Where the Wild Roses Grow

by Willow Rose

  I had seen the Internet cafe when we were driving around town, and I entered, paid for an hour on one of their computers, and sat down.

  I remembered that Fiona Delaney had met her killer on an online dating service and I remembered which one, since it had been written in the police file. I had no experience with Match.com, but how hard could it be to find this guy? If he still had a profile, of course.

  I found the page, then tried to log in as Fiona Delaney. People had a tendency to not be very creative when choosing their passwords, and there was a list of combinations I always tried. The first was simply password. You’d be surprised at how many people used that as their password. But that wasn’t it. Then I tried 1234, then 123456, then 12345678, but it wasn’t any of those either. Next on my checklist was abc123, then qwerty, then letmein. But it wasn’t any of those either. Fiona had been smarter than I gave her credit for. I sighed and leaned back in the chair, trying to think about what she could have used. What was dear to her?

  I realized I didn’t know much about Fiona. I had met her mother and she had told me things about her. I knew she worked as a nurse at the hospital. I wrote nurse, then nurse123, and suddenly I was welcomed in. I went through her incoming mail from men. She had made this very easy for me, since she had only been in contact with a few men. And she had only exchanged more than three mails with one of them. His profile name was Mike_37. His profile picture was nice. He was quite handsome, I thought to myself. His emails to Fiona were sweet. They had been writing to one another for at least a year, to my surprise. There was nothing in the correspondence about them meeting, but I wondered if they had started to communicate outside of the dating site. You had to at some point, right? Meet more privately in emails and Facebook?

  I realized I had no idea how these things worked anymore, how dating worked. I hoped that I would stay with Morten for the rest of my life. I wanted to grow old with him. I never ever wanted to get out into this market again.

  I remembered Mike’s profile, then exited Fiona’s profile and reentered the site creating my own profile, calling myself Emily_38. It wasn’t very creative, but it was the best I could come up with. I found a picture online of someone really nice looking and used it as my profile picture. I guessed everyone else did the same, right? After all, we did have some similarities. Except she weighed like eighty pounds less than me.

  “Doesn’t matter,” I said, and made sure the profile picture only showed her face. It was all about attracting this guy and getting him out of the bushes, right? Find out who he was as fast as possible before I ended up in prison for what he had done. I knew it contradicted my theory that there was a connection between these murders, but I had to try it. In case they weren’t connected. In case they were coincidental. In case he was just some maniac, killing women he dated. I had to know in order to rule it out. And if I got close to him, maybe I would know. Maybe I would be able to figure out what the heck was going on.

  It was a long shot, but it had to be tried.

  I created a message for him, letting him know I was in Enniskerry, that I was traveling through town and saw his profile. I wrote that I wasn’t interested in anything steady or serious, but looking for a good night out on the town, tonight, since I would leave tomorrow. There would be no strings attached.

  Could you be the guy interested in showing a girl a fun night in town?

  72

  May 1978

  “Welcome to your new home.”

  Father Allen smiled as he opened the front door to his house. Violet stared at him from afar. She had heard about Father Allen, and knew he was in charge of the convent, that everything he said was law to the nuns. She had never seen him before and felt very intimidated that he had chosen her.

  “Come on in,” he said.

  Violet walked past him as he held the door for her. Shyly, she bent her head so she wouldn’t look at him. As she passed him, he grabbed her chin and lifted it up. “Such beautiful eyes should be seen,” he whispered.

  Violet swallowed hard. She felt her body trembling. He let her go. She walked inside the gorgeous house. She hadn’t seen this much space since back when she still lived at home.

  “Let me show you around,” he said happily. “This is the kitchen. This is where you’ll be working. You’ll be my housekeeper. You’ll cook and wash the laundry and make sure the house is clean. As your payment, you’ll get your own room downstairs and all the food you can eat. You’ll also be allowed to go to the store to grocery shop and have one day off a week. I don’t want you to leave the property when you’re off, though. Remember, I’m here to keep you out of trouble, okay? Can’t have you getting yourself into trouble again, can we?”

  Violet stared at the man. He had a big beard and wore glasses. He had a nice smile, but smelled like cheese and vanilla. He had been wearing a hat when he came to get her. Now he was taking it off. Underneath his sweater, she could see his collar.

  He grabbed her arm. “I’m going to take good care of you. You’re going to have a great life here.”

  He showed her where she was to sleep, and compared to sleeping between the old dying women, it was a small piece of heaven. Violet was already looking forward to sleeping all night without being woken up by someone coughing or someone having wet their bed, or one of them screaming because she thought she had died. Those were the worst.

  Violet sensed a little ray of hope arise in her and smiled for the first time since she had lost the baby.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  The father smiled too. “I am glad you’re here,” he said. “We’re going to have a great time, the two of us. Now I was thinking we should get something to eat. Are you hungry?”

  Violet sighed. She was. She really was. “I’m starving,” she said.

  The father laughed. “That’s good to hear. I have bread and cheese in the kitchen upstairs. Let’s get you fed up, my girl. You need some meat on those bones. You gotta eat to stay pretty, right?”

  As they walked up the stairs to the kitchen, the father started singing. He had a beautiful voice, Violet thought, while smiling to herself. Maybe she was going to have a great time here? Maybe there was, after all, a life for her, a life outside The Good Shepherd. At least she had gotten out of that place.

  Father Allen prepared a wonderful meal for her with the best bread and cheese that Violet had ever tasted. He even let her have a glass of wine with it.

  “We gotta live a little,” he said, when she hesitated to drink it. She had never tasted wine before. She put her lips on the glass and sipped it. The taste was strong and she wasn’t sure she liked it.

  “Like it, hm?” Father Allen said.

  Violet pretended she did and nodded.

  “Have some more,” he said, and pushed the glass closer to her. He lifted his and clanged it against hers.

  “Sláinte. To us.”

  73

  July 2015

  “You did what?”

  Morten looked at me like I had completely lost it. I had just told him about the message I had sent to Mike_37 when I got back to the hotel. Morten had just woken up and looked like he was still half asleep. Now he was awake, though.

  “I messaged him. I made a fake Gmail account and set it up on my phone. Now I’m just waiting for his answer.”

  “And then what? Are you going on a date with him?” Morten asked.

  “Yes. That was the plan. Get him out of the bushes.”

  “Are you insane?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe. I was just thinking that…”

  Morten jumped up from the bed. “I don’t think you were thinking at all. Why didn’t you run this by me first?”

  “I…you were…you said you wanted to sleep in,” I said.

  “Didn’t you think about how dangerous this is? Didn’t you think about how I would feel about this?”

  “I thought you would think I was being smart. Besides, he hasn’t answered. I hardly think he will. After all, I don’t believe that he kills ra
ndomly. I believe the killings are all related. And, lastly, don’t you think the police have tried to get ahold of him this way?” I asked. “He probably doesn’t even use the account anymore. There is nothing to worry about.”

  Morten calmed down. He knew I was right. There was no way the guy would take the bait.

  “Still,” Morten said, and sat on the edge of the bed. His hair was still messy. It looked cute.

  I approached him and grabbed his face between my hands. Then I leaned over and kissed him. I looked into his eyes when our lips parted.

  “You’re cute when you get jealous,” I said.

  “I’m not jealous,” he said grumpily. “I’m worried about you. I can’t take my eyes of you for even one second before you get yourself in trouble.”

  I let go of him. “That’s not very nice. I thought you were jealous. That would have been more flattering, you know.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “You don’t think anyone could be interested in this?” I said and pointed at my body. My confidence was dropping now.

  “Of course someone would,” he said. “You know I am crazy about you, so of course a lot of other men would be too.”

  It didn’t sound convincing. “But you’re not. You haven’t been crazy about me since I gained weight. You don’t find me attractive, do you?”

  He hesitated. It felt like a blow to my stomach.

  “Oh, my God. You really don’t.”

  “Of course I do. Don’t put words in my mouth,” Morten said. “I love you no matter what you look like. You know that.”

  “You mean despite what I look like.”

  He didn’t deny it. He stared at me like he had no idea what to say. It hurt more than anything, more than if he had actually said to me he thought I was fat and unattractive. The fact that he had simply pretended for so long hurt me like crazy. I wasn’t planning on changing myself. It was one thing that I loathed myself when I looked in the mirror, a lot of women did that, but to know that your boyfriend was appalled by your body was something completely different.

  “I’m sorry,” he tried, but it was too late.

  Way too late.

  I grabbed my phone and looked at my emails. “You better be,” I said. “‘Cause he just answered. He wants to meet. Tonight at eight. Good to know that at least someone out there still finds me attractive.”

  I looked at Morten triumphantly. I didn’t have to tell him it wasn’t my picture on the profile. There was no reason to. He deserved to sweat.

  74

  July 2015

  They had cut it a little too short, Gael Higgins thought to herself. She looked at her reflection in the mirror with a sigh. She liked her hair short like this, but could never make it look great like they did at the hairdressers. Gael had had short hair since she was a teenager. It fit well with her style.

  She had always been a tomboy while growing up, much to her mother’s regret. She had liked to do what boys did, climb trees, skateboard, and wear jeans. She still liked to wear jeans and was planning on putting her favorite pair on for tonight’s date.

  Being gay in the small town of Enniskerry, where most people were Catholic, wasn’t easy. She had tried to hide it, even from herself till she was eighteen, when she finally realized it was no use. She had to admit to herself and everyone else that she was, in fact, in love with her old childhood friend Fiona, whom she went to school with and lived not far from. Gael was two years older than her, but their mothers knew each other well, and Fiona came often to visit, even when they reached their teenage years. Gael had once tried to kiss Fiona in their backyard, but Fiona had screamed and told Gael that it was inappropriate behavior. Gael never tried to kiss her again, and as she turned eighteen, Gael packed her backpack and decided to leave the town. She was gone for two years, where she learned that being gay wasn’t easy anywhere in the world. She might as well be unhappy and gay in Enniskerry as anywhere else in the world. By the time she got back, her mother had gotten sick with breast cancer and had decided she didn’t care that Gael liked girls instead of boys, like a normal woman. She was just happy she was home and that they got to spend time together. And soon the entire town knew that Gael was gay, and as soon as it was out in the open, they stopped talking about it. Gael figured it was no longer as interesting.

  But since she was probably the only gay person in town, it was hard for Gael to find a partner. She had tried dating sites, and every now and then she took a long trip to Dublin to see if she could meet someone, but still had no luck. And Gael was lonely. Like so many others her age, she desperately needed someone to spend her life with.

  Today she had met someone.

  Not just someone. She had met a girl. No, a woman. She had met a gorgeous woman. Gael blushed just thinking about her. She had come to the dentist office where Gael worked as an assistant. She had been sitting in the chair when Gael entered and told her the dentist would be right with her. Their eyes had met in a split second, and Gael had gasped at her beauty.

  “Hi there,” the woman had said. “And who might you be?”

  “I’m Gael. I’m just the assistant.”

  “A good looking one as well, might I add.”

  That was the first time Gael had blushed. It had happened a lot just in the short while she had spoken to the woman in the chair. Gael had thought she would never see her again when she left that day, but the next day she came back. She came to the front counter and had asked to see Gael. Then, she had invited her for a cup of coffee. Gael had accepted and asked to have her lunch break early that day. The woman had brought the coffee with her, and they sat on a bench by the river and talked for so long that Gael was late back for work. On the third day, she had come again and asked if she could invite Gael out for dinner the same night, and Gael had accepted without hesitation. She had never been pursued like that before. Usually, she was the one going after the girl. But not this time.

  This time was different.

  Gael smiled at her own reflection and felt fairly happy with what she saw. Her hair wasn’t perfect, but it was alright. She pulled down her newly ironed shirt and tucked it inside of her jeans and closed the belt. She found her sneakers in the hallway and put them on, her wallet in the back pocket of her pants. Nervously, she ran a hand through her hair again and made it stand up. The doorbell rang and she gasped timidly. She threw once last glance at herself in the mirror before she opened the door.

  There she was. Outside in the hallway stood the most stunning woman Gael had ever seen. She couldn’t believe she could be so lucky as to get to spend an evening in her company.

  The woman smiled. “Are you ready?”

  If I die now, at least I will die a happy woman, Lord.

  75

  June 1978

  Violet enjoyed living with Father Allen. He was fun to be around and never beat her. He never punished her when she got things wrong or even yelled at her for being lazy. He never told her she was a bad person for being who she was, or for getting herself in trouble early in her life, not like the nuns had always done, nor did he tell her she was worthless. On the contrary, he kept telling her how wonderful a job she was doing and how beautiful she looked, and Violet grew to like his many compliments. She started to enjoy them so much she wanted to do anything to make him happy.

  He gave her new clothes. Dresses mostly. After a week, Violet had started to gain weight, and she was looking great in the dresses he gave her to wear. She didn’t mind that she had to work in the house. She didn’t mind the cooking and cleaning, because it was for his sake. It was just for him.

  He had also given her books to read. Violet had cried when he had handed her a stack of books. She had missed reading so much. Every time she had half an hour when she didn’t need to do anything around the house, she would sneak into the basement and read. It soon became her escape from her sadness and grief over having lost her child.

  For dinner, they had steaks or fish or whatever the father brought home for her t
o cook. Violet had almost forgotten how great real food tasted. And more than often, they had a glass of wine with their dinner. It made Violet feel grown up and important when they ate together at the dining table in the living room, and he would lift his glass and salute her.

  In the evenings, they would sit by the fireplace, and the father would tell her about his many travels to places all over the world where he went to preach. He was like a rock star and often greeted like one, he told her. But he preferred the quietness of his own home, he said, and that made her feel valuable. Like he wanted to be around her. Like he preferred her. He had already been away on one trip that lasted five days, and she had felt very lonely back at the house, but also enjoyed the fact that he felt comfortable enough with her to leave her alone at the house. He trusted her and she was going to live up to his trust. She wanted to show him that she could do it right. She didn’t have to get herself in trouble again. She could be trusted.

  He was often on TV and talked about God and the church, a lot of things Violet knew nothing about, but she watched him from the living room and thought he had to be the smartest man in the universe.

  One evening at the end of June, Violet sat in the living room listening to Father Allen talk about how he had sung for the Pope once when he had arrived in Ireland and how it had shocked the Catholic Church, something he had repeatedly done through his many years as a priest.

  “Don’t you get in trouble?” Violet asked.

  “Yes,” the father answered, while smoking his pipe. “But they need to be shaken up a little every now and then, don’t you think?”

  Violet liked that. All she knew was the nuns and all their rules and punishment. And her own father had been like that too. Everything had to be done in the right way. But what if someone did things differently? What if there was another way?