by John Rector
I could still tell what was real and what wasn’t, and I did have my tricks. I thought if I didn’t fight so hard, if I accepted what came to me, then I could control the voices and live without the pills.
I’d been on medication for so many years, and the idea that the rest of my days depended on these tiny red pills made my chest ache. If I could find another way, I’d take it. I knew it would be hard, but that didn’t matter. I wasn’t ready to give up.
I rolled down the window and spit the pill out into the dirt. I stared at it, wet and bleeding, and thought about dumping the rest out, too. I didn’t. Not yet. It was too soon to make that kind of decision. If I was wrong, if I couldn’t control my mind—
I stopped myself. I had to stay positive.
I capped the pill bottle and dropped it on the passenger seat, then started the truck and headed home. As I drove, the idea I wouldn’t be able to do it came back, and I started to wonder if I was making a mistake.
I just needed time to think, to sort everything out.
And I wanted to talk to Jessica before I made a decision.
CHAPTER 15
When I got home, I headed straight for the grove. As I got closer, I heard Jessica crying. I could see her through the trees, sitting on the edge of the field, her legs tucked into her chest, rocking from side to side. I felt like I was intruding and considered turning back, but I didn’t.
When she heard me, she straightened and slid a hand across her cheek. “Hi,” she said.
I came up slow. “You OK?”
She nodded, her face hidden behind her hair.
“Megan was sick. I didn’t get a chance to talk to her.”
“Maybe tomorrow.”
I agreed, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to go back to the café, at least not anytime soon. I figured it might be good to let things settle down a bit. Then again, maybe not going back would look strange.
There was a lot to think about.
I sat down next to Jessica. When I did, her tears started again. I could see why.
Her body, lying in the corn, looked swollen and blue. Her eyes, milk white and rimmed purple, had come open and were staring vacantly toward the sky. Most of the vomit had washed away with the rain, but some had dried in the sun and stood out in brown streaks along her face and neck.
I couldn’t look away.
“Don’t, please,” Jessica said. “I can’t stand it.”
“It’s OK.”
“OK?” She turned toward me and I saw the lines her tears had made on her cheeks. “It’s not OK. It’s not OK at all.” She motioned toward her body. “How’d you like to look like this?”
She said something else, but the tears broke through and I wasn’t sure if I’d heard her right.
I hoped I hadn’t heard her right.
“There’s no reason to be embarrassed,” I said.
She looked up, her eyes wet and soft. “So, will you?”
“Will I what?”
“Will you help me get cleaned up?” She ran two fingers under her eyes then wiped them on her dress. “I know it’s dumb, but I don’t want you seeing me like this.”
“Cleaned up?”
I had heard her right.
“At least wash that stuff off my face.” She looked back again, and her breath hitched in her chest. “Oh, God.”
I wasn’t sure what to say.
I never should have moved her body. If they found out, I could tell them that when I saw her I wasn’t sure she was dead and I’d moved her to check. It was a good enough excuse.
But if I cleaned her, that would be different.
“It’ll look bad,” I said. “They’ll know I’ve been out here.”
“You don’t think they’ll know anyway?” She held up her right hand and wiggled her finger. “The ring?”
She was right.
“I just don’t think—”
“Please, Dexter.” Her voice was soft. “Do this for me.”
I glanced down at the body and felt myself start to give in. I think Jessica saw it, too, because when I looked back at her, she was smiling.
I found an old three-gallon ice cream bucket in the garage and filled it with soap and water at the kitchen sink. There were sponges in the cabinet above the washing machine, and while the bucket filled, I went in and grabbed a couple.
I stood at the kitchen window, listening to the water climb, and stared out at the grove in the distance. My tractor was still out there, and I wondered again how I was going to get it out. I needed to do it soon. If Greg came by again and saw it, he’d insist on helping. That wasn’t an option.
I waited until the bucket was almost full, then dropped the sponges in and carried it toward the back door. I got about halfway when the red plastic handle snapped on one side. I tried to catch it, but there was no chance. The bucket hit the linoleum and water poured across the floor.
I stood and watched.
The phone started to ring.
I picked up the empty bucket and threw it in the sink, then opened the refrigerator for a beer. I took my time opening it and answered the phone on the fifth ring.
“I was about to hang up,” Liz said. “You busy?”
“Getting ready to mop the kitchen.”
She made a quick amused sound in the back of her throat and said, “Don’t tell me you’re cleaning?”
She was trying to make a joke, but I didn’t think it was funny. I lifted my beer, drank, and then said, “What do you want, Liz?”
“What do I want? I was under the impression you wanted to talk to me. Pretty badly, too.”
For a moment I didn’t know what she was talking about. Then I remembered the messages and closed my eyes.
“Is everything OK?”
I moved to the window and looked out at the grove and thought about Jessica waiting for me.
“Dexter, are you OK?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “I got your note.”
“And the bracelet?”
I glanced down at my wrist, didn’t say anything.
We were both quiet, then Liz said, “Did you get your pills this morning like you said?”
I felt the anger burn in my chest, but I held it back.
“I did.”
“I’m happy to hear that.” She paused. “What about the other thing? The blackout. What do you think you—”
“Listen,” I said. “This is a bad time. I’ve got to go.”
“You sounded like you needed—”
“Not now.”
“OK.” Liz paused. “Maybe we can meet somewhere and talk later. How about this weekend?”
I set the bucket under the faucet, squeezed dish soap into the bottom, then turned on the water. The towel on the rack next to the sink had a bright red rooster in the middle with the words Rise and Shine below. I pulled it off and dropped it on the floor and moved it around with my foot. The water soaked through immediately.
“You said seeing me wasn’t a good idea, remember?”
“We can meet in public.”
I picked up the dishtowel and wrung it out over the sink as I spoke. “I can’t talk right now.”
“You in a hurry to start mopping?”
I didn’t say anything. A moment later she continued.
“What about this Sunday?”
“What do we have to talk about?”
“This blackout of yours, for one thing.”
“I don’t have anything to say about that.”
Liz sighed. “Then how about our future?”
“What future is that?”
“We’re still married, Dexter.”
“Right.” I thought I knew what was coming. Normally I didn’t think I’d be able to say it out loud, but this time the words came easily. “You want a divorce?”
“I didn’t say anything about that.”
“Seems like the next step to me.”
“Is that that you want?”
I took a drink, said, “I’ve got to go, Liz.”
&
nbsp; “I’m not saying anything about a divorce.”
“I’ve got to go.”
“Dexter?”
I hung up.
The room was silent except for the running water. I reached over and shut it off, then lifted the bucket, cradling it in my arms, and headed for the back door.
I was halfway to the grove when I realized I’d just hung up on Liz. And the best part about it was that I didn’t care.
CHAPTER 16
The plan was to clean Jessica’s face and neck, but once I got going it was hard to stop. When I’d finished, I took the bucket into the field and dumped the water between the rows. She stared at me when I came back, but I couldn’t look at her.
“You’re embarrassed,” she said.
I shook my head. “No, not really.”
She came close and nudged my arm. “You are, I can tell.”
This time I said nothing.
Jessica laughed, light and brief. “Don’t be such a prude. I don’t mind. It’s not like you’ve never seen a woman’s body before.” She paused. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
“You’re right.”
She watched me for a moment, then said, “Good. You had me wondering.”
I decided not to tell her about Liz. It didn’t feel like the right time. I changed the subject.
“I upset your boss at the café this morning.”
Jessica looked up fast. “What did you do?”
I told her about the conversation and the woman’s reaction.
“What does she mean people don’t get killed around here? It happens all the time. Didn’t some little girl on a bike get killed off CR-11 last year?”
I nodded.
“She doesn’t know what the hell she’s talking about.” Jessica walked back toward the body. She got down on her knees and leaned in close, then shook her head. “It looks better, I suppose.”
“Considering.”
Jessica nodded. “Yeah, considering.” She stared at it for another moment, then stood and said, “Did she think Megan would be back tomorrow?”
“I didn’t ask. And I think it might be better to stay out of the café for a couple days.”
“Why?”
“I think I’m attracting attention.”
“You’re not,” she said. “It just feels that way because you’re not good with secrets.”
“How do you know that?”
“I can tell.”
I shook my head. “Don’t you think going in and asking questions three days in a row looks suspicious?”
“So don’t ask questions.”
“What if Megan’s back? Don’t we want to find out what’s going on with her and your boyfriend?”
“We already know. You said it yourself, when something like this happens, nine out of ten times it’s the boyfriend or the husband. Megan was involved somehow.”
“She was acting nervous the other day.”
“She’s always nervous, scared of everything. I bet if you told her what we know, she’d go straight to the sheriff and confess.”
“You think so?”
“I know she would,” Jessica said. “I just wish I could see the look on her face.”
“What if I whispered to her as I was leaving, told her I know what they did and just leave it at that.”
Jessica laughed. “That would be perfect.”
I looked up at her, and when she looked back, the warmth in her face seeped into me and I couldn’t help but smile. It was a gigantic clown grin, and it hurt my cheeks.
“What?” she asked.
“I like having you around,” I said. “You make me feel good, better than my pills ever did.”
Jessica shook her head. “You don’t need those.”
“Not anymore.”
“You never did.”
“That’s not true. I used to need them, but you’re different than the others. You help—”
“Others?”
I thought about it, then said, “My father, mostly. He was a drunk, and when he got bad I’d stay with Greg or I’d sleep outside or wherever. It didn’t matter as long as he couldn’t find me. Sometimes he’d come looking for me. Other times I’d just think he was coming for me.”
I waited for her to say something, but she just stared, that same gray look on her face.
“I’d hear him yelling, but no one else would. Other times I’d see him charging at me, screaming. No one else saw a thing.”
“And you think that’s me?”
“No,” I said. “That’s my point. You’re not the same at all. You make me feel good, better than good. I don’t want you to go.”
“You don’t see him anymore?”
I shook my head. “Not since I started the pills. Before that, I’d have to go up to Archway for shock treatments, and sometimes that would work, but he always came back. It was the pills that finally got rid of him.”
“And if you took the pills now?”
“You’d be gone, too, I guess.”
Jessica looked away.
“That’s why I’m not taking them. I love having—”
Jessica’s shoulders shook, and when she looked up there were tears on her cheeks.
I almost said more, but I stopped myself.
I’d said enough.
WEDNESDAY
CHAPTER 17
The flyers were everywhere.
They were stapled to telephone poles and taped up in shop windows. People stood on street corners and handed them out to anyone who passed by.
The man who handed me one smiled briefly and said, “There’s a number at the bottom you can call. We’ll be putting together a search party in the next couple days if you’d like to volunteer.”
At the top of the flyer was a picture of Jessica. It was a bad picture, probably one of those school portraits no one likes but everyone buys. I wondered how she’d feel knowing that was the photo they’d chosen to post all over town.
I decided not to tell her.
“Count me in,” I said.
“Good.” The man held out his hand. “Everyone’s welcome.”
We shook, and then he nodded and turned toward two older women coming up the sidewalk behind me. He repeated his message to them.
I walked on, reading the flyer as I went. It listed Jessica’s height and weight and said she was last seen leaving the Riverside Café. There was a number at the bottom along with the words
Please help find our daughter.
Something about the flyer got to me.
It was so unfair.
Her killer was still out there going about his day-to-day life. The idea he could get away with this burned in me. I folded the flyer and slid it into my back pocket, then walked a little faster toward the café.
When I walked into the café, I knew something had changed. The dining area was empty. No one was behind the counter, and the kitchen radio was off.
I crossed toward the booth I’d sat in for the past two days and slid in. The vinyl moaned under my weight, the sound loud in the silence.
No one came.
After a moment, I got up and went to the counter. I looked through the cook’s window but didn’t see anyone back there. Finally, I called, “Hello?”
I heard footsteps; then the kitchen doors swung open. Megan stood in the doorway, looking tired and worn.
“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
I smiled at her, happy to see she was working. “Are you open?”
“I don’t think so, at least not right now. I’m the only one here.”
“Then I’d guess you probably aren’t open.”
“I guess not.” She looked past me, and I followed her gaze to a square black digital clock above the door. “We might open again around noon, but I’m not sure.”
“Everything OK, I hope.”
She laughed. “I don’t know. The sheriff was here when I walked in this morning. After he left, all hell broke lose. Mrs. Colton threw a ketchup bottle at Paul, and
if her aim had been on, it might’ve killed him. It shattered against the wall by his head. Almost looks like she did get him.”
“Mrs. Colton? Is she—” I pointed to the counter.
Megan nodded. “She owns the place, her and Paul, he’s the cook. They’re married.” She paused. “For now, at least.”
“What do you mean?”
Megan looked back over her shoulder and said, “Mrs. Colton was saying something about Paul and Jessica. I think they were having an affair.”
I felt my breath push out of my chest.
“I don’t know if it’s true or not,” Megan said. “The sheriff sure thought it was, though. He told Paul it raised some serious questions.”
It took a moment for me to find my voice.
“Is it true?”
Megan shrugged. “The affair? Who knows?”
I remembered the sound of the cook’s voice, old and hard, and the images of him and Jessica together came in flashes of skin and sound.
Fast, unrelenting, and vivid.
Thin blue panties.
The air around me went cold, and I sat down hard on one of the stools in front of the counter. I heard Megan’s voice, but it sounded thin, far off.
“Are you OK?”
I didn’t answer her.
The idea of telling Megan I’d seen her with Jessica’s boyfriend was gone. My chest burned, and all I wanted right then was to get back home and talk to Jessica, make her tell me all of this wasn’t true.
“You want something to drink? Some water or something?”
I got up and headed for the door.
When I got outside, I passed a couple kids on bikes spinning doughnuts in the empty gravel parking lot. They watched me as I went by.
As I passed them I realized I was talking to myself and drawing attention, but it didn’t matter.
Let them all stare.
I didn’t care anymore.
CHAPTER 18
By the time I got home, the burning in my chest had dropped to a low ache. I’d convinced myself there was an explanation. The idea of Jessica and Paul Colton was too ridiculous to be true, and I was an idiot for listening to the rumors.