by S. E. Green
As I charge back to my Jeep, all I can focus on is the rage surging through me. What is wrong with me? Why do I feel in control and at the same time misguided? Like I know what I’m supposed to do, yet I can’t seem to make it happen. Like I’m grasping for something I can’t quite get. No matter how much I deny it, I’m lost. And angry.
Angry at who I used to be and who I am now. Irritated I’m cleaning up my mom’s legacy when all I want to do is forget it. Annoyed at how I handled things with Tommy. I mean, my God, at the base of it all he’s just a guy grieving the loss of his sister.
Will it always be this way for me—this haze of confusion with clarity hovering just within reach? I just don’t remember being this unfocused, this emotional before. I can’t believe I just robbed somebody. I can’t believe I’ve opened up to both Tommy and Dr. Issa. My God, I cried in front of Dr. Issa! I don’t cry.
I climb into my Jeep and flip on the radio. “. . . Masked Savior has made personal contact,” the reporter is saying.
I turn the volume up. The task force brought in some expert analyst to look at the letter I sent. Summary is: There is not one Masked Savior. The vigilante acts are being carried out by several different people who are being directed by one leader. It is projected the leader is an educated, forty-something, single woman with no children, who likely works out of her home.
Perfect. They are now officially off me and onto Marji. Payback.
Chapter Thirty-Two
DESPITE (OR MAYBE BECAUSE OF) how things went down with Tommy, I definitely go buy him a laptop and send it, along with the flash drive of his personal things, to his apartment.
IF I’M BUSTED, I WILL TELL THE COPS EVERYTHING.
This is a text I get as I’m coming out of the postal store. I don’t know the number, but the area code is 804. Richmond. Marji. She’s heard our local news and that makes me smile. Good, let her squirm. She’s not going to tell the cops shit. She’d have to implicate herself in the decapitations, which would mean life imprisonment or the death sentence.
She’s definitely bluffing.
I delete her message and don’t bother texting her back. I won’t let her think she’s getting to me.
I go straight to Patch and Paw. I need some serious Corn Chip time. He is the one constant that not only helps me forget my crazy life but also allows me thinking time. I know that doesn’t make sense—forgetting and thinking—but somehow it comes together in my mind.
He’s not in his cage, and so I head out the side door.
Zach and Dr. Issa are in the yard laughing and playing with Corn Chip and several other dogs.
I stand for a second, undetected, just watching their excitement as they chase the dogs, throw balls, and laugh at each other and the barking. I can’t recall a single time when I ever had that much carefree fun. There’s got to be something wrong with that.
They both turn at once, as if sensing me, and both their smiles drop away.
Call me the Grim Reaper.
Or rather, Slim Reaper.
“I . . . didn’t know you were coming in today,” Dr. Issa ventures.
I look between them—the guy I had sex with and the brother who gave me a much-needed release. When did I become that girl? “I didn’t know I was either.”
No one says anything for a couple of seconds. Even the dogs fall silent.
“Did you want to play with us?” Zach asks at the same time Dr. Issa suggests, “Can you come back a little later?”
Wow. Okay. But . . . I get it. After what happened between us, Dr. Issa is uncomfortable around me and Zach. Plus they need their brother time. I just never thought Dr. Issa would be so bold in his statement.
“Yeah, see you around,” I say, and head straight out, not even glancing back.
As I pull from the parking lot, I purposefully drive by the side yard where Zach and Dr. Issa and the dogs are all back in full play mode.
Yes, I would’ve liked to have played with them.
When I get home, Daisy and Victor are arguing, which is way too odd for me. Daisy and Mom, sure. Daisy and Victor, never.
“I don’t understand what the big effing deal is,” Daisy snaps.
“Watch your language,” Victor warns.
“Lane gets to,” Daisy snips back.
I immediately tune in. I get to what?
“Your sister is almost eighteen,” he counters.
Daisy rolls her eyes—“Whatever”—and storms upstairs.
I get to what?
Victor sighs, defeated, and obviously at a loss. “I’m going to the office.” With that he’s gone, and Justin and I exchange a look.
“What was that all about?” I whisper to my brother.
He gives me this look like, Really?
I shrug.
“Daisy wants her curfew upped, and she wants permission to go out every night like you do.”
Oh. “But I only go to the coffee shop.”
Justin rolls his eyes, mimicking Daisy. “Girls.”
I laugh, and my cell buzzes. Catalina. “Hello?” I answer.
“You know that statement the Masked Savior sent to the press?”
I know it very well. “Yes.”
“I just found out the task force thinks it’s all made up.”
Irritation flares in me and has me clenching my jaw. What did I do wrong? I thought that letter was pretty damn airtight.
I step out of the kitchen and into the living room, where my brother can’t hear. “Why?”
“I’m not sure, but within the task force they’re maintaining their original profile that there is a real Savior and then a copycat. Publicly, though, they’ll stick with the one about the older woman. What was it exactly?”
Educated, forty-something, single woman with no children, who likely works out of her home. “I don’t remember, but I know what you’re talking about.”
This is what I get for going on the offense. I work better in obscurity. I know this. I should’ve never sent that statement. They didn’t even believe it. This is not good. “How do you know all this?”
She chuckles as if that’s the most stupid question ever. “I bugged my dad’s office.”
Immediately I recall the nanny cam I planted in my mom’s office. Seems as if Catalina and I share the same thought process.
“My dad’s on the phone with your dad right now.”
I glance down the hall to the office at the exact second the door opens, Victor steps out, and he looks right at me.
“Gotta go,” I whisper to Catalina, and hang up.
Victor nods to his office. “We need to talk.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
I READ PEOPLE WELL. VICTOR’S commanding tone is enough to tell me I should channel my most respectful, polite self. “Yes?” I ask as I take a seat in his office.
He closes the door and takes a seat too. “Your Gramps was convinced you weren’t doing what you said you do at night.”
Excuses and responses begin to formulate.
“I checked up on you,” he continues. “You weren’t at the coffee shop last night.”
That’s right. I was breaking into Tommy’s house. “Does this have anything to do with Daisy wanting an upped curfew?” I try to divert him.
Victor levels me with a very disciplinary stare, and I immediately recognize I shouldn’t have brought Daisy up. “Where were you?” he asks, instead of giving my question consideration.
“I went to Tommy’s house. He’s in my grief group.” Now let’s just hope Victor doesn’t check with Tommy.
I expect this response to appeal to his understanding side, and even soften him, but instead he delivers one very FBI-affirmative nod.
I give him the most honest stare I can. “Actually, I visit a lot of places. Parks, grief group, coffee house, library—and sometimes I just
drive around.” Following people.
“The whole reason why your mom and I let you go out every night is to get away and study. Not to roam the streets.”
This is not what I need right now and is exactly why I always have to stay one step ahead. I can never be unprepared.
“Yes, sir,” I answer him, praying he doesn’t put me on restriction. It’s not often I respond with a respectful “sir,” but it seems extremely appropriate that I do so right now.
He motions to the door. “You can go.”
I head straight upstairs to find Daisy in my room.
“Will you talk to Dad for me?” she asks.
“Not going to happen. I sort of just got in trouble,” I honestly tell her.
This brightens her mood. “You?”
“Listen, just lay low.” I give her advice I’ve already given myself and haven’t followed. “Be on your best behavior and let some time pass. I think Dad’s just really overwhelmed between work and us and Gramps’s visit and Mom. . . .”
“Well,” Daisy sighs. “Now I feel like a bitch.”
I smile. “Our family’s going through a lot right now.”
“Anyway,” Daisy continues, “I came to apologize. I shouldn’t have brought you up in making my point.”
“It’s okay.”
“And I have a question. Hammond’s invited me to his house for dinner. He’s cooking and everything. Will you drop me off? He said he can bring me home.”
“Sure.”
“Just think, in a few months I’ll have my license, and you’ll never have to chauffeur me again.”
There was a time when I looked forward to that too. Lately, though, driving her around hasn’t bothered me so much.
“All right, I’ve got homework to finish.” And with that she’s gone.
I sit for a second at my desk, thinking back through the conversation with Victor. He’s always trusted me. He’s never questioned me before. Gramps must have really gotten to him.
I drop Daisy off at Hammond’s, then go straight to my grief group meeting. I don’t expect to see Tommy, and when he walks through the door late, I straighten in my chair. He doesn’t glance at me one single time. Grief group lasts an hour or so, and when it comes to an end, he immediately leaves.
Why did he bother coming?
As I approach my Jeep, I see a note stuck under the wiper. It simply says:
I’m returning the laptop.
I crumble the note, shove it in my pocket, and climb into my Jeep. To hell with Tommy. He doesn’t want a new laptop, then whatever.
After our conversation, I don’t want Victor losing his trust in me, so I text him: DAISY DROPPED OFF. GRIEF GROUP OVER. AT PATCH AND PAW.
OKAY, he simply responds.
I drive around for a while, watching my rearview, trying to lure anyone out: Marji, j_d_l/copycat . . . Finally I head to Patch and Paw.
I let myself in the night door. Corn Chip isn’t here, and so I grab a couple of kittens to play with. As I tickle their bellies, my thoughts drift to Marji, Mom, me. How could they hurt these poor defenseless little things? How could they make me? It’s just sick. Wrong. And horrible.
Laying low or not, this weekend my focus is Marji. I’m done with her part of all this. If she is connected to the Masked Savior site, if she is by some chance M, then not only will I sever that tie but also the last link to the Decapitator.
If I’m busted, I will tell the cops everything. I don’t intend on busting her. My intentions lie elsewhere.
“Hey.”
I glance over my shoulder to Dr. Issa, standing a hesitant distance away.
“What are you doing here?” I ask. I didn’t see his car in the lot.
“I’ve been here awhile. Had a couple of surgeries and was following up with notes.” He glances at the kittens and smiles a little. “You really do have a way with animals.”
This sends a pleasing calmness through me. “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”
He gives me a curious look.
I tuck the kittens back in their condos and stand up. “Well, that’s all I wanted. I’m out of here.”
“Lane?”
I stop.
“I didn’t mean to be rude to you the last time we saw each other.” His brows come down. “I’m sorry.”
I shrug it off. “I understood. You and Zach need time together. And you’re uncomfortable being around me after what happened. I get that.”
He chuckles. “Leave it to you to just lay it out there.”
What does he expect?
Dr. Issa shuffles his feet, still a little uncomfortable. “Well, anyway, thanks.”
I nod.
He jiggles his keys. “Let me just get my coat and I’ll walk out with you.”
We exit the night door and head around to the front, where I come to a frozen stop. Beside my Jeep is a dark blue BMW with Marji sitting inside.
My blood heats as I stare at her in what at first is surprise but slowly becomes anticipation. This weekend, Marji, this weekend.
Marji lowers her window. “Hello, Lane.”
“I don’t want to talk to you.”
She cuts her gaze to Dr. Issa, then back to me. “You will eventually.”
“No. I. Won’t.”
The corners of her lips curl up, and there’s nothing sweet about the smile. She drags her eyes back to Dr. Issa and gives him a slow, creepy once-over. Then she rolls her window up and drives off.
I don’t like that she looked at Dr. Issa. Mess with me and it’s one thing. Screw with my friends, my family—hell, no.
“Um . . . ,” he ventures. “Want to tell me what that’s all about?”
No.
“You seemed surprised, and obviously not happy to see her. Is she—”
“She’s nobody.”
He grabs my arm and turns me to face him. “Who was she?”
I look into his understanding eyes. “That is my aunt.”
It takes him a second to digest that. “Oh.”
“I would appreciate it if you keep this to yourself. No one, and I repeat, no one knows about her. I’m actually still puzzled over the fact I told you. I need more time to process before I go to my dad.” Of course I have no plans to go to Victor, but I know it makes sense to say so.
Dr. Issa releases my arm. “You can trust me.”
“Trust.” Such a simple word. I would like to be able to trust somebody. Completely. I just don’t think it’s possible with who I am. I’ve got to be okay with that loneliness. I just do.
I look over to my Jeep. “I should go.”
“What does she want with you?”
To play. To tease. To taunt.
Dr. Issa steps into my line of sight. “Lane, let it go. You don’t need to carry this. Focus on the future, not the past. Give this over to your dad to handle.”
Oh, I’ll focus on the future all right. Marji is the last connection to the Decapitator and my past. A connection that will be permanently cut.
“Focus on change.” He continues his Dr. Phil advice.
Change? I’ll never change. “I will,” I appease him.
As I cross the parking lot I think back to when I visited Marji in her townhome. How my blood boiled. My reckless driving back up I-95. Then jumping Dr. Issa.
I glance back and give him a once-over. He won’t be my “out” this time. I’m channeling it all into Marji.
My pulse thumps. Just once. All through my body. Marji and my mom were sisters. I know exactly the evil I’m up against going after her.
Chapter Thirty-Four
ON FRIDAY EVENING I SAY, “Dad, can I go to the movies tonight?” It’s the weekend so curfew’s not until one.
“Who are you going with?”
“Myself.”
“Tysons?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, be back by one.”
I give him a quick hug, not overdoing it, grab my things, and head out.
Marji, here I come.
I hop on the interstate, and with every mile that I drive south, eagerness, anticipation, and excitement builds in me. I wonder if Marji can feel that I’m coming. I hope so. I want her good and aware that I’m the one who is stopping her.
I know exactly what I’m going to do. I’ll ask her to go for a drive. I know she will. She wants to play with me as much as I want to play with her. When we’re out of the city, I’ll find a secluded spot and lure her from the Jeep to go for a walk and “talk.” I’ll taser her, zip-tie her, and find out if she’s M.
Then, after I do what I have planned, I’ll just leave her in the woods. Whatever happens to her, happens to her. I’ll take my ties and the Taser cartridge with me. I don’t want any evidence linked to the Masked Savior.
If she doesn’t get the hint to stay out of my and my family’s life, then I’ll come back. I’m the one making the threats tonight, not her. After tonight she’ll realize the things I’m really capable of.
When I get into Richmond, I drive straight to her townhome. I park several blocks down and take a few seconds to methodically check all my supplies. Taser, zip ties, gloves, and my new addition—one very sharp butcher knife. It only seems fitting as she was intimately involved in the decapitations.
I close my eyes and breathe out, imagining the knife sliding across her skin. Every cell in my body twitches with just the thought.
I check everything one last time, grab the handle on my Jeep, and catch sight of a dark blue BMW coming from the opposite direction. I shrink back a little and watch as it passes by me and the entrance to Marji’s townhome community, and then merges with traffic and takes the on-ramp north.
Well, damn. I wasn’t expecting that.
I crank my Jeep, whip the wheel around, and gun my engine. I cut straight across three lanes, ignore the honks, and follow her onto the on-ramp.
I don’t immediately see her BMW, and I whip around a semi, floor the gas, and keep heading north.
A couple miles up I finally catch sight of her.