by Willow Rose
Holly stops and takes in a deep breath before she continues. “I had a few very good years after that. But three years later, my doorbell rang one night when my parents were out of town. I went to open the door, and there she was.”
“AK?”
“Her hair was different. It had been colored blonde and had grown long. She looked completely different. Her clothing was very different. But her eyes were the same. There was maybe even more anger in them.”
“Was she alone?” I ask.
Holly shakes her head. “No. They were all there. All the girls from back then. They were right there next to her. I think they didn’t really want to be there, but who says no to AK, right? They were terrified of her. She was out of control. If you said no, she would beat you up or cut you with the razorblade she often kept between her teeth. You just didn’t say no.”
“So, what did they want?” I ask.
“They were all giggling and laughing, and I think they were on something. They told me AK had come back to hang out with them tonight and that she would be gone in the morning. She told me she’d changed her name to Liz, I believe it was. That she lived far away now, but tonight she was back. Let’s go have some fun while I’m here, I remember she said. While she spoke, she flashed her razorblade between her teeth, and I knew there was no saying no. It was too dangerous. They persuaded me to take them out on my dad’s boat. They brought a lot of booze with them, and for a few hours we sailed the canals, drinking, listening to music, and fishing. For the first couple of hours, I thought I was going to be all right. That as long as I played along during this night, then AK would be gone in the morning, and I wouldn’t have to see her again. But, of course, I was wrong. Suddenly, AK told me to take the boat to the ocean. I told her I had no clue how to do it, that you had to go through the lock system, and I wasn’t sure you could do that at night. Nonsense, AK said. The lock is open till 9:30. Naturally, I had to give in to them, and we made it through right before the lock closed. We sailed into the ocean, and I was terrified, since I knew there was no way we could get back that same night. We would have to wait till it opened again at six in the morning. Were we going to be sailing the ocean until then, or what was their plan? I didn’t dare to ask. I just went with what they told me to. I wasn’t even sure there was enough gas in the boat to keep us going till the morning. The onshore winds were strong, and as soon as we sailed out of the canals, we hit rough seas. The boat was thrown back and forth in the waves. AK thought it was hilarious and wanted to start spearfishing. I told her she had to be in the ocean to do it, but she pulled one out from one of the compartments and aimed it at me for fun. They all laughed. AK drank heavily from a bottle of vodka and shot the gun out in the ocean. She didn’t hit anything, but they all laughed, and she pulled back the spear. I tried to steer the boat and stay as close to shore as possible, so we could get in in case anything happened. I prayed and hoped the Coast Guard would find us. Maybe they would stop us. I was so afraid. When we had sailed down the coast in darkness for a little while, they suddenly surrounded me. AK was holding the spear gun and aiming it at me. What are you doing? I asked. Getting rid of an unwanted smell around here, she said. And I am not talking about the stench of fish. No, it’s the smell of betrayal! I don’t remember much of what happened after that, but I do remember someone coming up from behind me with a fishing knife, slicing my clothes into pieces, and cutting my back. Then I remember them pushing me to the floor of the boat and AK holding the knife, then stabbing me in the shoulder, and cutting me here on the throat and on the arm. They tied my legs and arms and cut off my pants. I remember screaming and the boat tipping back and forth. I remember somehow getting to my feet and jumping overboard, thinking I could swim to the shore. I was right. Luckily, the rope they tied around my hands came off in the water, so I could use my arms to swim. I thought I had lost them, that I had gotten away, but the girls followed me. They all abandoned the boat and jumped in the water. They came after me with the spear gun. I crawled on shore at Lori Wilson Park and ran across the parking lot, blood running from all my wounds. I almost made it to A1A when they shot the gun and it went straight through my leg. That’s the last thing I remember. I woke up in the hospital and was told that a police officer had found me. I never dared to tell anyone what had really happened. Except my parents, who made sure we moved immediately afterwards. They too were scared that they might come back for me. Luckily, they never did.”
I stare at Holly while she tells her story. I feel appalled. I am so angry with AK I can barely contain it.
“So, why do you think they did it? Why do you believe they turned on you like that? Because you spoke to the police?” I ask.
“Sure. I wasn’t the only one who did, nor was I the only one who got punished for it,” she says.
“What?”
“I have a feeling you remember Ally?”
Chapter Eighty
September 2015
“We need to find Ally. Ally Meyer.”
I am back at Chloe’s house. Salter is still at the computer. I decide now is not the time to feel guilty for letting him play on the computer all day. There is no time for all that. It has to wait till later.
Chloe doesn’t even look up at me. She stares at her screen and lets her fingers dance across the keyboard. “Ally Meyer?” she asks, surprised.
Chloe finally looks up at me. Her eyes are loaded with pity. I hate when people look at me like that. I used to see it all the time back then. That was one of the reasons I pulled away from my friends, from the crew.
“There’s a name from our past I thought I’d never hear again,” she says. “Are you sure you want to find her?”
“Yes,” I say. “I have to.”
“But…”
“I know. She was the one who was with AK when she shot my mother,” I say. “They broke into our house. She was the only one who was captured. She told the police everything that happened. My dad decided to not press charges against her, since she wasn’t the one who had fired the gun. She was just a kid, and she had, after all, cooperated with the police. He didn’t want to ruin the rest of her life. All I know is that she and her mother moved after that. I don’t know where to.”
“And you’re absolutely sure you want to find her, right?” Chloe asks.
“Yes. I need to talk to her. Holly told me she was attacked by AK and her gang in ‘95 like she was. As a punishment for having talked to the police. I’ve convinced Holly to testify against her and tell what happened. I want to do the same with Ally. I believe she owes me. I need to get to her before AK does. I believe she is killing off all witnesses from back then. Anyone who has something on her, anyone who might be able to testify against her…who knows her real identity. She is cleaning up.”
“So that’s why she killed Coraline, Jean, and Cassie as well?” Chloe asks.
“That’s my theory, yes. I believe Jamilla Jenkins might have had something on her as well, maybe threatened to tell about what she’s doing now. Like what she did to Joanne’s son, Billy. She hasn’t changed. Still leaves a trail of death and destruction behind her. I need to stop her. I believe she is coming for me as well. She’s wanted me dead ever since…well, for as long as I can remember.”
Chloe draws in a deep breath. She knows my story. I don’t have to explain to her. She knows what I am up against.
“I got what I believe is her mother’s address,” she says. “They didn’t move very far. Melbourne Beach. She bought a house there in 1992. It’s worth a shot. Her mother’s name is Janice Meyer.”
I grab my purse and look at Chloe. “Could he stay here again?”
“Sure. But is it wise to go alone?” Chloe asks.
I hesitate. Is she right?
“I mean, you haven’t seen her since back then, have you?” she says.
In the flash of a second, I see her again. Standing in my living room next to AK, who is holding the gun. I feel the anger; I feel the frustration all over again. “No, but that
doesn’t mean that I…”
“You’re not going alone,” Chloe says, and hands me her phone. “Call Sandra. I believe she’s not doing anything today. She can go with you and make sure you behave. It’s okay to admit that you need someone, you know. No man is an island. Or woman.”
I nod and grab the phone. Chloe is right. I hate to admit it, but she is. I call Sandra and she tells me she just needs to run to Publix first, then she’ll be ready to go.
I pick her up half an hour later at her house. She has a bag in her hand. “I brought some supplies for our little road trip,” she says with a smile. She opens the bag and shows its contents to me. I laugh.
“You remember how we used to munch on this when we went on surf trips to Sebastian Inlet, or when we went to all my competitions in Melbourne Beach? My God, it’s a long time ago. You know what I remember? You were there every time. The others came now and then to cheer me on, but you, you were there every weekend to cheer for me. I’ll never forget that.”
“What can I say? I loved to watch you surf. Even more, I loved to see you kick those other kids’ butts.”
Sandra smiles and I start the car.
“Are you even allowed to have chips and root beer? Don’t you have to keep to your strict model diet to keep you looking like a stick?” I ask teasingly. “Don’t you have that big shoot coming up…who is it again, Elle magazine?”
Sandra shrugs. “It’s Vogue, and yes, but what can I do? A girl’s gotta live a little, right?”
Chapter Eighty-One
September 2015
Liz rushes back to her house after her day is over. She feels so empowered, so strong after a day at the shooting range. Nothing beats a good day of shooting targets. And Liz is the best at it. The best on the entire base, as a matter of fact. That’s what has given her this great career with the army for the past twenty years. She has been living on bases all over the world since she enlisted, or since the general enlisted her.
As she walks into her house, she thinks about the time she met him at that cabin on the beach. He saw something in her back then. He saw a potential that nobody else could, not even herself. When Ally escaped and he ran after her, Liz thought about running too. She was terrified of him, afraid he would hurt her, but something made her stay. Today, she still doesn’t know if it was simply the fact that she had nowhere else to go, that the cabin was the best hiding place, or if it was because she liked the general even though he terrified her. But once he came back and told her Ally had been arrested, she was glad she had made the decision to stay.
“Now it’s just you and me,” the general said. “You can choose to leave like your friend, run into the arms of the police, or you can stay here with me. I think I can make something of you. But only if you want to.”
Liz stayed at the cabin for a week. The general knew so many people, and soon he came back and provided an entire new identity for her.
“Your name is now Liz Hester. Here’s your passport and your social security number. When you’re seventeen, I’ll enlist you in the army and you’ll work for me. I’ll make a soldier of you. I’ll make an excellent soldier of you.”
She never dared to ask where he got the new papers for her, and to this day, she didn’t know.
Liz sits down in a chair in her living room. She doesn’t have much furniture. She doesn’t need it. There isn’t much in life she needs. Still, she never feels satisfied, she never feels complete.
Liz walks to the kitchen and grabs a glass of water. She drinks it while looking out on the street. A neighbor walks her dog. She is one of the stay-at-home moms that Liz loathes so much. She wants to pick up her gun and use the woman as a target. Start with the dog. Liz shapes a gun with her fingers and pretends to shoot her.
Liz is sick of feeling this way, of trying to find satisfaction in what will never fulfill her. She knows what she needs to do. She knows there is only one way for her if she wants to feel complete. She has been thirsting for this for so long. Thirsting for her revenge. She knows all the things she does, the things she has done throughout her life have only been substitutes for what she really wanted to do, who she really wanted to hurt.
Her phone rings. She picks it up. It’s the general. He is coming over, he says. Half an hour later, he is at her house. As usual, he grabs her by the throat and pushes her up against the wall as soon as she opens the door. Then he pulls down her pants and has sex with her up against the wall. Liz doesn’t enjoy it. She never has. But she has to do it. It’s part of the deal they made back then. It’s why he protects her. She thought that it would stop when he married her old school friend Olivia, but it never did. Olivia is for show. She is there for him to bring to parties and official gatherings. She’s his trophy. It’s Liz he comes for when he has other needs. Liz doesn’t protest, even though it has been going on for twenty-something years. This way, no one can ever touch her. Having the general on her side makes her invincible. If she gets herself in trouble, he fixes it. He makes sure it goes away. It’s their deal, their understanding. Just like he made everything go away back when they first met at the cabin. He even beat his own wife when she said she knew who Liz really was and threatened to tell the police one day when they had an argument. The general can take care of anything. Nothing is too big. At least it hasn’t been so far.
While he finishes himself, Liz wonders if he will be able to clean up after her this time. When she is done with her little plan.
Maybe it doesn’t matter.
Chapter Eighty-Two
September 2015
It feels so good to be hanging out with Mary again. Sandra looks at her and smiles. It’s been way too long. She misses her old friend. She has missed her terribly.
“Oh, my God, I absolutely love this song,” Mary says, and turns up the radio really loud.
Nirvana and Smells Like Teen Spirit bursts out of the loudspeaker in the rental car. Immediately, they’re both taken back in time. Mary starts to sing and Sandra chants along.
“Hello, how low…Hello, how low…”
Soon, they’re both belting out loudly while memories flash in over them both. Sandra thinks about them driving in Danny’s old beat up pick-up truck, all their surfboards in the back, the guys head banging with the long hair they had back then when everyone talked about grunge and wore flannel, even though it was way too hot in Florida. They would just cut off the sleeves and the guys wouldn’t button their shirts.
Sandra chuckles at the memory. Then she remembers how in love she was with Alex. She wonders for a second why it never happened between them. Well, she knows. It’s very simple, really. She chose her career over him. Fame and fortune. He would only hold her back, her parents said. The whole world was asking for her at that point. When she finally came back, he had married someone else. Maria. How Sandra loathes her. Not that she is entitled to. She made her choice.
She lets the thought go as Mary pulls up in front of a house and stops the engine.
“This should be it.”
Sandra looks at the yellow two-story house across from the beach. On the porch, there is an old swing. Sandra always wanted that. She always dreamt about having a porch with a swing that she could sit on with all of her children and one day grandchildren. Suddenly, she can’t remember why she never had children. It was her dream. It was what she wanted. But, it doesn’t combine well with her career. Besides, Ryan isn’t that interested in children.
“Let’s go talk to them,” Mary says, and gets out of the car.
Sandra follows her. She envies Mary so much for having both a career and a child. She even envies her for not having to care about her weight or how she looks. Sandra is sick of having to be on a constant diet. Right now, she eats nothing but raw food. It helps with her complexion and she needs to because of the shoot, but indulging herself in a bag of chips like she allowed herself to on the way here, felt so good. She misses it. She misses feeling alive. Misses enjoying her life.
Mary rings the doorbell, but no one an
swers. She rings it again, then opens the screen door and knocks on the door. Sandra can sense how it annoys her that no one answers.
“I don’t think they’re home,” Sandra says.
They walk back to the car, Mary visibly annoyed, when someone walks towards them on the street with a dog on a leash. Sandra stops and pets the dog.
“Is it an Australian Shepherd?” she asks.
“Why, yes. As a matter of fact it is,” the woman answers. “Not many people guess that.”
“I love dogs. Have a Chihuahua at home.”
“That’s nice.”
“Say, do you live around here?” Sandra asks.
“Yes, I do. I live right over there in the green house.”
“We’re looking for Janice Meyer. Do you know if she still lives in this house?” Sandra asks and points at the house behind her. Mary approaches them now, suddenly interested.
“Oh, she died five years back, I believe it was. Cancer. It spread. You know how it is.”
Sandra nods in sympathy.
“Do you know what happened to her daughter?” Mary asks.
The woman smiles and nods. “Sure. She lives there now. Took over the house when her mother died. Keeps mostly to herself.”
