was a conciliatory loaf of banana walnut bread. I do not want to make up and make nice. This is a separation, the point being that we stay separate.

  I will make this short, but do not tell her where I am living. I know she’d probably never darken the door at Hope’s Grove Commune, but you never know. She is furious she can’t visit you. Of course you might sentimentally want to see her again, but you need to understand mothers don’t always know best. Sometimes fathers do. I will lie low and write again in a few months. In the meantime, don’t tell anyone where I am.

  AXEL DOESN’T SEEM FAZED in the least after being attacked by a swimsuit-clad woman. He opens the door wide so we can both exit. Dani refuses to go anywhere near him, standing her ground in the sauna. He remains silent, assuming I’ll explain.

  It’s tricky, because I don’t know much about Axel except that he shows up at opportune times and has a knack of saying remarkable things to me. Also, he happens to be the most incongruous florist I’ll ever meet. But given the savage look in Dani’s eyes, which doesn’t jibe at all with my surfer-girl image of her, I’d better talk fast. I walk out of the room that has become my worst nightmare and into the fresh air of the hallway.

  “Don’t worry, I know him. Axel Becker, owner of Fabled Flowers over in Point Pleasant. We went to the same college in South Carolina. Although I don’t know how he got into the spa.”

  Dani nods furiously. “Yes. Kindly explain how and why you came in here, Axel Becker.”

  Axel’s voice is calm and deep. “Tess works here. I saw the car that is hers. I knocked but heard no answer. Around the building I walked, and came through the door by your pool for swimming.” His German accent gets more pronounced the longer he speaks.

  “Someone left the back door open? I know I locked it. This doesn’t make sense.” Dani stalks past Axel and retrieves her phone from her tote. I figure she’s calling Detective Tucker.

  Axel’s whole story is suspicious. Maybe he was the one who locked us in. But why would he let us out? I glare at him. “Why were you following me all the way up here?”

  Axel gestures toward the reception room. “Come, sit.”

  “Hang on a minute. I have to get my things first.” I go to the locker room to change and strap on my gun, which gives me no small measure of relief.

  So much for Detective Tucker’s empty promise to keep me from danger. I suppose this was partly my fault. I didn’t check the back door. I didn’t bring my gun into the sauna. I let my phobia get the better of me. Right now I feel utterly defeated. I should probably quit my job and stay home with my daughter, which is what I’d rather do—just forget about Thomas’ student loan payments. But again, the dead woman’s words sound in my ears as if she were standing right here. She bravely chased after a better life, only to die in the process. I don’t want to see any other women die.

  When I meet Axel in the reception room, he begins to explain. “Upon my return from Germany, I wanted to review the latest happenings. In the news article on the Crystal Mountain Spa, I observed that you were an employee. Today I wanted to offer floral decoration for the interior, if the owner showed interest.”

  I had forgotten The Buckneck Daily did a news feature on the spa last year. Tawny didn’t cover it, but the reporter who did co
uldn’t write worth a lick. On top of that, our staff picture was so pixelated it was barely recognizable. Axel must have been using a magnifying glass to figure out it was me. Still, I think I believe him. He helped me out last year when I was tracking a killer.

  Dani stalks in, fully dressed and talking up a blue streak on her phone. I should call Thomas or try and get home. I think I can drive, but I still feel woozy even while I’m sitting down.

  From the sound of things, Dani isn’t talking with Detective Tucker, but rather reaming Teeny out.

  I look up into Axel’s concerned eyes. “You’ll have to ask Dani about the flowers. I appreciate your help, but I need to go home. I have a daughter now—Miranda Brooke.”

  “Miranda Brooke Spencer.” He smiles. “It is blessed that you are given this child. I will send flowers.”

  I shake my head. Thomas doesn’t care for Axel, to put it mildly. “No need for flowers. By the way, when did you come back from Germany?”

  He hesitates only slightly, then says, “This past month.”

  Dani drops her phone into her tote, then stares blankly out the window.

  “Perhaps I could provide flowers for this spa,” Axel says to her back.

  She turns, obviously not registering his words. “Yes…maybe. Tess, could you call Detective Tucker? I don’t have his number.”

  “Sure. Didn’t you call him? Or did you just talk with Teeny?”

  “Only to Teeny.” She changes the subject. “I’ll close up. Why don’t you wait at your car for me? Then we’ll leave at the same time.” She ignores Axel.

  “Of course.” I start to stand and wobble a bit. Axel extends his hand, helping me up. He doesn’t creep me out the way Byron does for some inexplicable reason.