The Devil Made Me

by Lorena May

  She wags a finger at me. “What a fucking phony you are. You, with your perfect little family. Your perfect little job. Perfect little life.”

  Then it hits me. I stare, goggle-eyed. “Adrian?” I whisper.

  She sneers. “In the flesh. What’s left of it.”

  I’m speechless, mouth hanging open.

  She glares at me. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this moment? Oh! Wait! You do.” She cackles hysterically, then suddenly sneers. “Erin was a triumph. As was Mia. But you. YOU are the prize.”

  Me? I wasn’t the leader. It wasn’t my idea . . . “Me?”

  She gives me a dismissive wave of her hand. The one not holding a gun. “Don’t play Little Miss Innocent with me. It was you that invited me to that party. You that pretended to be my friend. You that egged those hoods on . . .”

  “I didn’t – I didn’t know –” I gasp.

  “Did you ever give a thought to what you’d done to me? Did you try to stop them? Call the police? Comfort me? You did NOTHING. Ever. Nothing to help me. You who pretend to be so sweet and caring.” Her face twists with hatred. “Clamidya was the final diagnosis. When it was too late. When my tubes were scarred beyond repair. Infertile. Unable to have a normal relationship.” She spat the words. “While you marry, play the loving teacher, the loving mother. You fucking bitch.” She speaks through clenched teeth.

  “I – I’m so sorry!”

  “Ha! So I remade myself. Diet. Gruelling exercise. Plastic surgery. The works.” She waves her hands outward, presenting her body; glances down at herself. “Not so shabby, eh?”

  I nod, staring at her, astounded. “You shot Erin and Mia and stuck a yellow rose in their hands.”

  She snickers. “A symbolic gesture.”

  “The Facebook post?” I begin.

  She tosses her head. “Fitting that Erin’s friends should know what she’s really like, don’t you think? Clearly, you need to do the same.” And she hoots. “Sweet little Mrs. Cox, indeed! We’ll be adding a post to your profile.” She points to the computer sitting on the table in the corner. “In due time I’ll call 9-1-1. Not that it will help you.” She nods with an exaggerated grief-stricken expression on her face. “So sad.”

  My head spins. “The receipt for a flower. You put it in Darren’s pocket?”

  She just tilts her head, a passive-aggressive smile on her face.

  Aha. It’s all making sense now. “And you planted the hair in Mia’s car.”

  “Oh, my, aren’t you the genius?” she says, leaning back, folding her arms across her chest, her fingers still tightly wrapped around the pistol.

  She watches me trying to piece things together. Finally, she chuckles, nods and raises her eye-brows. “And, it was I with the blonde wig and blue contact lenses that befriended Erin and Mia. Easy peasy.” She twists her mouth, eyes still amused. “I must admit that didn’t go quite as planned. I hoped the police would think it was you.”

  “You sent us the butterflies?”

  Her brow furrows into a ‘how can you be so stupid?’ frown. “Duh,” she says.

  Standing, she gestures with her pointed pistol. “Okay. Let’s set the world straight first.” She gestures with the gun she holds in her hand. “Stand up. You’re going to let all your little Facebook friends know who you really are.” I feel my heart drop to my toes.

  Chapter 29 ~ Darby

  Saturday, May 26

  Bright morning sun filters through the front window, and soft jazz music plays throughout Darby’s little town-house. Sitting with the ‘Rockydale Yearbook 2001’ propped on her knees, she pores over the pages, her dark eyes blazing. She takes a small slurp of her cappuccino, relishing the warm goodness of it as it slips down her throat. Flipping through the Principal’s message, glancing at the staff, she studies the Yearbook Committee. No familiar faces. She looks through the grade tens and elevens, scanning quickly.

  Ah, the grade twelve students. Darby looks carefully. There is Andy Grimes! Blonde with freckles and sad eyes. Darby reads his bio: Likes: motorbikes, Nickelback, U2, Pet Peeve: school, mean girls, Ambition: pilot. He wanted to be a pilot. Tears spring to Darby’s eyes.

  She carries on. Mia Jones, long red air strategically placed over her shoulder, wearing a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Likes: dance, modelling, hanging out, Nickelback, Pet Peeve: People who don’t shower. Ewww, Ambition: interior decorator who has lots of money! An ambition realized. But for such a short time. Darby shivers.

  Erin Morgan’s smile bubbles right through the page. Laughing brown eyes, short, dark curly hair; she sparkles. Her likes are: week-ends, friends, swimming, music, Pet Peeves: sad-sacks, brussel sprouts, Ambition: travel, riches.

  Darby thumbs through pages until she reaches Jennifer Sadler. Thin, straight hair, blue eyes and a close-mouthed smile. Her bio read: Likes: friends, hanging out, Nickelback, dogs, Pet Peeve: braces, Mondays, boring people, Ambition: Primary teacher.

  Adrian White. A big girl, by the looks of the picture, almond-shaped eyes, almost scowling at the camera. Her bio: Likes: flashy cars, week-ends, Linkin Park, Pet Peeve: teachers who embarrass you. Ambition: rich business-woman. Darby stares at her picture. The horror must have started after the bio was written. Yet she looks so hard. Where is this girl now?

  Turning the page Darby, scours school clubs and teams. Mia, Erin and Jen stand proudly in the Drama, Dance and Photography club photos. They are front row in the basketball, volleyball and swim club groups. Darby pours over the club pictures. No Adrian or Andy in any clubs or teams. No Marnie. The James family must have moved before the year-book was assembled. She turns to the candids. Mia, Erin and Jen stand together, posing prettily.

  Darby stares at a picture of a big girl waving. Where has she seen that wave before? She studies the face. High cheek-bones, large brown eyes, strong chin, full-lipped smile. Adrian! Darby gasps. Her heart pounds.

  That wave. In her mind’s eye she recalls Jen and her friend in the restaurant. Jen’s friend, Kim! The hand held up by her cheek, fingers waggling. It’s the same gesture. A kind of ‘see you’ motion. Grabbing a magnifying glass from her end-table drawer, Darby peers at the shot. Every bit of her body tingles with adrenaline. Is Kim Adrian? She’s tall, broad-shouldered . . . With a big weight-loss, good dental work . . . it could be. She looks back at Adrian’s bio. Yes! I think that’s Kim. The woman Jen had lunch with. The woman Darren sleeps with . . . What is she doing here? Fuck! It’s her!

  With shaking hands, Darby grabs her phone, scrolls and taps Jen’s name. Lillia answers.

  “Lillia? This is Sergeant Greer. Is your mom home? I need to speak to her urgently.”

  “Hello, Sergeant Greer. She’s not home right now. She’s having lunch with her friend.”

  “Which friend is she having lunch with, do you know?”

  “With her friend, Kim. The woman who works with my dad.” Lillia says brightly.

  Darby struggles to control her breathing; to keep her voice natural. “Do you know which restaurant they went to?” she asks.

  “No, I don’t. Why? Did something happen to Dad?” Darby can hear the panic in her voice.

  “No, he’s okay. What time did she go for lunch?”

  “She left just after noon,” Lillia says.

  Darby glances at the clock on the wall. Three o’clock. Shit! Three hours! “Okay. Thanks.”

  AT 3:20 PM DARBY BURSTS into the Rockydale RCMP holding cells. “I need to see Darren Cox!”

  The officer on duty doesn’t have to check the records. “We just released him five minutes ago. Insufficient evidence.”

  “Fuck! Where did he go?” Darby glares, wild-eyed.

  The officer shrugs, “How the hell . . .?”

  “Sorry!’ Darby yells back at him as she races through the door. A hasty look around the building reveals no sign of Darren. No cab. No car. “Shit!” He’s probably gone home – wouldn’t he? Jumping on her bike, Darby speeds out of the parking lot toward the Cox residence. A
s the wind whips her face a barrage of questions fly through her head. Will he know where Kim lives? Erin was found at home. That wouldn’t work with Jen. Mia was found in her own car in the country. Would Kim take Jen there? Would Darren know where she’d go? Will he co-operate? Was he in on it?

  “THANK GOD!” DARBY EXHALES as she approaches the Cox house to see a cab driving away. There, in the drive-way is Darren’s white Lexus. Pulling up to the curb she grabs her phone and tapped in the precinct number.

  “Rockydale Police department. Sergeant Jill Becker speaking.”

  “Jill,” Darby blurts. “I know the killer. “Is Mel around?”

  “He just came in,” Jill says.

  “Tell him to meet me at the Cox’s residence. And Jill, send some officers out to search the area Mia Buckingham’s body was discovered in, would you? Right away!”

  “Will do,” Jill responds in her usual no-nonsense, efficient way.

  “You’re an angel,” Darby utters as she races up the walk, and hurries up the steps, hitting every other one, tucking her phone into her pocket and jamming her finger hard on the door-bell.

  Darren opens the door, glowering. “What do you want?”

  Okay. How to handle this . . . I can’t go bursting into questions. Lord, give me some fuckin’ finesse. Darby takes a deep breath. “Darren, your wife may be in big trouble. I need your help.”’

  He stands rigid, fists clenched, saying nothing.

  Darby looks him in the eye. “Darren, I’ve looked hard at the year-books Jen gave me. I’m pretty sure that one of the girls Jen, Mia and Erin bullied was your friend, Kim.”

  “What?” He speaks sharply, his forehead puckered.

  “When I studied the photos in the year-book I recognized her. She’s changed a lot, and I may be wrong, but please. Please tell me if you know where I can find her.”

  He shakes his head as if to clear it. “I don’t know.”

  Darby looks at him entreatingly. “Jen met her for lunch, your daughter told me. Darren, think! She may be in big trouble!”

  He cocks his head, giving her an unfocused gaze. “I don’t know.”

  “Think, damn it!”

  He scratches his chin. “I have Jen on ‘Find-a-Friend’. If she has her phone I can locate her.”

  “Check! Now!” Darby turns as Mel drove up.

  Darren draws his phone from his pocket and, frowning, taps away. He shakes his head. “No. It’s searching her location. Her phone must be off.” He screws up his face. “You think she and her old friends bullied Kim? Kim was a school-mate?”

  “I think she was,” Darby says, as Mel joins them. “When I looked through the Rockydale yearbook I found a picture of Adrian White. If you look really closely you see that she looks an awful lot like Kim. A gesture she made clued me in. Wait, I’ll show you.”

  Without further ado, Darby sprints down the steps and races to her bike, grabbing the Rockydale Yearbook from her bag. She flips through pages as she runs back to the doorway where Mel and Darren stand looking stunned. She shoves the book at Darren. “Could this be Kim?” she asks, stabbing her finger on Adrian’s photograph.

  Darren eyeballs the picture. For fuck sake hurry up! Darby feels her insides jumping.

  His breath hitches. “I think it is.”

  “Darren, I think she’s the murderer. And Jen is next on her list. Think. Where might she go?”

  He stands frowning for what seems an interminable length of time. Darby rolls her shoulders. She shifts from one foot to another. Her fists clench. Please!

  Darren blinks. “Maybe she’d go to the Mountain Springs Motel just outside town. It’s where we usually went.” He flushes.

  “Thanks! Mel, let’s go!” Darby runs down the sidewalk to her bike, poking at the numbers in her phone. “I need back-up.” Mel follows, climbing into his car.

  “WE HAVE A WOMAN FITTING that description in Number 13,” the motel receptionist, a tired-looking, middle-aged woman with sad, mousy brown hair, says. “You want a key?”

  “Thanks.” Darby takes the key from her out-stretched hand. Keeping her foot-falls silent, she walks on pavement down three units and around a corner. From where she stands she can see the number 13 in black letters on the door. She stops outside the room, listening. Through the thick wall she can hear a woman’s voice; loud and harsh. The curtains are closed. Who knows what she’ll do if I panic her? On her hands and knees Darby crawls under the window, then rises and creeps around the units, down a path, heavily overgrown with weeds and bush, to the small, unused doors at the back. She counts to determine number thirteen. Carefully, she inserts the key in the lock. It springs open immediately. She stands, listening. Has Kim heard? Slowly she turns the handle. Creak. She can hear a rough, rambling voice – it must be Kim’s.

  “Okay, little Miss Priss who never ever did anything wrong.” The voice changes to a high-pitched, sugary one. An imitation of Jen’s, Darby guesses. “Who? Me? Nothing was ever my idea. I never had an original thought in my fucking life!” A low rumbling laugh follows. Kim is clearly enjoying herself. Will her next move be to shoot? Probably not yet. She’s having too good a time taunting her victim.

  Darby pushes the door open a little farther, drawing her gun. Through the back entry, where she stands, she can see Kim lounging in a straight white chair, her hips angled out along the seat, her long legs wide. She holds a gun in her right hand, and appears to be pointing it at Jen who is just out of sight. When Kim laughs, a dry, mocking sound, she throws her head back, her long, brown hair swaying.

  Darby moves, soundlessly, a little closer. She presses herself against the humming, vibrating fridge, her senses in over-drive. She can feel her heart thrumming in her chest. One wrong move and this murderous woman may simply press the trigger.

  “I wanna see a little goody-goody teacher do a strip tease.” And she laughs, a grating guttural guffaw. “Come on Mrs. Cox. Shake your booty and take off your clothes.” Kim waves her gun in a circular motion, keeping it pointed at her victim.

  Pressing her body close to the wall, Darby moves through the kitchen. Kim’s back is to her now, and Jen comes into view. The terrified woman stands trembling, her wide, panicked eyes staring helplessly at her captor. Slowly, she pulls one arm, then the other from her jacket.

  ‘Give me sexy,” Kim drawls.

  Hesitantly, Jen holds the jacket in one hand, twirling it and swivelling her hips. Then, her eyes shift to where Darby stands. She does a little double-take, her mouth falling open. Ohmygod, Jen. Don’t!

  But Kim is busy enjoying the show. “Mmmmmm, baby,” she hoots.

  Suddenly, the shadows of Mel with two other officers appear outside the curtain. Kim’s head shoots up. She sits erect. Darby moves swiftly to stand behind Kim, her gun at the Kim’s back. “Drop the gun.”

  Startled, Kim whirls to face Darby’s voice, the weapon still in her hand. Jen falls to the floor, out of reach. “Drop it.” Kim sits rigid, facing Darby with an intense, fevered stare. The gun falls to the floor with a thud.

  Chapter 30 ~ Jen

  Saturday, May 26

  I watched it all as if in a dream. Darby coming in from the kitchen. Three uniformed police bursting through the front door. Kim’s stricken face, her strong features suddenly grotesque. Twisted in anger. She shrugged the two men off, head held high, as if to say, ‘Leave me alone!’, and she marched defiantly out the door.

  I crouched on the floor, shaking, I don’t know for how long. When I became aware of Darby kneeling beside me I let her hold me as I shivered and shook and cried.

  FINALLY, I CAN STAND. I look her in the eye. “Thank you. I owe you my life.”

  Her big, dark eyes glow. “Thank God you’re safe, Jen. Darren’s home now too. Do you want to come with me?”

  But I’m filled with a cold resolve. “No. I need to go home and talk to my husband.”

  She just looks at me. “You’re sure you want to do that now?”

  I nod slowly. “More sure than I’ve ev
er been of pretty much anything.”

  “Okay, let me drive you home. We’ll take your car. An officer will bring my bike,” Darby says, grinning at said officer. He bobs his head in assent.

  WHEN I ARRIVE HOME Darren is sitting on the front step, shoulders curled over his chest, head bowed. He stands and reaches out to hold me. I shrug him off and stand back, facing him.

  “I packed the kids off to a movie,” he says. “Are you okay?”

  Really? Am I okay? I move up to sit on the step above him. “I will be.” I say. “How long were you and Kim involved?”

  He gives me an incredulous stare. “Jen, I’m so sorry about that.”

  I feel like stone. Emotionally dead. I stare at him impassively. “For how long?”

  He takes a quick breath. “Not that long. She came onto me. You and I weren’t doing so well . . .”

  My voice is hard. Cold. “I don’t want to hear your feeble excuses. I’m just trying to put my life into perspective.”

  He hangs his head. “About six months.”

  I sit silent a while, thinking. “You know; in a way I don’t blame you.”

  His eyes brighten.

  I continue, speaking as the thoughts enter my mind. “I remember at one time thinking you were so much smarter and wiser than me. I admired and respected you. And I fell into a pattern of trying to please you.”

  “And you did,” he pipes in.

  “Even when you demeaned me. When you took me for granted, kept me under your thumb, lied to me . . . I tried to please you.”

  His eyes flicker. “Jen, I . . .”

  “I became a non-person. Just an extension of your possessions. It’s not that surprising, is it, that you would betray me?” I look at him, my face blank; expressionless.

  He reaches up to touch my knee. I swivel away from his touch. Tears come to his eyes. “I was stupid. Flattered, I guess. But I’ll make it all up to you. I do respect you. I do love you. You don’t know the torment I felt when I thought you might die . . .”