The Night We Burned

by S. F. Kosa

  I take an instinctive step back, eyeing the windows and wondering if Hailey is watching. “I could ask you the same question. Any chance you’ve been out to visit Marie in the last month or so?”

  “I haven’t gone any damn place. I’m trying to live my life and do my job,” she says in a low voice. “And suddenly you show up like a rat that’s been hiding underground for twenty years while the rest of us faced the consequences.”

  “You faced consequences because of what you did, Ladonna,” I snap. “And we both know you did a hell of a lot more than you were charged with.”

  “And you? I’ve seen reports about what they found after the fire. And now I’m wondering what exactly you had to do with that.”

  “Because I’m not conveniently dead?”

  “No, because you pretended to be dead for the last two decades. And if you did nothing wrong and had nothing to hide, I wonder why that is.”

  “I’m not here to hurt you, Essie,” I tell her. “So stop threatening me.”

  She blinks. “Threatening you?”

  “The veiled comments in front of my colleague Miles, and now Hailey? Coming to the house?”

  “Poor Hailey has no idea who she’s dealing with, does she?”

  My watch chirps to inform me of an irregular heart rhythm, and we both flinch.

  Essie pulls her hand out of her pocket. Fingers fisted. Like she wants to hit me. “How can you be trying to paint me as the threat here?” She holds out her hand. On her palm sits a meditation stone, blue with red letters. “I found this on my windshield early this morning as I left work,” she says.

  I stare at the rock, suddenly dizzy. I can’t tell if she’s playing me or not. The rock that was sitting on this doorstep this morning and is now hidden in my suitcase—the stone I was so sure she left for me—looks almost exactly like the one in her hand. “I didn’t leave that for you,” I say slowly.

  “Uh-huh. That’s why it showed up the day after I see you again for the first time in twenty years.” She steps off the porch, shaking her head. “You were always a two-faced snake, you know that?”

  I move closer to the door. My good hand shakes as I reach for the knob. “You’ve been threatening me since the moment you recognized me. Don’t come here and suddenly claim you’re the victim.”

  “I heard a rumor,” Essie says as she puts the stone back in her pocket. “Arnold Moore—he was found with one of these in his mouth.”

  “It’s true,” I tell her. “And I was up in Seattle at the time. But you were here. And I’m wondering if it happened on your night off.”

  “Why would I want to hurt him?” she asks.

  “You’ve hurt people before, and you didn’t seem to feel a stitch of remorse.” I lower my voice, my gaze darting around to make sure no one’s within earshot. “I know you hit Octavia with the van, and I’ve never believed for a second that she stepped in front of you. You might not have gone to jail for murder, Ladonna, but you deserve to.” And with that, I open the door and head inside, where I go back to my room. The bed has been made, the area rug vacuumed, my suitcase closed with everything tucked inside. I guess the cleaning crew was here… I kneel in front of my case and rummage through it until I find the stone exactly where I hid it. I climb onto the bed and collapse. I’m sick with pain and terror, sick with memories of blood and carnage and fire. I can’t tell if Essie’s just a bystander in all of this or the perpetrator.

  Or another target.

  But if she is, then I am too. Somehow, someone found us both. And either that person has a sick sense of humor or they’re the killer, and this is the warning.

  I have to get out of here. I can’t put Hailey and Martin at risk. I drag myself off the bed and start to pack.

  I whirl around when Hailey knocks on the door. “Yeah?”

  She pokes her head in. “Can we talk?”

  I jolt with a memory. “I forgot to leave the key under the mat for the cleaners.”

  “They called me this morning. I gave them a key—I shouldn’t have been just leaving it under the mat anyway. But that’s not what I want to talk about.”

  “I’m checking into a hotel, Hailey. I…need to concentrate on my work.”

  “I need you to be straight with me,” she says. “And we both know you don’t have the best record on that front.”

  “I’m sorry again about the name.”

  “I think you know that’s not what I’m talking about.”

  My mouth is so dry, even though the rest of me feels like it’s about to melt down. “Have a seat,” I say hoarsely.

  She sits on the end of the bed. “Funny you’d come to town to report on the Oracles.”

  “It happened here, Hailey. And I didn’t choose the story. Miles did.”

  “But you said you didn’t travel for work. Yet you traveled for this. And please don’t claim it was to see me and Martin. I don’t think I could bear you lying about that.”

  I slump, realizing what a shitty person I am. “I might not have come here just to see you, but I’m glad I did. You both saved my life, and I’ll always be grateful.”

  “Were you one of them?” she blurts out.

  “What?”

  “I’ve always wondered.” Her eyes are glazed with tears.

  “You never let on,” I murmur.

  “We cared about you,” she said. “We wanted to protect you.”

  Maybe they shouldn’t have. I’ve been so selfish. That rock in my suitcase, so similar to the one found in Arnie’s mouth—it was left on Hailey and Martin’s doorstep, not mine. Whoever did it knows I’m here.

  “I need to finish packing,” I whisper, moving to get up.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” she says.

  I edge off the bed. “I’m in a crap-ton of pain, and I don’t need to be interrogated, okay? I’ll be out of here in a bit.”

  Tears slip from her eyes. “Martin told me I shouldn’t ask,” she says quietly. “I don’t mean to chase you away.”

  “You’re not,” I say wearily. “I just have so much work to do right now.” I don’t know if this was a real threat or if someone—like Ladonna—is just playing mind games, trying to scare me off while making me believe she’s a victim too. But I can’t put Hailey and Martin in danger. I can’t risk losing them.

  With a muffled sob, Hailey leaves the room, and I pull out my phone and make a reservation at the Doubletree. I ignore another text from Noah about meeting later this evening; at least this one includes an inquiry about how I’m feeling, but it’s still annoying. And as I’m zipping the bag, my phone pings with yet another text, this one from Max.

  I’m missing some of my notes. Any chance you tucked them in your bag by mistake?

  I can’t deal with this right now. I put my phone away, drag my bag down the hallway, and wrestle it out the door. Once in the car, I text Hailey, thanking her for her patience and promising I’ll explain when my work in Bend is done. I owe her a lot more than a shitty electronic goodbye, but it’s all I can manage right now.

  I drive to the hotel in a daze, check in, and gratefully accept help getting my bag to my room. I close the door and lock every lock, leaning against it and telling myself I’m safe for the moment. I have the space to think. This is going to be okay.

  I trudge down to the ice machine, fill my ice bucket, and use the plastic bag that lines the bucket to create an ice pack for my wrist, holding it right where the searing pain makes it hard to think. I haven’t eaten all day, so I scrounge a protein bar from my suitcase, from the box of twelve I brought with me.

  My food for the week. I know I have an issue, and I know why. But right now, I just have to push forward. I text Miles. How’s it going? You coming back tonight?

  His response comes after a few minutes. Staying over in La Grande tonight. Meeting with sheriff in the morning. Marie’s hus
band told me she was found with a rock in her mouth. Still waiting for the rest of the autopsy, but I was right—serial killer. I’m gonna get a Pulitzer for this.

  I can barely breathe as I reply, so I have to dictate it more than once. You earned it. Then I toss my phone onto the bed.

  Arnie and Marie, killed and burned, left to be found with meditation rocks in their mouths. The same kind that was left for me and Essie.

  I didn’t really warn her. I was so convinced she was the one who’d left it for me. As much as I don’t trust her, the anger and fear in her voice when she showed me that rock seemed genuine. And if it wasn’t her, she’s in danger.

  For a half second, I consider leaving it alone. I remember her willingness to kill in Darius’s name. I remember how she backed him to the very end. And she’s the one person who can out me now, the one person who knows for sure. Hailey and Miles just suspect, but Essie? Max’s receipts have nothing on her.

  But then I realize what a hypocrite I am, telling myself I’ve changed while not considering that maybe she has too. How her friendship with Hailey seemed sincere and how truly rattled she seemed by the rock.

  I grab the phone, dial the hospital ED, and ask for Essie Green. When they tell me she’s not in, I ask for a call back and tell them it’s urgent. After I end the call, I take a Vicodin for the pain, brush my teeth, and slide between the sheets. My phone is charging on the nightstand, the ringer turned up to max volume. When Essie calls, I want it to wake me up. I need to warn her. And maybe talk straight with her. Maybe, just maybe, she could be an ally. We weren’t always enemies. We used to be sisters.

  On that strangely hopeful note, I drift into a deep, hollow sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The Retreat

  October 4, 2000

  Parvaneh sat at Eszter’s bedside, holding the now-cold bowl of soup she’d brought from the kitchen. Basir had made Eszter’s favorite, split pea with ham, but Eszter had taken one look at it and turned over again.

  She still held the tiny infant in her arms. Darius had told them all that she should be allowed to cradle it for as long as she needed to.

  It was a girl.

  Eszter had seemed in shock when Darius announced she would be placed on the altar. This time, it was Kazem who suggested a hospital, but Darius had been confident Eszter could birth the child right there, with all of them to witness the miracle. Kazem had argued that it was dangerous for Eszter, that all the blood meant something was wrong, that the baby might not live if it didn’t have medical support; it was too fragile, born too soon. Eszter hadn’t been able to speak for herself, had only been able to groan and cry as the pain stretched beyond her ability to bear it. But Darius had been so certain. He’d said it was all a sign—the consciousness had taken Octavia back to the source, but it was offering them an exchange. The new baby would be a powerful symbol of how close they’d come to enlightenment, because of their commitment to the journey.

  Instead, after twelve long hours and too much blood, the tiny creature had been born without life, blue and still but perfect in every other way. Ladonna had cut the cord and placed the little body on Eszter’s chest.

  Eszter had tried to nurse her, and Parvaneh had wanted to cry. The only thing that had stopped her was an exhaustion that had hammered at her until she’d become numb. First Octavia, now Eszter and her baby. Even Darius had seemed in shock. He’d told them to clean up the meeting hall to get it ready for the night session. Then he’d trudged to the front, gone into his office alone, and hadn’t emerged.

  Parvaneh needed to sleep, but she hadn’t wanted to leave Eszter, who hadn’t said a word since the birth. They’d spent weeks barely speaking, and that was Parvaneh’s fault. She’d allowed her insecurity to suffocate the best friendship she’d ever had. Pathetic. And now her friend needed her, and she was determined not to let her down.

  Eszter had lost so much blood; her skin was frighteningly, sickeningly white. Make sure she eats, Kazem had told Parvaneh. She needs food and fluids, or she may die too.

  And then he’d said, very quietly, She might die anyway. We won’t know about infection for another day or two.

  Parvaneh looked Eszter over, a big slug wrapped in blankets, the body of the baby, the size and weight of a footlong bun, pressed to her chest. “Kazem said he’d be in soon to check your pad,” she said to Eszter, if only to remind her that she wasn’t alone. “He wants to make sure you’re not bleeding too much.”

  “You don’t need to be here,” Eszter muttered. “I’m sure you need some sleep.” She turned onto her back, gazing at the ceiling. The brown fuzz of the baby’s hair tickling her chin.

  “I’m not leaving you in here alone,” Parvaneh said.

  “I’m not alone. She’s here too.”

  Parvaneh let her head hang back, taking in the same view as Eszter, the drop ceiling, the squares neat, perfect, predictable. The opposite of the last twenty-four hours. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured.

  “Do you think she would have lived if they’d taken me to a hospital?”

  It was said flatly, blandly. But every phrase felt like a trap. “I’m not a doctor,” Parvaneh said. “Kazem said it was too early.”

  “Premature babies survive all the time. When they’re in the hospital.”

  This conversation was dangerous, not just for the questions but for its path. If they followed it all the way, it led straight to who they were, what they were doing. “We can’t know,” Parvaneh said.

  “Darius used me. He used her. And that was more important to him than we were.”

  “Don’t say that,” Parvaneh pleaded. “He loves all of us.”

  “Did he love Octavia?”

  “You know he did.”

  “So that’s what he does to people he loves.”

  The nausea that had been nagging Parvaneh lately reawakened. “He didn’t do it. And Ladonna said what happened with Octavia was an accident.”

  “You don’t really believe that.”

  She didn’t. But admitting that wouldn’t help anyone, including Eszter. Did she want to end up like Octavia? Even if Eszter simply got whipped like Fabia had, it was more than Parvaneh could bear. Parvaneh reached for Eszter’s hand. Cold and clammy and limp. She squeezed Eszter’s fingers. “You’re my best friend here,” Parvaneh said. “And you always seemed so wise. You’ve helped me so much.”

  “Or maybe I hurt you.”

  Parvaneh shook her head. “I’d rather be here than anywhere else because we’re together, and we’re seeking something wonderful.”

  Eszter turned her head. “Is this wonderful?” she whispered, then looked down at her baby. “Do you want to hold her?”

  No, Parvaneh wanted to shout. But Eszter hadn’t let the baby go for hours, and this was the first indication she might be willing to. “Can I?”

  Eszter carefully handed the child over: terrifyingly tiny, unspeakably perfect, closed eyes with eyelashes, the shells of her ears, the bow of her mouth. The moment Parvaneh took in all those features, she felt it, the possibility of this little person, the hope and potential, the thoughts she’d never think, the mother she’d never lay eyes on. Parvaneh had thought she was too numb to cry, but now the tears came. She grimaced trying to hold in the pain and held the child to her chest, rocking it gently. She’d have to reel it all in, convince herself that it was all for the best, all the intention of the consciousness. But she couldn’t do that with Eszter’s dead child in her arms.

  Eszter began to hum a lullaby, singing words to a song no one had ever sung to Parvaneh, at least not that she knew. Maybe, long before memories could take root, her mother had been able to love her. Maybe she’d looked at Parvaneh the way that Parvaneh could see this child now, as a precious but fragile gift. Or maybe, as she’d told Parvaneh so many times, she’d simply been a mistake, a broken condom and way too much booze, and there had b
een no lullabies, only Hank Williams Jr. and Sawyer Brown on in the background while her mom entertained her latest loser, while Parvaneh scrounged what she could from the pizza boxes on the table, the chips her mother left out so she wouldn’t have to cook her kids a meal.

  This baby’s life would have been different. Eszter would have been a wonderful mother; she was softer and sweeter than anyone Parvaneh had ever met, except for maybe Octavia. She could maybe still have kids. She could move on from this, like they all would. Parvaneh would stay by her side and help her with every step, just like Eszter had helped her at the beginning.

  “Thank you,” Eszter said when she finished. “Will you help me with something?”

  “Anything.”

  “I want to bury her.”

  The nausea rose again, but Parvaneh swallowed it back. “Do you want to have a little more time with her while I get what we need?”

  Eszter nodded, and Parvaneh rose and kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll be back in a little bit.” She cupped the baby’s head in her palm for a moment, then left. Pulling her numbness around her like a cloak, she walked out into a breezy, sunlit world, bright and warm and wrong. She skirted the dining hall and followed the path to the barns and pastures. The round, earthy smell of manure and the deep grunts of the pigs reached her after a few minutes, and when the barns came into view, Kazem was already striding toward her. “How is she?” he asked.

  “She wants to bury the baby,” Parvaneh replied. “Can you give me a shovel? And maybe…I don’t know, a box? It feels wrong to just put a body in the ground.”

  “Tadeas,” he called over his shoulder. “I need the shovel.” He turned back to Parvaneh. “We can wrap her in cloth, like a shroud. She’ll…return to the earth more easily that way. Better than a box.”

  “Is that what you did with the others?” Parvaneh asked. “Octavia and Shirin and Ziba.”

  Kazem couldn’t meet her eyes. “No.” He glanced at the large pigsty next to the barn. “But for this little one, it seems right.”