Mayhem

by Estelle Laure

  I can tell by the way Neve is looking at him that she still can’t see. If she could, not even she would be able to keep her cool. I focus on the gum again. Up and down. Up and down. It works, keeps me calm.

  “Come over after work?” the girl says.

  “I think I’m going to my place. I don’t get off until three a.m. Got to protect the beach. Beware the Sand Snatcher!” He curls his free hand into a claw, then drops it back at his side. “Anyway, you wore me out last night.”

  “Yeah, I did.” She grins. “See you tomorrow, then?”

  “For sure, for sure.” He gives her a quick peck on the lips and a squeeze around the waist.

  The ice shivers like it’s trying to shake off something gross.

  He disappears inside the hut, then a minute later steps out in a red bathing suit and heads over to the chair to relieve the lifeguard on duty. I watch them chat, like everything is normal. No one knows. This prick is walking around every day, living his life and then doing that, and there’s not one person who’s figured it out. Except me. I know. And that means something.

  “Are you one hundred percent sure?” Neve says. “Because that’s the guy who was on the beach the other night. Remember? With the flashlight?”

  That seems like ten lifetimes ago, but Neve is right. He’s the surfer lifeguard who told us to be careful.

  “That is extra twisted,” I say. It’s true. Sometimes the patterns are too much to bear.

  “I didn’t see it at all,” she says. “Nothing.” She seems perplexed.

  “Maybe he believes himself like you said.”

  “Didn’t stop you from spotting him in five seconds,” she says. “He was standing right next to us the other night, and there was nothing.”

  “So what do we do now?” I try to change the subject, to put her back in the driver’s seat where she likes to be.

  Neve folds her arms. “We go home, I guess. We tell Elle. We await instructions. That’s how this gig works.”

  This trip to the beach has been way too intense and strange to walk home the regular way. “Can we run?”

  Neve is still staring at the lifeguard chair like it’s a riddle.

  “Neve, pleeeease! Can we run? Can we run up the hill?” Part of me knows this is what I do with Roxy, try to cajole the self-doubt off her. But part of me just wants to see Neve smile, and for her to stop worrying about the power she does or does not carry. “I bet I can beat you!”

  The shadows peel away from her and she brightens. “You’re so dumb,” she says, but through a smile. “Fine, when we get to the base of the hill.” She pulls me to my feet. “Then hell yeah, we can run. Victory!” she yells, so the lifeguards still milling around the hut stop to look over at us. One guy shakes his head. Neve gives him the finger. “Sayonara, suckers,” she says, and I’m nothing but relieved she’s recovered.

  But I also know I can’t protect Roxy and protect Neve and keep everyone from being sad all the time. I know that’s not actually helping anyone when it’s a lie.

  “Wait,” I tell Neve, looking to the boardwalk. “I have one more thing to do.”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  CURFEW

  When Neve and I step into VHYes, my mother’s hand is wrapped around Boner’s. She drops it as soon as she sees me. Everyone exchanges hellos, but their focus is on something else. Marcy, her red hair teased to its greatest heights yet, watches the TV over the cooler and waves at me, but she’s transfixed.

  As I try to make sense of what’s happening on the screen, I feel like I’m being vacuum sealed.

  Neve puts an arm around me. “No way,” she says.

  “They’re announcing it,” Boner says. “About five weeks too late, if you ask me, which no one does.”

  Roxy pats his shoulder.

  A woman at a news desk with feathered bangs and too much blush as well as giant shoulder pads in her suit jacket says, “We are joining the press conference live. Please stand by.”

  A tall Hispanic man stands in front of a mic with a slew of men in suits at his side, several of them in uniform.

  “Good evening,” he says. “It is with great sadness that I must report to you that, with the help of an unsuspecting hitchhiker who shall remain anonymous at this time, we have located the skeletal remains of the first two girls to have disappeared from Santa Maria in the last months, Tina Chaput and Karen Delano, on Redwood Hill. Though the details are continuing to unfold and more information will be forthcoming, we can confirm that a femur belonging to a third female has also been located. We fear that it belongs to another victim. As a result, we have reason to believe the other girls may also have been taken by the same perpetrator, and that we may be dealing with a serial killer.”

  “No shit,” Boner says.

  “Shhhh,” Marcy says.

  I am faint with the images I only glimpsed; of what happened to those girls, how afraid they must have been, so many unanswered prayers, so much pain.

  “As a result, the council has voted to place a curfew in effect beginning tonight. No one is to be out past nine p.m., and the beach will be entirely off-limits. Citizens of Santa Maria are urged to keep windows and doors locked and to exercise extreme caution while out and about. All victims have been between the ages of thirteen and sixteen, so families with children of those ages are also asked to take whatever extra precautions necessary. We hope to have this case solved and everything back to normal as soon as possible, but in the meantime, it’s simply not worth the risk of any more loss of life, so please take this seriously. We will be patrolling to ensure our streets are safe. In order to protect the integrity of the investigation, I will not be taking any questions at this time. Your extreme vigilance is appreciated. I urge citizens of Santa Maria to contact law enforcement should you see anything suspicious. Thank you for your cooperation.” He steps away as cameras flash and reporters begin shouting out questions, ignoring his attempt to end the press conference. A man in uniform approaches the mic, his forehead sweating, and Marcy mutes the TV.

  “I can’t believe they let Lonnie do the closing,” Boner says, still watching. “Guy’s a doofus.”

  “Jesus have mercy,” Marcy says, picking at her press-on nails. She looks at Boner. “You know what this is going to do to me? It’s going to kill the tourist business, and no one is going to be out after dark.”

  “What are you talking about? No one is going to have anything to do except watch movies. You’re going to be rich!” Roxy says, lighting a cigarette.

  Everything is surreal, and I know Neve is thinking the same thing as me: that we could solve this right now. I could say, “Boner, the Sand Snatcher is a quarter mile away.” Sure, he will have an alibi. And that smile. But if they go digging, they’ll find out who he is.

  “Don’t you dare,” Neve whispers. “The Sand Snatcher is ours.”

  “Hopefully there won’t be a curfew for long, Marcy,” Boner says, the three adults oblivious to anything other than their own immediate problems. “I’ll let you know what’s going on. Meanwhile, make sure you get Elle to batten down the hatches. I know she thinks she’s invincible, but even she should take some precautions here.”

  “No one’s going to go all the way up there,” Roxy says uncertainly. “Who would bother to attack the house? Who would dare?”

  Lyle. Lyle would dare. That phone call seems so long ago.

  “Roxy, can I talk to you?”

  She comes over to me, arms crossed, then glances at my necklace. My hand goes to cover it automatically, but not fast enough. She didn’t notice it this morning because it was under my clothes but she sure has noticed it now, and she grabs it and glares at me.

  I am so stupid.

  “Where did you get this?” she says.

  “Elle gave it to me.”

  “Why? Why would she do that?”

  “Ow!” I pull the necklace from her grip. “You’re hurting me.”

  “We all have them,” Neve says smoothly, pulling hers from under her shirt.


  Roxy looks from me to Neve.

  “Elle said something about your grandma having them made?” Neve says. Damn, she should be a politician. “She wanted us to feel like family, so she passed them out. You should have one, too, Roxy.”

  That’s going too far. I want to drive my elbow into her side.

  “I did have one.” Roxy’s voice is cold. “I gave it back. And so should you.” She looks up again, eyes filled with regret, sucks on her smoke. “Oh, Mayhem. I should never have come back here. Look what’s happening to us. Look what’s happening to Santa Maria.”

  “Lyle’s coming,” I blurt to stop her from saying what probably comes next, that we should have stayed in Taylor, where we were safe. I can’t hear that lie even one more time. I have to shock it out of her head for good.

  She lets out a little laugh before her face falls flat. “What? Are you serious? Mayhem, this isn’t funny.”

  “I’m not kidding. Why would I joke about that?”

  “What do you mean, then? Tell me what you mean!” She’s stammering, stumbling like she’s looking for solid ground and not finding any, but I can’t catch her now. I need her to understand.

  “I’m telling you because I’m not going back to Taylor and neither are you. And we aren’t running away. We are never running away again.” My voice is so strong I’m scaring myself. “I can’t leave Santa Maria anymore.”

  “You can’t?” Roxy’s words are a warning. “What do you mean, you can’t?”

  “I mean I won’t.”

  “Well, this is just ridiculous.” She throws off her seriousness with a sharp laugh. That laugh is one of Roxy’s favorite ways to shut down, to den. “I mean, why do you think he’s coming all the way here? Because I know Lyle St. James and he is far too proud.”

  “Roxy, you’re an object,” I say, trying to maintain my calm, but also not letting her blow this off like it’s nothing. “He thinks you belong to him. When you lose an object that’s yours, what do you do?”

  “He said that? When? When did you find out all this valuable information?”

  She’s going to be mad. So mad.

  “He called. This morning.”

  Roxy blanches but I go on.

  “First he asked for you, and then when I told him you weren’t there, he said he wants to come and get you because he wants you to go back to Taylor.”

  She crosses her arms in front of her. “And did he say he was coming? I mean, did those actual words come out of his mouth?”

  “What he said, Mother, is that he was coming with a bar of soap to wash out my filthy little mouth.” I feel that rush of hatred again. “He threatened me. He bashed the phone. He is really, really angry. Do you even care, Mother?”

  “Harsh,” Neve says, under her breath.

  “Easy, honey,” Marcy says from the corner, where she’s stopped straightening a shelf. “Go easy on your mama.”

  Roxy’s face drops, then clamps up again as I’m flooded with guilt I have no room to carry. I know Roxy could only leave him when she could, and I know all the reasons she stayed. I want to go to her and comfort her, take back everything I said. I take a step toward her.

  “No no, don’t. I’m okay.” She stubs out her cigarette, which is at its bitter end, probably burning through the filter. “Now, I know you’re afraid, probably of everything, but Lyle is not coming here. I’m sure of it.”

  There’s not going to be any getting through to her. Not now and probably not ever. “Yeah, Roxy—I’m sure you’re right.” I grab Neve and we head for the exit.

  “Good night, Miss Brayburn,” Neve says.

  “Oh by the way,” Roxy trills, ignoring Neve and stopping me before I reach the door. “I’m not coming home tonight.Nobody wants me there anyway.”

  I consider doing what I used to, making a joke, reassuring her, throwing her a Twinkie, hugging her into smiling.

  But the truth is, I plain don’t want to.

  “Good,” I say. “Go have another night of passion with Officer Whatshisface. I’ll be just fine.”

  “Fine!” she says.

  “Fine!” I say back.

  “You two need to calm down,” Marcy says.

  “Shut up, Marcy. You don’t know anything about it,” Roxy snaps.

  “Well that was rude,” Marcy says. “I was just trying to be helpful.”

  “Don’t be helpful, Marcy. Mayhem and I don’t need anyone in our business,” Roxy says, keeping her flinty eyes trained on mine. “Just remember, I could make you leave here, Mayhem.” Roxy’s voice trembles now, her words slow and deliberate. “You’re not eighteen. You have to come with me if I say.”

  I fix Roxy with a glare hot enough to start a fire. “You try it,” I dare her as she stumbles backward, her face empty of everything but shock. “Just try.”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  MURDER MURDER KILL KILL

  It is a much simpler plan than I thought it would be. Two phone calls by Elle and we have the lifeguard’s name and license plate. Kurt Selinger of Wild Wood, Wisconsin, moved to Santa Maria a little over a year ago, after graduating from college, which he attended in Milwaukee, and from which he graduated with honors. That deep surfer accent must be fake. He has a record for a minor assault, but other than that he’s clean. He drives a white Toyota Camry and has been working as a lifeguard since he got here.

  “Why does Rebecca tell you so much?” I ask Elle as she goes over everything with us.

  “Oh, I took care of something for her years ago. She’s very generous.” She goes back to giving us what we’ll need to get this done. Sand Snatcher makes the guy sound big and powerful, but as far as I can tell his only advantage is that no one knows who he is and he can hide.

  “Are you ready?” Elle asks me. She’s taken me into the orchard, and we’re under such a peaceful sky. It’s hard to believe what we’re planning to do just a few hours from now. There should be a storm, dark foreboding clouds, maybe some turkey buzzards swooping around overhead; not this smell of peaches and blossoming bougainvillea, this utterly dreamy weather, the valley below us in glorious greens and our crows nattering by our sides. Even though everything around me is ideal, I’m still smarting from my fight with Roxy, still worried about Lyle showing up, and of course the fact that soon I’ll be hunting the Sand Snatcher. It’s gotten hard to make sense of anything.

  “I’m proud of you,” Elle says, and she hugs me to her with her powerful but bony arms. “I hope this isn’t too much. But you know what I think?”

  “What?”

  “I think it’s no coincidence that you came when you did. In fact, I don’t believe in coincidences at all. The human race might be a wreck, but the grand plan is perfect.”

  Neve comes out to meet us with Jason and Kidd at her side. I have a hard time knowing what to do with my eyes with Jason so close. My fingers ache to touch him, my legs want to wrap around him, and mostly I want to lay my head against his chest. It seems like a person would have to be blind not to know it just from looking at me, at the way I don’t know how to be, but no one seems to notice my flush.

  “So what’s the plan, my captain?” Neve says, plopping herself at Elle’s feet.

  Jason sits next to me, lets his fingers graze my thigh then weave through mine, briefly, before retracting, leaving enough of a trace that I heat even more.

  Kidd puts her hands on her hips and looks from me to Elle defiantly, which brings a smile to Elle’s lips.

  “And why are you here, little miss?” Elle says to Kidd.

  “She thinks she’s going tonight,” Jason says, more than a little miserably.

  “I am going. I’m big enough and I hate psycho killers so much.” Kidd scowls, screwing her mouth into a tight O to demonstrate her hatred.

  “Oh no, Kiddo,” Elle says, smiling. “You are staying right here at home with me.”

  “What?” Kidd is just about stomping her foot. “That’s ageism.”

  “How do you even know that word?” Neve says.r />
  “I know lots of things!” Kidd says. “That’s what I’m talking about. You guys don’t even know what I know.”

  “Kidd,” Elle says, “this is not something to play with. You are too young to be kept safe.” She sighs. “To tell you the truth, you’re all too young for this, but we have to get this man out of rotation in Santa Maria. He can’t be allowed to go on doing these things or we’re not doing our jobs.”

  Kidd pouts, staring at the ground in front of her pink lace-up shoes.

  “Kidd,” Elle says in the softest voice, “I promise we’ll have a good time. We’ll have hot chocolate and cake and we’ll watch TV until everyone gets back.”

  Kidd looks up. “Seriously? That’s all the things that are against the rules.”

  “I know. But it’s a special night and you’re my girl. We’re going to have our own date. Let’s run to town and get some movies, and Jason can bring the TV down.” She gets up and takes Kidd by the hand. “You leave here at two a.m. You go on foot, you do it, you come back. Keep it clean and quick. No antics,” she says, her voice hardening again.

  “Yes, sir,” Neve says.

  When Elle doesn’t smile, she says, “We will.”

  “You better.”

  * * *

  We’re all dressed in black. We don’t need flashlights. The town is ghostly and empty and dank. Only the lifeguards are still on. As Elle explained, they’re helping to enforce the first night of curfew, making sure no stragglers are loose on the beach. Jason has neatly used a tool to jimmy his way into the Sand Snatcher’s car before his shift ends at three, and Neve and I slip into the back seat without any problems, squeezing together on the upholstered interior.

  There are still the remnants of a party on the beach, a bonfire close to burning out, but other than that, the whole town is silent. When I look up, Jason is watching from the tree above the car. To the naked eye, he would be completely camouflaged, but I can feel him there. Nothing, not even pitch-dark, can keep me blind.