Her Last Word(32)

“Yes.”

“Is it cold in here, or is it me?”

“I know this room can be drafty. Can I get you a blanket?” I start to get up.

“I’m fine. I’m always chilled. A quirk, I guess.”

“Why are you always cold?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t felt warm or safe since Gina’s disappearance. I probably should have gotten counseling, but my mother thought seeing a shrink was a sign of weakness. I’m an adult now and know what Mom said is BS. And I’m not weak.”

“No, you’re not.” I smile in what I hope is a reassuring way.

“Did you get help?”

“I did. But only last year.”

“Why did you wait so long?”

“I wish I knew. I packed my life with activity to dull the pain. To forget. I finally realized if I didn’t drop the baggage, it would consume me.”

“So you decided to undertake your own investigation as a catharsis?”

“That’s right.” Pages flip in my notebook. “Jennifer, what do you remember about Gina?”

Jennifer’s laugh is lighter. “The usual. Nicest girl. So popular. Always a kind word. I used to joke if you looked perfect up in the dictionary, you’d see her face.”

“What were we talking about that night?”

“You should know. You didn’t drink at first.”

The point of me coming to Virginia was to get sober. I was just trying to keep it together. Not drink. But the temptation was too great. And in all honesty, I didn’t like sobriety and all the memories it didn’t suppress.

“Teenage girls. We must have been talking about boys.”

“I suppose. That night is still a blur for me. Whatever we were drinking was loaded.”

I hesitate. “You and Erika told the cops I brought the spiked lemonade.”

I see her visibly stiffen, and she doesn’t respond.

“I’m not trying to get anyone into trouble. I just want to find Gina.”

A long silence. Finally she answers.

“Yeah, I brought it.”

“It made sense to blame me. I was the most likely to, right?”

“Something like that.”

“Did you spike it with Ecstasy?”

“No! I didn’t. And I don’t know who did.”

I believe Jennifer on this one, happy at least one lie about me has been dispelled. But I don’t dwell. This isn’t about me. “You called your sister to come pick you up, right?”

“That’s right. I could barely walk. So Ashley drove down to the river and picked me up. Erika hopped in the back with me at the last second.”

“Do you remember anything else?”

“Lying in the backseat of the car. My sister was pissed.”

“At you?”

“Someone else.” Jennifer looks confident about this. “I think she was arguing with someone on the phone.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. I assumed it was her boyfriend, because they fought a lot. But I passed out and didn’t wake up until the next morning. I was in my own bed and wearing the clothes I had on from the night before, but I have no memory of arriving home. The cops were at our house, and all hell was about to break loose.”



CHAPTER EIGHT

Saturday, March 17, 2018; 5:45 a.m.

Near-freezing rain dripped on the windshield as he parked across from Erika Travis Crowley’s big white house. This upscale neighborhood didn’t really stir until about six thirty, and a rain-delayed Saturday slowed them all the more.

However, Erika kept to a rigid, eerily predictable schedule. She didn’t leave her house very often, but on Saturdays she exited her front door at exactly the same time and made the three-mile drive to the small yoga studio. She found comfort in keeping her world contained. Her house was her fortress from the truth. She’d betrayed Gina.

A check of his watch showed it was almost showtime.

Killing Jennifer had been exhilarating, and his body still buzzed with adrenaline. He readily accepted it was his job to dish out her punishment, but he’d not expected to enjoy it so much.

It was smarter to wait before he dealt with Erika and Kaitlin, but the morning rain was too perfect to pass up. Rain washed away so many sins. Better to deal with them now. He’d punish Erika accordingly, and for Kaitlin he had a special windowless room.

The front door snapped open. Black yoga pants and a fitted blue top covered by a snug gray jacket silhouetted a body kept ruthlessly in shape. Socks and clogs warmed her feet. Blond hair was tied into a sleek ponytail reminiscent of her times as part of the Glittering Trio at Saint Mathew’s. Gina, Jennifer, and Erika had been at the peak of the school’s social pecking order, and they knew it.

As he inched lower, the torn vinyl on the seat rubbed against his T-shirt. The magnetic sign on the side of the truck read TURNER PLUMBING. The letters were in red, a color easily remembered if anyone were watching. He’d stolen the truck and would soon ditch it.

Erika’s Mercedes pulled out of the driveway, and he followed. He watched her race through a yellow light and then turn abruptly at the corner ahead.

He stayed several car lengths behind, careful to keep her in his sights. He knew where she was going, but today it was important he be there when she arrived.