He removes his glasses and addresses me. “Can I help you?”
I furrow my brows as I don’t have an acceptable explanation other than I’m trying to find a dead body. Then, I remember Joy’s go-to story.
“Yes, sir. My name is Julian. I’m a student at Mills Community College and I’m doing research for my Botany class.” I place my sketch on his desk. “Can you tell me something about the Brassavola Nodosa?”
He puts on his glasses and studies my notebook. Then he stares at me and smiles. “That’s a beautiful drawing. How does a young man like you get interested in orchids?”
This one’s easy. “My grandma is an orchid enthusiast and has a full collection in her garden.”
He widens his eyes and looks even more pleased. “Ah, I see. Who’s your grandmother?”
“Gloria Taylor?”
“Yes, of course! She’s one of our members.” Then he directs me to a chair. “What’s your name?”
“Julian,” I say as I extend a hand towards him. He shakes it as I take a seat on a well-worn leather armchair.
“I’m Seabrook Thatcher,” he said. “What do you want to know?”
“I heard you can find them growing at Mission Forest, despite not being endemic to the area.”
He nods. “Yes, we’re currently studying the soil temperature, the nutrients, et cetera, to figure out what made that area extremely habitable for the Brassavola Orchid.”
“My study buddy, and I really want to see it up close. Do you know where it’s located?”
He cringes but responds. “It’s a challenging hike.” Then he examines me. “Although, you look remarkably fit, so it might prove too easy for you. I assume your partner is as athletic?”
“Definitely,” I reply, nodding.
“What makes it difficult is the fact that it’s off the beaten path. It’s far from well-defined hiking trails. I hope you’re comfortable with coordinates.”
“I was a Boy Scout, sir,” I said with a chuckle. “And a self-proclaimed pirate.”
He laughs. “Your skills will definitely come in handy.”
Seabrook extols the virtues of the orchid for ten whole minutes, but I’m willing to sit through it if it means I get to have that valuable piece of information he’s now scribbling on paper. When he finishes, he hands me the note.
37° 30’ 44.7696’’ N and 121° 52’ 49.8468’’ W
I lean forward with excitement because, if our assumptions are correct, these are the coordinates to find Alexa’s body. We’re a few steps away from finding her and bringing closure to her spirit, family and friends. I get up from my chair and shake his hand once more.
“Well, good luck, young man,” he said, standing from his desk. “Be careful out there.”
I thank him one more time and leave. As soon as I enter my car, I text Jo.
Me: It’s on like Donkey Kong.
Godzilla Breath: Oh… shit! Here we go!
Chapter 44
Josephine
The breeze blows in full force, causing a tree limb to scrape my window. Meanwhile, I’m laying in bed and blowing smoke rings in the air. It’s 9 o’clock and for the life of me, I can’t understand why I can’t stop obsessing over a cobweb on my ceiling. Or that I can only sit still for five minutes. Maybe it’s the scratching of the branch, making it sound like fingernails on the glass pane. My nerves. The only explanation for my restlessness.
The breeze blows the page of my wall calendar, reminding me of today’s date. I curse and hop off my bed as I remember it’s Friday. It’s trash pickup tomorrow, and I have to toss out my psychotropic medications. Within minutes, I’m in front of our home, rolling the bin to the curb. As I open the lid, my neck burns as I feel a pair of eyes on me, and I turn. The street is empty and dark except for the light coming from the lamppost. Our neighborhood sleeps early, so they have turned off their lights from their respective windows. I glance over to Julian’s house, and his vehicle is missing. I shiver from the overwhelming sense that no one will hear my screams if danger arises. Something inside me clicks, telling me to get out of here.
As I head for the door, my ears pick up a low rumble. A quiet hum of an engine. Despite the warning signs, I squint through the darkness with my instinct directing my gaze to the opposite side of the street. The undeniable outline of a car sits idle and waiting. Its headlights are off as it nestles away from the glow.
As if recognizing me, it leaves the curb and moves towards my direction. It passes the lamppost, and my stomach lurches. The vehicle, illuminated by the light, is a tinted black sedan. My body freezes in terror, and I stay rooted on the ground. Alexa’s killer is here and knows where I live.
It goes forward, driven by a faceless driver protected by nighttime and the dark tint. I watch it in slow motion, as if watching a scene from a movie where the observer ends up gunned down by the passing vehicle. Despite that, I cannot move.
“Honey, what are you doing out there?”
Aunty Helen’s voice wakes me from my trance, and I flinch. The car goes full throttle and roars its engine as it speeds out of my neighborhood. I curse at my failure and watch it speed out of our street.
Relief washes over me as my body unfreezes. My aunt stands in the open doorway, concern etched on her face. I hurry towards her, staying as calm as possible.
“Who was that?” She steps away to let me enter.
I stay silent as I close the door, but she catches my shaking hands.
“Are you ok, honey? You look absolutely shaken.”
No. Alexa’s killer might be on to me.
I wipe the sweat off my forehead and force a small smile. “Uh, yeah. I’m gonna sleep now.” I run to the stairs before she stops me.
When I reach my room, I plop onto my bed and grab my vape pen. I place it in my mouth and inhale, noting my shaking fingers.
Why me?
I take another hit and close my eyes. I am high and this paranoia is the effect of pot. That’s not the same car. Yeah…not the same one.
I repeat these words until sleep overcomes me.
***
“Ow! Ease up, will you? Damn!”
I’m standing with my back towards Julian as he braids my hair and tugging on it too hard.
“Calm your ass down! It’s almost done!”
“I told you, you didn’t have to do it!”
“Are you kidding me? This tumbleweed of yours will cover your eyes when the wind blows or it’ll get caught on a low-lying branch—just like when we were kids. Frankly, Jo, I don’t want to stay in the woods too long.”
I humph and cross my arms, but I let him continue. We’re at the school parking area on this chilly Saturday night because we chose tonight to hike the Mission Forest.
I told Aunt Helen that I was sleeping over at Dee’s house, because we wanted to leave earlier than eleven. And so here we are, bickering like children at our Wakefield High’s parking lot, at six o’clock.
“Ok, I’m done.” He releases his hands from my hair.
I take my beanie from my backpack and wear it. It’s going to be freezing. Meanwhile, Julian dressed himself for Siberia—wearing a skull cap, a Northface fleece sweater over a thermal shirt, a parka, a wool vest, quick-drying pants and hiking boots.
“Let’s do the checklist,” he said. “Gloves?”
“Check.”
“Head lamp?”
“Check.”
“Snacks?”
“Check.”
“Extra clothes, first aid kit?”
“Check. Check.”
“Emergency blankets?”
“What?”
“Never mind,” he stated. “I have one.”
“Waterproof backpack?”
“What the hell?”
“Yeah, what if we get wet? Then, there’s no point to your extra clothes and food, is there?”
I roll my eyes. “Seriously, Jules?”
“Ok, whatever,” he said. “I have the lighters, heat packs, map, hiking GPS and t
he compass.”
“Good job, boy scout.” I reach for my vape pen and lean on Julian’s car. I blow the smoke up in the air. “Just one hit before we go. Gotta get the edge off.”
“Gimme some of that.” He reaches for my pen.
I move my hand. “Hell, no. Athletes aren’t supposed to do drugs.”
“Why are you a hypocrite?” He scowls.
“Whatever. And stay away from me. I don’t want you hot-boxing, either.”
He laughs. “You’re so full of shit.”
“I care about your future.” I blow a smoke ring. “You feeling nervous?”
“Fuck yeah.” He places his hands in his pockets and scrunches his shoulders to brace against the gust of wind. “We’re night hiking the Mission Forest to find the body of my murdered friend. What do you think?”
“Sorry, Jules.” I put my vape pen back in my backpack. “This must be really hard.”
“Well, someone has to do it.” He looks at his watch. “You ready?”
“Yup, let’s do this.”
***
The ride to Bradshaw is uneventful. We’ve been riding it in silence, each one of us lost in our thoughts. That black sedan preoccupies me, and I’m trying to figure out if that was a figment of my imagination. I quell the chill every time I believe it’s the same car. If that’s the case, the killer knows me. I shiver despite the layers of warm clothing on my body.
“You ok, Joy?”
I nod, but I keep last night’s event a secret. He’ll worry, and I don’t need him to do that for me.
When Julian exits the highway and reaches the city of Bradshaw. We both sit up straighter and on full alert. The signs for Mission Forest will soon appear, making us closer to our arduous journey.
A half hour later, after countless hairpin turns and after reaching 2000 feet of elevation, we reach the Mission Forest Reserve. As he parks, we sigh in unison, and we laugh. I hear the nervousness in both our laughters, but I squelch it. There’s no use entertaining the potential dangers of this hike.
It is eight, and the lot is dark with only the moonlight to illuminate it. The trail opening resembles an open mouth ready to swallow us into the dense forest. But it’s eerie out there, and now I’m questioning our sanity for being here. “Remind me again why we’re doing this at night.”
Julian clears his throat. “Because we were hoping Ms. Lady of the Night will produce her lovely scent that she only secretes in the evening.”
“Oh, yeah. Right.” But the stubborn nature of doubt and fear resurface. “So, why didn’t we just give the coordinates to the police?”
He turns on and off the flashlight to check if it’s working. “We have to confirm she’s buried there, and we need the help of our ghostly friend.” He places the portable light in his backpack. “And we’re a glutton for punishment with our insane thirst for adventure.”
I huff. “You are. I’m good.”
He laughs and pats my hand. “Put on your headlamp. You got the extra batteries?”
“Yeah.” I strap my headlamp and squeeze it on my head. “GPS?”
He nods and turns to me. “We are going to be ok, Jo. We’ve done this before, and we’re a team.”
I give him a feeble smile, and he caresses my cheek in return. “Let’s go.”
***
It’s been thirty minutes into our hike, and I can’t stress enough the beauty of technology. Julian’s hiking GPS is top notch, because without it, nature’ll swallow us up by now. I have to admit that Julian earned his wilderness patch in Boy Scouts because the guy is a whiz with navigation.
Mission Forest is dense. The thick canopy of leaves blocks the light from the moon while these giant trees dwarf us. Mother Nature wins this round as she decimates us with each passing step. Sometimes a pair of red eyes lurks in the dark, making us flinch, only to find a deer scurrying away from our presence.
Julian wasn’t kidding when he claimed this hike was challenging. For the past half hour, we’ve skidded muddy hills, climbed boulders and tripped on giant roots. I can’t imagine how Alexa could make this trek with nothing but her eyes to navigate her. Self-doubt creeps in as I entertain the possibility of being wrong.
As if to answer my question, I see the first promising sign of our journey. A few feet from us, the faint vision of a girl with long black hair runs ahead of us. She brings no sound of footfalls, but she carries the familiar scent of gardenia and citrus. She pauses and turns to face me, then disappears into the night.
Julian grabs my arm. “Was that her?”
“Yup,” I reply. “I guess we’re heading in the right direction.”
He removes his hand, and we keep hiking. A few minutes later, he clutches me again. “Did she just reappear?”
I wince and bite my lip. “Uh, sorry, Jules. That wasn’t her.”
He pauses, and his jaw clenches. I know he’s piecing it together that there’s another spirit lurking. “Huh, that’s not creepy at all.”
I suppose I don’t need to tell him that the passing apparition is a young man with a faint ligature marking on his neck.
A new sound mingles with the rustling wind and the occasional hoots of owls. Julian pauses and listens to his surroundings. Then he continues to move until he stops dead in his tracks, causing me to hit my face on his shoulder blades.
“Fuck me now,” he said.
“I’d rather not, but thanks for the offer.” I chuckle. But he doesn’t laugh. I wrinkle my nose at his sudden seriousness and stand next to him. My eyes widen when I realize the cause of his consternation. A river lies between us and Alexa’s grave, and any nature lover knows that crossing a body of water, especially at night, poses many dangers.
“We can’t cross,” he said. “It’s too risky.”
I look at the swirling water. It’s shallow and only two hundred feet wide, but the current is strong. Julian ingrained in me years ago that shallow with a fast current is more dangerous than slow moving and deep. “Why don’t we walk downstream and scout for a safer crossing?”
He nods, and after walking for half a mile, we stop. “What do you think? The current seems a little slower, and there’s a fallen tree to act as a natural bridge.”
He creases his forehead and presses his lips together. “I don’t know. Log crossings can be dangerous, too, and we can’t even tell if it’s secure.”
“But we have no other choice, Jules.”
“I hate to say this, but it’s peak runoff. We, seriously, can drown. I think we should turn back and do this tomorrow morning.”
I shake my head. “We can’t. We don’t have any other time. I’m spending the entire day tomorrow with my aunt in San Francisco and my parents return on Monday.”
The Night Orchid Page 28
