by Keary Taylor
I shake my head. Someone capable of this level of violence doesn’t deserve to be called human, anymore.
It takes the entire day, but by the time dinner rolls around, Miss Carolina Jex looks ready. Her face looks somewhat fake, worked over with so many layers of makeup. But she doesn’t look like a chopped-up cadaver. I think the family will be able to get what they need from this open casket funeral.
“You did good, Logan,” Emmanuel says as we take our gloves off and wash death down the drain. “I’ll call in Craig and Katie to help with the service. You’ve put in more than enough hours this week.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, rolling my head from one side to the other, trying to stretch out the kinks and knots that have formed throughout the day.
Emmanuel nods, and I place a hand on his forearm. “Thanks. You’re a good man, Em.”
He offers a thin little smile and nods. “Get some rest, Logan. I’ll finish up here.”
I look once more at Carolina, now resting peacefully in the casket. “Goodnight.”
Some days this feels like any other job. I forget that my work is based upon when people die. To me it’s no different than a waiter at a restaurant, or a schoolteacher.
But there are days like today, when I walk out into the bright, sunny day, absolutely disoriented and dazed that the sun could possibly be shining, that I am reminded.
We all die eventually. Everyone’s paths to get to that gate are entirely different.
I pray that my arrival will be peaceful.
But, considering my luck, there’s not a chance.
Just as I sink into the driver’s seat of my car, my phone vibrates. I look down to see a text from my little brother, Eshan.
Mom is making tortellini. Eli just got here. Wanna join?
I keep staring at my phone. Really I just want to curl up in my too-small bathtub, turn off the lights, and not think about anything until the water goes cold.
But it’s Eshan, and Eli, and my parents who I haven’t called or seen in three weeks.
So with exhausted fingers, I text my brother back. Be there in twenty.
The traffic is moderate as I work my way from one town to another. I don’t cut through the city, which would be awful this time of day, but take the longer route around the outskirts. Past businesses and homes. Through the normal.
Regular life rolls on no matter how horrible things might have been around them. Oblivious and blessed for it.
I turn onto my old street and roll past Eli’s old house. And then there’s my parents’ red brick house. I park along the curb behind Eli’s black car and walk up to the door.
Everyone’s laughter hits my ears as I walk inside. The front room is calm and put together, as always. I walk past the stairs and into the dining room.
Eli sits at the table with Eshan and my father wheels around the kitchen, attempting to help my mother with dinner in the kitchen.
“Hey, sweetie,” Mom says with a warm smile when I plop down at the table next to Eli. “Dinner will be done in just a minute.”
I smile, though I can tell it doesn’t reach my eyes.
“You smell like dead people,” Eshan says, a little devil’s look in his eyes as he smiles.
This is normally our thing. Teasing each other. Getting on each other’s backs about everything.
But I just don’t have it in me today.
So I don’t say anything. I just look away, watching my parents without really seeing them.
“Are you alright?” Eli asks.
I shrug, not looking at him so he can’t read the weight of the day written across my face.
“Food is ready!” Dad declares. He pulls a few dishes into his lap and wheels his chair over, mom brings the rest, and they set it on the table. We all gather round, one big, mismatched, happy family.
My father, Ethan Pierce, has strawberry blond hair that is slowly thinning, to where he’ll have to start shaving it soon. But, he’s thick and strong. Though he doesn’t feel it right now while he’s stuck in that wheelchair. He’s been building custom homes since long before I was born.
My mom, Gemma Pierce, is beautiful. With blonde hair that toes the line into platinum—and it’s her natural color—blue eyes, petite figure, she’s a bombshell. She’s kind and warm, but is also always worried about what other people think of her outside of the house. But at home, she’s just mom to me and my brother.
Then there’s me. Dark brown hair. Light hazel eyes that I’ve been told more than once look kind of like a cat’s. I’m a little shorter and my lips are fuller and round.
And Eshan. With his lanky build and dark chestnut skin. Big brown eyes and perfectly smooth complexion.
And Eli. Black eyes, black hair, black skin.
None of us are family by blood, but family through the heart.
I was placed in Ethan and Gemma’s home as a three-day-old baby. They’d never been able to have children of their own. And then when I was five, my parents brought Eshan home from Nepal, one year old. And then there was Eli, who didn’t quite fit the role of brother, son, or uncle. But, he found a place, nevertheless.
They all chat and laugh, and normally I’d be laughing the loudest of them all, making some brash joke. But I keep thinking about poor Carolina today and the impossible state she was brought to us in.
“Logan,” Dad says, pausing with his spoon over his bowl. “You’ve been near dead silent all night. What’s wrong?”
I feel all eyes land on me and my face heats. I’ve never been one to hold much back.
“Just work,” I say, shrugging. “There was this poor woman. It was…”
“No gruesome details at the dinner table,” Mom cuts in, her face already turning pale. She’s never handled my chosen profession well.
“It was bad,” I say instead with a nod. “It was just hard, seeing that someone so seemingly normal could be treated so violently.”
No one says anything for a moment, because what is there really to say?
“I can’t even imagine the things you have to deal with sometimes,” Dad says, giving me a sympathetic look.
Dad fell off some scaffolding four months ago. He broke his back.
Broke it.
Somehow, he isn’t paralyzed. He’s just slowly having to relearn how to walk.
But there was a time, when the bills were pilling in, and the money had stopped. And my family needed help.
So, even further into debt with Shylock I went.
And now I get threats, my friends get threats, my family gets threats.
So I get terrifying encounters, making payments so he doesn’t hurt anyone.
I shrug and look over to my brother, who has this little look in his eyes that tells me he wants the gory details of work later.
Eli has something in his eyes too, but I can’t quite peg it down.
The family moves to the living room after dinner and strikes up a game of Mexican Train. I play, though not well.
And Eli sits on the couch, tapping something into his phone and reading. His work spills into personal hours occasionally.
By nine o’clock I’m exhausted from the early start to the day and the emotionally draining work. I say goodnight to my family and Eli and I head outside.
“It must have been pretty awful,” Eli says as we slowly walk down the sidewalk. We pause at the curb, next to our cars. “You’ve dealt with some pretty gruesome stuff, but normally nothing gets to you. Not like this.”
I wrap my arms around myself, even though it isn’t cold. I shake my head as my eyes wander down the street I know so well. “It was awful. I mean, this woman’s head was ripped—and I mean ripped—from her body. It looked like…I don’t know, it’d been clawed off, or chewed on. And every bit of her was bruised and beaten. It was just so…inhumane.”
My eyes drift back to Eli’s. And that darkness that always resides in them, it grows a little more black. A little deeper.
“How long ago was she killed?” he asks. And someth
ing in his voice sounds tight.
I slide my hands into my back pockets. “Over two weeks ago. And the family wanted an open casket. I’ve…I’ve never had to do so much work on a body.”
Eli remains quiet, which isn’t unusual. He isn’t the most talkative person. But it feels weighted. Contemplative. I look into his face, trying to decipher what he’s thinking.
And he realizes I’m watching him. He blinks twice, his eyes coming back into focus. “I’m sorry today was so hard for you, Logan. It sounds like you could use some sleep.”
I nod, indeed feeling incredibly tired, like I could sleep from now until noon tomorrow. “Yeah,” I say.
“I’ll meet you at your place tomorrow for our run?” he asks as he backs toward his car.
“See you tomorrow,” I say.
Eli tries to give me a little smile before he slips into his car, but it’s tiny, and absolutely forced. He shuts the car door, starts the engine.
And tears off into the darkening evening, wheels spinning on the concrete.
Chapter 3
I watch the city move along, though it’s still sleepy on a Saturday at eight in the morning. A van full of kids drives by, the windows down. Noise spills out, a shrill scream from a baby cuts through the day. A couple on a bicycle speeds by, dressed in full gear. The coffee shop across the street only has a few caffeine-fueled customers at this point.
In my running gear, I wait, leaning against my car, watching for Eli.
It’s been a tradition ever since he moved so close in Greendale. Eli is ripped and in incredible physical shape. Maybe he stays so fit because of his job, I don’t really know. But he likes to run. And I started running with him. So, every Saturday morning for the past nearly two years, we go running.
He’s always harping on me about staying in good physical shape. Once I got over myself and realized he wasn’t trying to call me fat, I came to see that he was saying it because he’s always been a little over-protective. He is the one, after all, who has told me how to protect myself from parking lot predators. The one who has showed me how to flip a grown man over my shoulder. Who showed me all the right places to strike if anyone came after me.
The black car rounds into the parking lot and I stand, watching as Eli climbs out of it.
He wears a tight black athletic t-shirt and track pants. Every bit of it highlights his toned physique.
But the second I meet his eyes, I know that something’s off.
“Ready?” he asks without a friendly word of greeting. He just nods his head down the road, down our usual path.
“Uh, yeah,” I stumble through words. I scramble to my feet and follow after him. We cross the parking lot, and round to the sidewalk that cuts through the main part of town.
“I did some research about the woman you told me about last night,” he immediately says as soon as we start jogging. I look over at him, my brows furrowed. He only stares forward with intense eyes. “The police found her just a block from here.”
My stomach flops, and rolls over, and at the same time my heart decides to try a little backflip. “Are you serious?”
Eli nods. “Just one block in the other direction. Between your apartment and your work. The police found her body, but no traces of who did that to her. They first suspected it might be an animal attack.”
“But those bruise and scratch marks,” I say, the sight of her black and blue flesh flashing across my vision. “Those were made by human hands.”
Eli nods once more. “The police haven’t found any leads as to who did this. No suspects. For as much damage as they did, they left very little evidence.”
I shake my head, huffing a bit as my heart rate increases and my lungs have to work a little harder. “So this person is still running around?”
“Two nights ago, another woman was attacked,” Eli says, and now he does give a little look in my direction. “On the other side of Greendale.”
My step falters, and I catch myself before I trip. Eli slows, looking back at me, but we continue jogging.
“Same injuries?” I question, fearful of what the answer might be.
He nods. “The victim was decapitated. Covered in bruises. Body heavily damaged.”
“Here, in Greendale?” I gape.
“Yes,” Eli says. His breathing is hardly labored, even though he’s talking. “Again, police have no idea who did it. They’re getting worried this is a serial killer.”
I swear through my heavy breathing.
That’s terrifying. A serial killer, right here in my town.
Suddenly, Eli slows, and I blast past him for five steps before I realize. I stop, looking back at him, and see him standing in the middle of the sidewalk.
“I think you should move back home with your parents,” Eli says.
And despite how ridiculous his statement just was, the look on his face is dead serious.
“The first victim was found less than three hundred yards from your home,” Eli says, steeling his look, because he knows how I’m going to react in just a minute. “He’s obviously targeting women, women who were alone. And he seems to have taken a liking to Greendale.”
“So your solution is that I just pick up and move?” I say, my tone quickly transitioning over to mocking. “That I just tell my boss, ‘sorry, this is too scary. I’m going to run home to the protective arms of mommy and daddy’?” I give a huff of a laugh. “That’s ridiculous, Eli.”
His gaze doesn’t soften. Doesn’t show any signs that he’s kidding. “You saw that woman, Logan. You saw what this person is capable of. Would you risk that the next body in the basement of your funeral home is your own?”
I take a step forward and feel my blood turn hot. “Oh my… You’re… You’re serious about this. That because two women were killed-”
“Yes, killed, Logan,” he interrupts me. “Brutally.”
“That I just uproot everything.” I look at him in annoyance. I shake my head. “How much of a dainty, defenseless girl do you think I am?”
“It is not about that Logan. I-”
“I…I can’t believe you’re being serious about this,” I say, looking sideways at him, my brows furrowed. “Don’t you think you’re over-reacting just a little?”
“No,” he says, his face stone still. “I really don’t.”
I huff another disbelieving laugh. And I step forward, past him, back in the direction of home.
“Logan,” he says, following after me. “I know it seems a little extreme, but trust me, I’ve seen situations like this before with my work. And the very last person you expect could be this psycho’s next victim. I won’t risk that the next woman to lose her head might be you.”
I look to the side, glaring at him as he quickly follows me. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are that you can just tell me to change my life at the snap of your paranoid fingers, Eli.”
Like I slapped him in the face, he stops, looking at me through slit eyes.
“I’m…” he stammers for a moment. Something Eli never does. “I’m your friend, Logan. I’m just looking out for you.”
“That’s not actually your job, Eli,” I say. I fix my eyes on the sidewalk in front of me, refusing to look at him. “You’re not my father. You’re not my brother. You’re certainly not my boyfriend. So keep your nose in your own damn business.”
“Logan,” he says, his tone growing a little more desperate. “This is a dangerous situation. You can nearly see the alley where the woman was killed from your dining room window! Please, just consider this.”
We round into the parking lot of my building. And I stop suddenly, turning on him. “I think you need to go home, Eli. I am a grown-ass woman, and I decide what is best for me. Not you!”
I’m huffing, like I just ran three miles. My hands are on my hips, and I look around, anywhere but at Eli, because my insides are all twisted scrap metal.
I’ve never felt so betrayed. So hurt.
And from someone who matters so much.
“Logan,” he says, his voice a little breathy and taken off guard. “I…” But he doesn’t complete the sentence.
“I’m not leaving,” I say, finally meeting his eyes, and I hope he can see in them that I’m serious. And mad. “You should go home, and I don’t want to see you for a while.”
And I walk away.
Maybe I’m being overly dramatic. Maybe I’m over-reacting.
But that hurt. Him trying to tell me what to do. Eli assuming I couldn’t take care of myself.
I climb the stairs, aiming for my door.
I halt in front of it, taking in the bright pink piece of paper taped to the door.
EVICTION NOTICE.
And I’m just done with this day.
“I’m telling you,” Amelia says as she dips her French fry in my Butterfinger shake, “It’s all that sexual tension. You two just need to bang it out and then everything can go back to normal.”
“You have no idea how disgusting that suggestion really is,” I cringe. I scoop a huge spoonful of the shake and stick it in my mouth. “I mean, Eli is family. You might have had a thing for him, but the suggestion of me and him...”
Internally, I actually gag.
Not that Eli isn’t a good-looking man with a killer body. But still…family.
I cock an eyebrow and nod as I swallow the giant bite down.
“Well at some point there’s got to be a man who comes along and gets you all hot and bothered,” Amelia says as she shakes her head and dips another fry. “This has been torture, now that I have Tanner, and you’re just always the third wheel. Find a man, Lo!”
“Hey, you asshole!” I bite back, wielding my spoon in her direction. “I may not just walk up to some kid in class and tell him I think he’s hot, but-”
“But perhaps you should!” she says, teasing me. “Then you could finally get rid of some of that pent-up bitterness. Just be bold! Tanner and me were making out two hours later, and now look at us. A year later and we’re talking about-”
She suddenly cuts off, like she’s said more than she meant to.
“What?” I prod. She blushes hard, and bites her lower lip. “Oh, come on. You can’t just lead into that and not finish the sentence.”