Killing Season

by Faye Kellerman

  “Then I’m going home.”

  “No, you’re not. Stop trying to bully me.”

  She sighed. “Okay. You’re right. Can we talk in the morning?”

  “Fine. We’ll talk in the morning.”

  “What time in the morning?”

  “I don’t know, Dorothy. Let me go to sleep first.”

  “What time do you usually wake up?”

  His eyes were heavy. “Around seven.”

  “So how about six? I’ll wake you up.”

  “Fine. Good night.”

  But for her, it was anything but. The weather grew colder and louder. The winds were furious and some kind of tree kept banging against the window, waking her up at ten-minute intervals. Plus, the bed smelled of him. It made her weepy every time she was startled awake. Then the pillowcase got all wet. She finally gave up and turned on the light. It was around two a.m.

  She’d have to deliver the best eat-shit speech of her life to pull this off because she certainly wasn’t going to make it on looks. There were deep bags under her eyes and her complexion was a gluey mess that even makeup wasn’t going to hide. She looked in his closet for something warm to put over the sweats. She found a terry robe, put it on, and glanced around the room, which was as spare as a monk’s cell.

  There was a bed, a desk, a desk chair and chest of drawers, and a file cabinet that was locked. That was probably where he kept his case notes about Ellen. Atop his desk were two framed pictures—one of Haley and one of Ellen. Once there had been four framed pictures; along with Ben’s sisters, there had been one of the two of them and one of Ro alone looking gorgeous.

  She picked up Ellen’s photo.

  Definitely the other girl in the relationship.

  She put it down and very quietly began to search the drawers for the missing pictures.

  Ben was compulsively neat. The top drawer was underwear and socks; middle one was T-shirts and jeans. The bottom drawer was empty except for two picture frames sans photos. She closed the drawer softly with a pretty good intuition about where the missing pictures were.

  The top layer of the trash can was filled with papers scrawled with indecipherable equations. There were also tissues and what looked like Ben’s discarded breakfast—a paper cup with coffee still in it, a breakfast bar wrapping, and orange peels.

  Ro waded through the junk until she got to the bottom, where she extracted the photo of the two of them with an orange peel stuck on it. She removed the rind, and stared at the picture. It was taken at the Berkeley campus. They looked so happy—they had been happy—and that brought about a new batch of tears. She stowed that one in her purse. She left the solo picture of herself—completely intact—underneath the garbage.

  Apparently, she hadn’t even inspired enough emotion in him to be ripped to shreds.

  When her cell phone’s alarm went off at five thirty, Ro felt like death warmed over. Shivering, she dressed as quickly as she could, as much for warmth as for anything else. Tiptoeing into the darkened hallway, she didn’t hear a sound except some very loud snoring. Ben didn’t snore, so it was probably his grandfather. She waited in the living room for him to get up. By six, the house began to stir. His grandmother found her sitting on the couch like an abandoned puppy. Pauline acted the cheerful doddering old lady, but her sharp eyes knew the score. She lit the fireplace and offered Ro breakfast—coffee and orange juice—while she waited for Ben. Running out of options, Ro finally addressed the gorilla in the living room.

  “Do you know when Ben gets up?”

  Pauline said, “He’s usually up by now. Where did he sleep?”

  Ro shrugged. “I don’t know. I took his room.”

  Pauline went down the hallway and opened a few doors. Then she went outside. Then she came back for the report. “His car is gone. He must have left for school.”

  It was quarter to seven. Since Ro hadn’t heard him get up, she surmised he left very early to avoid her. She felt her face go hot. “Okay.” His grandmother was trying not to look at her with pity. It embarrassed both of them. Ro offered her finest phony smile. “Um . . . I should be heading back as well.”

  “They haven’t plowed the roads yet.”

  “I’ve a four-wheel drive. I’m assuming the highway is okay.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to stay a little longer?”

  “I’ll be fine. Thanks.” Ro hugged the old woman good-bye—trying not to cry—and made a quick exit. Outside, the air was frigid, the sky was deep blue, and the landscape was pure white. Her car was covered in snow, as were all the neighbors’ cars. But unlike the other cars, her windshield had been scraped and cleared. She hated that he had done something nice for her. It made her feel even lower, if that were possible.

  Sitting in her car, trying to calm down, she texted him. You can’t avoid me forever.

  Right as she put the car into drive, her phone beeped. She looked at the responding text.

  Yes, I can.

  Chapter 10

  Despite her best efforts, Ro couldn’t find Vicks anywhere in school on Monday. Instead, she found Haley, who was, as always, with Lilly. She asked, “Do you know where your brother is?”

  “He’s in Albuquerque,” Haley said. “He’s sick.”

  “Okay.” She couldn’t look either little girl in the eye. “We broke up.”

  “I know.” Haley’s eyes went cold.

  “I would like to talk to him, though. Could you please tell him to call me? I’m a little tired of talking to his voice mail.”

  No response.

  Ro shifted the books in her hands and then left. Fuck it all. She had been forced to come here. Stop being so self-critical. Have fun. You’re only seventeen once.

  Thank God.

  As the week dragged on, she became more and more cranky. It was bad enough that Haley was avoiding her, but she was also avoiding Griff, who in turn became pouty and then just downright rude. Ro, usually the social butterfly, was on the outs with everyone. It was foreign territory and the worst part was she hadn’t a clue how to rectify anything.

  So she avoided everyone, isolating herself, eating lunch in an empty classroom, trying to pretend she didn’t care about anyone or anything. She stopped wearing makeup and dressed in baggy clothes every day. She did wash her hair, which was about the only thing that distinguished her from a homeless person.

  On Thursday, about fifteen minutes before the lunch bell was due to ring, Lilly found her reading a book.

  “Can I sit down?”

  Ro shrugged but didn’t object.

  “Are you back with JD?” she asked her.

  “None of your business,” Ro replied coolly.

  “Okay.” Lilly gave her a weak smile. “Sorry to bother you.”

  Ro regarded the girl’s face. There wasn’t an ounce of malice. “I’m sorry, Lilly. I’m edgy.”

  Lilly said, “Ro, if you really love him, don’t give up so easily. He’ll come around.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “And if you don’t really love him, it’s for the best, so don’t worry about it.”

  Ro lost it, tears rushing down her cheeks. “I cheated on him.”

  “I know.”

  “He told you?”

  “No.”

  “Is JD shooting off his mouth?” She wiped her tears with the back of her hand.

  “No, not at all.” Lilly made a face. “It’s not that hard to guess what happened. You made Ben happier than I’ve ever seen him. Conversely, now he’s overtly miserable.” A pause. “And JD’s looking a lot happier.”

  “Oh God!” Ro buried her face in her hands. “Lilly, I feel horrible. I’d get down on my knees and beg if I thought it would do any good. He won’t talk to me. He won’t answer any of my pleading e-mails or texts. I don’t expect him to forgive me. All I want is a chance to tell him how truly sorry I am—face-to-face. I just want to talk to him.”

  “If you know Ben at all, you know he’s not much for conversation. His mind doesn’t work like that
. Don’t say something to him, Ro. Do something for him.”

  Ro stared at her. “Like what?”

  “You should know what’s important to him.” She got up. “I’m not saying it’ll be easy. But that’s what you do when you truly love someone, Ro. You do something . . . even if it hurts.”

  Do something for him. Even if it hurts.

  Ro doubted that Lilly meant B&D.

  She had two choices. She could wallow in self-pity—something that she had mastered at a very young age—or she could follow some sage advice. Wallowing hadn’t done her any good. Might as well try option two.

  As soon as she got home from school, Ro went to her bedroom, locked the door, and turned off her phone—which, truth be told, hadn’t been all that busy lately. She flipped open her laptop. In the Google search box, she typed “scientific conventions, Los Alamos” and the date of Ellen Vicksburg’s abduction.

  There was a lot on Ellen Vicksburg, lots on Los Alamos, but nothing on scientific conventions. Then she typed in “scientist, physicist, chemist conventions,” and the date of Ellen Vicksburg’s abduction.

  Nothing.

  Ro tried other combinations: conventions before Ellen’s abduction date, conventions after she was abducted. When that proved fruitless, she tried again but this time she used Katie Doogan’s information. Then she tried Julia Rehnquist and Jamey Moore. She kept at it, passing on dinner and neglecting her homework. At twelve thirty, she gave up, bone-tired and nursing a massive headache from not eating. Eventually, she dropped into a deep and disturbing sleep.

  Thank God it was Friday and the friggin’ week was almost over. Once again she ate lunch by herself. This time it was JD who found her. Ro really didn’t want to talk to him or anyone else, but since he and Lilly were about the only two people who acknowledged her, she couldn’t afford to be picky. JD looked good. As always, he had a killer body. But now that football had ended, he’d decided to grow out his sandy hair for baseball season. It softened his rock-jawed face.

  “Can I sit?”

  “Sure. Why the hell not?”

  “Have you given any thought to what we talked about?”

  “What did we talk about, JD?” He pointed to her then to himself. “Oh that.”

  “Yes that.”

  “I’m still working it out.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  “You told me to work it out,” she sulked. “No need to get nasty.”

  “Ro, we’ve got like . . . what . . . four months left. It’s not like you were engaged to the guy or anything.” He was looking soulful. “How can I get you back with me? I’ll do anything you want. I’ve already ditched Lisa and Shannon. I’m just waiting for you to come to your senses. I’m sure Vicks moved on as soon as he dumped you.”

  “I wouldn’t know. He doesn’t speak to me.”

  He softened his tone. “Look, Rosers, I know you like him. Vicks has a lot to like. But I know him way better than you do, and believe me when I tell you he isn’t ever gonna come around. You can continue waiting for Godot or you could actually have a little fun.” He leaned in. “Remember fun? Laughing, smiling . . . that kind of thing.”

  She shrugged.

  JD said, “What can I do for you, Dorothy? You want to be cheerleading captain of the squad, I can make that happen. I can get Shannon to step down. Turn on a little charm and she’d do it. She’d do anything I want her to do. You want me to make that happen?”

  “Thank you, JD, but I’m fine where I am.”

  “Well, how about we go out for dinner and a movie? I’ll take you anywhere you want. We can even see those crappy teen movies where the jock always gets fucked in the ass.”

  “The jocks always do get fucked, don’t they?”

  “Always.”

  “Jocks and the snotty, pretty, popular girl . . . she gets fucked up too.”

  “And the obnoxious rich guy . . . which I hope to be one day.”

  She laughed. There was something so endearing about him, she almost caved. But for once she decided on integrity. “Thanks for the invitation, but I’m going to pass. I still need thinking time.”

  He continued to stare at her. “I shoulda been like this when we were going together.”

  “Yeah, you shoulda.”

  “See, they’re right. Jocks are fuckups.”

  “So are snotty, pretty, popular girls.”

  “Can we fuck up together?”

  She stood and kissed his forehead. “I like you. You’re a good guy. Keep trying. Even if it doesn’t get you anywhere, begging is good for the soul.”

  After school, Ro found Shannon. For the last ten days, she had turned ice cold. Everyone knew that Vicks and she were done, so the logical thing for Ro to do was to go back to JD. But when she hadn’t hooked up with him, Shannon became furious. She wanted JD but couldn’t have him. Ro could have him, but she didn’t want him.

  Ain’t life just a bitch!

  Shannon looked pert and fit. In a terse voice meant to instill fear, she said, “Practice. Four o’clock, sharp. We’ve got a game on Sunday.”

  “I’m not coming,” Ro said.

  Her eyes narrowed. “You know the rules, Ro. You miss practice three times, you’re out.”

  “Make it two and we have a deal.” A pause. Ro said, “Shannon, I’m quitting.”

  “You’re quitting?”

  “Yes, I am quitting.”

  Shannon got superhuffy. “You can’t do that.”

  “Well, then how about this? I’ll miss three times and then you’ll throw me off the squad.”

  “You can’t do that!”

  “Uh, yes I can.” Ro sighed. “Besides, cheering for baseball is boring.”

  “Who are we going to get for the game?”

  “Have someone from JV move up. God, you must have a zillion people to take my place.”

  “Ro, the game is in two days!”

  “That’s not my problem, Shannon. Besides, you’re the last person on earth I’d do a favor for. You told Vicks that I went out with JD. You’re such a bitch!”

  “He called me. He was frantic! He was gonna call the police! I felt bad for him . . . more than you did, obviously!” Tears welled up in Shannon’s eyes. “And who the hell are you to be Miss Self-righteous? Playing with one guy while you’re screwing the other?”

  “You’re one to talk about screwing someone else’s boyfriend,” Ro snapped back.

  “He was my boyfriend first. I loved him. I still do. You don’t give a damn about him.”

  “On the contrary, I do give a damn . . . a little damn, but I still care—”

  “I hate you!” She stamped her foot. “You’re selfish, egotistical, horrible, and a lousy cheerleader—”

  “Now, that one really hurts!”

  “Fuck you!” She marched off.

  Ro wanted to laugh, but just couldn’t. Thinking about her words . . .

  He was frantic! I felt bad for him.

  She put on sunglasses and, holding her head up high, she walked to her car. There was only so much self-loathing a person could take without cracking. She was at the tipping point, but wasn’t yet ready to fall over the edge.

  TGIF. As usual, Griff refused to talk to her. They walked inside the house and he went straight to his room, making a point of slamming the door. Mom was on the couch crocheting and jumped at the sound. “What is wrong with him?”

  Ro shrugged innocently. “I quit cheerleading.”

  “You did?” Mom put her hook down. Her face registered shock. “Why?”

  “Because it’s silly. Because I don’t want to do it anymore.”

  “Ro, what’s going on? Why is Griffen so moody?”

  “Nothing’s going on. It’s the same old, same old. Life sucks.” Ro kissed her mother’s cheek. “Don’t worry about it. It’ll all work out. And if it doesn’t, so what?” Her mother’s eyes were moist. “Mom, let’s wake up early and have breakfast together tomorrow. Just the two of us.”

  “Is the
re something you need to tell me?” She took her daughter’s hand. “If you need to say something to me, don’t be afraid.”

  “I’m not pregnant. I just want to spend some time with you.” The woman was visibly relieved. God, even her mom thought her a skank. “Tomorrow morning, we’ve got a date. Mark it down.”

  Ro went to her room and closed the door. She opened her laptop and began looking for any scientific conventions around the time of Ellen Vicksburg’s abduction, no matter where they were. After thirty minutes of finding basically nothing, she stopped trying.

  She was now out of Vicks’s life. Which meant he was probably at his computer continuing where he had left off, mining the same fields that she was. Anyone could type in names and dates and occupations and try to find a link. This guy—this monster—was crafty. Vicks had called him a fly on the wall—a sneaky bastard who had gotten away with at least three murders, probably four.

  If Ro was going to make any headway, she needed to do some divergent thinking.

  Her dad worked for the government all his life. And he traveled a lot. He was a suit-and-tie guy, a prominent man, and his hotel of choice—or rather, what the government would pay for—was usually some kind of business establishment like a Marriott or Hilton.

  If a scientist was traveling on the government’s dime, Ro figured that maybe his place would be a step below a Marriott. One of those Executive Inn–type chains, but even those varied from city to city.

  She turned back to her laptop. Ten minutes later, she had printed out a list of motels and hotels in the area, opting for places with two and a half stars or better, with room service, and within ten miles of the labs.

  Then she picked up her cell and began to punch in numbers. When someone at the desk answered, Ro said, “Hi, this is Wanda Crumb. I’m calling for Dr. Kesley’s lab in Berkeley, California. He’s coming to the area and he was wondering if you give a professional discount to scientists who work at Los Alamos . . . no? . . . thank you very much.”

  Cross one off the list.

  “Hi, this is Belinda Littlebee. I’m calling on behalf of Dr. Marina’s lab in Oak Ridge, Tennessee. She’s coming into the area and she was wondering if you give a professional discount to scientists working at Los Alamos . . . okay, thank you.”