Jane Doe

by Victoria Helen Stone

  So excuse me if I think Steven got a better deal.

  My lack of sympathy aside, even if he didn’t technically kill Meg, she would never, ever have killed herself if Steven hadn’t tortured her. And it was torture. That constant push-pull of love and abuse. I want you, I hate you, I love you, you’re nothing. Over and over again.

  I’ve experienced it myself. I know it deeply. My parents were casual in their abuse. Unthinking. But Steven wanted Meg to crave his approval just so he could remove it as a form of punishment. He wanted her to hurt and hurt badly every single time he felt a moment’s fear.

  If he’d beaten her to death, it would be simple for everyone. But for me, this is still simple. Suicide was the method of her death, but this man was the cause. She’d struggled with anxiety in her life but she’d never been depressed. Not until Steven.

  He shows me all the different offices, and I pretend to be rapt as I case the joint. There’s not much here to go on, although the newsletter list could be helpful if I can get it. The door to the communications office is wide-open and unoccupied, and I assume it stays that way all the time.

  The accounting office is locked tight. I wonder if the donations are stashed in there for the night. Churches aren’t any more trusting than other businesses, so there must be a safe, either in the accounting department or in the pastor’s personal office. I’m not a movie sociopath, just a regular one, so I wasn’t born with any inherent safecracking abilities. Locks can’t be manipulated the way people can.

  The last stop on the tour is Pastor Hepsworth’s personal office, and it’s as grand as I expect. Not ostentatious but dark and woody and lined with bookshelves. Steven opens the door but does not cross the threshold.

  A big walnut desk takes up a huge amount of floor space, and a tall leather chair sits behind it, awaiting the pastor’s ass. The two chairs angled in front of the desk are much smaller, of course. He must loom over his guests as he gives counsel. Fair enough. He’s the big man here.

  I whisper in awe, “I’m imagining you playing under the desk as a little boy.”

  Steven laughs. “Not this desk and in a much smaller building, but yes.”

  “Christmas must be grand here.”

  Steven closes the door and smiles down at me. “I’m hoping you’ll be here to see it.”

  I tip my head back and sigh. “Me too.” I close my eyes when he kisses me. I melt. But modestly. Not into him but into the doorjamb behind me. He pulls back after a gentle peck on my lips, but he raises a hand to tenderly cup my cheek.

  “I was proud of you today,” he murmurs.

  “You’re so good to me.”

  “When will you be done with your . . . you know?”

  My woman’s curse? “In a few days.”

  “Good. Want to come over on Thursday?”

  I duck my head shyly. We both know what he means. “That would be really nice,” I whisper. “I mean, if you think it’s okay.”

  “I think it’s more than okay.”

  I don’t get periods. I’m on a continuous cycle of birth control pills, so I’m in complete control of my hormones. But it’s a good way to put Steven off whenever I want to. As far as he’ll know, I bleed like a stuck pig every twenty days. It’s not like he’d ever take the chance of coming in contact with my menstrual blood. Please.

  Steven drives me home and I’m free for the entire afternoon. I play with my cat and then walk to the little Italian restaurant for an early dinner. I drink a whole carafe of wine by myself. It’s heaven.

  CHAPTER 30

  Looks like it’s the last warm day of fall.

  I pause in my data entry and glance at my phone to read Luke’s text.

  A few seconds later a second one appears. Want to go to the zoo tonight?

  The zoo? My hands hover over the keyboard as I frown at the bizarre question. Why would I want to go to the zoo? I’m not a child.

  Not that I ever went to the zoo as a child either. There weren’t a lot of zoos in the panhandle.

  I text back three question marks.

  The zoo is lit up for the holiday season starting in November. Supposed to be 50 degrees tonight. Go with me?

  Maybe this is a thing that normal people do? I shrug and text back a yes, agreeing to meet him outside my apartment at 6:30.

  Luke is one of those impulses I have trouble resisting. Being involved with him doesn’t forward my mission here. In fact, it puts it in danger. Unfortunately I like a little danger. It quickens my blood the same way sex does. Otherwise, the world is too steady for me. Boring. Maybe that’s why so many sociopaths end up habitually hurting people, even killing them. It’s not about the people; it’s about the danger.

  And there’s a good chance Luke will get hurt here. When I leave, I’ll go abruptly and I may very well leave a trail of crimes in my wake. No one knows I’m involved with Luke. He won’t get pulled in. But he may find out and be hurt or frightened at how close we were. Or maybe he won’t care. I’m not sure.

  As I’ve said before, it’s difficult to figure out how nice people work. I can manipulate Luke with sex, but a nice guy wants more than that, apparently. He wants to go to lunch and . . . and to zoos.

  There’s finally birthday cake in the office today, and I jump up from my desk when I see everyone else headed toward the far corner of the floor. It’s Karen’s birthday. I don’t know Karen, but I sing along with the crowd and clap when she blows out the candles. Someone tries to hand me a piece of cake, but I pass it along and wait for a bigger slice. It’s chocolate with white frosting, my favorite. Steven steps off the elevator just as I stuff a huge bite into my mouth. His eyebrows rise and then drop into a deep frown. I wish I had milk. There’s nothing better than chocolate cake and ice-cold milk.

  He joins the circle and stands next to me as he accepts his own piece. “Happy birthday, Karen!” he calls; then he nudges me and lowers his voice. “Are you skipping lunch?”

  “No, why?”

  “Really?” He shifts his eyes meaningfully to my cake.

  “Lunch isn’t for an hour.”

  “I know, but you just had cake on Saturday.”

  “So did you.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

  I try to pout while still chewing my next bite. “I’m not fat, and you’re making me feel bad.”

  “I know you’re not fat, baby, but you don’t have a lot of wiggle room.”

  I take my cake back to my desk.

  Once he’s in his office, I text him. Was your ex-girlfriend skinnier than me?

  I can actually hear him sigh from his office.

  I told you she was crazy.

  Yeah, but she had a hot body, right?

  Sure.

  He waits a few minutes, and when I don’t respond, he texts, Don’t pout. You know I think you’re hot.

  I text back a heart and finish my cake. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m really looking forward to going to the zoo.

  CHAPTER 31

  I have a few minutes to spare before heading downstairs to meet Luke, so I read through the papers I stole from the Hepsworths’ desk on Saturday. I glanced over them yesterday, of course, but I was busy playing with my cat and then doing laundry and grocery shopping, and I get distracted easily.

  Old Pastor Hepsworth has a low sperm count and decreased motility. He also has trouble regularly maintaining an erection long enough to ejaculate. Viagra was prescribed to good effect. The patient was counseled that a sperm donor could decrease the chances of miscarriage and birth defect due to the father’s age. It doesn’t say whether the patient heeded the advice.

  I wonder if Rhonda is disappointed with the marriage she ended up with. I mean, it seems most people wind up disappointed with marriage one way or the other, but she made a clear exchange: wealth and prestige instead of a young husband. Fine. Pastor Hepsworth made his own deal: a young and beautiful wife instead of one more likely to stay satisfied and settled. An unspoken bargain between the two of t
hem, I’m sure, but one they both agreed to.

  I read through the records once more to be sure I haven’t missed anything, then tuck the papers into the top shelf of my closet and grab my winter coat. It’s pleasant in the sun today, but the light is already fading.

  I wait on the sidewalk and wonder what Luke wants from me.

  It’s not like I’ve never been in a relationship. I’ve been infatuated a couple of times, but I’ve never loved any of my boyfriends. Does that make sense? I feel happy with them, but I don’t trust. I don’t want to live with a man or give up control. Why would I? Men lie. They lie right to my face, and it’s not hard to spot. Do they think we don’t know?

  Women lie too. Everyone does, and we all see the falsehoods; the question is, Which of us are willing to lose ourselves enough to give another person a chance? I can’t lose myself. I don’t have enough feelings to fuel the fantasy or ignore the warnings.

  My last relationship was with a married Lebanese executive in Malaysia. His lies were childish and weak, designed to bring me close enough for sex but keep me at the perfect distance. You’re so amazing, Jane, but I can’t fall in love with you. I love my wife more than anyone in the world. She’s everything to me.

  Ridiculous. He loved himself more than anyone in the world. But he turned me on like crazy, so I just smiled and pulled him back for more. He wouldn’t leave his comfortable life for me, and I didn’t want him to, so it worked nicely for a full year.

  We never went to a zoo, though.

  I lost interest in him after Meg died. I lost interest in everything.

  He told me he loved me then. Finally. A last-ditch effort to get me back into his bed. I reminded him that he loved his wife. Maybe he does. The way other people love doesn’t make much sense to me.

  Why get married if you want to sleep with other people? Why stay if you suspect he’s cheating and that hurts your feelings? Why fight and bicker and scream if the other person decides they’re ready to go? If someone wants to leave, the only thing to do is move on. Find someone else. Have some pride.

  Then again, I can’t seem to follow my own advice with Meg. She wanted to leave and I still need her here, and I can’t let her go. Maybe I’m more like everyone else than I think. Or maybe they’re more like me.

  Luke finally pulls up in his black Prius—no giant SUV for him—and I laugh to myself, because he really is better endowed than Steven.

  That would make a good bumper sticker, actually. My other car is a big penis. My creative talents are wasted in law.

  “Hey, there,” he says when I get in. The car smells like apples and cinnamon and I look around in confusion until he picks up a Styrofoam cup from the console. “I got us hot cider.”

  “Oh. That’s so sweet.”

  I take a sip and it’s the perfect temperature. I’m on some kind of all-American date.

  We start the drive in companionable silence. At least, it’s companionable for me, but he could be uncomfortable. I watch for clues, but he seems relaxed.

  “That was nice the other night,” he says after a long while. “Reading with you.”

  “Oh!” I respond. “I got you a present!”

  I grab a bag from my purse and open it to pull out a hardcover novel. “I saw it in the window of a bookstore, and he’s an author you had on your shelf, so I thought . . .”

  “Wow, Jane!”

  “It’s a signed copy.”

  “That’s so nice! Thank you. And I don’t have this one yet.” He shifts his attention from the road to the book in quick little peeks to check out the cover. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

  Maybe not, but I used to buy Meg a lot of gifts. I’m never sure what else I’m contributing to a relationship. Practical advice for Meg. Sex for Luke. Heck, I would’ve given Meg sex too if she’d been interested. That’s about all I know to give. So I buy presents. Everyone likes presents.

  “Thank you.” He squeezes my hand briefly and lets me go. “Is this music okay?”

  “It’s great.” I don’t care about music. I couldn’t even really say what genre this is. Music is about emotion. It’s not for people like me.

  When I start seeing signs for the zoo, I realize we’re way out near the Hepsworths’ church. I’m unconcerned, though. I can’t imagine I’ll run into them at the zoo after dark. In the unlikely event I see the good pastor or his wife, I’ll introduce Luke as my cousin. I’m certain he’d go along with it in front of strangers.

  “I think I figured out that thing with my mom,” I say before I even know why I’m saying it. It hasn’t exactly been weighing on my mind, but I was reading through Meg’s old emails this morning and it came to me.

  “Which thing?” Luke asks.

  “Why I keep accepting her calls when I don’t even want to.”

  “Oh?”

  “It’s because it’s what Meg wanted. She got upset when I said I was going to cut my mom from my life and move on. So I kept my family in my life. Because Meg wanted me to.”

  “Oh, Jane,” he says quietly. “I’m so sorry you lost her. I know I said it before, but . . . even I can’t believe she’s gone, and I haven’t seen her in almost ten years.”

  “Thank you.”

  “So you keep in touch with your mother for Meg’s sake?”

  “Yes. I think so.” But Meg is dead now.

  He squeezes my hand again. “I sent flowers to her grave. Did you see them?”

  I shake my head. I’ve never been to Meg’s grave.

  “They were daisies. I thought . . . something cheerful, you know?”

  “I think daisies sound perfect.”

  I’m surprised that he actually sent flowers. He’d said he would, but people say things like that all the time. In my experience, they rarely actually do them. I turn and study his face until he glances over. “What?” he asks with a faint smile.

  “Nothing.”

  Nothing, because I’m not sure what to do with him.

  It’s fully dark by the time we get to the zoo. From the parking lot, I can see lights winking through the bare tree branches.

  I wonder if Meg ever did this. It seems like something she would’ve liked.

  My drink is cold now, but I finish it as we walk to the entrance. Luke pays for both of us and we follow the stream of people in, all of us bundled up in thick coats against the night chill. The cider tastes like fall on my tongue. I feel like I belong tonight.

  Walking into the park, I expect Christmas decorations. Instead the lights are sculpted into the shapes of animals. I gaze up at a blue-and-orange monkey with a swinging tail.

  “Where to first?” Luke asks, indicating a sign with arrows pointing in three different directions.

  “Big cats,” I answer immediately.

  We head off in that direction, passing an exhibit with a sign that says BLACK BEAR. There’s no bear in sight, or else he’s hiding in a corner the overhead lights don’t reach. I’m surprised to see that the space looks like a little mountain canyon with rocks and a stream.

  “It’s not what I expected,” I say as we come to a similar-looking exhibit marked BROWN BEAR.

  “The lights?”

  “No, the zoo. I thought they were all in little cages. With bars, you know?”

  Luke turns to look at me. “Haven’t you ever been to a zoo?”

  “No. This is my first time.”

  “Jane, that’s crazy!”

  I shrug. “Not a lot of zoos where I grew up.”

  “Then this is a special occasion. We’re going to need to do everything. The carousel. Wax animal machine. Funnel cake.”

  “Hey, I’ve had funnel cake before!”

  “But not zoo funnel cake.”

  “True.”

  “Come on. You have to read all the signs.” He pulls me over to the brown bear description, but I still haven’t seen any sign of life. I humor Luke and read the facts about each animal. Bears, foxes, wolves. The wolf is the first animal I spot. It’s staring at me past the
edges of a scraggly bush. I stare back until a paler wolf joins the first and they trot away together.

  “That’s pretty cool,” I say.

  “The big cats are just ahead.”

  I immediately abandon the wolves and hurry toward an archway decorated with tigers and lions. More faux landscapes await, but these exhibits are behind thick glass that rises up until it meets stiff netting that keeps the cats from finding a way out into the night.

  The Bengal tiger is awake and prowling. I freeze in wonder at the sight. He moves exactly like my cat. Muscles slide under fur as his eyes scan his surroundings. Sleek, elegant, powerful—he’s gorgeous and deadly.

  His pupils turn briefly silver when they catch the light.

  I’m shocked by the huge size of his paws and his massive head. He is a killer. Far more dangerous than I’ll ever be.

  I watch him slide between two tree trunks, and then he leaps up to a rock ledge with no effort at all. My God.

  His keepers love him, I’m sure. They care for him each day, feeding him and tending any ills. They speak to him and throw him treats. Still, I can see in his piercing gaze that he would happily kill any one of them, given the chance. No, not any one of them. All of them.

  That kind of thing isn’t valued in a human, but we see the awesome beauty of it here, behind a cage, where it can’t hurt us.

  I will never be as dangerous as this animal, but I can move freely among people and they’ll raise no alarm.

  The tiger settles down and closes his eyes. We move on to a leopard, then a puma, then another tiger, slightly smaller than the first. All of them are gorgeous and fascinating.

  I watch until I feel Luke getting restless beside me. He buys me cotton candy and leads me to the carousel. I’m dizzy with delight by the time we leave.

  Luke fills up a little of the empty space inside me, and I see the world through his eyes, just as I did with Meg.

  CHAPTER 32

  Turns out that Steven was busy while I was out on my date. The little bastard is cheating on me.

  Well, to be clear, he’s trying to cheat on me, but the woman on the other end of the phone isn’t interested in being his booty call. I click through to the earliest video from this evening to see who else he called.