Going Organic Can Kill You

by McLaughlin, Staci

I studied him in the beam from the flashlight, but all I saw were sharp lines and shadows. “But I’ve seen you eyeing Tiffany at the pool more than once.”

  “Tiffany’s a good-looking girl, that’s all.”

  Something else was tickling my brain. I scratched my poison oak just as Christian scratched his chest.

  I stared at his shirt. He had poison oak! And I’d seen Tiffany scratching a rash on her butt back at the spa. My mind flew to that little green plant growing by the bench. “Leaves of three, beware of me,” was something I’d learned as a child. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t made the connection until now.

  Ashlee had mentioned rumors about what a ladies’ man Christian was, but would he be so blatant as to sleep with two guests staying at the spa at the same time? What a cad.

  Then I thought of the book in Maxwell’s room, the one talking about the history of yoga. The book mentioned universal consciousness, but Christian claimed the purpose of yoga was to report to a deity. And whenever someone asked Christian yoga questions, he dodged them faster than a fourth-grader dodged the big red ball in gym class.

  “You know, I heard a rumor that you went to India to study with a swami and that’s why Esther hired you. Is that right?” I asked. Should I be asking him such a question out here in the dark? I reached up and felt the smooth front of my St. Christopher medal like I was stroking a security blanket.

  “Of course not. But you wouldn’t believe what you can learn from the Internet,” Christian said.

  He was two-timing Sheila, plus he barely knew a thing about yoga? “Everything about you is a lie.” Whoops, probably shouldn’t have said that out loud.

  Christian took a step toward me. “Guess you’ve discovered my secret. Just like Maxwell. And we all know what happened to him.” The menace in his voice left no doubt to what he was really saying.

  Ashlee and I were alone in the woods with a killer.

  29

  My hands went numb, and I almost dropped the flashlight. I might be in some serious trouble here. I willed myself to shut up, but my mouth ignored my brain.

  “Maxwell realized you were a fake, out to woo his ex-wife. But why?”

  “What does a spa have? Rich, lonely women who pamper themselves because no one in their life is doing that pampering. Which is where I come in. But stupid Maxwell had to defend his ex-wife’s honor and ruin everything. I could have made a fortune.” In the beam of the flashlight, I could see Christian clench his fists as he stepped closer. “Instead, Maxwell found out my real name. Tried to blackmail me into helping him write a screenplay about my con jobs, swore he was destined for an Oscar and this was his big ticket. Well, I punched his ticket, all right.”

  “Oh, God, you killed him.” My hands began to shake, and the flashlight beam jittered back and forth as I took a step back. “That means you must have killed Queenie, too. You were the one she saw with Tiffany.”

  Christian didn’t respond. He stared at me in the soft light, the calculating look on his face making it clear he was deciding my fate.

  My teeth started chattering as a deathly chill snaked its way into my stomach. I needed to get the hell out of here. “What did she mean about the spilled blood? Did she somehow see you kill Maxwell?” I glanced toward the dark ground, hoping to spot a rock. Or a tree branch. Anything I could use as a weapon.

  “Close enough. And while that beekeeper was crazy, she was just sane enough to be a problem.” He sneered at me. “Just like you.”

  Christian charged at me, knocking me off balance and propelling me back, his muscular frame giving me no room to maneuver.

  We fell into the springs, and I opened my mouth to scream. Warm water ran down my throat. I felt like I was taking a bath from the inside out. I struggled to the surface, coughing and sputtering. Christian immediately pushed me back down, then maneuvered on top of me.

  My lungs burned. My throat ached. I fought the instinct to breathe as the world grew dim around the edges. Through my panicked haze, I realized I was still clutching the penlight. I kicked at Christian and connected with his shin. His grip on my shoulders loosened.

  Using the precious seconds of freedom, I reached up and grabbed Christian’s ponytail with one hand. I held the penlight with my other and swung with my last bit of energy. The light connected with flesh. Christian’s hands released my shoulders. He no longer held me down.

  I kicked toward the surface until my head popped out of the water. I gasped for breath and swam away from where I thought Christian might be. I could barely see, the sky dark now, the moon casting a paltry glow. My hand scraped rock and I held on. Behind me, Christian splashed in the water.

  “My eye! My eye!” he bellowed.

  I dragged myself out of the springs. The weight of my clothes threatened to pull me back in and I belly-crawled across the dirt until my feet were clear. As I grabbed for another handful of earth, I wondered if Ashlee was still standing on the trail, waiting for us, with no idea what was happening.

  I lay still for a moment, my arms aching, my lungs heaving. A sliver of fear shot through my gut as I realized I could no longer hear Christian moving in the water. Quiet ripples sounded from the springs. I shivered in my wet clothes.

  Pine needles crunched directly behind me. I rolled to the side. A thump sounded where I’d been. My eyes had partially adjusted to the darkness and I could discern Christian’s form lying on the ground.

  He rose up with a roar. “You stabbed me!” His voice held a mixture of rage and disbelief.

  I scrambled to my feet and ran toward where I thought the path was, fighting my way through the brush, branches slapping me in the face, catching on my clothes. I’d dropped the light when I’d struck Christian in the water and I stumbled onto the path, falling to my knees as my eyes focused on a circle of light. Ashlee!

  She rushed up to me, helping me to my feet. “Jesus, Dana, are you all right? What’s going on?”

  Behind me, I could hear Christian breaking through the trees, like Godzilla on a rampage. “We have to get out of here, Ashlee. Christian killed Maxwell. And he knows I know. He wants to kill me, too.”

  Ashlee stood there. “Is this a joke? ’Cause it’s not funny.”

  I grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “It’s not a joke. He’ll come after you next.”

  I pushed Ashlee down the path, in the direction of the farmhouse. She finally snapped into action and we ran. Behind us, I could hear a final rustle of bushes and then steady footsteps.

  Christian was coming. And he was faster and stronger. I could hear him closing the gap. If we stayed on the path, he’d overtake us before we could reach the house, and help.

  “To the right,” I gasped to Ashlee. I veered off into the trees, running smack into a pine tree in my haste. The bark scratched my hands and forehead, burning my skin. I swung around the tree, plowing ahead, my hands out front, Ashlee right beside me. In her panic, she emitted a high-pitched keening sound, intermingled with gasping, as she ran.

  Christian cursed at our change in course and followed. The distance between us grew as he tried to find us among the trees. But we couldn’t stop now. I’d seen enough horror films where the girl cowered in the forest, only to have the killer catch up and bludgeon her. And no way was Ashlee or I getting killed because I’d just had to retrieve my stupid phone.

  We weaved between the trees, my arms scraping against the branches, Christian somewhere behind us. Were we going in the right direction? Instead of reaching the farm, would we end up at the base of the hills, lost in the endless wilderness?

  Emerging from the trees, I fell and sprawled in the dirt. I noticed that the ground around me was empty of brush as Ashlee dragged me to my feet. We were back on the path. But what part?

  I could hear Christian fumbling around, sounding far away. Now might be our one chance to call for help.

  “Ashlee, get your phone out. Call 911.”

  She handed me the penlight and fumbled in her pocket. When she hit the ON button, the disp
lay lit up, brilliant against the dark night. I winced at the glare as she pressed the numbers. I leaned my head next to hers and heard a ringing sound across the line, intermingled with static.

  Please let the call go through, please let the call go through.

  “911, what is your emergency?”

  Relief flooded through me and tears sprang to my eyes as Ashlee spoke. “We’re in the woods, behind the O’Connell Farm and Spa, and ...”

  “Hello, is anyone there?”

  Static filled my ear. I pulled away as Ashlee lowered the phone and looked at the display. A single reception bar appeared on the screen.

  “Hello?” the operator asked again, her voice faint.

  The line went dead. The sudden silence emphasized the fact that I once more couldn’t hear Christian. He could be anywhere. And if he’d seen the light from the phone, he knew exactly where we were.

  I turned off the penlight and gripped Ashlee’s hand as we crept down the path, my Keds creating mere whispers in the dirt. My shin collided with a hard surface. “Shit!” I clapped a hand over my mouth. Couple more outbursts like that and Christian would hone in on our location.

  I turned the light back on and shone it on the object I’d hit. The bench! At least I knew where we were. But we were nowhere near the house.

  “Check your phone again,” I whispered.

  Ashlee flipped it open but not a single reception bar appeared.

  A loud crash sounded in front of us. Christian burst onto the trail, his shape barely visible in the faint moonlight that filtered through the trees. With him squarely in the center of the path, the only option was behind us.

  Then I remembered Queenie’s trailer. It might have a landline phone. Or the shotgun.

  “Ashlee, follow me,” I shouted. With Christian right in front of us, whispering was pointless. I turned and ran, fighting through more brush, the point of a branch ripping down my arm like a knife.

  “Dana, I’m going to catch you,” Christian called to me. “If you slow down, I promise to make the end nice and quick. For you and your sister. So stop and make it easy on yourself.”

  Easy on me? Ha! More like easy on Christian. Just give up like the sacrificial lamb Queenie would have spouted on about.

  I ran into the field and stopped, Ashlee bumping into me. Queenie’s trailer sat in the middle, bathed in the soft moonlight. Oh, how I wished she’d barge out, shotgun in hand. Had Christian killed her because she’d seen him with Tiffany at the bench? Was he the one she was talking about when she mentioned the blood?

  But now was not the time to worry about Queenie. I needed to focus on saving Ashlee and me.

  Maybe her cell phone would work now that we were away from the trees. Before I could tell Ashlee, I heard Christian step into the field.

  I sprinted forward, staggering in the pitted dirt. Then, a thump sounded behind me and I heard Ashlee scream.

  “Dana, help! He’s got me!” she shouted.

  I stopped so fast that I fell over, then immediately regained my footing. In the moonlight, I could see Ashlee lying on the ground, Christian crouched over top her. I ran straight at him, charging like a defensive lineman for the Oakland Raiders, throwing my entire weight against him.

  He fell back onto the dirt and I pummeled him with my fists while he tried to block the blows. But I couldn’t possibly overpower him like this. And I didn’t want to waste the time trying.

  I jumped to my feet and ran for the trailer. Ashlee had risen from the ground and I dragged her along behind me, only letting go of her hand when I reached the steps.

  I hit the metal stairs at a run and jerked the doorknob. The door flew open, slapping me in the face. I staggered back and almost lost my footing, but Ashlee pushed me from behind. I gripped the door’s edge and pulled my way inside, tearing through the crime scene tape, Ashlee on my heels. I slammed the door shut behind her and pushed the lock in the knob, knowing it wouldn’t hold for long.

  “What are we going to do, Dana?” Ashlee’s voice came out in a shriek, distorting her words.

  I tried to look around, but the trailer’s interior was as dark as a crow’s feathers.

  “Where’s your flashlight?” I asked.

  “I dropped it back in the field.”

  I felt along the walls for a light switch. My hand connected with the plastic toggle and I flicked it up. Nothing. No power. Damn.

  “Let’s try to find a weapon, anything.”

  I could hear Ashlee rummaging nearby as I felt around in the darkness, running my hands over the fridge, the countertop, the tiny table. I brushed past a drawer handle and tugged it open. Rubber bands, wrapped straws, and sauce packets lay at my fingertips. My hand closed around a handle and I inched my fingers upward. A round smooth surface, tiny sharp points on the end. A spork? Our best weapon was a spork?

  I dropped the plastic utensil. “Find anything?” I asked.

  “No.” Ashlee choked the word out like she was being strangled.

  Footsteps sounded on the metal steps. I flailed around in the dark, fumbling for anything, connecting with nothing. The sound of the knob twisting, first one way, then the other, reached my ears. My heartbeat picked up speed, the thumping competing with the sound of Christian banging on the door.

  All my senses converged and an image of Queenie’s trailer appeared in my mind from the morning I’d found her body: The smell of death, the sound of the bees, the touch of the metal doorknob, the taste of fear. And the sight of a skillet hanging on the side of the cabinet. I felt for the wood, ran my hand along the side, and grabbed the cast iron skillet at the same moment the trailer door burst open.

  Gripping the skillet handle with both hands, I swung at Christian’s head, clearly outlined in the open doorway. I could hear Ashlee scream from behind me as the skillet bounced off his face with a sickening gong.

  Christian flew off the steps. He landed at the bottom and lay quiet. I stood for a moment, looking for any stray movement, any indication he was faking. He’d killed two people. He wasn’t above laying a trap. But he remained motionless.

  I watched Christian while Ashlee tried her cell phone again. This time, the reception held, the call went through. Help was on the way.

  Still clutching the skillet, I sat down on the top step of the trailer. And wept.

  30

  The next morning, I heard my bedroom door open and felt the mattress sink as someone sat down on the bed. I opened my eyes, winced at the brightness of the room, and lowered my lids again.

  “Dana, how are you feeling?” Mom asked.

  I tried to sit up, fighting the sheet wrapped around me. “Like I got chased through the woods by a crazy guy.”

  “Promise me you’ll never do something so dangerous again, especially not when your sister tags along.”

  “Trust me, if I’d known Christian murdered Maxwell and Queenie, we never would have walked into the woods with him.” I shuddered at the memory. “At least, we’ve caught the killer. People should feel safe enough to stay at the spa.”

  Mom patted my knee through the sheet. “When I encouraged you to help Esther, I never for a moment believed it might put you at risk. To think I almost lost you both makes me sick.”

  “I’m glad I could help.” I took a deep breath, feeling the tears gathering at my eyes, and tugged on the sheet. “I know I failed you when Dad died. You needed me, and I only thought about myself.”

  Mom kissed my forehead. “You didn’t fail me. You had your own grief to deal with.” She stood. “But I’m glad you’re here. And I hope you stay a long while.” She walked out.

  I lay back down and pulled the sheet up to my chin, warm from my head to my feet. My moving back home had actually helped. Mom was rejoining her clubs, enjoying life again. Maybe that dream job in San Jose would have turned out to be a nightmare. Perhaps my place was here at home, with family.

  Ashlee barged in without knocking.

  Then again, I might need to rethink this whole staying in Bl
ossom Valley thing.

  “Jason’s here,” she sang.

  I rolled over and pulled the pillow over my head. In my bruised and battered condition, even talking to Jason sounded like too much work. “How can you possibly be so perky after what happened last night? Go away.”

  “Dana, you have to talk to him. I already gave him my side of the story, but I still don’t know what happened at the hot springs.” She tried to lift the pillow, but I held on with both hands. “You have to get up. We’re famous now. When I went to pick up donuts this morning, all these people practically attacked me, asking questions, wanting to know what had happened.”

  I lifted a corner of the pillow. “Did you say donuts?”

  “Yep. Mom wasn’t too thrilled, but she figures we almost died, so we deserve a donut.”

  “Yum, old-fashioned glazed.”

  “I ate that one. Sorry. But there’s a maple bar and a bear claw.” She slapped my foot under the covers. “Never mind the donuts, go talk to Jason.”

  I sat up and glanced in the mirror over my dresser. My hair looked like squirrels had tried to build a nest and given up. “You’re nuts. I can’t talk to him looking like this.”

  Ashlee studied my face. “So run a brush through your hair, slap on some makeup. I’ll keep him entertained with stories about your prom while he’s waiting.” She ran out as I threw my pillow at her. It landed in the hall.

  Oh, no, Ashlee wouldn’t really tell Jason about my attending prom with a guy all the kids called Dancer Dave, would she? I’d better get out there.

  With a groan, I tossed off the covers and stood, wincing as pain coursed through my arms. The scratches and bruises stood out against my pale skin, the bandage I’d slapped on the deeper scratch itching as I moved. Why wasn’t Ashlee stiff and sore? I donned the first long-sleeved ironed T-shirt and pair of clean jeans I could find, then headed to the bathroom for a quick face washing and hair brushing.

  When I walked into the living room, Ashlee had hit the part of the story where Dancer Dave had tried to flip me over his back and instead dropped me on the floor. In front of the entire senior class.