Ten Days Gone

by Beverly Long

  “For a couple months now. Doing pretty good with it.”

  “Boyfriend?”

  A.L. shrugged. “She’s got a date for prom next Saturday.”

  “May 21?” Tess clarified. “She’ll be dancing, and I guess... I guess I’ll be dead.”

  “No,” A.L. said. “We’ll protect you.”

  Tess shrugged. She turned off the heat under the pasta. “I’ll need somebody to drain this.” She opened the oven door and pulled out the sizzling shrimp and roasted vegetables.

  By the time they sat down, it was dark outside. Rena took her first bite and realized it was delicious.

  “Tell me about the Gizer Hotel,” Tess said.

  “Do you know the property?” A.L. responded.

  “Yes.”

  “It’s gone through a couple different owners in the last seventy or eighty years, including rather long periods where it was closed. Recently, a new group got close to purchasing it, but Baywood Historic Preservation stepped in to save it. They believe it has historical significance. It was their petition that you signed.”

  “Isn’t life funny?” Tess asked. “If I’d signed first, then you would be having this discussion with my best friend. Sort of like, if I’d been in the ocean a minute earlier or a minute later, or six feet over, I might still have my arm.” She paused. “Bad timing. Bad luck. Bad judgment. Not sure. Just know that I was wrong—life really isn’t very goddamn funny at all.”

  A.L. put down his fork. “Well, at least you can still wipe your own ass.”

  * * *

  He probably shouldn’t have said it. And he was about to apologize and prepare to duck the plate that was going to be aimed at his head. But Tess surprised him yet again.

  She started to laugh. At first, a low rumble of sound and air, like it was being pulled from her chest. It got bigger and louder, and soon there were tears running down her cheeks.

  Rena had a wary look in her eyes. Maybe she was wondering how big a pain in the ass an involuntary psych admission might be.

  “Oh, Christ,” Tess said, her voice coming in spasms.

  “Look,” he said. “I’m—”

  She held up her hand. “Stop. Don’t ruin the moment for me.”

  He shut his mouth and watched Tess wipe the tears from her face with the folded paper towel that they’d been using as napkins. “I haven’t laughed for a very long time,” she said. “That felt really good. And you’re right. I can still do that. Of course, can’t zip or button my pants on my own, but I got the basic bodily functions covered.”

  She took a sip of wine. Looked at Rena first, then settled on A.L. “Most people are really careful around me. They don’t want to say anything that might offend me. Of course, they still do at times, because nobody knows what to say in response to this.” She looked at her arm.

  It allowed A.L. to also finally take a good look. He’d been careful not to up to this point. Her arm ended maybe two inches below her elbow. The skin covering the end had healed, although the incision lines were still pink.

  “I can be fitted with a prosthesis in a few months,” she said, noting his interest.

  “Great,” he said.

  She studied him. “It’s nice to know that I won’t have that problem with you.”

  “What?”

  “I’m back on the point about people being overly nice to me. It’s good to know that I won’t have that problem with you.”

  Rena was looking down at her plate, but he could tell that she was trying not to laugh.

  “We’ve got a pretty serious situation on our hands,” he said. “I don’t have a lot of time to pretty it up for you.”

  “I get that,” she said. She pushed her plate away. She’d eaten most of her dinner. “Shall we talk about it?”

  A.L. and Rena exchanged a look. They’d have to be careful about how they laid it out for her. Despite her bravado, she might be easily spooked. But she also wouldn’t take kindly to bullshit answers and hedging. They’d have to be straight with her all the way.

  “There have been some details,” he said, “that we’ve been successful in keeping out of the press. You know that the victims have all been smothered.”

  “Yes. But no sexual assault,” she said, proving that she had read the Jane Picus article.

  “Right. But the bodies are naked, with their clothes nicely folded next to them.”

  Tess picked up her fork and tapped the end of it on the table. “Is the guy folding the clothes, you know, afterward, or are the women doing it? Before?”

  It was an excellent question. “No other DNA on the clothing than the victims’. We think they’re being nice and tidy. Also, there’re no signs of a struggle.”

  “Maybe he drugs them?”

  “Toxicology reports don’t indicate that,” Rena said.

  “We’re speculating that the killer gives them some motivation to be cooperative,” A.L. said.

  “Must be some really convincing motivation,” Tess said. “But even so, that might work with the first victim, but after that, the women had to have some idea of how the thing was going to end. You’d think they would have fought with everything they had.” She paused. “In the hospital, they told me that I was kicking and punching at the shark the whole time it was attacking me. I don’t remember that. Probably because I lost a whole lot of blood quickly and was in shock. But at the time, I fought. It’s instinct.”

  “We think it is possible that he puts some type of mitts or gloves over their hands to avoid any last-minute resistance,” A.L. said. “We have recovered some cotton fibers.”

  “How is he getting into their houses?”

  “None of the attacks showed any forced entry. They have happened at various times during the day. Estimating time of death is not as easy as television makes it look. The best you can do is get a general window of when the death occurred based on what shape the body is in. But we think the range is as early as four or five in the morning to late evening. Our first victim didn’t show up for her morning run with two friends. They went to her house to check on her. She hadn’t been dead for very long, so it happened sometime in the very early morning. The second victim wasn’t found until the next morning—coroner believes she was killed sometime between 8:00 p.m. and midnight the night before. The third and fourth victims were found early evening, when other people returned to their houses. They’d been killed sometime during the day.”

  “And nobody has seen anything? I mean, I realize that people are working and generally minding their own business, but there have to be people home in some of these nearby houses.”

  “You would think,” A.L. said. “But thus far, we don’t have any helpful neighbors. Nobody has heard anything.”

  “Perp can’t be a ghost,” Tess said.

  A.L. shook his head. “He or she isn’t. But somehow, Perp has been able to approach these houses and gain entry. We suspect it’s getting harder because people are now more suspicious.”

  “So what is it, exactly, that you want me to do?” Tess asked.

  “We had thought that the victims were not chosen randomly,” A.L. said. “Now we know that to be the case. Because Perp knows in advance who the next one will be, it gives him or her time to research the victim’s patterns, to know where she might be at any given time, to know who the other people are in the house, to know what their patterns are.”

  “So Perp has probably already been watching me,” Tess said, her tone dull.

  “That’s very possible,” A.L. said, not willing to sugarcoat it.

  “But then I pull a disappearing act.”

  “Perp is probably frustrated by that,” Rena said, jumping in. “But your decision to leave Lauren’s cabin might have worked in our favor. We think it’s possible that Perp could have tracked you there—after all, it’s a known fact that you and Lauren are friends.
Known fact that she has a cabin in Shell Lake. But now? Well, we feel pretty confident that you managed to get temporarily off the grid.”

  “If Perp knows about this,” she said, looking at her arm, “then maybe I won’t be a big enough challenge. Maybe he’s already decided to skip me. Like he did with twenty.”

  “We don’t have any reason to think Perp is interested in skipping you. In fact, my money is on you. Perp isn’t looking for a fight. He’s somehow figured out a way to get his victims to undress, fold their clothes neatly and lie on the floor so that he can smother them. I think he might...appreciate any limitations.”

  It was the bald ugly truth and he hoped Tess was strong enough to handle it. He and Rena would protect Tess. But they were going to need her full cooperation.

  “May I see the petition again?” Tess asked.

  Rena pulled it from her purse and handed it to her.

  “Seventy is a man. You think that’s going to make a difference?” Tess asked, looking up.

  “We don’t know,” A.L. admitted. “But we’re not ever going to get to seventy. We’re going to stop the killer. You can help us do that.”

  She stared at him. Let out a long breath through pursed lips. “I guess I’m ready to hear exactly how I might manage that.”

  “To start, you stay here for a few more days. Your boss has given you a leave—your coworkers know that, probably many of the title company’s customers know that by now. If Perp has his ear to the ground, he won’t expect you to be at work.”

  “But I’m going to need to return to Baywood?” Tess said. “To my house.”

  “Yes. But not right away. Like we said, you’re probably off the radar here. But then, when you do go home in a couple days, you make a big show of it. Go visit your neighbor, take your dog for a walk. In the meantime, both Rena and I will get inside your house and remain there, protecting you, until...” He let his voice trail off.

  “Until Perp makes his move on May 20.”

  “Right,” A.L. said.

  The room was very quiet, with the exception of the light snore from the dog, who had fallen asleep next to Tess’s feet. A breeze from the partially open window brought in the scent of spring lilacs. Tess silently tapped her index finger against the wood tabletop. “I suppose it’s too late for a bucket list,” she said quietly.

  “You’ll have another thirty or forty years to work on that,” A.L. assured her.

  “I should have bought more ice cream at the store. Hard to care about an extra five pounds right now.”

  Rena smiled. “We’ll go to the store for you. Mint chip does make the world a better place.”

  Tess picked up her half-full glass of wine and drained it. She set it down hard. “I’ve always considered myself a fairly resolute person. I weathered a divorce when my daughter was a preteen. Got forced out of a job that I loved just a couple years later when the work went to Mexico. I bounced back. Found a new job. Dated. Learned to surf.”

  She said the last sentence almost reverently.

  “But these last couple months have really sucked,” she said. She sounded weary.

  “You’re going to help us catch a serial killer,” Rena said, her voice soft.

  “There is that,” Tess said. She pushed her chair back from the table and stood.

  She was trying to be a good sport, trying to keep it light. But Tess Lyons was fragile. A.L. stood up. She was right. The last couple months had been a big kick to the stomach. “It’s getting late, and I think Rena and I should spend the night.”

  She shook her head. “There’s only two bedrooms, and I’ve got one of them.”

  “No problem. Rena can take the other. I’m fine on the couch. In the morning, one of us will drive back to Baywood, and the other will stay here with you.”

  “So I’m to have a babysitter?”

  “Think of it as a companion,” A.L. said.

  “I’m not going to run,” Tess said. “You’ve adequately made your case as to why I need to see this through.”

  “Good,” A.L. said. “But I still don’t think you should be alone.” She was putting up a fairly good front, but the consensus from her boss, her family, her friends had been that Tess hadn’t bounced back. Hours from now, this news was going to have had a chance to churn in her head for a while, and she might start to feel very differently about being all in.

  “Which one of you will stay?” she asked.

  “Either one of us that you’re most comfortable with,” Rena said.

  She looked between the two of them. “I don’t really care.”

  Her tone was back to dull. Resigned. Was she simply weary of the whole thing, or were they thwarting an effort to once again run?

  “We’ll decide in the morning,” A.L. said. “Now I suggest that we all get some sleep.”

  He sat on the couch and waited for the sounds from the other parts of the house to quiet. Then he pulled his phone from his pocket. Dialed Liz. “Hey,” he said when she answered. “How’s it going?”

  “Good. I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”

  Her speech was clear and A.L. felt his chest relax. “I know. I was just thinking about you.”

  Liz sighed. “I’m fine, A.L. Stop worrying.”

  “Just wanted to remind you that I’m here. Night or day.”

  “Nothing new about that,” she said, her tone gentle. “I love you but don’t call me again.”

  “Ever?” he asked, knowing that wasn’t her intent.

  “Not never,” she said. “But don’t hover. Goodbye, A.L.”

  She hung up before he got a chance to respond. One day at a time. That’s how this would go. And about the only thing he could do was worry.

  He used his phone to send a text to Traci. Hi, honey. Sorry I missed tonight’s performance. Had to work. I’ll bet you were amazing.

  Within seconds he got a response. Who is this?

  He smiled. The man who drove you to a thousand dance practices.

  Oh, that guy. No worries. Got to go. Off to the cast party.

  His heart flipped in his chest. Drive safe. He thought about adding No drinking and Stay away from Golf Course John but refrained. He trusted her.

  Of course. Love ya!

  It wasn’t a terrible way to end a day. Love you back, he wrote. Good night.

  Eighteen

  Sunday, May 15, Day 5

  Rena could hear birds singing when she woke up. The bedroom was small enough that she could lean out of the double bed, pull back the curtain and get a look at the little fellows. They were yellow. Small. She did not know her birds.

  She stretched. Thought about calling Gabe, but decided against it. She’d called him the night before, letting him know that she was spending the night in Wisconsin. He’d seemed cool with it, and she’d gone to bed wondering if she’d presented her husband with an opportunity. For a crazy minute, she’d contemplated calling Jamie Forsythe.

  To tell her what? Get ready for a booty call? Put the coffee on? Get dressed so that you can meet my husband for a drink, ’cause he’s in desperate need of some life-coaching?

  The mind really was a dangerous thing when left to roam. And that had brought her back to Tess Lyons, whose head must have been spinning by the time they’d all climbed into their respective beds. To be told that you were likely the next victim of a serial killer who would strike in less than a week had to be horrific. But Tess had handled it about as well as anybody. Time would tell if she was able to hang on to that control.

  If she started to waver or crack, they were going to be in a world of trouble.

  She didn’t hear anyone else in the house, but she was confident that A.L. was probably awake. He was always at the office before she was, and she knew that he sometimes rolled in as early as five or six in the morning.

  She pulled on her clothes a
nd ran a brush through her hair. Stopped in the bathroom quickly before making her way to the kitchen. She’d been right. The coffee was on, and A.L. was sitting at the table, scrolling through his cell phone. Tabitha, who was sleeping at his feet, raised her head. That made Rena smile. “Good morning,” she said, her voice a whisper. “Tess up?”

  A.L. shook his head.

  “Did you check her room? Is she still here?”

  He shrugged. “Nobody would have gotten out of this house without me hearing.”

  “Looks as if you made a friend,” she said, nodding at the dog. She got herself a cup of coffee and sat at the table.

  “When Traci was little, we had a dog. Pretty similar to this one. I actually taught it how to fetch my shoes. I don’t wear slippers.”

  “I would have never assumed that,” she said. “You’re totally not a slipper kind of guy. However, I also wouldn’t have pegged you for a cat guy.”

  “He’s a stray. I did my best to find a home for him, but nobody else was stupid enough to take him.”

  “You do not always need to pretend that you’re a hard-ass.”

  “I’m never pretending. Did you talk to Gabe last night?”

  She had not told A.L. her crazy thoughts about Gabe. He was her partner, not her girlfriend. But maybe he’d have a perspective. “I saw Gabe having coffee with a woman.”

  “I’m having coffee with you,” he said.

  “Don’t be deliberately obtuse. Coffee, in a coffee shop, chatting it up like they were real buddies.”

  “Do you know her?”

  “No. But I went back another day, and she was there. She had pearl earrings. I followed her back to her office.”

  “Jesus, Morgan.”

  “She’s a life coach.”

  “There are life coaches in Baywood? I thought those were for big-city types.”

  “Apparently, people in smaller towns need help navigating life’s trials, too.”

  A.L. got up and poured another cup of coffee for himself. Topped off hers. She thought it was likely that he was trying to figure out what to say next. This was why it probably made more sense not to have this conversation with him.