by Frankie Love
"Well, I'll be damned," he tells me.
"You know it?" I ask hopefully.
"Of course I do," he says with a grin. "I fuckin' made it, you best believe I know what it’s for."
We both laugh at his crassness, and I relish this time I'm spending in the old man's company. It's too bad we drifted apart, because I always liked him—we had a special bond.
"What's it for?" I ask, taking a cookie from the dish on the coffee table and biting it in half. The taste of gingerbread takes over and I relish the slight tang of it on my tongue.
It makes me think of Hayley.
"I made about a dozen safety deposit boxes for the bank," Andrew tells me, handing me the key back. I put it safely in my pocket and wait for him to go on with the story. "There weren't a lot made, but they were special. Hefty price on them, too.”
"And they're still in the bank today?" I ask, and he nods.
"They are, as far as I know. I don't know who they belong to, though. You'll have better luck asking about that at the bank," he replies.
"And when did you make these keys?" I ask.
"I guess..." He clears his throat, dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief. "I guess right around the time... that bastard was found dead. The one who hurt Julie."
I might've been close with Andrew, but he was closest with her. She was like the granddaughter he never had, and I know losing her hurt him more deeply than he'd care to admit.
However, hearing him say that confirms my thoughts that this key is somehow connected to Julie's murderer. I stay with Andrew for a little while longer, and we chat about the town as we finish our tea.
"So, any special ladies in your life?" he finally asks, and I laugh. "I hear that pretty Adams girl is back in town."
"Oh, do you?" I smile wide at him.
"Yep, hear she takes after her grandma."
"Everyone knows you had a thing for her gram." I wink at him, and he leans over.
"It wasn't a thing I had," he mutters. "It was a thing we had."
"You sly old dog!" I slap him on the back and we both laugh. It's nice to take the edge off sometimes. I never knew he was involved with Hayley's grandmother, and I wonder how alone he must feel now that she's gone, too. I make a mental note to pay him a visit soon, maybe with Hay or even Chris in tow.
"All right," I reply. "I need to get to the bank before they close, since it's a Saturday."
As I get up, Andrew takes my hand and I look down into his worried eyes. "Luke," he says. "Be careful. Willow Creek isn't what it used to be."
"What do you mean?" I ask him.
He merely gives me a long look before shaking his head.
I arrive at the bank minutes before closing time, half-expecting them to show me right out the door. Instead, they inspect the key and the number on it, and an employee goes to the back and returns with a solemn expression, telling me they'll take me right to it.
To be honest, I'm surprised as hell they're agreeing to go along with this, just showing me the safety deposit box without even asking to see anything but my ID. But I'm not going to argue about it, and I follow the employee into the deposit room.
He shows me to a small area filled with a dozen antique-looking steel boxes. They're intricate, and I can tell they're Andrew's work by the way he handcrafted his signature mark on each of them. The bank's employee tells me to take my time—another shocker, since they're about to close—and leaves me to myself beneath a single lightbulb, throwing eerie shadows all over the walls.
I have to brace myself before I actually open the deposit box. I have a strange feeling about it, like I'm about to come face to face with something I won't like very much. But I swallow the lump in my throat and unlock the box with a click of the key I brought with me.
The lock gets stuck and I have to jiggle the key to get it to finally open. Once I do, the metal door flies open just like that. My heart is about to burst as I reach inside the box, half-expecting something to bite my fingers off.
I feel around the plush, rich velvet that lines the inside of the box, and my fingertips finally come in contact with a rectangular, medium-sized object. I pull it out and observe it under the light.
It's a videotape, a VHS cassette that you don’t see all that often anymore. I turn the black tape over in my hand and find a small white label with a date.
The date is one day before the morning my life went to hell. One day before Julie's murderer was found dead.
Carefully, I stash the videotape inside my jacket and feel around the safety deposit box, trying to see if there's anything else in there. But save for the tape, the box is empty, and I lock the box again before heading outside.
"Find everything you wanted, Sir?" the employee inquires politely, and I give him a long look.
"Yes, thank you very much."
He doesn't say another word as he shows me out of the bank, locking the doors behind me. I wonder how I managed to persuade them to push their closing time by fifteen minutes. Maybe they're afraid of the big bad wolf too.
I head toward my car, feeling the weight of the tape against my chest like I'm carrying around a damn heavy burden. I need to get to Chris' place right away.
As I drive toward my brother's house, I wonder how he's feeling today. We’ve spoken on the phone a few times since the other night, but he has seemed a little distant. As I drive, my mind is spinning, wondering about the content of the tape.
It could provide the answers we’re looking for.... and it could also be the end of our life as we know it.
15
Hayley
The holidays should feel cheerful. Full of hope.
But nothing feels that way right now.
I’m determined to turn that around, in some slight way.
There is literally only one thing I can think of that I can do to actually help.
Gingerbread men. Fruit cake. Sugar cookies. Icing. Candied everything.
If you put enough sugar on anything it has to sweeten up.
Wearing an apron Luke bought me off Etsy, which reads, SANTA LOVES A HOT COOKIE, I pull another sheet of Christmas tree sugar cookies from the oven.
Christmas may be over a month away, but I’m rocking out to Frank Sinatra belting Jingle Bells, shamelessly. I saw a flier in town last week about a holiday craft sale, and I am going to sell my treats. Of course I need to get my name out there, but right now I don’t even care about my business plans. Right now, I just want to help cheer up Willow Creek.
My phone rings and I drop the potholder on the counter, pressing accept. I’ve ignored Nick the last four times he’s called.
"Hey Nick, what’s up?" I ask, forcing a cheery tone.
"You answered. I thought you were freezing me out."
"I’m not freezing anyone. In fact, I am determined to be positive. You know, fight against evil with good."
"Then I called at the right time."
"What do you mean?" I put him on speakerphone and pick up a bag of icing, piping a green border on the cooled sugar cookies.
"I’m in town."
"In what town?"
"Willow Creek. I came to see you, Hayley."
"Why?"
"I told you, I thought you could use an old friend."
I pull in a long breath. "I’m seeing someone, Nick."
He doesn’t seem deterred. "That’s okay. Honestly, I’m just here to check in. You don’t have family and with everything that’s going on I thought—"
"I get it," I tell him, cutting him off. Truthfully, tears prick the corner of my eyes. "It’s really thoughtful of you. You’re just being way too nice to me. I broke up with you, remember?"
He laughs. "When can I see you?"
Static interrupts the conversation, and I pick up my phone, taking it off speaker.
"Nick?" I ask.
"I’m here. Bad reception I guess. Listen, I’m at a hotel in town. Can we grab coffee or something?"
"Today is super busy. I’m leaving for a bake sale at the h
igh school."
"Do you need any help?"
"No, I’m just finishing up, and you know I don’t like extra hands in the kitchen. If you want, maybe meet me there? I’ll text once I get it all set up and tell you where I am."
"Can we just set a time? I’m sitting here bored."
"Sure, I’ll meet you outside at the back entrance of the gym at two. That will give me time to set up, okay?"
"Thanks, Hayley."
I hang up, needing to get showered and changed before I show up trying to present myself as a professional-ish person.
I send Luke a quick text telling him that Nick’s in town. He sends me a string of nonsensical emojis that allow me to relax. Seeing Nick today isn’t going to screw up the good thing going on with Luke and me.
In the bathroom, before I step into the shower to wash the frosting off myself, I reward Luke for his good-natured response with a naked selfie. I press my breasts together and hold the camera above me to take a picture in the most flattering way I can manage.
I send it, hoping it makes him blush. Makes him hard.
It may not be the most responsible choice, but I’m just doing my part to spread holiday cheer.
At the school I’m once again assaulted with memories, the bay of lockers where Stacy and I shared one three down from Julie. The bathroom where I cried my eyes out when my freshman boyfriend broke up with me because he thought my braces were ugly—and remembering how Stacy was the one there to comfort me.
I push the memories away and choose to smile brightly despite the sadness that surrounds this place. I wave hello to everyone I come across because I am the self-appointed bearer of glad tidings.
I find the table assigned to me and spread a bright red tablecloth across it. After grabbing my totes from the car full of my packaged treats, I organize them on the table, with the little price cards beside them.
This enterprise is definitely below my level of expertise, but being a fancy pastry chef did nothing but stress me out. The time I spent in the kitchen preparing for this sale gave me a sense of calm that I have long been missing from my life.
And that’s saying something considering a murderer is on the loose.
I shake hands with the customers, introducing myself as a new baker in town, attempting to reintegrate myself in Willow Creek society. If I’m putting down roots here, there’s no time like the present to get started. Luke’s words from the other night have been running through my head. Life is fucking precious. A fucking gift.
Right now, his words ring so true.
Nick has texted a few times, letting me know he’s on his way, and then that he’s here waiting. It isn’t fair to put this off any longer.
I tell the woman at the table next to me that I’ll be back shortly, and I grab my purse before heading outside.
Nick’s life is precious too; a gift. And I don’t need to dismiss him even if he’s an ass who never really understood me.
I guess I never really understood him, either.
16
Murderer
I cut into her call, because that girl is asking too many questions. Looking to cause problems when what she really needs to do is back the fuck off.
I’ll keep giving her clues until the message is motherfucking clear.
I’m not a man to mess with.
She can’t handle the games I know how to play.
Behind the school, I wait for my target. But she isn’t here. The only person I see is this fucking pansy-ass boy in a three-piece suit, trying to be someone he isn’t. A man.
Snow has started to fall, and I try to figure this guy out.
I can’t see Hayley Adams with a fool like him, but I never could see her with Luke, either. Hayley thinks she’s so smart and sweet, swooping into Willow Creek like anyone asked her to return. I’m glad she’s been gone as long as she has, or else my problems would have been brought up a hell of a lot sooner.
She asks too many questions, thinking Luke wants her help. It was better when that fucker was in prison. When his brother was in the hospital. Now everyone is here, walking around, ready to stir the pot.
Where is she? She was supposed to be here by now. The snow is already covering the ground, I’ve been waiting far too long.
My phone buzzes. Fuck. Work is calling and I need to go, stat.
I can’t wait here anymore without causing suspicion.
The boy stares at his phone, and I decide I can’t just leave after all this effort. I grin, knowing that Hayley needs another message. This one will be louder. Crystal clear.
Stepping out from behind the dumpster where I’ve been waiting, the boy turns, surprised that someone is out here with him.
"Hey," he says, trusting me. He walks toward me, and I let him come as close as he likes.
"You waiting for someone?"
"Yeah," he says. "Hayley Adams. You know her?"
"I do," I tell him.
"Do you think you could help me find her? She told me to meet her out here, but I’ve been waiting awhile."
"I don’t think that’s possible," I tell him.
A flash of confusion crosses his face, clearly expecting me to help him. I reach for him before he realizes that I may look like a safe person, but I’m just a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
My fingers grip around his neck as I strangle him, cutting off the air to his windpipe, digging my fingers into his throat until his knees buckle, until his face goes white. Limp in my hands, I drop him to the snow.
I grab the hunting knife from my pocket, flip open the blade. I pull him behind the dumpster, and begin hacking at his arm. I will send a message to little Hayley Adams all right. I am consumed with hate and vengeance and the desire to protect my name. I don’t care the cost, so long as it isn’t my life.
Holding his severed limb in my hand I drip the blood, letter by letter, writing a message in the pure white snow.
STOP DIGGING
I drop his arm, his face white and body wrecked.
If this doesn’t scare that little red riding hood, I don’t know what will.
17
Luke
I've been worried all week, my mind swimming with dark and ominous thoughts. I know there's only one person who can help me now.
I sent Hayley a quick text earlier. She told me she was at the school's bake sale, and I grin to myself when I think about her selling cookies and pies. I want a taste.
I decide to pay her a visit on the spot. I barely notice the weird things happening in front of me. I only realize something strange is going on when I'm directed off the road by a man wearing an orange vest. I furrow my brows and pull my truck to the side of the road, and climb out of the truck.
"What's going on here?" I ask the man, and he gestures towards the yellow tape surrounding the school.
"Crime scene," he tells me.
"What?" I feel a giant lump form in my throat as I stare at the scene before me. Sure enough, a yellow line telling me not to cross surrounds the school area. I feel like I'm going to be violently sick, and I march towards the man in the vest. When he sees me approaching, angry as fuck and advancing on him like a raging bull, he shivers in the cold air of the day.
"Man, I’m not in charge," he tells me in a strangled voice. But my hands are already on his shoulders and I shake him hard, demanding answers.
"What happened?" I ask. "Who got hurt? Tell me right the fuck now."
"Please," he begs me, breathing heavily, and I finally let go for a moment as he tries to regain his composure. "It was some man who wasn't a townie. I didn't know him."
"And what happened to him?" I ask in a rough voice, half-expecting the answer to be terrible. My thoughts are swimming and it's hard for me to form a coherent sentence. All I need is to know is that Hayley is all right.
"He's gone." The man shakes his head regretfully. "Killed. Someone tore his fucking arm off or some shit. It's fucked."
I just stare at him blankly, waiting for the puzzle pieces to fit in my h
ead. Finally, I feel like the story is starting to come together, and my fingers shake as I look at the man before me.
"His name," I mutter, giving him an urgent look. "Do you have the man's name?"
"Yeah." He scratches his head. "I think it was Nicholas something."
"Nicholas..." I repeat, and then realization dawns on me. Jesus fuck, it can't be, surely it isn't... But I remember Hayley's message from before, mentioning her ex who was in town today.
I'd been jealous as hell, even though I did my best to hide it. The thought of her seeing an old flame made my skin fucking crawl... But now, he couldn’t be fucking gone.
I run my fingers through my hair, worried as hell and with my heart pounding for Hayley. She has to be alright, she has to be. I'll never forgive myself if something happens to her.
I barge past the man and the tape even though he calls after me, trying to get me to come back. I think he's intimidated enough to stay out of my way though, and thank fuck for that. I can't be trusted right now, I'm so fucking angry and so worried about Hayley.
I near the school. There are a few clusters of people huddled together on the grounds, and I head to the first group I spot, seeing a familiar face between them. Miss Mayfair, our old teacher, is shivering in the cold and her eyes widen as she sees me approaching.
"Luke," she says in shock, and I can see the fear in her eyes. I imagine I look scary as hell like this, disheveled and pissed off as fuck—but I need to press someone for answers.
"Hayley," I growl. "Have you seen her? Hayley Adams. Not very tall, curvy... Most gorgeous fucking woman you've ever seen. We were in your class."
She looks scared as fuck as I come towards her. "Miss Mayfair, fucking please... I need to find her, for fuck's sake—"
Before I get a chance to finish my sentence, Sheldon runs towards me and pulls me aside. Thank fuck for that, because I'm about to lose my damn mind.
"Calm down," he tells me, but his voice is shaking. I can tell something fucked up happened here.