Inevitable

by Tamara Hart Heiner

  “Something like that,” I said, feeling my face warm. “I’m guessing I’m wrong?” The good thing about him wearing sunglasses was I could look at him. I couldn’t see his eyes at all, only my own reflection looking back at me. I instantly felt more at ease.

  “You’re wrong in my case.” Aaron flashed me a smile, exposing a dimple on his right cheek. “My parents paid for half.”

  I still wouldn’t have been able to pay for half of a car like this. “And where did you get your half?”

  We stopped at a light and Aaron pulled up the GPS on the dash. “All right, I admit it, I took some out of my savings account. But I had a job in England. I earned my own money.”

  “I’m impressed,” I said. I couldn’t imagine Dana working. She had no need to, not when everything was handed to her. “What did you do?”

  He cleared his throat. “I, er, worked in a hospital.”

  I squinted at him. “Like a nurse? A medical assistant? They let kids do that in England?”

  He fidgeted in his chair, running one hand over the steering wheel. “Not exactly. Here we are.”

  I turned my attention to the view outside as we parked. We were at a playground. It was empty except for the ducks on the pond this time of day, with the light-posts already turned on and crickets starting their evening chorus. “What are we doing here?”

  “I thought we’d have a picnic.” Aaron got out of the car and went to the trunk. I climbed out also.

  “A picnic?” I echoed, rubbing my arms as a cool breeze tickled the hairs. A large white swan settled on the pond, and I watched the majestic creature fold its wings in as it floated on the water. Swans always gave me a peaceful feeling.

  Aaron retrieved a picnic basket and a thick blanket. “It would be better with moonlight, but this will work. Maybe we’ll see a star or two.” He spread the cloth out on the grass and sat down. “I hope you like salads.”

  I settled next to him. “Are you telling me I need to be on a diet?”

  “Not that kind of salad.” He pulled out several containers. “Potato salad, macaroni salad, chicken salad. And just for fun, a can of sardines.”

  “No way.” I laughed. “You don’t actually eat those.”

  He held the can to his nose and sniffed it. “Mmm. You have no idea what you’re missing.”

  “I’d like to keep it that way, thanks. Did you make all this food?”

  “No. A cook I am not. But the deli by your work seems to be quite adept at such tasks.”

  “Well, you’re in luck. I happen to love anything slathered in mayo.” I spooned some of all three salads onto a paper plate. “Why the picnic?”

  I could feel his eyes on me as I ate. “It sounded like fun.” He shrugged, a motion I saw from my peripheral vision. “So you want to be a journalist?”

  I sputtered on some chicken salad. Aaron popped open a can of juice and handed it to me. I took several gulps before trusting myself to speak again. “Who told you that?”

  “I saw the school newspaper from last week. You have a byline.”

  Of course. I relaxed. “Well, kind of. I want to be a sportscaster. But I’d prefer not to be seen. So the written medium works well for me.”

  “You would be a natural on television.”

  I smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Thanks.” The wavy hair popped free again.

  “So why journalism? Are you a curious person? Do you like to solve mysteries?”

  At the mention of mysteries, I felt a stirring in my heart. Sometimes I did find myself wanting to go out and play detective when I heard about crimes or missing persons on T.V. But I knew that would bring me face to face with too many unwanteds. So I contented myself with letting someone else make the front-page news.

  But thanks to Hannah, I was in the middle of a mystery right now.

  I shrugged and lay back on the blanket, staring up at the darkening sky. “Nah. I’d rather not know about things, really. What about you?”

  He moved his sunglasses to the top of his head, a dangerous move that instantly increased my heart rate. “I’m generally pretty curious. Like, about prom. I can’t figure out why it’s such a big deal. It’s just a high school dance.”

  I propped myself up on my elbows, being careful to direct my line of vision just to the right of his face. “You are so not American. Prom is way more than that. It’s a chance for a girl to star in her own fairy tale. To get dressed up, pampered, and ride off into the night with her prince charming.” I sighed, my romantic aspirations for that magical night returning for a moment.

  “I see you take it very seriously.”

  I glared in his general direction, wishing he’d left his sunglasses on. “Very.”

  “So who are you going with?”

  I dropped my eyes, deflated. “Haven’t figured that out yet.”

  He straightened one leg and rested his elbow on his knee. “You don’t like to meet my eyes. Is that a self-confidence issue?”

  Irritation surged in my chest. Dang it, he’d noticed. “No.”

  He waited, but I didn’t bother explaining. Instead, I took the easy way out: I changed the subject. “How are you liking Forked River?”

  “Fork-ed,” he repeated, the stress on the second syllable sounding awkward and unsure. “Several times people have laughed at me for saying ‘forked.’”

  “Yeah? At least it’s an easy way for us to spot an outsider. Messing up the name.”

  “Why the strange pronunciation?”

  “You’re one to speak,” I returned. “Everything you say is pronounced strangely.”

  He laughed and stood up, brushing his hands on his khakis. The light color was the only thing I could see clearly, now that the sun had dipped below the horizon. “Funny, I think everything you say is cute.” He extended a hand. “You’re going to be late for your shift.”

  Dang it. I accepted his hand. He effortlessly pulled me up, his hand drifting up to my shoulder before letting go. It only took a minute to gather up the picnic items.

  “Thanks for coming,” he said as he dropped me off at JT’s. “Sorry for making you late.”

  “Thanks for inviting me,” I replied, ducking my head and climbing out. I hesitated, wanting to say something more but finding it impossible to say something sincere while my eyes were on the pavement. So I just shrugged. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “You did what last night?” Dana's question rang out over the heads of the student body as everyone scurried to first hour.

  “Shh!” I hissed, waving a hand at her. “I’ll tell you all about it in calculus. He came to my work and took me out on my break.”

  I’d waylaid Dana in the hallway with my good news, too excited to keep it to myself. I felt a stirring of guilt for being so happy when the serial killer was still out there, about to strike Hannah down. But what could I do about it? I couldn’t prevent it. I couldn’t even find her. The most I could do was learn from it and not go out alone. I shoved the negative emotions aside, telling myself I was powerless in the situation.

  Dana’s blue eyes gleamed. “To where?” she asked, bringing me back to the Aaron situation. “What can you possibly do in half an hour?” She arched an eyebrow. “Well, Miss Jayne?”

  I was ready for her question. “He took me on a picnic. He had it all prepared.” I couldn’t keep the pride from my voice.

  “Jayne, he likes you!” She squeezed my forearm. “A picnic! Such an English thing to do! Do you like him?”

  The tardy bell rang, saving me from having to answer. I waved to Dana. “See you in an hour!”

  

  By the time I got to English for fourth hour, I was exhausted. Dana had peppered me with questions all through second hour, and then she’d stuck silly fantasies in my head about kissing and prom and my senior year.

  After all the hype, I kind of dreaded facing Aaron. What if I’d made a big deal out of nothing?

  How was I supposed to act, anyway?
Like we were a couple or like we barely knew each other? Did I wait for Aaron by the classroom door? Save a seat for him? Sit next to where he usually sat? Or pretend like there was nothing going on between us?

  I debated the issue in the hall for about ten seconds, and then I went inside the classroom. I would just play it cool. I put my books down on a table in the middle row, leaving a space beside me.

  The lemon scent entered the room first, giving me a two-second warning, during which I dropped my head and pulled out my notebook. I pretended to study my outline, all the while holding my breath.

  “Hi,” Aaron said, moving my books out of the way and sinking into the empty spot next to me.

  I smiled and tucked my rogue piece of hair behind my ear. “Hi,” I replied, not turning my neck to face him.

  He scooted his chair in to the desk and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. I watched his fingers swirl a pencil between them, agile even in their larger size. I glanced down at my own hand. His had to be twice as big.

  Ms. Siegfried called the class to order and we started to discuss the sexual tension in Othello. Aaron shuffled in his seat, his jean-clad thigh bumping mine.

  My pulse fluttered. Talk about sexual tension.

  He turned toward me and whispered, “Did you get in trouble last night?”

  I shook my head. “No. The restaurant was pretty quiet. I was only a few minutes late.” I couldn’t resist asking, “Why do you come to JT’s all the time? Do you live close or just have a hankering for bagels?”

  “I like talking to this cute girl that works there.”

  I doodled a vine on my paper. I added blossoming flowers with five points, spreading out along the margin. “What color are your eyes?”

  I could feel his gaze burning into the side of my head. “Why don’t you check for yourself?”

  Tempting. But the thought of finding out how Aaron was going to die made my throat constrict. I couldn’t bear to find out that he was going to suffer a horrible and ignominious death, whether it be in a few months or a few years. “I can’t. I’ve got laser vision and I’ll burn your retinas.”

  He laughed softly, a deep sound that warmed my chest like a cup of hot chocolate. “Fine. Have it your way. They’re blue.”

  Of course they were. He was Superman, after all.

  We drifted into silence and I tried to add some class notes to my doodles. Mostly I was thinking about Aaron and his blue eyes and how much I wanted to stare into them.

  The bell rang and I stood, focusing on my backpack while I shoved pencils and books into it.

  “Do you work tonight?” Aaron asked.

  I nodded. “Yeah. Just till nine, though. Easy night.”

  “I’ll come by before you get off. Maybe we can do something afterward.”

  “Sure. That would be fun.”

  He tapped his fingertip on my knuckle. “See ya.”

  “Bye,” I answered. I studied the back of his head as he walked away. Dana was not going to believe this.

  

  Ms. Montgomery handed us a stack of newspapers in journalism. “I noticed with the last school paper that some of you didn’t have your columns and bylines formatted correctly. That could have been my fault, as perhaps I didn’t teach you correctly. More likely, though, the culprit is hasty editing. Your assignment is to find five bylines that are formatted incorrectly and fix them.”

  I didn’t ask if I was one of the guilty parties. I very well could have been; I got lazy sometimes. I sifted through a newspaper from two weeks ago when an opinion article on the fourth page caught my attention.

  Is Lacey Township becoming too large? After the second murder in three weeks, citizens are beginning to wonder if they are not as safe from the big city crime as they once thought.

  This paper was from a few weeks ago. How many murders had there been now? Three? Maybe even four, if Hannah was already dead. My fingers twitched and I fought back nausea, again pricked by guilt. Stop it! I chided myself. It’s not like you could help her!

  Then why did I feel like I should be doing something? I began scanning all the articles and headlines for any information about the murders. There had to be clues as to how this guy operated.

  There were no more references to the murders in that paper, so I put it aside and picked up another. Nothing in this one either. I exhaled, feeling my shoulders slump. This could take awhile. An online search would probably prove more helpful.

  I swiveled around to a computer, pulling up a web browser. I had gotten as far as typing “Lacey Township serial killer” in the search bar when a hand landed on my shoulder. I shrieked.

  “Jayne,” Ms. Montgomery said, peering at me over her glasses, “what are you doing?”

  I swiveled in my chair and smiled my best innocent smile. “Research.”

  “Save it for home.”

  “Yes, ma’am” My face burned at being called out in class. I waved a hand to cool it off, watching her move on to supervise other students. Fine. This could wait until tonight.

  

  “Hey, Jayne.”

  I didn’t look up from the cash register. I had smelled Aaron the moment he walked into JT’s, and I felt too emotionally drained to get excited about it now. I’d spent the rest of the school day thinking about that newspaper article. The anxiety to get home and start my own research sat like a rock in my stomach. I’d almost skipped Spanish club with the intent to do my own private research. Then I thought better of it. I didn’t need my teachers thinking I was obsessed with this topic.

  Even though it was in a vision, I’d seen the murderer’s face. What if there was a way I could help identify him? The woman had told me to declare. Could I still prevent Hannah’s death? Should I declare what I knew to someone?

  I focused on the keys on my register. “Hey, welcome to JT’s. What can I get you?”

  He stood just far enough away from the counter that I could see his feet shift over the linoleum. Brown leather shoes again. “Do you have a moment? I need to talk to you.”

  The grinning confidence was missing from his voice. He sounded uncomfortable, nervous, even. His tone distracted me from my state of mind, and I found myself wanting so badly to look at him. Get a grip, girl. I checked my watch. 7:05 p.m. “I’m going on break in ten minutes. Can you wait?”

  “Sure.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Corner table.”

  He shuffled away and my heart beat out a staccato note. His attitude was making me nervous. He wasn’t my boyfriend, so he couldn't break up with me. I had nothing to worry about.

  At least it gave me something else to brood about. The next ten minutes couldn’t pass fast enough. Finally I slipped out from the counter and wandered over to the table, my fingers trailing the chairs that I passed.

  “What’s up?” I sat down in front of Aaron and focused my eyes on his mouth. He licked his lips, and I wondered what it would be like to kiss them.

  Bad idea. I dropped my eyes to my hands.

  “I came by at four and you weren’t here. What time did you come in to work?”

  “Are you stalking me?” I tried to tease, but then I remembered the serial killer, and it fell flat. A shiver ran down my spine. “I had a club meeting after school. So I didn’t come in until five.”

  “Oh? What club?” He sounded interested. Or was he just avoiding whatever it was he wanted to talk to me about?

  “Spanish.” I tapped my fingers on the table. “I only have a fifteen-minute break.”

  “Right.” He cleared his throat. His fingers crept across the table like they were going to touch mine, but didn’t. “I’m not going to make it to the game tomorrow. I didn’t want you to think I was ditching you.”

  “Oh.” I exhaled. So much for our kind-of date. “That’s fine. Thanks for letting me know.”

  “Jayne?”

  I almost lifted my eyes out of habit before I caught myself. “Yes?”

  “I have a friend coming into town tomorrow from England
. That’s why I won’t be there.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “A family friend?”

  “Er, no. Kind of a personal friend.”

  “Like, a girlfriend?” I blurted, jerking my head up. I knew even as I did so what would happen, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. Did he really mean a girlfriend? How could he be flirting with me, leading me on, if there was another girl on the scene? His light blue eyes took my breath away seconds before my vision blurred.

  Aaron lies on a bed next to Libby, his beautiful redhead girlfriend. She has his phone open and scrolls through his contacts with one hand while the other runs along his chest, covered except where she has undone the buttons.

  “What about this one?” She pauses on a snapshot of Jayne. “Who is this?”

  Aaron rolls on his side and takes the phone, an emotion like regret filling him. “No one. Just someone I met in the States.” He hits the delete button, erasing Jayne and her memory from his life.

  Libby leans over, her straight hair falling in front of her face, and kisses his neck. “Oh good. The picture kind of made it look like she was more than no one.”

  The scene changes again. “No, this is not a fair arrangement,” Aaron argues. A wedding ring glints on his finger as he pushes his hand through his thick dark hair, streaked with gray. Wrinkles line his eyes and mouth. He glances out the wall-to-wall window, looking over a green golf course. “You leave me for a dead-beat, has-been rock star and think you’re getting the house? Don’t call me again. Have your lawyer talk to mine.”

  He slams the phone down and glares at a picture of Libby on the end table. Aaron snatches it and throws it across the room, where the glass shatters. He grabs his wedding band and starts to twist it off, and then stops in mid-motion at a crash downstairs.

  “Hello?” he calls, leaning over the spiral staircase, still clutching his ring finger. “Is someone there?”

  A man appears at the bottom of the stairs. “Sorry to bother you. Just doing your wife a favor.” The man lifts a gun in his gloved hand and shoots Aaron three times. Aaron gasps and falls over the banister.