The Night Shift(39)

After showering and getting dressed, she finds two empty suitcases in the storage closet: one is Brad’s but, oh well. She begins stuffing her clothes in. On the nightstand, she sees that the photograph of them—one of Brad’s favorites—is facedown.

She’s feeling guilty. Not for leaving. That’s the best decision she’s made in a long time, one Brad will thank her for one day. She feels remorse for betraying him. For pretending for so long. He may be boring as shit, as Jesse said, but he’s not a bad person.

In the bathroom, she packs her toiletries. She finds the small makeup bag behind the box of tampons, a place she knew Brad would never venture.

She unzips the bag. Inside are a cluster of orange pill bottles. She pulls one out and walks to the toilet. She’s going to dump them. Flush every pill from this bottle and every other vial and never look back.

Uncapping the bottle, she catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She stares at her reflection. This could be one of those moments in life, a turning point, something she’ll want to remember.

Who’s she kidding? She rolls a pill from the bottle, pops it in her mouth, then clicks on the childproof cap. She stuffs the bottle in the makeup bag and carries it and her toothbrush and jams them in the suitcase.

She debates what else to take.

He can have the rest, she decides.

No, there is one more thing. She heads to the bookshelf in the corner of the room. It’s stuffed with those motivational business books Brad loves and some paperbacks. She pulls one of the few hardcovers from the shelf: A Farewell to Arms. A book her father gave her after Blockbuster. She riffles through the pages and stops at the bookmark—a photo booth strip, black-and-white photos taken shortly before her world changed. When she was herself. She can see the difference in her face. Next to her sits a boy. Oh, god, where is he now? In a different life, she’d be on Facebook stalking him. Reconnecting with a first love. She finds the passage her father highlighted in yellow: The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places. The world certainly hadn’t made her father stronger at the broken places.

She closes the book and then shoves it in her handbag.

She then drags the heavy bags to the front door. She refuses to turn around and do that last-look thing people do. She doesn’t need this shot on her mental camera reel.

Back in the car, she fights the urge to cry. “Hurt,” the Johnny Cash version, plays on the radio, a song both beautiful and crushingly heartbreaking at the same time.

Now what?

She’ll find a hotel, she supposes.

She thinks about Jesse, then texts Principal Steadman to see if he can meet her after school. She needs to know more about this girl. What happened between Jesse and the victims. What happened at her last school. What happened to her family.

At the same time, she fears what she’ll learn.





CHAPTER 32


KELLER





Keller breathes through her teeth in the tobacco-stained living room of Tawny O’Shaughnessy, mother of Blockbuster victim Candy O’Shaughnessy. The space is cluttered, filled with porcelain figurines of angels, and shag carpet that has seen better days. The woman across from Keller and Atticus has also seen better days. She’s either in her fifties or sixties, it’s hard to say, and she has bleached-blond hair and wears dark liner around watery eyes, like she’s taking style tips from a 1980s Def Leppard video. But she has a sweet demeanor and welcomes them into her home.

“He’s so handsome,” she says in her gravelly voice, staring at Atticus, who’s perched on a worn lounge chair across from the couch, looking uncomfortable. Between them, a coffee table holds several remote controls and an ashtray filled with butts.

Keller smiles. She’s standing, explaining that it’s because of her back.

“I’ve been there, honey,” Ms. O’Shaughnessy says. “My Candy, she was a kicker. Two days of labor and, I swear … she grabbed onto my ribs and they had to yank her out.” She gives the saddest of sentimental smiles.

“We’re sorry to barge in on you, but we have some follow-up questions,” Keller says.

“I assumed,” Ms. O’Shaughnessy says. “When I saw what happened at the ice cream store, I thought I might get a visit.”

“Why is that?”

“The case seems to perk up when something happens. Usually it’s a TV show about the murders, or a mass killing somewhere, and reporters call. Not as often anymore, though. And rarely a home visit from the police, much less the FBI. I used to call over to Union County every day, but after a while you just have to accept it.”

It’s true, Keller knows. Vince Whitaker’s trail went cold long ago. The only reason she’s here is another tragedy. And if they don’t find Whitaker, there probably won’t be another visit to Tawny O’Shaughnessy until another mass slaying or new Dateline episode. But, looking at Atticus, the earnest detective who took a keen interest in the cold case on his own time, even before the ice cream store tragedy, Keller hopes she’s wrong.

“I’m sorry you have to relive this every time,” she offers.

Ms. O’Shaughnessy nods. “It’s okay, hon, you’re just doing your job. And Detective Singh can come by any time.” She smiles at Atticus, who tries not to blush.

“We’re going back through the file. Looking at it with fresh eyes. And we wanted to talk a little about Candy, if you wouldn’t mind?” Keller says.