Inevitable

by Tamara Hart Heiner

  I screamed and jumped to my feet, pressing my hands to my heart.

  “Jayne?” Aaron was at my side in an instant, one hand on my elbow and the other on my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  I gasped and shook my head, tears streaming down my face. I lowered my eyes, aware of people in the restaurant staring at me.

  Aaron’s hand reached for mine, and I jerked away. “Jayne, I’m sorry. Listen, I’ll make it up to you.”

  “No.” I pushed him away, my legs trembling. “You should’ve told me you had a girlfriend. Just go away.” I turned and fled out of JT’s.

  My mood progressively worsened on my drive home. How could I even warn Aaron about this one? “Don’t marry her! She’ll kill you!” He’d think I was just jealous.

  I let out a sob and pounded the steering wheel. Why? Why Aaron? How could I convince him to be with me instead? I yearned to be able to change what I’d seen. I threw myself from the car, stumbling toward the house. Tears fell down my cheeks, and I swiped at them with one hand while opening the front door with the other.

  I almost didn’t see the woman watching me from under the streetlight. My lip twisted and I glared at her. Then I slammed the front door shut and ran up the stairs, plowing straight into my room and onto the bed. Leaning across it, I fumbled for my sweet pea candle and the matches. The fragrant aroma reached my senses, flooding out the earlier feelings of despair.

  I closed my eyes and lay back on my bed, letting my mind give in to the nothingness.

  My eyes snapped open when my phone began to ring loudly on the dresser. How long had I been lying here? It felt like only a few minutes, but outside it was dark. I glanced at my watch, confirming that it had been nearly half an hour.

  The phone stopped for a moment and then started again, the display flashing. I grabbed it up and groaned. JT’s Bagels. I gritted my teeth and answered. “Hello?”

  “Jayne? This is Tom.”

  My manager. I pinched my nose. This was it. I was about to get fired. “Hi, Tom.”

  “Jayne, what happened? You just took off without saying a word. Where are you?”

  “I’m at home. I, uh...” I let out a shaky sigh. “I all of the sudden got really sick. I couldn’t think straight, I just had to go.”

  Silence on the other end. I wondered what Tom was thinking. Would he give me a second chance? Did I even want a second chance?

  “Jayne, you can’t leave without telling anyone. Take the evening off, be here tomorrow for your shift. People get sick, but if you ever take off like that again

  ” Tom paused and then sighed. “I’ll have to let you go.”

  I could hardly believe it. JT’s must be more desperate for workers than I’d realized. “Um, okay. Thanks, Tom. I won’t let it happen again.”

  I collapsed on my back, trying to decide if I was better or worse off than before. I pounded my pillow in frustration.

  The murders. I sat up, suddenly glad for something to focus on besides Aaron. I took the steps two at a time to the downstairs den, where the family computer sat at a desk. My parents told me I could have my own laptop—when I went to college. If I wanted one before then, I had to buy it. Fat chance of that happening, considering I never kept a job.

  Beth sat at the card table, headphones on while she worked on her homework. I took a deep breath and looked away. I couldn’t stand to See someone else today. Don’t think about her. Think about the serial killer.

  Even I thought it was a weird thing to comfort myself with.

  I pulled up a search engine and typed in, “Lacey Township serial killer.” Several different hits popped up, some from several years ago, others taking place in other parts of New Jersey or even New York. I ignored those and clicked on the one connected to the local paper. A message popped up.

  “Please enter your name and phone number to confirm your subscription to the Lacey-Barnegat Times.”

  We didn’t have a subscription. Heaving a sigh, I ran upstairs to get my check card. I didn’t have a lot of money in my checking account, but it would cover a newspaper subscription. I filled out the required information, lied about my age, and started my subscription. It wasn’t too bad, since I only wanted the e-version.

  Then I read each article slowly, absorbing the information.

  The first murder came as a shock to the community. Twenty-three year old college student Claire Eastman was found in an alley behind a dance club. She had been sexually assaulted before he slit her throat and threw her in the dumpster, where the body was discovered the next morning. Her black leather purse, which hadn’t been touched, quickly identified her. The article included a smiling photograph of a brunette in a tank top.

  I thought I was going to puke. I put my head in my hands. Just like Hannah, Claire had been at the prime of her life. So much in front of her. And then to have it taken from her in such an ugly, cruel way...I could only hope that she had also been numb to those last moments, as Hannah had.

  Shaking it off, I flipped open my notebook and started a new list.

  Name: Claire Eastmon

  Age: 23

  Occupation: student

  Hair color: brown

  Eyes: brown

  I studied my list. I needed more. Like where Claire lived, where she worked. Did something about her make her a target? Or was he choosing girls on a whim?

  Finding her address was easy. She lived over by Tom’s River, about ten miles from my own house. She worked as a waitress at the Lobster Shanty, a rather expensive seafood restaurant with the best crispy spinach I’d ever eaten.

  I tapped my pencil on the desk. There had to be more. More about Claire’s life. I wasn’t likely to find it here, though. If I were a real journalist, I’d get in my car and drive out there, interview her family and friends. But I wasn’t, and I quickly dismissed the idea. I’d have to find the information another way.

  Next one.

  Name: Emily Gardner

  Age: 17

  Occupation: student/cheerleader

  Hair color: brown

  Eyes: brown

  Neighborhood: Crestwood Village

  Place of death: Pine Barrens

  So far all the girls had brown hair and brown eyes.

  I searched my memory. Did Hannah? I was pretty sure she did. Maybe that was the link. I stuck my thumb in my mouth and nibbled on the nail, scanning the next few articles until I found the headliner about the third murder.

  Name: Melanie Swift

  Age: 19

  Occupation: hair stylist

  Hair color: blond

  Eyes: blue

  Neighborhood: Waretown

  So much for that theory.

  Number three was the last one. There were no more murders. I exhaled. Hannah was still alive, then, somewhere.

  I put my pencil down and studied my notes. I was familiar with all of these towns; they were close by. I knew the police were doing the exact same thing, and probably with more information. But I knew something they didn’t: I knew who one of the future victims was. I needed to at least find Hannah’s last name. How? I winced when I bit off too much nail and shoved my hand under the chair.

  “I’m going to bed,” Beth said, standing and stretching. “Night, Jayne.”

  “Night,” I murmured. I had the sudden urge to warn Beth, to tell her to be careful. The desire to meet her eyes and know for a certainty how she would die almost overwhelmed me. But I couldn’t. What if it was the serial killer? To know, to warn her, and then still have her die, would absolutely destroy me. “You know there’s a serial killer out there, right?”

  “Oh?” She glanced toward me, but I stared at the computer screen. “I think I heard something about it.”

  “Be careful,” I murmured. “Stay in groups when you’re out.”

  “Sure. Of course.” She waited a moment, and, when I said nothing more, stepped out of the den. I heard her footsteps ascending the staircase.

  I shut the computer down and gathered my papers. I’d sleep
on this. Maybe something would be clearer tomorrow.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “April showers bring May flowers,” I murmured as I parked my car at school. I preferred the sunshine, personally. I flipped down the visor and narrowed my eyes at the frizzy strands of hair framing my heart-shaped face. I had tried to get my hair into a ponytail, but the rain made a rebel of it.

  I jumped out of the car and hurried into the front entrance. Kids stood in groups inside, water dripping into small puddles at their feet. I shivered in the manufactured air of the A/C and headed for my locker.

  The black Doc Marten’s standing next to my locker caught my attention as soon as I got to the top of the staircase. I lifted my eyes and caught sight of the back of Aaron’s head as he talked to Dana. I took a deep breath, inhaling the lemon-free air. I knew all there was to know.

  Dana met my eyes over his shoulder. I marched up and took her by the elbow, pulling her down the hall to her own locker.

  “What’s going on?” she murmured, swinging the metal door open and grabbing a book. She glanced behind us. “You avoiding him?”

  “Yeah.” I patted the strands of hair around my face, trying to coax them down. “We kind of had a disagreement.”

  Her eyes raked over me, begging for details. “Bad?”

  “Yes.” My mouth twitched. I concentrated on keeping my features placid. “Let’s just say, he’s no longer an option.”

  Dana’s eyes went over my shoulder again. “Does he know it?”

  I was so tempted to turn around. I knew Aaron was there at my locker, watching us. “I told him. He has to accept it.”

  We started down the stairs. I made a plan to come back to my locker before the tardy bell and get my books.

  Dana hooked her arm through mine. “You have to tell me everything.”

  I shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. He’s not over his ex-girlfriend, actually. She’s coming into town this weekend and he canceled our date to be with her.” And he’s going to marry her, I added to myself.

  Dana gave a low whistle. “Yikes. That is low. Good for you for sticking to your guns.” She squeezed my arm. “Are you okay?”

  I nodded, feeling my eyes tear up a bit at the question. Sensitivity was my middle name lately. “I feel like a stupid idiot, that’s all. At least I found out before I got too involved.”

  “Yeah. Come over to my house tomorrow. We’ll go out. I’ll find you a dream guy.”

  I let out a weak laugh. “Thanks, but I’m working. All day.” Dana and I had different dreams. I didn’t want one of her guys.

  “Your loss, babe.” She kissed me loudly on the cheek and pushed off of my arm. “See ya in math!”

  The warning bell rang and the halls filled with students, all in a mad rush to get to their first class. I fought the crowds back up to my locker. The halls emptied quickly, and Aaron was nowhere to be seen. I felt a twinge of disappointment.

  You don’t like him anymore, I chastised myself. I grabbed my books for the next two classes and trotted to Spanish.

  I couldn’t help but remember last night’s research while I listened to Mr. Livingston talk about the past perfect progressive conjugation, or something like that. I glanced at my classmate, Troy Mason, who was texting away on his iPhone, like he did in every class.

  “Troy,” I whispered, learning over.

  He looked up at me, surprise flickering in his gray eyes. “What’s up, Jayne?”

  I kept my grimace to myself. Troy was friends with Stephen, and though he was cordial, I hadn’t spoken to him since Stephen and I broke up. I suspected Troy had something to do with the Jessica element. “Can you look up news on that thing?”

  “Sure.” He moved his hand over it as quickly as if he were waving a wand. The exact dynamics of the movement were lost to me. “What do you want to look up?”

  Out of my peripheral vision I saw Mr. Livingston glance my direction. But he didn’t say anything, and I knew he wouldn’t. There was a fine line between students and teachers as far as friendship went, and I felt pretty secure knowing he’d let me get away with almost anything. I couldn’t push it, though. “Look up that serial killer. See if there are any new murders.”

  “Serial killer, huh?” Troy arched a bleached blond eyebrow. “I hadn’t heard of one.” A few more touches, and he handed me the phone. “Yep, you’re right. Here’s an article.”

  I read the date and my heart started to pound. This morning. Something must’ve happened for them to be writing about him again.

  A 21-year old woman was found last night in Barnegat Bay. Police suspect she is another victim to the Lacey Township Serial Killer. Forensics determined the death to be approximately 24 hours before the body was discovered by Deputy Sheriff Clyde Williams.

  Twenty-four hours. My mind did the math. It could’ve been Hannah. But wasn’t I supposed to save her? I handed the phone back, my hands shaking. I had to find out who the victim was.

  “You good?” Troy whispered, and I snapped back to the present.

  “Yeah.” I steadied myself with a deep breath. “I’m good.” I reached into my backpack and pulled out my lists. Goosebumps popped up on my arms. The article hadn’t disclosed the name of the victim. What if it was Hannah? What did that mean for my mission to declare? My fingers trembled as I added her information to the list, searching for a common denominator.

  Name: Hannah

  Age: 21

  Occupation: ?

  Hair color: brown

  Eyes: brown

  Neighborhood: Barnegat Bay

  Another town too close for comfort. In fact, the hit towns seemed to circle Forked River.

  I had to put my concern for Hannah aside in math. Dana bugged me about Aaron. I staved off most of her questions by asking my own about calculus. This class was too hard for me, but Dana had convinced me to take it with her. She was a math whiz, taking both calculus and statistics in one school year.

  “Come on, Jayne,” she said, pursing her lips and erasing my figures. “You can do this.”

  “You talked me into this,” I reminded her, glad that I’d distracted her from Aaron. “You promised to help.”

  “Yes, but you’re not even trying.” She launched into a simplified version of how to solve the equation, and I smiled to myself. She was too annoyed with me to care about my love life at the moment.

  The bell rang, and I got up, stuffing the books into my bag. “I have to go to my locker. I’m going to skip lunch today and study for our physics test sixth hour. See you there?”

  “Yes.” She blinked her light blue eyes up at me. “Meet at my locker after school.”

  “Thanks.” I smiled and hurried away.

  I managed to avoid Aaron during English class by squishing in between Derek Mills and Kyle Larson, two guys who were too smart to still be in high school. They always sat in the back, spewing out cosmic ideas that were way beyond my mental capacity. They looked at me funny but otherwise ignored me.

  Aaron sat in front of me to the left, his body twisted slightly to see the whiteboard. I spent the entire class staring at the board or my notebook, doing a great job of not studying his profile or admiring that square jaw. Mostly. Pity that now that I could look at him without Seeing any crazy visions, there was no reason to. I shot out of the room as soon as class was over, not giving him the chance to catch up to me.

  My half an hour cram session at lunch didn’t help my physics test any. I was in a foul mood by the time class let out. My forehead felt permanently creased in a scowl. Dana shot me a questioning glance and I shook my head.

  She waited by my desk after class, watching as I put my stuff in my backpack. “Didn’t go so well, huh?”

  “Not so great.” What a crummy day. My head throbbed with exhaustion, the effort of avoiding Aaron, too much school, and the serial killer. We paused at my locker. I stuffed my books inside and slammed it shut. “I’ll see you at the game tonight.”

  She followed me out the double doors to the fr
ont of the building. “Is it just the physics test? You seem a little off.”

  “Yeah, I am.” I rubbed my eyebrow. “I have to go to work.”

  “Bye, then.” Dana turned around and walked back into the school, and I knew I’d snubbed her. I felt a twinge of guilt. Keeping such a big secret from her weighed on me. But I couldn’t tell her about the serial killer.

  I could tell the police, however. I made up my mind to do so as soon as I could.

  

  I looked forward to the mindlessness that accompanied working in a fast-food joint. I parked at JT’s and hauled myself out of the car.

  Memories of Aaron assaulted me as I walked through the glass doors: our first meeting, his subsequent return visit, our “break-up.” Panic seized me. Why did I think I would be safe here? This was where we always bumped into each other!

  For a brief moment, I froze. The impulse to turn and run enticed me.

  “Oh, good, you’re here.” Matt came around the counter, his jeans clinging to his hips as if by magic. If I wore pants like that, they’d fall down to my ankles with the first step. He slapped a wet towel at me. “You’re so very lucky we saved a spot for you. Clock in and take register one.”

  “Right.” Get it together, Jayne. Aaron wouldn’t come in today. Everything would be fine. I dumped my stuff in the back and started behind the register. I tried not to focus on the entrance, but I jumped every time the door opened.

  “You okay?” Matt’s deep voice came from behind my ear, and again, I jumped.

  “Huh? Oh, yeah. Fine.”

  “Tom said you left sick yesterday. And today, you seem—jumpy.” His lip curled up like he’d said something incredibly witty, a toothpick dangling from the other side of his mouth.

  “Ah, well...” I couldn’t really deny being sick. That wouldn’t be good for my career. “I’m a tad under the weather, if you know what I mean. But I’m not contagious. And I washed my hands.” I pointed to the plastic bottle of hand sanitizer on the counter.

  “Maybe you need a break from all the people. Wanna work in the kitchen today?”

  “The kitchen?” I echoed, thinking of how I hated messing with the food. Then my mind flashed back to Aaron. “Yeah. That sounds great.”