Strega (Strega Series)

by Karen Monahan Fernandes

  I didn't realize until the song ended that Rena had stopped talking and was staring at me suspiciously.

  "See something you like?" she asked. I could see the wheels in her head turning. Before she could lure him to our table or do something equally as embarrassing, I shot up from my chair and made my way to the bathroom. My hands shook uncontrollably as I reached for the door handle. I was winded like I'd just run up ten flights of stairs. I washed my hands and found myself looking in the mirror, fussing over my hair and checking my shirt for crumbs or coffee spills. No one had ever made me fret like this.

  I clung to the security of the bathroom, terrified to emerge. When I finally gathered myself and pushed the door open, I expected to find Rena talking to the man that left me so breathtakingly unsettled. She would force me into conversation with him and say something horrifying, leaving us staring awkwardly at each other until one of us found a graceful way to break away. My desire to run from this potential humiliation was so overpowering that I didn't notice the door to the men's room swing open. Before I could stop myself, I collided into a tall, unwavering body.

  "Oh, I am so sorry," I yelped before retracting my hand from his arm. My eyes lifted to his face and my heart stopped. It was him. This man that had tied my stomach in knots.

  "No, please. I wasn't paying attention," he said apologetically, letting his hand fall from my wrist. The moment he touched me, I felt a warm light surge through me. It was the strangest, most amazing feeling, and until it subsided I couldn't pull my gaze from him.

  I smiled and excused myself, and walked away as quickly as I could. The hot, sweaty cloud of embarrassment swallowed me on my way back to my table, and I prayed that I wouldn't trip. I fixed my eyes on Rena, hoping she wouldn't notice him behind me. But then she opened her mouth and I froze.

  "Vince?" Rena shouted past me, waving her hand at him.

  "Wait, you know him?" I mumbled as I approached.

  "Yes!" she said excitedly.

  "I knew you looked familiar up there," she said to him as he caught up with me. "I didn't know you sing...and play guitar!"

  I was terrified. Of all the things I feared Rena might do to embarrass me, this scenario wasn't even on my radar. And it was worse than anything I imagined. Her opportunities were endless.

  "Vince and I are in the same English class," she said, leaning into me with her shoulder. "What are you doing here?"

  "I actually work here, out back," he said. "I just got the gig a few weeks ago."

  "And you're a musician?" Rena said. "What other hidden talents do you have?"

  "I don't usually play for an audience," he said modestly. "One of the guys here saw my guitar in the back of my car and I've been on the hook since."

  "Do you go to Merriam, too?" Vince asked, suddenly turning to me.

  "No," I said regretfully. "Another year of high school."

  "Really?" he said with surprise as he stared at me. "Well, then I've seen you somewhere else before. You look really familiar."

  "I work at The Waterside. Maybe there?"

  "Maybe," he said contemplatively. His gaze lingered on me. Nothing could have made me so uncomfortable or thrilled me more.

  Vince sat down at our table, and within minutes Rena excused herself. She found friends across the room to chat with and never came back. Though her not-so-subtle methods often annoyed me, this time was different. Vince captivated me the entire night. We could have made it to sunrise without running out of things to talk about. We loved the same bands. Wanted to travel the world and explore new places. I picked his brain about astronomy and meteorology—he was majoring in earth science. He appreciated my arsenal of random historical facts. We shared our experiences and confessed our dreams and our itch for more. My desire to get into UC Berkeley. His desire to get his pilot's license. He was just two years older than me, but he had a maturity beyond his years. When he spoke, I listened to every word and clung to it as if it was the last one I'd ever hear him speak.

  When Rao's finally closed, we reluctantly bundled up in our coats and drifted outside together, neither of us ready to say goodbye. Rena kept her distance, continuing her conversation with friends until Vince and I said goodbye.

  He stood before me, tall, magnificent, and breathtakingly gorgeous. I'd been talking with him all night, and somehow I managed to find my composure in his presence. But as his body hovered so close to mine, I was coming undone. He looked into my eyes and my legs began to shake. He brushed my hair away from my face, and my entire body hummed as he leaned in and whispered into my ear.

  "I really like you, Jay," he said, his sultry voice and his musky skin intoxicating me. "I've never met anyone like you before."

  His warm breath pounded against my neck until his lips retreated. He looked into my eyes again, his face so close to mine, and as each desirous breath escaped his lips, my own parted in anticipation.

  We had only just met, but I felt as if I'd known him for a lifetime. When he touched me, a warm light surged through me again and I forgot all about the night's icy chill. I longed to feel his hands against my neck, pulling me close until his lips touched mine. I wanted to melt into his deepening kiss and fall into the headlong spiral that had already begun to pull me in. But instead we whispered goodnight.

  Vince took my hand and kissed it with the chivalry of an old world gentleman. I watched him walk away, still lost in my own thoughts. That night I couldn't sleep. Until I saw him again, I could think of nothing else.

  The next day, my shift couldn't end fast enough. Vince and I had planned to meet at The Waterside as soon as I got out. The moment the old clock on the wall struck two, I ran out back to change out of my uniform and wash up before he arrived. My co-workers teased me, mimicking my flightiness that day, and my sudden preoccupation with this beautiful boy who had come into my life so unexpectedly. Time passed slowly as I waited by the window, staring out onto the street looking for Vince. Soon the jokes subsided and my excitement waned. In its place rose utter devastation. I waited for two hours by that window. Vince never came.

  For weeks, I held onto hope that I would see him again. Each time I passed Rao's, I looked into the window but I never saw him. Rena said he hadn't shown up to class after that night. She asked her professor if Vince was sick, but he was just as surprised by Vince's absence as she was. Especially since the spring semester was almost over. The weeks that followed were excruciating for me, and Rena knew it. She finally stopped into Rao's to ask Vince's co-workers what they knew, but he hadn't shown up for his shifts in weeks. His phone was disconnected, and his apartment was vacant. When I learned this, my heart dropped. With no explanation, Vince was gone.

  X

  Rena stared at me with impatience, waiting for my response to her rant. Forget Vince. Keep Shaun. Broken record.

  "Please, Rena. I can't handle this right now," I finally said. The building tension and compounding exhaustion finally pushed me over the edge. Tears flooded my eyes. Rena stopped cold and stared at me, searching my face for clues, knowing that it was more than just the dream that troubled me.

  "Somebody followed me home last night," I finally said. "For real."

  "What?" she barked, jumping from the sofa in shock. "Why didn't you tell me, Jay!"

  "I tried, but you haven't stopped yelling at me since you got home!"

  "I'm not yelling at you, Jay." She deflated with a deep exhale. "I'm just worried about you."

  "I know."

  I saw it in her face. She was thinking the same thing I was. Gram's killer was still out there. What if he followed me home? Detective Laine still had no leads. It could have been anybody.

  Rena sat in silence as I explained the whole terrible experience. It was just like the dream, other than the fact that somehow I barely escaped him.

  "I'm so sorry, Jay. That's why you texted me last night..." she said knowingly. "I wish you just called instead. I would've come straight here."

  "I didn't want to wake you after the day you had w
ith Max..."

  "Oh, you should have," she said as she wrapped her arms around me tightly. "This is all my fault. If you weren't stuck working my shift, it never would've happened."

  "It's my own fault. I shouldn't have walked home. I could've asked Paul or Ricky to drive me home, or called a cab."

  She pulled me up off the sofa and we walked together into the kitchen.

  "You need a bodyguard and I'm hiring myself."

  I rested my head against hers and wished she could truly protect me.

  XI

  The night Gram died, she was painting in the sunroom. When I found her, she was covered in a rainbow of paint smudges from her fingertips to her elbows. And blood. So much blood.

  She was an artist. For years, the constant demand for her beautiful renderings of the charming local landscape kept her busy. She tried to retire, to slow the pace a bit, and only accepted a few special requests. But I swore she was busier after this pseudo-retirement than she ever was before. She was always running off to go sailing, swimming, skiing, or just to get together for coffee with friends. She belonged to every organization in Newburyport. We couldn't go anywhere in town without running into someone she knew.

  When she was home, she was always in the sunroom, lost in her own world of creativity. She'd been in there all day working on her most recent painting, which was almost finished. To anyone else, it appeared complete. A vast landscape of rolling green hills illuminated by sunlight. Lakes, vineyards, towering trees, and all the beauties of nature. Within it, one old oak tree stood out from the rest. It was rooted deeply in the rich earth and stretched tall toward the sun.

  "Trees are magical," Gram used to say. "They hover between two worlds, keeping the secrets of the dark earth below and the light of the heavens above."

  This painting was inspired by a dream, she told me. A dream that came to her often. One of peace and strength. It was her heaven, she used to say. A place of peace, freedom, and renewal. There was one thing still missing from the painting. Something that would make it complete. She never told me what it was, and she died before she finished it.

  "Gram!" I yelled, floating into the house on a cloud. I'd just come home from a date with Shaun. He took me out for a romantic dinner on the water. We had only been seeing each other for a couple weeks, but he was so charming, and he left me at the front door with a good night kiss that made me giddy. In the first blush of this new relationship, I didn't consider whether these feelings would endure. I couldn't wait for Gram to throw on some tea and chat all about it. When she didn't answer, I called for her again.

  "Gram? Where are you?" I walked through the living room and into the dining room, and dropped my purse on the table. I rounded the corner into the kitchen and she still hadn't responded. I knew she was home. All the lights were still on. She definitely wasn't in bed yet. When I left, she couldn't wait for me to return and tell her everything. Shaun was the first boy I'd ever gone out with more than once.

  Then I saw her foot across the threshold of the sunroom. A split second felt like hours as I ran to her. Fear tore through me as I imagined the worst. Did she have a heart attack? A stroke? She was so healthy, it couldn't be that. Did she fall?

  Please let her be okay. Oh God, please let her be okay.

  I got to the doorway and stood over her body. I was paralyzed in horror. Face down on the floor in a puddle of her own blood, she lay with her legs and arms bent and twisted around her in the most unnatural way. Her clothing was torn. Blood soaked the light blue denim shirt she always wore when she painted.

  "GRAM!" I shouted. The sound tore from my throat as I fell to my knees beside her. I checked her pulse, her breath, but I already knew that she was gone.

  "NO! NO! NO!" I yelled over and over again, unable to grasp the reality. I turned her over and pulled her into my lap. I held her head, cradling her, rocking her, stroking her blood-drenched hair away from her face, still whispering it over and over again. No. No. No.

  The soft curtains billowed as the night breeze floated through the broken glass doors. My eyes swept the room. For a brief second, I wondered if her killer was still in the house. But the thought evaporated as quickly as it came because I just didn't care. If he wanted to kill me too, he could have. If I was dead, I wouldn't have to feel a thing. I gently closed her eyes and sat there holding her. She was all I had left.

  XII

  I sat down at the table and methodically folded a piece of paper while Rena scurried around the kitchen and made a pot of coffee.

  "You need to be more careful than ever. Especially since whoever killed her is still out there. Gram would be yelling at you so I'm just doing it for her," she said, her face softening into a smile for my benefit. I knew her. Inside, she was a wreck. She grabbed the milk from the refrigerator and brought over two mugs while we waited for the coffee to finish brewing.

  "How is Max?" I asked, hoping once again that we could change the subject.

  "Oh, he's fine. His arm hurts like hell, but they put him back together and he's all casted up. He has to work a gig in Salisbury tonight. Can you believe that? The poor guy."

  Max was a radio DJ at WMXT. His boss had called him last minute to work a fundraising event at the nearby club Code Red, Rena explained. Max was covering for Jake, the DJ that was supposed to work the event. Even with a freshly broken arm, Max couldn't say no. He'd worked at the station for three years and would have done anything to rise to the top of the promotion list. He worked the mid-day shift, which drew half the listeners and paid half as much as the top morning spot.

  "Have you eaten anything since yesterday?" Rena asked, bringing the focus back to me.

  "No," I said reluctantly, knowing that this would get her going again. She shot me a look of disapproval and grabbed a carton of eggs from the refrigerator.

  "How are you still functioning?"

  "I'm not," I said honestly. "What if he comes back, Rena? What if he's watching me now, waiting for another opportunity?"

  "Listen Jay, come with us later to Code Red. And I'll call Max and ask him to stay here with us tonight. If you don't feel safe here, we can always go to his place."

  I imagined Max trying to defend us with one arm while on pain medication.

  "But I'm only seventeen. I can't even get into Code Red," I protested. Max was twenty-two. Rena was only nineteen but she always slipped in with Max when he did these appearances.

  "It's a fundraising event. It's eighteen-plus," she said, looking at me like I was being ridiculous. "You're close enough. Besides, we'll be with Max. Nobody will check your I.D."

  "Okay," I finally consented, but I was already dreading it. All I wanted to do was sleep, and I still had the whole day ahead of me.

  "From now on, you need to be much more careful. Drive to work, no matter how nice it is out. And always check the backseat of your car. No empty parking lots," she urged. "There are creeps everywhere. You can never be too careful."

  Rena didn't trust anyone, especially after Gram's death. It was so unexpected. There was no motive. Everyone loved Gram, and we lived in the most benign little town where there was never any crime. It just didn't make any sense. Our trust in people was completely shaken.

  "Most people in this world are good," she said. "But it's naïve to think that everyone is. That's just not reality. I wish it was, but it's not. Some people are really bad. No conscience, cannot be fixed. No amount of therapy can rehab a murderer or a rapist—they have a fundamental wiring problem. And because people like this exist, we always have to be careful."

  I took my last bite of eggs and she grabbed my plate and put it into the sink.

  "I'm going to go call Max. Everything is going to be okay," she said, giving me a big hug before she wandered back to the living room. From the kitchen I heard her strong, controlled tone wither into worry.

  "You are not gonna believe what happened to Jay last night..."

  I finished my coffee and poured myself a second cup, already feeling the sleep-depr
ived, caffeinated anxiety building within me from the first cup. I stared out the window across the familiar landscape and tried to conjure up a moment of peace. I was losing control, and I didn't know where to begin to fix it. I was so tired. All I knew to do was to run. If I stopped, surely the ground would rise up around me and pull me in.

  "Jay?" Rena yelled from the living room. "What the hell is this?"

  "What?" I yelled back, slowly breaking my gaze from the backyard before I chugged toward the living room.

  As I rounded the corner, Rena came into sight with a bewildered expression on her face. What I saw next made the blood drain from my head. My throat went dry. The floor moved as if I was falling toward it. My mind spun in search of a logical answer for what I was seeing. Rena stood beside the sofa, pointing at the cushion where I sat moments before. Bunched upon it was the scarlet red fabric I'd found in the basement in my dream. And stabbed directly through it was the blade.

  XIII

  Rena threw open the basement door and reached for the light switch. To my relief, those same stairs I'd descended in my dream were now completely illuminated by an overhead light. Rena went down first, holding the long metal flashlight she dug out of the closet. The same flashlight I used in my dream. I followed her, gripping my bat tightly in my sweating hands.

  We explored the basement from end to end, but everything was in its right place. We found nothing unusual. The bulkhead doors were closed and locked from the inside. We checked the rest of the house, and all the doors and windows were secure. In silence, we returned to the living room and fell onto the sofa together, staring ahead as our minds spun like rubber tires on ice.

  "Well, we know nobody could have broken in," Rena said, eliminating the only plausible explanation. She leaned over and pulled the blade from my hands.