by A. Zavarelli
10
Kat
Today is the anniversary.
“Mommy?”
I blink, glancing in the rearview mirror, and try to smile. “Yes, baby?”
“Your eyes are shiny.” Josh scrunches up his face. “Are you sad?”
“Oh sweetheart, I’m not sad. See.” I stretch that smile wide.
“You’re beautiful,” he says, the word coming out more like booful, which makes that smile on my face authentic.
“And so are you.”
“Mommy! Boys aren’t beautiful.”
“No, you’re right. You’re handsome.” I turn into the parking lot of the school and drive around the circle of moms dropping off kids for the day. It’s a primary school where I work as a teacher’s aide in the kindergarten class while Josh is looked after in the preschool.
There aren’t many options for single moms, and I feel pretty lucky to have found the school. Josh and I rent a small cabin nearby, and the school is the only one for the three tiny towns that surround ours, so although it’s not big by Philadelphia standards, it’s big enough. Estes Park, which is about an hour away, is the biggest town nearest ours.
Even though the job isn’t the best paying job in the world, there’s no way I’d be able to afford daycare any other way, so for now, this is what works. And it’s on track for what I want to eventually do, which is teach. I’ve already registered to start online classes to continue toward my degree next semester.
I park my Jeep in one of the empty spaces, listening to the engine do its gurgle as I switch it off. It’s going to have to go to the shop soon and before winter sets in, but it’s an expense I just don’t want to think about now.
I turn around in my seat and look at Josh, who’s “‘reading.’” I pluck the book, Good Night, Gorilla, from his hand and give it back right side up.
“We’ll have to return that to the library today.”
“Okay.”
“Do you know what you want to read next?”
“Skippyjon Jones and the Big Bones!”
“Again?”
He nods enthusiastically, his smile widening. His chocolate eyes sparkle, and he gets that dimple in his right cheek, and I falter, my heart giving a little flutter as it skips a beat. He looks so much like Lev. He didn’t at first. When he was born, his eyes were a deep blue, and he didn’t look like either of us, but I swear every day he’s more and more like his father.
“Alright then. Ready for school, kiddo?”
“Yep.”
I climb out of the front seat, zip my coat against the cold Colorado wind, and open the back door. Josh holds his arms out for me to unstrap him and lift him out. It’s too hard for him to get out of the buckles of the car seat just yet.
I slip my hands under his pudgy arms. The puffy coat makes him look like the Michelin Man.
Lifting him out, I give him a little squeeze, then set him on the ground and grab his Minions backpack, which is empty but for his lunch. I unzip it, slip his book inside, close the door, and take his small hand in mine. He’ll need new gloves for winter too. His little fingers are already cold.
“We’ll go get some gloves after school too.”
“After the library?”
“After the library,” I say as we walk to the front entrance of the school.
A whisper on the wind has me turning toward the woods that border the back of the property. Dense pines make it impossible for light to penetrate, and for a moment, I think I see movement.
It’s been like this for the past few weeks. I’ve felt it like I did before, that raising of the hairs on the back of my neck. That slight scent that I don’t know if I imagine or if it just happens to be someone else wearing the same aftershave Lev wore. I don’t even know how I still remember that detail and wish I could forget.
“Miss Katie!” a little girl calls out, making me jump.
I turn away from the woods.
I’m just on edge because of the anniversary. Because today is the day Nina and her family were killed. Well, tonight is. It’s the night I found out I was pregnant with Lev’s baby. The night I’d gone to her house for help when she slipped that flash drive into my hand and made me leave, made me promise not to come back until she called me.
She never did call.
The house burned down that night, and three charred bodies were found inside. Foul play. Arson. Bullets.
“What do you say, Katie?”
I give a shake of my head. Katie. Sometimes I forget to answer to it.
“I’m sorry?” I ask.
“Why don’t you and Josh come over for dinner next week on Friday? It’s Emma’s half-birthday, and we’re getting a cake,” Emma’s dad, Luke Foreman, says. He’s a nice guy. In his mid-forties, he lost his wife early to cancer.
“Can we, Mommy?” Josh asks. He tugs on my hand, and I lean down. He raises his eyebrows and leans in close. “There’s cake,” he whispers loudly.
Luke smiles and winks at me when I straighten. “Sounds great,” I say, although I need to be careful not to give Luke the wrong idea. He asked me out to dinner a while back, and I told him it was against school policy to date a parent, which wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the only reason. After everything that happened, I haven’t really been interested in anyone. Just keeping myself and Josh safe is my priority because I’m not sure if Lev or the men he works with have found out that I was there that night. That I have the flash drive they were looking for. That I know they killed Nina’s family.
But I’m not taking any chances. I can’t because it’s not just my life at stake now. I won’t let anything happen to my baby and that includes losing me. Because I know what happens when you’re alone in the world. I know the monsters that prey on those weaker than them, and I will not allow monsters into Josh’s life.
And besides, I’m not interested in Luke as anything more than a friend. Since Lev, I haven’t been interested in anyone.
Another gust of wind has me clutching Josh’s hand tighter.
“They’re saying it’s going to be an early blizzard,” Luke says.
“I hope not.” The first bell rings. “We’d better get inside.”
The morning passes as usual, and although I’d normally spend my lunch hour with Josh, today, I put on my coat and hat and head out to the parking lot.
They’re predicting a foot of snow already, and a glance up at the darkening sky confirms it. Josh and I have lived here for a little over three years, and although I love the snow, I hate driving in it and hope it won’t be as bad as they’re forecasting.
Getting into the Jeep, I glance at the space in the woods that had caught my attention earlier, but nothing’s there now. And it doesn’t look as dark and foreboding as it had early this morning.
Pulling out of the parking lot, I head to the florist in town to pick up the bouquet. It’s ready for me, and I’m grateful for that. I won’t have much time before I have to get back to the school even though the lead teacher in my room knows I may be a few minutes late.
I set the flowers on the passenger’s seat and drive out of town. The elegant, long white callas look out of place on the worn upholstery of the Jeep.
Light flurries have already begun to fall as I navigate the curving road up to Daniel’s Point. I found the overlook by accident. It’s not easy to get to, which means I don’t often run into anyone out there, but today, I’m anxious as the road rises in elevation and visibility becomes an issue.
Switching on the radio for company, I listen absently to songs periodically broken by static until, twenty minutes later, I reach the turnoff for the overlook.
Tires grate on loose stones as I park the Jeep as close to the point as I can. I pull my knit cap on, pick up the flowers, and climb out, my boots crunching on those same stones. I walk around the barrier and onto the barely recognizable trail, and for a moment, the only sound is that of my boots on a random branch or dried up leaf.
There’s a stillness here. Where Josh
and I live is quiet too, but here, it’s different than Philadelphia. It’s like the mountains eat sound, and when I stop to listen to it, to hear it, it has a way of reassuring me and filling me with peace. It’s the strangest thing, but when I get to the overlook, and it’s like the world opens up to me, I just stand there and listen to that sound. A part of me wishes it could stay here forever and never go back.
My mom died when I was three in a car accident on a road much like this one in that it was remote and mostly deserted. We were stranded for two days before they found us. It had been fall, too. Fall is an unlucky time for me.
I shouldn’t have survived that accident, but somehow, I did.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I’m grateful for the interruption. I dig it out and switch off the alarm I’d set for myself. I have about ten minutes before I have to head back, and I set a second alarm just in case. I walk as far as I can on the overhanging stone and crouch to lay the flowers down.
Nina loved calla lilies. They were her favorite flowers. She’d always complain that no guys ever sent her flowers.
I spend a few minutes arranging the four long stems. One for each year since she’s been gone.
“I miss you,” I tell the wind. “I should have made you come with me that night.” I dig into my pockets for a tissue but don’t find any, so I wipe my eyes with the backs of my hands. I’m going to need mittens too because my fingers are frozen.
But at that moment, I feel it again.
The back of my neck prickles, the hair stands on end, and that feeling is back. Like someone’s watching.
I freeze, unable or unwilling to turn around. To see.
Something crunches behind me, a twig, and I gasp, straighten, and spin, reaching into my pocket and digging out the pocketknife. I keep one in every pocket and in every bag. I have since I left Philly.
I step backward, trip, and just catch myself as a deer springs across the path and into the dense cover of trees. I exhale a loud breath and clutch my stomach, my body relaxing in relief.
A deer. It’s just a deer.
I laugh out loud, but it sounds a little crazy, and the second alarm on my phone goes off, warning me I’ll be late if I don’t leave. I walk quickly back to the Jeep, almost running by the time I get to it.
The remote doesn’t work, and with my fingers as cold as they are, it takes several tries to get the key into the lock. When I’m finally in, I slap the locks down and start the engine. I’ve never been in such a hurry to get away from here. Never been so spooked, not for a long time now.
I’m safe. It was just a deer. I’m jumpy because of the anniversary. That’s all.
I keep telling myself that as I drive a little too fast down the mountain road, only glancing in my rearview mirror when I think I see a flash of headlights, but in the cover of low clouds and the thickening snow, I see nothing. I’m alone on the road. Just me. And after one more turn, I’m back in civilization.
Safe.
11
Lev
Katie fucking March.
She gets out of her piece of shit Jeep and walks around to the back. For a split second, I question if it’s really her. The magenta hair is gone, replaced by a natural red. Her clothes aren’t the same either. She’s wearing a winter coat and boots, but they look cheap and sad, and I don’t like it.
I don’t like any of this fucking scenario. When Alexei told me he’d finally gotten a hit on her, it was difficult to accept. Even now, I still can’t be certain. Not until she turns and glances in the direction of the woods, as if she can feel me watching her.
My breath pauses, and I can’t even bring myself to blink. I know it’s impossible, but it feels like she’s looking right at me, and now, it’s undeniable. Katerina has been holed up in the mountains of Colorado, hiding from me.
Adrenaline rushes through my veins as I consider what happens now. I have searched for her so long, compounding my frustrations into a low simmering rage. She ran out on me, and she took something very important with her. Logically, I know what I have to do. What Vasily expects of me. But seeing her after so long has triggered something else in me. Something I never expected to feel again.
Katerina returns her attention to the back seat of the Jeep, and in a split second, everything changes. I don’t know what I’m expecting, but when she hauls out a little boy, it sure as fuck isn’t that.
My fingers turn rigid around the binoculars as she glances around one more time and heads toward the entrance. Surely, he can’t be hers? Ice enters my lungs as I drag in a deep, painful breath and release it. She works at a school. Perhaps he’s a student here. But logically, I know that can’t be true.
I can’t tell from this distance how old the boy might be. But I can only surmise that Kat didn’t wait long to run off and set up a new life with somebody else. That betrayal burns the blood in my veins as I watch them with an intensity I can’t shake. It only gets worse when another man approaches her. They seem familiar, but not familiar enough that he could be a husband. Regardless, it’s evident that he wants to find his way into her pants as he tosses out easy smiles and pretty words.
He looks like a fucking douchebag in khakis, and I’m willing to bet he bought a pair in every color from his local Sears before they went out of business. Motherfucker.
I retrieve my phone and snap a few photos, aware they are probably too blurry to do anything with. But I send them to Alexei anyway, hoping he can give me some background on this piece of shit sniffing around Kat like he has a right to.
She disappears into the school with the little boy in tow, and I spend the day staking out her environment. It’s fucking freezing up here in the mountains, but I can’t bring myself to move. Now that I’ve found her, I’m not willing to let her out of my sight.
At lunch, she takes a short drive up into the mountains and spreads some flowers out along the overlook. Today, it has been four years since that clusterfuck of events transpired. And it’s clear that Kat is still in mourning for her friend. A fact that grates the raw wound in my chest whenever I think about Nina von Brandt and her mother. They didn’t deserve to die that way, and I have every reason to believe Kat thinks I’m responsible for it. Why else would she be here out in the middle of nowhere?
I follow her back to the school, careful to keep my distance, and she spends the rest of the afternoon there. When the bell rings, it isn’t long before she’s traipsing back out to her Jeep with the little boy in tow. When I consider that someone else touched her and impregnated her, acid coats my throat. I don’t want to believe it. But the only alternative to that notion is something else that seems too farfetched for me to accept.
Regardless, I follow them home and park down the street, camping out with a decent vantage point where I can watch the small cabin she calls home. As the hours pass, I catch her glancing out the window a few times. She can feel me here, but she doesn’t trust her judgment.
Eventually, around nine o clock, the lights go out, and the house falls quiet. Nobody else comes home. And so goes the routine over the next several days as I study her, learning her patterns. I take notes of everything she does. When she shops for groceries, when she makes dinner, when she takes her break at the school. Vasily calls me for constant updates, asking where I am. I tell him I’m in Florida, and that any day now, I’ll have something tangible. That proof he requested four years ago.
On the fifth day, I can’t wait any longer. I break into the school and wait in the janitor’s closet before she gets to work. It’s a risk, but I manage to go unnoticed until lunchtime, when she leaves her classroom. In her purse, I find her keys, and I slip out of the building, taking them down to the local hardware store to make copies.
When I return to the school, I dump her set near the front entrance and watch as the khaki-wearing motherfucker comes to her rescue during the ensuing chaos. He finds the keys during her minor freak-out, and he gets to be the hero. But it doesn’t end there.
I expect her to get in her J
eep and go home the same as she does every night. But tonight, she follows him back to his house. And then she goes inside. I park on the street, contemplating the various ways I might murder him. Burning his face off with a blowtorch seems like a good idea. But as I watch them through the window, eating cake and celebrating what appears to be a birthday, it occurs to me that her heart isn’t in it. The smile on her face is polite but forced. And soon after the celebrations, she takes the opportunity to leave.
It doesn’t relieve me as much as I’d hoped. Because even if she isn’t staying tonight, that doesn’t mean she never will. I shift the car into gear and drive around town for a while, trying to clear my head. Inevitably, I end up back at her place after dark. She’s already asleep when I slip in, and for the first time, I can finally smell her again. I drag in lungsful of that scent like an addict, and then touch everything in her space as if to mark my territory.
I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me. I just know that when I stand on the threshold of her bedroom, watching her sleep, there is finally peace in my soul. For all of two minutes, until I realize that I came here to kill her. That was the job I set out to do. A thought that was much easier when there was distance and years between us. Now everything is fucked up again, and the only thing I understand is that I can’t. Not tonight.
I spend the night on her sofa, staring up at the ceiling, until I hear the creak of her floorboards when she gets up in the morning. At that point, the shower turns on, and a soft throaty hum filters out into the living room as she begins to wash herself. I know I shouldn’t, but my feet are moving before my mind can conjure up all the reasons this is a bad idea.
The bathroom door is cracked open, and through the steam, I catch a glimpse of her naked form behind the glass shower wall. Fuck me. She’s even more beautiful than I remembered. A little softer, a little curvier, and without a doubt, the sweetest poison I ever tasted.
I close my eyes and inhale her scent before I realize how fucking blatant I’m being. If she catches me right now, things could end badly. I need more information before I confront her. I need more time.
