“It’s picking something up. Greg, if you didn’t hurt Amy, then tell me who did. Tell me what you know. If you’re doing the same thing I am, then let’s figure this out together.”
Greg wasn’t paying attention to her anymore. His eyes were on the radio as if it had transformed into something obscene. The static quieted, smoothed out like chaos morphing into jazz—a magic eye picture suddenly making itself visible.
This is Amy Eckhardt
The color drained from Greg’s face. Bess reached forward and gently pulled the gun from his hand. He seemed not to notice.
This is Amy Eckhardt
It’s going to happen
They’re too close now
He’s been sharpening his knives
“Shut the fuck up,” Greg whispered without conviction.
He can’t keep me anymore
“What the fuck is this? How are you doing this?” Greg demanded, looking at Bess.
“It’s not me.”
“I want to talk to her. How do I do that?”
“You don’t. It doesn’t work like that.”
“The fuck you mean it doesn’t work like that? Just… how do I talk to her?”
“I’m telling you, you can’t talk to her any more than you can talk to fucking Taylor Swift on the radio.”
I’m in the dragon’s stomach
He’ll spit out my head as proof
“Amy is dead,” he shouted. “This is some god damned trick!”
The radio died as if an invisible hand had clicked it off.
Greg was shaking his head slowly back and forth. His lips were moving, but there were no sounds. He looked down at the hand that had once contained a gun and, finding it empty, simply walked out of the garage. Bess heard her front door open and then close as he left.
Bess set the gun down next to the radio and drifted into the main house. She locked the door and grabbed her cell phone from the kitchen counter. She did a mental rundown of all the people she could call and the pros and cons of each one. The list was short and there weren’t many pros. Finally she decided to call Detective Howland. Even if he was a crooked cop, he was still a cop. And maybe that didn’t mean anything at all, but Bess didn’t have much else. Somewhere in all this there was a lesson about letting people into her life and it was a little too on the nose for her at the moment.
When she met Scott Howland at the door she glanced over at Rebecca’s house, wondering if she was in there taking note of the cop car and fretting over her problem neighbor.
“I’m sorry to bother you, Detective,” she said as she let him inside.
“It’s Scott, remember? And it’s not a bother. You did the right thing.” He smiled at her and Bess told herself not to trust it.
“The gun’s in here.” She led the way to the garage and pointed, all business.
“Was Mr. Leeds wearing gloves when he touched it?”
“No, but neither was I. Both of our prints will be on it.”
“That’s fine. With any luck it’ll be registered in his name. We’ve already got a BOLO out on him. We can’t have men going around harassing women in Antioch. That sort of thing doesn’t fly.”
“Will you let me know if you find him? I’ll feel safer knowing he’s off the streets.”
“Absolutely. I can also put a car outside if it’ll make you feel better.”
“I’d rather not, if that’s okay. I don’t think my neighbors would like it.”
“Well, it would be for their protection as well.”
“I don’t know if they’d see it that way.” Bess had tried so hard to stay out of trouble, to go unnoticed, and within a matter of days she’d managed to undo it all.
“Okay, no problem. No cops. Make sure you keep the doors locked. And call me if anything hinky happens.”
You don’t even know hinky, she thought.
She nodded. Scott pulled a large plastic evidence bag from his jacket and slid the gun carefully inside. “You know, I heard the funniest thing this morning. You won’t believe it,” he said, his voice casual.
“Try me,” Bess said, nervous.
“I heard that you were having coffee yesterday with Cherish McKenzie.” His smile didn’t falter, but it seemed to change—maybe something in the eyes.
“Where would you hear something like that?”
“It’s a small town, Bess. And I’m the eyes and ears of it. When someone whispers a secret in Antioch, I make it my business to hear it.”
“So what? Yeah. Okay. I had coffee with Cherish yesterday. Why, do you know her or something?”
“Did she not mention me? Gosh, I’m a little hurt. Well, you see, Cherish and I used to be somewhat of an item. That’s what they say, right? We were a thing. We were involved.”
“It didn’t come up.”
“Well, what did come up?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“I’m curious what good old Cherish is up to these days. You know she’s a drug addict, right?” The smile was still in place.
“I barely know her.”
“She’s a pill popper. It’s why we broke up, if you want to know the truth. It made her paranoid. The thing about that is, after a while, even though you know what they’re saying is nuts, if you hear it enough, it starts to sort of make sense. Especially if it’s someone you love. Or something you want to believe.”
He had an answer for everything. The man was standing in front of her building a case against a woman based on a conversation he’d not heard and it made perfect sense. Except Bess had seen too much to let him gaslight her.
“Well, she didn’t have any crazy stories for me. Just a nice talk. About church,” Bess said.
“I didn’t know you were religious,” Scott said. “I’m a little surprised.”
“I haven’t been to church in a long time. But this guy I work with, Wayne, he recommended First Baptist because of their young adult ministry. Cherish goes there.”
“No, she doesn’t.”
Bess paused. Hadn’t Cherish said she attended? Or was it only Margot and her family? “She does now. She’s new to it, like me.”
“So, you’ve decided you need Jesus?”
“Yeah. Keep me out of trouble. Isn’t that what you want, Scott? For me to stay out of trouble?” She smiled at him.
“I want you to be safe.”
“And what could be safer than a church?”
He considered this for a moment. “You know, part of me thought maybe you were talking to Cherish because you were checking up on me.”
His candor caught her off guard, she sputtered a few syllables before giving up and shaking her head.
“That sounds crazy, doesn’t it?” he asked. “We don’t really know each other. But I can’t help but feel like there’s something between us. Do you feel like that?”
Bess felt the familiar heat rising to her face. “I hope I haven’t given you the wrong impression.” She peeked up at him from beneath her thick lashes and silently hoped she was giving the impression that she wanted him to fuck her.
He stepped toward her and laid his hand on her upper arm. “I don’t think you have.” His hand slid up to her shoulder and then her throat. His thumb gently stroked her cheek and Bess shuddered. She turned her face in toward his palm and let his fingers trace her bottom lip. She closed her eyes and sighed.
“Scott,” she said. His hands were on her hips now and he pulled her against him. She pressed into him and he let out a low groan of pleasure.
Bess knew she shouldn’t be doing this. In fact, it was the worst idea possible, outside of, perhaps, Bible study with a serial killer. Reluctantly, she stepped back. Scott was still holding her hips and she felt them sway toward him, drawn back like a magnet. “I’m sorry,” she said. “This isn’t right.” She regretted it immediately.