by Alexx Andria
I wanted to see the life drain from the eyes of Rachel’s killer. I wanted to tear into their flesh and rend them from head to toe. My grief eclipsed the horror of my own vicious thoughts.
How could this happen? Nothing exciting happened in Diablo Falls. Hell, we lived in a fucking bubble where not even good cell service could penetrate but at least that bubble was supposed to be safe.
My world was tipping on its axis. Nothing was safe. Now the bubble felt like a cage and I had to get out.
“I have to go,” I said, breaking away from my mother’s embrace.
“Where are you going?” she asked, worried. “You’re not even dressed, sweetheart.”
I didn’t care. I just needed space. I needed to think. I needed to grieve.
I walked out the front door in spite of my parents’ protest that I was only wearing my pajamas and stumbled into the early morning sun, squinting against the onslaught to my eyeballs.
Rachel was my center, my touchstone, my spirit sister even though we were polar opposites. She made me belly laugh at stupid shit and we understood each other like no one else.
Gone?
I couldn’t process that word or what that meant to my life.
I took for granted that we’d head off to college together, get drunk a few times at frat parties, spend too much money on crap we didn’t need, and post endless selfies with cringy hashtags that later in life we’d roll our eyes and regret.
Yeah, all those things I was looking forward to doing with my partner-in-crime by my side and now…it was all gone like a puff of smoke in a stiff wind.
How could someone do something so awful to Rachel? Deep down, Rachel was a softie even though she always got accused of being an asshole.
“It’s my RBF,” she’d complained as she examined herself with dissatisfaction in the mirror. “I swear I scare off more people just by being silent than I ever do by talking to them.” She finished with a whiny, “I’m really a nice person.”
Yes, I choked up, remembering. You were a really nice person, Rach. Fuck anyone who couldn’t see that.
Who could possibly want to hurt her?
Animal attack, my ass. There hadn’t been a wild animal attack in Diablo Falls in ages. In fact, for being nestled beneath the Devil’s Crown, two mountain ranges that formed a rather menacing rock formation, our animals were decidedly well-behaved.
I was losing it.
My bare feet barely registered the rough terrain as I walked blindly away from my house. Where was I going? I hadn’t a clue. All I knew was I couldn’t stand there as grief swamped me while my parents helplessly watched me drown.
They didn’t believe me when I said it had to be murder. They were content to believe the cops but I wasn’t. I couldn’t accept what I knew in my heart to be complete bullshit. Someone had to fight for Rachel and if not me, then who?
I knew her best. My best friend didn’t hike. Rachel was counting down the days when she traded in her ‘idyllic, small-town childhood’ for a new life in a cement jungle. I hadn’t been as excited to hit the city but I was looking forward to new adventures.
Now? All trash. Everything was shit. I couldn’t possibly leave for college without her. To leave without Rachel felt like a crime against humanity.
I stumbled to my knees as my legs gave out. I crumpled to the pavement, sobbing. I didn’t care that I was in the roadway. I couldn’t feel anything but waves of grief crashing over me.
“Rachel,” I cried, my head bowing. “What happened? What the fuck happened to you?”
I wasn’t going to get an answer but I couldn’t stop asking until my voice was hoarse.
I don’t know how long I stayed that way. Time lost all meaning.
I’d lost a piece of my heart.
And there was nothing I could fucking do about it.
Lyric
The next few days were a blur. Before I knew it, I was sitting with my family, a row behind Rachel’s family, at her funeral.
A large framed picture dominated the area next to an empty casket, huge floral sprays filling the small church with the faint scent of roses.
I stared at the casket, angry at the lie. They should’ve held a memorial, not a funeral. She wasn’t in that box. There hadn’t been enough pieces of her left to put back together. My best friend had been cremated. She was nothing but ash inside an urn above the mantel.
But her parents wanted to keep up appearances. They wanted to pretend that what’d happened was just a freak accident and that she hadn’t been torn to bits.
My input hadn’t been appreciated either.
“Lyric,” George McCormick had said, “we appreciate your fervor but we have to accept the facts — as horrific as the facts may be, it’s the circle of life.”
“Circle of life? No! Mr. Cormick, Rachel hate the outdoors. She never would’ve been outside in the middle of the night, much less hiking around for laughs. She really hated everything about getting dirty or sweaty unless she thought it would drop a dress size.”
I tried to appeal to their logic and sense of reason but they weren’t open to listening to anything. They just wanted to close the door and move on.
“She’s gone and nothing is going to bring her back,” George said sharply. “We need to process our grief and it’s not going to do anyone any good if we’re stuck in a grieving phase by holding onto false hope.”
As if it there that easy. Why was I the only one who seemed to care?
I didn’t know what he was talking about but it sounded like a bunch of bullshit to me. I would never be so disrespectful but my broken heart wasn’t so interested in respecting boundaries.
“If you knew her at all you’d know that something isn’t right. She was murdered.”
“That’s enough,” Maryann McCormick snapped, her red-rimmed eyes the only give away that she’d been crying. In all other ways, she was impeccable. “We shall see you at the funeral, Lyric. Until then, we need some space.”
And here we are.
Dabbing at my eyes, I listened with a numb mind to the pastor say his thing, droning on about Rachel ‘moving on to a better place’ and that she was with ‘the heavenly father’ but I didn’t want her to be off this earthly plane. I wanted her here — with me.
A bubble of grief threatened to squeeze the life out of my chest. I couldn’t listen much longer. I was going to go stark raving mad and make a scene. I murmured to my mom, “I need some air” and quietly excused myself before I could ruin the moment with my own heart-rending sorrow.
Standing outside the church, I gulped in deep breaths of sweet, pine-scented air and tried not to dissolve into a sobbing, snotty mess of human sadness.
My vision blurred. For a second I thought I saw Rachel standing across the road, staring at me. I sucked in a sharp breath and rubbed at my eyes. She was gone.
I hiccuped and shook my head. I was losing it. First I was dreaming I was some kind of animal and now I was seeing things that weren’t there. Terrific. I’d like to order my white suit with the funny straps in a size medium, please.
“You were her friend.”
I jumped and bit back a yelp at the sudden appearance of a strong, bearded man with impossibly dark eyes and a presence about him that immediately made my skin tingle with awareness. “Where the fuck did you come from?” I asked, not even caring that I was being rude. “And who are you?”
He seemed to remember his manners and introduced himself with a somewhat stern countenance. “Sorry, my name’s Beckham Carter but my friend’s call me Beck.”
I sniffed as I wiped my eyes. “Well, we’re not friends and I’m kinda going through a painful moment so if you wouldn’t mind,” I shooed him away and hoped he took the hint but he didn’t budge. I cast an incredulous look. “Seriously, dude, funerals are not the place to practice your Tinder game. I’m not in the mood.”
“My apologies. I’m not here for a social reason. I should’ve been more specific…I’m investigating your friend’s murder.�
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That got my attention. “You’re with the police?”
“Special unit,” he answered somewhat evasively. “Would you mind talking to me about your friend?”
My gut was telling me to keep walking but I desperately wanted to share my fears with someone with the capacity to do something about my belief that Rachel’s death hadn’t been an accident.
“Can I see some credentials, please?” I asked, remembering some common sense. He flashed a badge of some sort, not that I would know what to look for, and ignored my misgivings to nod. “Where do you want to meet? At the station?”
“Too crowded. I’m planning to check out the crime scene. Do you want to come with me?”
Alarm bells flashed in my head. Sure, Mr. Stranger, walking in the woods with you where my best friend was just murdered sounds like a swell idea. NOT. “I don’t think so,” I murmured, suppressing a shudder. “I’d rather meet at the station.”
“I’m batting a thousand here. My family has always accused me of being terrible with my social cues. Look, I know coming to the funeral can be considered in poor taste but to be honest, I’m one of the few who believe your friend was murdered and I’m not getting a lot of support from my superiors. They want this case dropped. I want justice for your friend.”
As much as I liked what he was saying, I had to wonder, “Why? Did you know Rachel?”
“No but I have a theory that she’s the victim of a serial killer who has slipped through the cracks by making the murder look like an animal attack.”
“I don’t recognize you. Are you from Diablo?”
He didn’t look happy to answer that question. When he admitted, “No” I knew why.
I didn’t have the patience to deal with this kind of fuckery right now. “You’ve got one chance to be honest with me or I start screaming my head off,” I warned. “Are you with some special police unit or are you just messing with me?”
He exhaled as if irritated that I kept asking questions but answered, “I am but not from around here” I gave him a hard stare and continued with renewed urgency “but I can promise you I’m not trying to mess with you. I’m with a special unit that tracks things that are not quite easily explained.”
“FBI?”
“Private agency.”
“Great.” I rolled my eyes. “So you’re like an amateur sleuth who specializes in the weird. Like an X-Files wanna-be knock-off. No thanks. I think I’ll just grieve for my friend in private and you can be on your way.”
He’d lost me with the whole fake special unit crap. I wasn’t born yesterday and today was a shit sandwich so he could take that nonsense he was peddling and shove it up his ass.
I started to walk back into the church but he grabbed my arm to stop me. A sound much like a snarl ripped from my mouth and I was more shocked than him. “Don’t fucking touch me,” I warned, bristling all over. I’d never felt more savage than in that moment. In my current frame of mind, I could’ve ripped his arms off and beat him with them. “You have two seconds to leave before things get real ugly.”
He released me but he didn’t back down. The air between us crackled with an unknown energy. Out of the corner of my eye I caught a kaleidoscope of colors edging my vision.
Great, a stroke is all I need right now. I narrowed my gaze resisting the urge to bare my teeth and show off the grillwork my parents had paid an exorbitant amount of money to provide. But my teeth didn’t feel small and harmless — somehow they felt larger, sharper in my mouth.
Yeah, definitely a stroke. Maybe I’d be joining Rachel in the big house in the sky to chill with The Heavenly Father before I realized.
Beckham’s tone became more insistent. “More people will die if you don’t help me. I don’t have time to coddle you and handle this the PC way, especially when there’s nothing in the rulebooks that says how to handle situations like this.”
“Situations like what?” I asked, still not buying what he was selling. Why couldn’t the normal cops have taken the same interest as Mr. Nut Job here? “You’re not making any sense and my patience is just about through.”
“Things aren’t what they seem in Diablo Falls,” he said. “Surely, you’ve noticed that on your own?”
“Yeah, it’s part of our charm,” I replied with a flip shrug. “What’s that got to do with my friend’s murder?”
Impatience ringed his tone as he queried, “Been having any weird dreams lately?”
I startled, a cold chill washing over me. How did he know about my dreams? I swallowed but lifted my chin, could be coincidence, or he could be fishing for a reaction. “Only when I eat pizza before bed,” I answered, using Rachel’s excuse. “Anything else?”
He shook his head as if realizing something. “You don’t know yet.” He stepped away as if he didn’t have the time to educate me or have this particular conversation. He met my gaze without fear and said in an ominous tone, “You will soon. Come find me when you do.”
What the hell was he talking about? “You’re nuts. Get the hell out of here before I call the real cops.” I walked away and this time he didn’t stop me. I took one final glance before I reentered the church but Beckham Carter was gone.
Lyric
“You must be Rachel’s beloved friend, Lyric,” a lithe woman dressed in a colorful sheath that whispered around her body when she moved as if it were alive. Before I could answer, she pressed a soft kiss on both my cheeks, her eyes warm with understanding and comfort. “She spoke so highly of you.”
What an awkward moment, I had no clue who this tall, strangely beautiful woman was or who she was to Rachel. “Thank you, she was a special human being,” I agreed with a murmur. “And who are you?”
The woman extended a slim, pale hand, “Belinda Ergo. Pleasure to meet you finally.”
I nearly recoiled but the good manners ground into me by my parents kept me from jerking my hand away as if stung. Rachel hadn’t said anything good about the mysterious Belinda. She blamed Belinda for her parents’ odd decision to make her get a job to learn character.
“Losing Rachel must feel like your heart is broken,” Belinda said, her soft voice appealing to something inside me even though my brain resisted the notion that Rachel had been cozy with this woman. “Grief is a sword that cuts both ways. You must go through it, to get through it.”
Circular logic at best. Also, who talked like that? “I guess so,” I said not wanting to be rude. “You’re friends with the McCormicks?”
“Ahh, yes, more like a spiritual advisor. Maryann sought me out during a particularly trying time and I was happy to help in some small way.”
Yes, I’m sure the fact that the McCormicks were loaded was a nice incentive to lend a hand, too. I nodded and looked for my exit strategy without being too obvious but Belinda seemed in a chatty mood.
“You have the most lovely shade of green eyes, my love. Unusual to see that particular shade. What is your ancestry?”
Like I knew? I was adopted and I knew nothing about my bios. Not that I wanted to know either. My parents were the best and I had no complaints so why would I seek out those who gave me away?
I shrugged in answer. “No clue. I should probably do one of those ancestry DNA things. Probably come out that I’m French or something.”
Belinda reached for my hand before I could stop her. She flipped my palm and traced the lines. My day had gone from bad to cuckoo so why not some lady I didn’t know staring at my hand like she was reading the Sunday paper. Sure. “See anything interesting?” I half-joked.
She closed my palm by curling hers over mine. “You’re a special soul but I’m sure everyone close to you already knows this.”
“Yeah, my parents are pretty happy with me. Well, it was nice to meet you.”
I needed to get away. The hairs were standing on end but I couldn’t explain my feeling. She was nice, in a woo-woo way, but I wasn’t into that scene so it just made me roll my eyes and wonder how many magic mushrooms they’d eaten that day.
I found my parents and assured them I’d be home for dinner. I couldn’t stomach the wake, not when I felt everyone was content to accept the lie that Rachel had been killed by a rogue animal attack.
I had to find some answers — not that I knew where to start — but I knew I wouldn’t find answers sitting around crying. My life had changed in the blink of an eye and I was spinning like a top trying to find my bearings. Maybe if I found justice for Rachel, I could find my center again.
Maybe.
Or maybe I was deluding myself into believing anything would be normal again because I needed to cling to some kind of illusion if I was going to survive my own grief.
I climbed into my car, ready to blow this scene. My fingers tap danced on the steering wheel as I waited for the AC to cool off the car. People thought because we were surrounded by trees that it must not get too hot here — wrong. Sometimes Diablo Falls felt like the Devil’s asshole it was so fucking hot.
The only saving grace was that we had bad ass swimming holes and ways to cool off that kept us from incinerating into burnt crisps.
Rachel and I used to love to pack an ice chest and go to a local swimming spot where we could always count on seeing someone we knew.
The river ran cold and fast but by summer it was safe to swim.
We spent many a summer with bikinis and sunglasses on, getting our tan on. Great times.
I blinked back my tears. Nope, can’t cry all day. No time for that.
I detoured to the police station. Maybe the squeaky wheel gets the grease. If I refused to let the subject go, they’d have to keep investigating. At least that was my rationale as I pushed the double glass doors open and walked into the air conditioned lobby of the station.
“I need to speak with a detective,” I said firmly. I wasn’t going to take no for an answer. The attending dispatch officer manning the front desk gave me a bored look that I didn’t appreciate. “It’s about a murder,” I clarified.
“You have information on a murder?” she asked, her gaze narrowing. “And whose murder would that be?”
