Positively Morbid, page 25
Parker stared at the rug. A life, yes. But it could never be the same life it would have been.
He said, “The weirdest thing is, when I came out here, I thought we would be strangers. I didn’t think I had that old Jess still inside me. I thought he was gone. But it turns out I’m still him in a lot of ways. And you’re still the girl I fell in love with. I still love you.”
She looked up to find a question in his eyes. A giddy relief washed away some of the darkness in her heart, like a sunrise revealing that the blue of the sky remained after a night of storm and thunder.
Parker shook her head. “God. I must be a little crazy too. You’re going to leave in how many days, and my heart is already breaking.”
He leaned in and kissed her, and she kissed him back.
When they pulled apart, they looked at each other self-consciously. His eyes shone. She laughed a little. Feeling this much after striving for mere contentment for so long was terrifying. Almost as terrifying as thinking there was a killer in her safe haven, almost as terrifying as thinking someone was toying with her. With both of them. But in a completely different way.
****
Parker woke sweating under covers that had become too heavy, heart pounding. Her ears strained for a half-remembered noise, but all was still and quiet. The light arrowing through the blinds struck the blankets in bright, hard-edged lines.
Her phone said 9:42 a.m. She hadn’t slept this late in years. Had she forgotten to do something, be somewhere? No text notifications, no news. No noise outside the closed bedroom door.
Disgruntled, she padded to the kitchen in stockinged feet, and found a scrap of paper on the table. “Thought you could use some rest. Dogs to beach, back soon.—J”
Parker yawned. Maybe she had needed some extra sleep. The cross-country trip had been brief but intense. And the holistic dentists’ conference started today, but she’d checked, and she had no sessions until tomorrow morning. She should go over her notes for the group presentation, but that could happen anytime.
The fridge was nearly empty except for a couple of unidentifiable takeout containers that Jess must have gotten while she was away, and in the freezer, the bag of ground coffee held a scant teaspoon. All this murder and travel had really thrown off her housekeeping.
After getting dressed, she went to grab breakfast in the staffroom, but Ellen waylaid her in the lobby. “That man of yours is so handsome,” she said, looking hopefully past Parker.
“Sorry, Ellen, he’s out with the dogs. Just me, getting some coffee,” Parker said.
“Oh, wait a sec. Mail came already. You want it now or later?”
“It’s okay. I’ll take it,” Parker said, and paused while Ellen rifled under the counter. Parker expected a bill or two, but Ellen hefted up a familiar cardboard box. When Parker had taped and addressed it at the hotel in Connecticut, she hadn’t realized it still said, “COREY’S CLOTHES” on one side in Dad’s messy scrawl.
If Ellen thought that was strange, she didn’t comment. She said, “You want to leave it under the counter here and grab it later? It’s not heavy, but it’s kind of big.”
“Sounds good. I’ll get it on my way back up. Thanks, Ellen.”
Parker moved to walk past her, but Ellen said, “Oh, wait, Parker, one more thing. Petra wants to talk to you.”
“Do you know why?”
“Marta’s not working today. I don’t blame her. It’s hard for any of us to focus with Calli still gone. I can’t even imagine what Marta’s going through. But yeah, talk to Petra. She may have penciled you in to cover something.”
“Thanks, I will.”
Petra wasn’t in the staff room, but Parker found her in her small office near the gym. Petra pulled out a clipboard as soon as she saw her. “Oh, good, Parker. I know it’s not on the schedule, but could you lend a hand with the conference today?”
Parker looked at her askance. “What do you need?”
“It’s the spouses. We were providing a van to the outlet mall to keep them busy while their significant others were schmoozing, and Marta was going to drive. She said you wouldn’t mind.”
“I’ve never driven one of the vans,” Parker said. “Honestly, I haven’t even been to the outlet mall yet.”
“Perfect. It’ll be a good opportunity for you then.” Petra smiled. “There are twelve people signed up. It’ll be a tight squeeze, but there are fourteen seatbelts aside from the driver.”
“Is the van an automatic?” Parker asked, hoping there was a graceful way out of this.
“I think so. The group will meet in the lobby by two. Why don’t you get the van at one-thirty and take it around the block, get comfortable with it? The keys are at the front desk. Just ask whoever’s at reception, and there’s a gas card there, too.”
“Great,” Parker said unenthusiastically, accepting the clipboard. It had a list of names and cell phone numbers, the initial pickup time and place, and the ending meetup time and place. At least Parker wouldn’t be expected to walk around the mall with them. Leave here at two, get back at six. It wouldn’t be so bad.
“Give them each your business card so they have your cell number, too,” Petra said. “Just in case. Good luck!”
She waved Parker out of her office, and Parker headed back toward the lobby, reminding herself to grab the box after she got her breakfast.
Despite all the mushy stuff last night, she had yet to pin down when Jess was leaving. He had to be in Anchorage on Monday, was all he’d told her. Soon, possibly even today, he’d have to head out, and Parker hated to miss spending the afternoon with him. How unprofessional would it be to meet him at the mall? Would anyone care? Actually, if Petra was right about the numbers, there would be an extra seatbelt in the van and he could come along.
At that thought, her spirits lifted slightly, and she hefted the awkward box up the four flights to her suite, realizing she should have left a note. She’d only meant to be gone for a few minutes, and it had turned into a good half hour. But Jess would have texted if he were worried.
She burst in, ready to greet dogs and man, and stopped short when she encountered silence. Nothing had changed since she left. The kitchen light was off, the dog bed near the balcony door untenanted. Dropping the box on an armchair, she hurried to check the bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen, although she already knew. No one was here.
Her phone had no notifications, and it was almost eleven thirty. On a normal day she and Mouse often went out around six a.m., but considering how late they’d stayed up last night, Jess and the dogs probably left shortly before Parker woke up. It wasn’t too weird that they were still out.
On the balcony, she squinted until her eyes adjusted to the glare of the October sun. A brisk wind lifted dry sand in streams across the beach, visible from here as snaky patterns against the darker sand beneath, that would sting against her bare skin if she were running. Maybe Jess was taking his time enjoying the invigorating weather.
Deciding to take advantage of the solitude and silence, Parker lowered herself onto her mat, and gazed with soft focus toward the distant horizon. Tension had tightened her neck and shoulders, even her eyes and forehead. She focused on each body part separately, consciously loosening the strain, but she couldn’t forget the empty apartment looming behind her. Last night’s intruder, Jess’s absence. A panicky irritation rose with a bloom of adrenaline. Her skin prickled with a sudden chill, and unease washed through her, though she wasn’t sure why.
She tried to breathe through it and let the emotion pass, but it was too strong. Frustrated with herself, she rose and returned to the somnolent apartment, where dust motes danced in rays of sunshine. Seeking distraction, she grabbed the cardboard box and brought it to the bedroom.
The room remained austere except for Jess’s oversized duffel bag unzipped and spilling underwear and T-shirts along his side of the bed. She flipped on the overhead light and set the box on top of the plain white duvet cover, then ripped off the shipping tape quickly, like tearing off a bandage. Upending the box, she let the contents slide out. The green wooden chest landed on its side in the midst of crumpled clothing.
Lifting it from the mess, Parker marveled at the intricate carvings of flowers and vines, the way the green stain on the wood deepened in the centers of shapes and lightened around their edges. Automatically, she pushed the pressure points to pop open the lid. Emptiness gaped at her, the flat rectangle of the felt-lined bottom draining her good intentions to sort through the clothes and get things done. The sting of the missing purse hit her again, and the uneasy feeling she got knowing a stranger had been in the apartment with bad intentions.
She plopped down with the chest in her lap, feeling her weight jounce gently on the mattress.
Britt had been gone a long time. Parker hadn’t even known the notes existed until a few days ago. But out of nowhere, they had promised a lifeline to the past, to the real Britt. To the real Corey, too, and all of her friends, the people they were back then. Their struggles, their preoccupations, what they thought was funny or maddening or important.
The notes might have held a reference to someone or something that would shed light on why Britt died and where she had been all those months, but they might not have. Mostly, Parker wanted to hold proof that Britt had been real, that they had all been real and worthwhile, and that period of their lives had been special and more than a prelude to tragedy.
No use dwelling on something she no longer had. She thrust the chest off her lap, stood and regarded the mess of old clothes once more. Reaching for a crumpled piece of blue jersey, she wondered if it was that scoop-necked dress she used to like, when her brain caught up to her ears.
When she’d set the chest aside so roughly, something had thudded inside. The apartment was quiet except for the humming of the fridge and the occasional distant seagull or police siren filtered through glass. The out-of-place noise still echoed in her mind. A light kerchunk.
She could have left the cover unlatched, and when it fell, it jarred itself shut. But there had been layers to the sound. Had there been? She lifted the chest in both hands.
A gentle shake shifted something back and forth. When she held it to her ear, she heard not only the light kerchunk but also a whispery friction.
She popped the box top open again and poked and prodded at the felt glued to the bottom. In the corners, the fabric was thick and fuzzy, coming away from the wood. She picked at an edge until she could grasp it and pulled upward, holding her breath. Was there a false bottom?
The felt tore in her hand. She set it aside, remembering she’d promised Dad to ship the chest back to Catherine. That wasn’t a priority, but for his sake, she should probably keep it in one piece.
Something was hidden inside. It had to be in the bottom; the lid was carved from a single piece of wood. Because the lid’s release was a pair of hidden pressure points, maybe there was another one for the inside floor? She ran her hands over every surface, pushing and prodding, and remembered how Britt had giggled when Parker tried to open it the first time she visited Britt’s house. Parker, who’d considered herself good with puzzles, had tried everything. No false bottom had opened then.
She scrutinized each side of the chest and rolled her eyes when she reached the rear panel. The “secret” compartment wasn’t secret, just well-camouflaged. A gap a hairsbreadth thick outlined an area about eight inches wide and an inch and a half tall, just above the chest’s stubby back feet. A pair of discolored toothpick-slim hinges marked the bottom of the panel.
Parker pried at the gap with a fingernail before noticing a bit of flower in just the right position to get some leverage.
The hinged panel opened downward. She cleared a space on the duvet and dumped the contents.
Chapter Twenty-One
Various items avalanched from the narrow opening and fell in a pile below: folded papers, triangulated notes, ticket stubs. The envelope from a greeting card, over-stuffed and held shut with a rubber band. A thin gold chain tangled with a dull silver chain. A set of keys on a metal key ring that read “BRITTANY” in red block letters. A couple of tiny plastic bags, crumpled and worn.
Parker peered into the back of the compartment and shook free two papers that had gotten stuck. Then she set the chest to one side, feeling as if she were in a dream. She had wished for a piece of Britt and their childhood, and what did she find? Something better. Britt’s most precious treasures. The ones she kept secret from even her best friends.
Catherine had said the chest was full of poison, but Parker doubted she’d discovered the hidden compartment. If she had, she wouldn’t have had the patience to return the tightly packed contents when she was done.
Parker hesitated, but not out of fear that she’d discover something hurtful. It was that Britt, who’d shared so much, kept these few things back. What would Britt say if she knew Parker was about to look at the things most private to her?
An image of Britt’s face veiled by a curtain of blonde hair arose in response. Britt would say nothing. Or she would wish she had shared more before she died.
Parker ran her hand through the pile, spreading items across the bed to see everything better. She picked up the “Brittany” key ring, the metal cool and heavy in her hand.
For her sweet sixteen, Britt’s parents had surprised her with a red Lexus, complete with a high end stereo system, sunroof, and white leather seats. The key ring she ended up using was a later gift from Jess, an oversized silver heart, and when she disappeared, that was the one lying in the center console of her car, where she wasn’t supposed to leave it but always did.
This must be her spare set of keys, with the keyring her parents had given her on her birthday morning. Parker set it to one side and reached for the baggies.
The first one held two perfectly rolled joints, probably the work of Britt’s older brother Thomas, who usually hooked them up. The second held half a dozen Xanax, which had been freely available in the Ryden master bathroom. Parker set those aside, too.
As she lifted the tangle of gold and silver necklaces, her phone vibrated. Hoping it was finally Jess, she swiped with one thumb to check.
Krista—What are you up to? Time for a call?—
Parker considered her response, but if they spoke she’d spill the beans about the chest. Selfishly, she wasn’t ready to share. Plus, she’d end up talking about Jess, and Krista would give her a hard time. Parker sent a quick, later, then scrolled to Jess’s contact info. She hit “Call” and listened to it ring until his voicemail picked up. Heart sinking, she hung up without leaving a message and turned back to the necklaces.
They were so knotted together they would have taken hours to untangle, but it wasn’t necessary because the pendants were visible. The thicker silver chain held two half-heart charms, the kind that said, “BE FRI” and “ST ENDS.” Krista and Parker each had a necklace just like it, from Christmas of freshman year when they’d each exchanged them with each other. She’d never seen the pendant on the fine gold chain, though. A dolphin with a tiny sapphire eye. Maybe a gift to Britt from her parents when she was younger?
Parker set the tangled chains back on the bed. All that was left was the papers and the envelope, but she was still fighting her own reluctance. She wished Jess were here, so she could stop worrying about him and Mouse and Pepper, and they could look at this together. She should wait.
In case she’d somehow missed a call, she checked her phone again. Then, with a sudden certainty that he’d driven somewhere, she stood. His note said he was going to the beach, but it didn’t say which beach.
Parker reminded herself she was being silly. If he left right before she woke up, he’d only been gone three hours. It wasn’t that hard to take a three-hour walk on the beach. Heck, he could have headed south across the bridge like they’d done yesterday and gotten turned around on the trails at the park. He might have dropped his phone or forgotten to plug it in last night.
But if he’d taken his truck, he could have gone farther. He could have driven to a northern or southern beach access. He was a tourist. Maybe he wanted to see Devil’s Churn or Cascade Head before he left for good. Nothing to worry about, and if she added drive time, three hours for a beach trip with the dogs made sense.
She trotted down the interior stairs and peered out the window in the staff door. Her heart sank. Jess’s dusty black truck was still parked up the street near the real estate office, so wherever he’d gone, he’d gone on foot.
More slowly, she made her way back upstairs, fighting involuntary negative thoughts she knew were ridiculous. Jess wasn’t lying at the bottom of the cliff stairs with his mouth and eyes taped shut. And Jess hadn’t kidnapped the dogs. Even if he’d decided he and Parker had gotten too deep, too fast, he wouldn’t have taken her dogs and left his truck and duffel bag.
No, he’d gotten carried away on a long walk, and his phone died, and he was trudging along with Mouse running circles around him. Poor Jess, he probably had to carry Pepper by now. He’d be cursing himself, too, knowing how worried Parker would be.
She returned to the bedroom and her discovery. This time, she roughed the loose pile of papers into a stack, then sorted through them. Britt’s birth certificate, the title to the Lexus, her social security card. A couple of birthday cards: a really sweet one from her grandma and a hand-drawn one from her younger sister. And then notes—four little triangles, and a few notebook sheets folded in quarters and crumpled from being squished in the compartment with all the other stuff.
Parker’s hand hovered over the pile of notes then landed on the over-stuffed envelope, because the distended shape hinted at its contents. When she eased off the rubber band and unfolded the flap, she found a stack of Polaroids.
She hadn’t seen a Polaroid camera in years, not since Britt’s, and wasn’t sure they were still around. Back then, they were retro-cool. The Polaroid camera took non-digital, self-developing photos, which printed instantly on special film. The pictures developed in a couple of minutes, popping out of the plastic box nearly white and the image magically taking shape, first ghostly, then sharp and vivid.
