She gave a fleeting smile that died before it reached the corners of her mouth. “Yeah.”
Something was up. I considered probing, but really, she’d tell me when she was ready. I had more important things on my mind. “Can we watch the game from my car?”
She gave me a long stare. “Why?”
I shrugged. “I’m cold?”
“You can share my blanket. And I just gave you a thermos of hot chocolate.”
I gave up. Lowering my voice, I said, “There’s a man stalking me. I think he’ll be here tonight, and I want to catch him.”
“Jayne!” she hissed. “Have you called the police?”
I pulled on my fingers, resisting the urge to pop them. “I did yesterday. They must be busy.”
Dana stood up, gathering her blankets around her so she looked like a quilted mermaid. “To your car, Jayne. And you better tell me everything.”
We got the heater going right away. I shivered a bit and waited until I felt sufficiently warm. How much should I say? I didn’t want to freak Dana out. “You know the serial killer that’s been out here?”
“Yes...” Dana drew the word out. I saw her check the locks on the doors.
“I found him. And he knows I did.”
She inhaled sharply. “Do you have proof?”
I shook my head. “That’s the problem. I’ve given the police a lot of information, but without proof, I think they are starting to dismiss me.”
“And now he’s stalking you?” Dana whispered.
I nodded. “I think he might be here tonight. Rather than sit around like a duck, I thought I’d try and beat him at his own game.”
“You’re the journalist.” Dana settled back in her seat, but she didn’t look relaxed.
I studied each man that walked through the gate. Fifteen minutes into the game, only an occasional straggler came through. I frowned. I had his profile memorized, but hadn’t noticed him arrive. Had I missed him?
“Look at that girl over there.” Dana nudged her head to her left. It was the first thing she’d said since the start of the game, and I leaned forward to peer out the window.
A skinny blond with straight hair and long fingers sat huddled on the edge of the bleachers, the tips of her fingers touching while she contemplated the figures in front of her. I knew her.
“Stephen,” I murmured.
Dana gave me a startled look. “Yeah, I was gonna tell you. She came with Stephen. How did you know?”
“Oh, um—” and then I remembered that Dana knew my secret. It still felt weird to talk about it casually. “I Saw him with her. In the future.”
Dana gaped at me. “See, those are the kinds of things you should tell me about.”
“Yeah, well.” I shrugged. “Now you know why I turned him down when he asked me out. I knew there’d be another girl.” Dana’s odd behavior made sense now, too. “It’s okay, Dana. I’m really over him.”
Her eyes flicked from side to side, and she appeared more uneasy. “Yeah. But only because you fell for someone else.”
“Yeah.” The word escaped my lips in a sigh, and once again my thoughts turned to Aaron. We’d make it right on Monday, somehow. If he’d let me talk to him.
She looked at me directly. “Is that over?”
“No!” I hesitated. “Well, I don’t think so. Not yet, anyway. But we haven’t talked. He was really weird in school yesterday. He hasn’t called me, either.”
“You could call him.”
I shrugged, a bit embarrassed to explain why I didn’t have his number. “I deleted his number. I guess I’ve been expecting him to dump me and I couldn’t bear the suspense.”
She exhaled. “That’s good. At least it’s better than if you weren’t expecting it. Girl, I saw him at the mall today.”
I waited, my stomach twisting in dread. Just because I’d been expecting it didn’t mean I’d given up hoping. “And?”
She gave a small cough and looked toward the bleachers. “He was with that other girl. You know. The one from England.”
Libby. I sucked in a deep breath, surprised at the pain I felt. She was here? Already? Then that meant it really was over. Aaron had already moved on.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“That's fine.” I returned to my vigil, trying hard to remember what I was watching for. “I'm glad he's happy.” Who cared about Aaron, anyway? Or his smile, or his kisses? That stupid accent?
“You don’t sound so glad.” Dana’s eyes watched me beneath her purple cap.
I shrugged my shoulders, knotting my hands into fists to keep them from trembling. Hot tears stung my eyes, and suddenly I didn’t care about the serial killer anymore. “Let’s get out of here.”
“What about the game?”
I gave another shrug. The tears escaped my eyes and ran steamy trails down my face. I sniffed and passed a hand over my eyes.
Dana leaned across the car and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. “Hey. Let’s go Karaoke.”
“I can’t.” My heart ached. A physical pain stabbed my chest. “My mom said I could go to the game and then come home.”
“Well... the game barely started. No one is going to expect you home just now.”
“What about my stalker?”
“You really want to hide out in your car and track down a creepy murderer? Or go to a crowded pizza bar and chow down on some melted cheese?”
I glanced at Dana, at her sly smile, and had to smile back. “All right.”
“Fabulous!” She hugged me. “That’s my girl! Let’s cheer up!”
The only Karaoke bars open at six o’clock are the family ones. Dana squeezed my arm and winked at me. “Let’s pretend like we’re drunk.”
I frowned and studied the moms and dads in the diner. “But we’re not.”
“But they won’t know that.”
“I don’t even know what drunk feels like.”
“Then follow my lead.” Dana grabbed my hand and marched up to the box. Dancing on the balls of her feet and swaying to an eight-year-old girl’s off-key rendition of a pop song, she made a selection. “Come on!”
I staggered after her, tripping over chair legs in an effort to keep up. Dana turned to me and kissed my cheek loudly. “This is going to be fabulous!” she shouted.
I flushed. “Yeah. Great.”
Dana noticed a guy watching us. She leaned over and yelled in my ear, “That’s not your stalker, is it?”
I shook my head. “Definitely not.” Way too cute. He caught my eye and flashed a grin.
Dana smiled and waved. “Hi! Hello there!”
The people waiting in front of us glanced back at her. A few people scowled.
“Don’t mind her,” I said. “She’s just loud.”
Dana giggled and wrapped her arms around my neck. “There’s a whole lot more to me than just loud.”
I knew from the heat that my face was red. I fanned it with my hands. Would it never be our turn?
“Hey.” The guy who had been watching stopped in front of us. He had his thumbs looped through the pockets of his tight gray denim pants, a fitted maroon and black striped sweater on his broad shoulders. His stance so reminded me of Aaron.
But he wasn’t Aaron. He had a friendly face, light brown eyes and sandy brown hair, chapped and tanned from sunshine and ocean breeze.
“You girls up next to sing?” he asked, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.
“Yes,” Dana squealed, latching onto his forearm. “Want to sing too?”
He managed to free his arm from her grip. “That’s okay. But I’ll cheer for you.” His eyes didn’t leave my face the entire time he spoke.
Dana glanced back at me. “Oh, she’s not singing. Just me. You can both cheer for me.”
“Dana—” I began.
And then it was our turn, only she walked up without me, leaving me standing with Surfer Dude.
“I’m so sorry about that,” I said, turning and shaking my head. “She just gets a little carried
away sometimes.”
“Don’t sweat it. I’ve got friends, I know how they are. Though it’s a bit early in the evening to be?” he pantomimed taking a drink.
“Oh, she’s not.” I pulled on my sleeve. “She’s pretending. We don’t drink.” And now I was rambling. I closed my mouth.
“Ah. And your name is...?”
“Jayne. I’m Jayne.”
“I’m Dallas.”
“Dallas,” I echoed. He smiled at me and I grinned back, and for a moment, Dana’s plan worked. I felt carefree, attractive, likable.
“Do you want to sit at a table?”
“Oh, no.” Just like that, the moment passed. I remembered Aaron, quickly forgetting me in the arms of his true love. “No, we were just leaving.” I would make sure of it. Dana descended from the steps. I didn’t even know what she’d been singing. I stepped up to her, grabbing her forearm. “All right, you’ve had your fun. Let’s go.”
“Already?” She glanced around. “Don’t you want some pizza?”
“No.” I wanted my bed. I wanted my pillow. I wanted to cry.
She pursed her lips and shrugged. “Okay. Nice to meet you, bye-bye.” She waved to Dallas.
“Well—can I at least get your phone number?” Dallas followed us to the door.
I paused. “I’m not really much fun right now, Dallas. Don’t waste your time.”
“Oh, phooey.” Dana grabbed a napkin off a table. “Here’s her number. There. And yours?”
Dallas wrote his number down and handed it to me. When I made no move to take it, Dana did. “Bye,” she said, shoving me out the door.
“Seriously, Jayne,” she exploded as soon as it closed. “Did you have to blow him off? What if he was the one to heal your heart, huh? Or did you see something about his future?”
“No,” I admitted. “I just don’t feel ready.”
“Well, I think you should call Aaron and confront him.”
“What for? She’s the one he’s going to be with. I should just let nature play its course.”
“But Jayne, what if you made it happen? Maybe you didn’t show enough interest, so he went back to her!”
That was definitely possible. “It doesn’t matter what I did. Nothing would’ve changed it.”
“But how do you really know that?”
“Because I’ve tried!”
“With everyone?” We stopped outside my car, looking over the roof at each other. “Because if you don’t try every time, you never know if that might be the one you’d succeed with.”
“Dana.” I opened the door and sat down. “Don’t do this to me. I just need to let him go.”
She joined me. “Okay. Okay. I’m sorry. I just keep thinking, there must be something that could be done.”
“Let me take you to your car,” I whispered.
We traveled back to the field in silence. The game wasn’t even over yet. Good thing I wasn’t covering this game, or I’d probably be looking at getting fired—again.
I drove up to Dana’s car. It had begun to rain, a cold mist that longed to be snow. Dana climbed in and rolled down her window.
“I’ll come over tomorrow and help you with your project, okay?”
I turned my heater up and squinted at her. “You don’t have to.”
“Yeah, I know. But it’s kind of my fault you’re in trouble.”
What she really meant was that she wanted to keep me in high spirits tomorrow. I rubbed my hands in front of the vent, wishing it weren’t blowing cold air. “Sure. Thanks.”
I followed Dana out of the parking field. We were the only cars leaving. She waved as her car turned left, and I waved back. Another set of headlights in the parking lot turned on behind me. I made my right turn and the other car swung out. I kept one eye on the road and the other on my rear view mirror. It wasn’t unusual to have another car on the road. However, to have another motorist sitting in their car watching the game and deciding to leave at the same time I did—I found that slightly questionable.
The car followed my every turn halfway to my house. Just as I started to get nervous and consider calling the police, it sped up and passed me. I stared at the out-of-state plates on the black car and breathed a sigh of relief. Belatedly, I wished I had glanced at the driver.
No, I told myself. It wasn’t him.
I drove the rest of the way in relative calm. Turning on to my cul-de-sac, I slammed on the brakes and stopped my car. Sitting in my driveway was a dark vehicle. It faced the road, headlights on. I glanced at the clock.
“Relax, Jayne,” I murmured. “It’s not even eight o’clock. Maybe someone is visiting Beth.” But why would they back into the driveway?
I willed myself to keep driving, but my foot refused to push on the gas. Sighing, I grabbed my phone and called the house line. My heart began to pound with each ring, and I rubbed sweaty palms on my leg.
“Hello?” Mom’s voice answered, and she sounded groggy.
“Mom.” I almost cried with relief.
“Jayne? Are you okay?” A light turned on in the living room.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m almost home and there’s a car in the driveway. I don’t want to block it in. Who’s there?”
“Oh?” The blinds flickered and I imagined my mother peaking outside.
In front of me, the car slowly rolled down the driveway. It gunned the engine and drove away quickly. I turned my head as it passed, but the windows were too dark to see inside.
“Must’ve been someone turning around. They just left,” Mom said.
“Right,” I whispered. My hands were shaking, and I had to admit I was terrified. “I’ll be right in.”
“So what are we doing in here, anyway?” Dana asked from behind me as we entered the spare bedroom of the old lady’s house.
I paused to straighten a picture frame on the vanity. I’d never met the owner, but I had her face memorized now. “Organizing.” I did feel more refreshed today, or maybe just drained. That could have something to do with being up at eight in the morning on a Sunday. I tried calling Lieutenant Bailey again this morning, but no one answered. I left another voicemail and hung up, feeling like I was getting the run around.
Dana lifted one brow. “You look tired, hon. Didn’t sleep well?”
I ran my fingers along a shelf, sending dust particles flying into the air. “Yeah, not so well. Too much on my mind.” Like being stalked. Every time headlights had flashed on my back wall, my eyes jerked open.
“I’m sorry about Aaron.” Dana touched my forearm.
I looked at her and blinked, not drawing the connection between my tiredness and Aaron.
She frowned. “You’re not upset about him? What is it, then? Stephen?”
It took a full two seconds for her words to trigger the memory of last night. And then I gasped, the hurt of Aaron’s betrayal socking me in the stomach. With Libby. Already. As if he hadn’t ever kissed me, as if nothing had ever happened between us.
“That jerk!” I cried, unable to stop the anger that built inside me. “He practically cheated on me!”
“He’s an idiot, Jaynie,” Dana said, just like a good best friend should. “That he would choose that red-headed bimbo over you proves it.”
I laughed, though it came out more like a sob. “Yeah.” I pressed on my chest and shook my head. “Let it go. This is just the way it is.”
“It’s probably a bad idea to mention that prom’s next weekend, huh.”
I thought of that beautiful pink dress in my closet. “There’s always next year.” The words felt hollow.
Dana’s eyes wandered around the guest room, her hand still lingering on my arm. She let out a low whistle. “Wow, girl. You’re never going to finish this.”
“Yeah. This is worse than the master bedroom,” I sighed. Half-opened boxes of papers, kitchen ware, records, shoes, and other random knick-knacks lay scattered around the room. Somewhere under all this was a bed.
Dana knelt by a black ga
rbage bag that lay on its side, books gushing out. “Do we keep these things?”
“Judgment call.” The owner—what was her name? Adelle?—had given permission for us to dispose of anything impersonal or older than seven years. I opened a cardboard box of papers. “If it’s got a name on it, keep it. If it’s less than seven years old, keep it. Otherwise, trash.”
She righted the bag and twisted it closed. “Well. More trash here!”
I laughed, feeling a jolt of warmth. I appreciated the atmosphere of normalcy that Dana brought with her. “Why don’t you look through it? You might find a book you like.”
“Doubt it,” she muttered. But she obliged me and sat down.
I made my own trash pile. Lots of old school papers, yellowed with age, graphite smeared across them. Essay questions about the importance of Prohibition and why the stock market failed. Interesting, but not enough to keep.
I picked up a postcard from Germany with a picturesque castle on the front, addressed to Adelle. The words on the back were brief: “Lovely countryside. Miss your beautiful hands. Join me.”
I put the postcard aside, but my curiosity was piqued. What if there were more? I sifted through the papers with more purpose, wondering about Adelle’s lover in Germany. I found folded up notes, of the variety that girls passed around in the halls at school. Apparently that began many years ago.
The notes went back in time, to her junior high days, girls asking about hair styles and making after school dates. Different, but the same. No more postcards, though.
I picked up a wadded-up pink paper and almost tossed it into the trash pile, but then stopped myself. I could see words scribbled on the other side, words that looked hurried and anxious. Curiosity got the better of me and I unfolded the paper.
“Snow falling on dirt road. Sled goes too fast. Car around corner. Collision. Girl dies on impact. Inevitable, no way around it.”
Inevitable. The word glared at me from the paper. Goosebumps popped out on my arms. Who wrote this, and why? What did it mean? I put the pink paper next to the postcard and pulled out more papers, no longer idle in my searching. I found another one:
“Burning! Barn falls down around him. Pain! The flames! Blackness.”
I dropped the paper and took several deep breaths, feeling my heart pound. Either these were story ideas, or someone kept a very morbid account of deaths. Kind of like I did.
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