The Foxglove Killings

by Tara Kelly

  “What was that?” Cindy’s voice rose.

  “Nothing.”

  “That’s funny. I saw your lips move.”

  Neither of them spoke for a few seconds.

  “Are we done?” Alex asked.

  Cindy’s slippers padded across the floor. “Give me the keys. You’re done going out for the day.”

  There was a pause, as if he hesitated.

  “Now!”

  “I did what you asked me to do. What’s the problem?” Alex’s words were followed by a jingling sound.

  He never pushed things like this. Usually he did whatever she told him to do, just to shut her up.

  “I see you with that girl again and these are gone for good.” The keys clanged together. “You understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Don’t be smart with me. I’ll slap you until you see stars.”

  “Is that what God would want you to do?” Alex’s voice was low, amused. He didn’t even sound like him.

  I winced, expecting to hear the smack of her hand against his skin. It wouldn’t be the first time.

  “If you ever talk to me like that again…” She paused for what felt like forever. “I’ll toss you right out that door. I won’t give it a second thought.”

  Alex said something in a soft voice, almost a whisper. His footsteps headed down the hall. Megan and I backed away from the door.

  Alex’s eyes widened when he saw me standing by his bed. His lips parted, but he didn’t speak. Megan ducked past him, mumbling something I couldn’t make out.

  “I sent you an email,” Alex said, shutting the door. As if that were good enough. As if that were all I was worth to him.

  I folded my arms, pulse rising, stomach twisting. “Yeah? Does it explain what I just saw?”

  He sat on the foot of his bed, keeping his head down. His bangs fell below his cheekbones. I hadn’t noticed how long his hair was getting until now. I hadn’t noticed a lot of things…

  I lowered myself onto the edge of his desk chair, keeping my distance. “What the hell is going on, Alex?”

  He didn’t answer right away. Time froze. It was as if he were at the end of a tunnel, growing more out of reach with every breath.

  “Me and Jenika…” He paused, resting his hand against Riff’s fur.

  I looked away, willing myself to stay quiet, not say a bunch of things I might regret. I kept seeing them together. In his bed. The same bed we’d lie in for hours and talk about life on other planets. The same bed we’d made fun of Jenika on…countless times.

  “We’ve been hanging out,” he continued.

  “Why?” My voice came out in a ragged whisper.

  “I saw her at Grandpa’s grave site, the day after we buried him,” he said. “She had a bouquet of sunflowers.”

  His grandpa’s favorite flower.

  “I guess he used to help her and her mom out sometimes,” he continued. “Fixed their car. Picked up some extra groceries when they needed them.” His voice faltered a little, as if he was holding something back.

  His grandpa wasn’t perfect, but he cared about people. He always looked for the good, even if he didn’t agree with how they lived their lives. “Did Cindy know?”

  Disgust flashed in his eyes. “She would’ve freaked.”

  “So, you guys started talking?”

  “A little. Mostly about him. It was pretty awkward.”

  “What’s it like now?” My eyes went to the trash can again. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.

  “I guess we’re friends.”

  “Really? You deserve an Oscar for that scene at the park, then.”

  He finally looked at me. “I wasn’t acting. She does stupid shit for attention. It pisses me off.”

  My eyes stung. My throat was getting tighter. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

  He hesitated. “I’ve been trying to…”

  “Trying to? You don’t try to tell someone something. You either do or you don’t.”

  He went quiet for a few seconds. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  “That’s it?”

  His eyes flickered up to mine, holding my gaze this time. “I know you, Nova. There’s nothing I can say right now that’s going to make this okay.”

  “How can you be friends with her? After everything.”

  “It wasn’t planned, okay?” He let out a breath. “It was nice having…”

  “Having what?”

  “Someone else to talk to. She gets what I’m going through with…” He motioned toward his door. “You know what her mom is like.”

  Everyone in town knew Jenika’s mom was bipolar and had an addiction to pain pills. She ended up in the hospital years ago when she added alcohol to the mix. Nearly died.

  I wanted to tell him I got it, too, that he could always come to me. But I didn’t get it. I hadn’t lived it… My mom battled depression sometimes, but she’d always picked herself up.

  “The fight with Matt. Was that about impressing her?”

  “What? No.” His forehead furrowed. “That was about getting him to leave me the fuck alone.”

  My fingers tapped against my forearm. The room suddenly felt a hundred degrees. “Does he know about you guys being…friends?”

  “She told him after the fight.” His voice lowered. “Figured it’d help us bury the hatchet, or something.”

  “Of course. You’re good enough to be seen with now.” How could he be so gullible?

  “It’s not like that. She’s not everything you think she is. I wish I could get you guys to—”

  “Oh, yeah. That’s going to happen.”

  “Things haven’t changed between us, Nova.” He leaned over and touched my knee briefly, but I jerked away. “You’re still my—”

  “We were supposed to take the El Camino out for the first time together. Remember? You were going to pick me up and…” It wasn’t what I’d meant to say, and it sounded stupid, even to my own ears. But right now that car ride felt like everything.

  “You were working. I needed it to job-hunt—the only jobs around here are at the Inn. And I’m not working for that fucker.”

  “Doesn’t Jenika work there?” Last I heard she’d gotten a housekeeper job. Easy access to tourists that way. They didn’t mind paying top dollar for mediocre pot.

  He shook his head. “She works at Lucy’s now, down in Tillamook.”

  Lucy’s had been around since the beginning of time, famous for its meat loaf and mashed-potato casserole. “Is she asking Grandma and Grandpa if they’d like a side of weed with that?”

  “She doesn’t deal. That’s a rumor.”

  “And you believe that?”

  He studied my face, his right eye squinting a little. “You know people around here talk a lot of shit. And most of it isn’t true.”

  I couldn’t argue that, so I kept quiet. It didn’t change the person she’d been since we were eight. The things she’d done. Like how she started calling him “bed wetter” in fifth grade and got half our school to believe it was true. Or how she’d mock him whenever he had to give an oral presentation in junior high. His paper would shake in his hands, and he’d speak so softly you could barely hear him. Don’t piss your pants, she’d whisper. Don’t pass out.

  Did he forget that?

  “She knows the manager at the Safeway in Tillamook,” he went on. “She got me an interview with him. For a stock job.”

  “So, she hooks you up with an interview and all’s forgiven?”

  “I never said that.”

  Alex’s door opened suddenly, making me jump. Cindy poked her head inside. “It’s time for you to go home, Nova,” she said.

  “Can we have a second?” Alex asked, keeping his voice light.

  She opened the door wider and glanced at me before disappearing into the shadows of the hallway.

  Neither of us said anything for a minute. My heart kept beating faster, telling me to go. Go now. But I had to ask him.

 
I had to know.

  “Are you working Saturday night?” Alex asked.

  “No.”

  “Let’s take a drive. Just you and me.”

  “Are you and Jenika…”

  The muscle under his right eye twitched, like it always did when he was nervous. I had my answer.

  “Alex!” Cindy called.

  That was my cue. Before even thinking, I got up and snatched the condom wrapper off his floor, pinching the corner between my fingertips.

  I let it fall into his lap, wishing I could’ve said something witty, as if I didn’t care. Instead I said, “You missed the trash.” I folded my arms to hide my trembling hands.

  His eyes flickered up to mine, his cheeks flushing. “Nova…”

  “It’s not my business. We’re not little kids anymore, right?” Whatever he said would make things worse. If he denied being with her, he was probably lying. If he didn’t, it was true.

  I started to walk out of the room, but the sound of his voice stopped me.

  “We’re not going out,” he said. “We just messed around a couple times.” He mumbled the last part, like he wasn’t sure he wanted me to hear it.

  I turned, my hand still on the doorknob. All I heard was “a couple times.” Times.

  He stared back at me, waiting.

  “I feel like I don’t even know you,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

  Then I bolted. Before he could respond. Before the lump in my throat exploded and my breath went jagged. Before I lost all ability to say anything at all.

  Friday, June 27

  You haven’t stopped crying since you got here. You keep making this sound. This high-pitched whine, like a sick dog. You won’t stop.

  Make it stop. Make it stop.

  Make it stop.

  Make it stop.

  Make it stop

  Make it stop

  MAKE IT STOP

  Chapter Eight

  They say you could know a psychopath your whole life and not realize it. Not all of them were killers or even criminals. Some ran companies, some were politicians, some were even doctors and cops. The one thing they had in common was their lack of empathy. They didn’t let emotions make their decisions.

  But they were pretty good at faking it, making us think they were someone else. I’d like to think I’d know the difference.

  Sometimes I wondered if life would be easier without so many feelings. If being able to lock up my emotions would make me stronger, a better investigator one day. What if I lost the key? What if I wanted to lose the key?

  Saturday marked a week since Amber went missing, and there still wasn’t any sign of her. No cell phone. No witnesses. No tips on where she might’ve gone, at least nothing the cops were sharing. It was literally as if she’d evaporated on Winchester Beach that night.

  She’d made the regional news: Seattle Teen Missing on Oregon Coast. Like always, Emerald Cove wasn’t worthy enough to be in the headline. We were another stop along the way. As one tourist put it, “You’ve seen one coastal town, you’ve seen them all.”

  Next to the story was a picture of Amber smiling in front of a Christmas tree, her usual black eyeliner absent.

  People talked about her in urgent voices now, their collective paranoia smothering the diner like a thick fog. A lot of them thought she was the latest victim of the infamous Highway 101 Killer. In the last eighty years, just over a dozen teen girls had gone missing from Astoria, Oregon, to Crescent City, California—all of them last seen in the vicinity of the highway. So far they’d only recovered three bodies.

  The biggest question, of course, was how it could be the same killer. I mean, even if they got a really early start, they’d be close to a hundred by now. Some locals thought it was one family, carrying on their “tradition” from one generation to the next. And then there were the select few who thought the killer was some kind of immortal demon.

  Most of us figured the more recent disappearances were the work of a copycat—maybe more than one. The Oregon coast had an untamable kind of beauty. Moody, raw, more than a little dangerous. Gramps said living in a place like this brought out the best or the worst in people. Normal people can’t hack it here, he always joked.

  Zach showed up toward the end of the breakfast rush. He was with Christian and some other guy I didn’t recognize. Zach kept his head down as they came in the door, his hands shoved into his pockets.

  I couldn’t imagine what he was going through right now. It was one thing to go through a breakup. It was another for the person to just vanish. Unless he had something to do with it…

  He’d be the first person I’d look at. But Zach didn’t have a violent bone in that lanky body of his. He was the guy who yelped when he saw a spider and then asked his girlfriend to kill it. True story.

  Christian’s laughter carried across the diner, distinct and cutting like a brass instrument. Clearly Amber’s disappearance hadn’t slowed him down. Not that I was surprised.

  Of course Rhonda sat them in my section. I’d told her not to if they came in, but she’d forget her purse half the time if Gramps didn’t remind her to bring it.

  “Uh, hello?” A girl about eleven waved at me. She was clutching an iPhone. Something I probably couldn’t afford until I was thirty.

  “Sorry. What was that?” I asked, my cheeks burning.

  “Do you have any vegan pancakes?”

  I shook my head. Her parents exchanged a look that said they weren’t entirely sold on their daughter’s diet.

  “Bring her a fruit salad,” her mom said.

  I nodded and headed back to the kitchen. Someone lightly grabbed my arm as I passed the row of stools that led toward the swinging kitchen door. I hated it when customers got touchy, but I forced a helpful smile anyway.

  Alex was sitting on the stool closest to the door. “Hey,” he said.

  He was wearing a frayed gray thermal underneath his uncle’s old My Bloody Valentine T-shirt, something he’d worn a million times. But it was like I was seeing him for the first time. His face, all tension and sharp angles. His eyes, a darker green than they should’ve been.

  The nausea I’d felt since Wednesday came inching back.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “You won’t call me back.”

  “Because I don’t really have anything to say.”

  Brandon came flying out of the kitchen, three plates balanced on one arm. I gave him a nod. He’d picked up the whole server thing pretty quick for a guy who’d never worked a day in his life before.

  Alex kept his gaze on me, his lips turning up a little. “You always have something to say.”

  “It’s a madhouse right now, Alex. Order something or get out.”

  “You know what I like.”

  I jotted down a veggie burger with jalapenos, but he touched my arm before I could leave. “I got that job at Safeway. Start Monday.”

  “That’s great.” I stared at my writing on the notepad. It was messier than usual, almost illegible.

  “Pick you up at six?” he asked. “We’ll go anywhere you want.”

  I backed away, out of his reach. “I don’t get off until seven.”

  “Hey!” Christian walked toward us from the direction of the men’s bathroom, his glare fixed on Alex. “You almost hit us out there.”

  “But I didn’t,” Alex said.

  An older woman a couple stools down crinkled her brow at us before whispering to the guy next to her.

  Christian studied Alex for a few seconds, his blue eyes narrowed. A slow grin erupted as he glanced between us.

  I knew what was coming.

  “What—you can’t face me?” Christian moved closer. “You’ve gotta hide behind your big, bad El Camino?”

  “Disappear,” Alex muttered, turning his back to him.

  “If you’re gonna blow your wad on a classic, at least get one without an identity crisis,” Christian continued. “Dumbass hick.”

  “You want to fi
ght?” I took a step toward him, keeping my voice down. “Go outside and punch yourself in the head a few times. You’ll feel better.”

  He lowered his face toward mine. The smell of last night’s beer soured his breath. “Who’s talking to you?”

  Zach appeared and got in front of Christian, nudging him back. “Let it go, all right?”

  My mom showed up as well, dirty plates in hand. “Not in my diner, guys.”

  Christian kept his eyes on Alex, not budging.

  “Gabi’s here,” Zach said to him. “We’re all hungry. Come on.”

  “See you around, Billy Bob.” Christian wiggled his pinkie finger at Alex before heading back to his table.

  Alex tensed against me. I swore I could feel heat coming off his skin. If anything would make him snap, it would be reminding him of that night.

  Zach didn’t follow Christian. Instead he stood there for what felt like eons. There were shadows under his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept in days.

  “Sorry about that,” he said, avoiding my gaze. “I think he’s still drunk from last night.”

  He turned and walked away before I could tell him I didn’t want to hear another excuse.

  Christian had his reasons for being an ass, according to Zach. His dad died when he was four. His mom was never around. His stepdad hated him. The list went on. At the end of the day, it was easier for Zach to make excuses than see who his best friend really was.

  We all had a choice. Let the hand we were dealt drown us or rise above it. “Did you seriously almost hit them?” I asked Alex.

  “Christian walked out right in front of my car. I stuck it in neutral and revved the engine.” The corner of his mouth curved up. “Made him jump like a jackrabbit.”

  “Nova,” Mom said, nodding toward the kitchen.

  “You should go,” I told him.

  Mom grabbed my elbow as soon as the door swung shut behind us. “What the hell is going on?”

  Gramps eyed us, his thick eyebrows raised.

  “Christian is starting crap, as usual.” I yanked out of her grasp and handed Gramps my orders. She didn’t need to know about Alex’s part in it. “Why can’t we ban him?”

  “He brings in lots of friends, and he doesn’t stiff us on the tip. I can think of worse customers.”

  “He also insults people, loud enough for them to hear. He rates girls based on how many beers he’d need to hook up with them. Believe me, he’s not helping business.”