Page 38

I wipe the tears with the back of my hand.

I had wondered about leaving Jessica alone for a whole day.

She’d only been back from her programme for about two weeks.

Technically, she wasn’t supposed to be alone at all for the first thirty days.

But she seemed OK, and when I suggested that she spend the day with her folks, or that we call in a friend to be with her, she was adamantly against it.

‘I’m not a child, Lily,’ she said. ‘I don’t need a goddamn babysitter.

’ And I had so much on my plate. In her absence, I’d been running Taste of Heaven alone, and I was in over my head.

I’d been feeling like Jessica tossed me to the sharks, and the conference was a chance to not be so alone; to talk to other young people who were ambitious and overwhelmed, just like me.

I sat in on lectures, forums and panels.

I took pages and pages of notes: books to look up, city resources available to us, recommendations on a better ERP system for tracking our inventory.

I was feeling excited, invigorated, capable; like a real adult, dressed in my suit and brand-new eggshell silk blouse.

After the closing awards banquet, where the mayor made an appearance, I went out for drinks with a few people I’d met– the owner of a new gluten-free bakery, a tattoo artist, and a beautician who was working on her business plan for a beauty school in an under-resourced neighbourhood.

We lingered at the bar until eleven thirty, laughing and talking and promising to stay in touch.

‘If I’d gone straight home…’ I say, and Daniel pulls me even closer, knotting his hands together around my torso like he’s a human seatbelt.

‘But I didn’t,’ I make myself continue. ‘I stayed out.’

I unlocked the door just after midnight and kicked off my shoes.

The apartment was dark, with just the lights in the kitchen and the bathroom on.

‘Jessica?’ I called softly, walking towards the kitchen.

Shit– why was the floor wet? Ceiling leak, I thought immediately– we’d had one a few months prior when the dishwasher in the upstairs unit broke. But no, the ceiling looked fine.

Then I saw her. First, just a pale foot, peeking out from behind the island.

I darted forward. It took me a second to understand what I was seeing.

My girlfriend on the floor behind the kitchen island, naked, wet, bloody, a huge gash on her head and ribbon cuts up her forearms. I didn’t shriek.

I didn’t cry. I dashed to the couch and grabbed her favourite fuzzy blanket, then ran back to wrap her in it.

‘Jessica, can you hear me? Jessica?’ I said as I propped her up, trying to get the blanket around her cold body.

She was limp. Her lips were blue. I hoisted her up in my arms. Her head lolled back; she was dead weight, but I managed to get her to the couch.

For a second, curled there on the couch, it seemed as if she was snuggled up. She always fell asleep during movies; I’d seen her in that position a hundred times.

Sitting there on the couch next to her, one hand on Jessica’s knee, I pulled out my phone and called 9-1-1. As I spoke the words to the operator, ‘I need an ambulance right away,’ I remembered my mother and her sense of otherworldly calm during crisis. We’ll just go for a drive.

I trusted my mother in that moment. Trevor’s corpse was laid flat on our carpet, but she had a plan.

And in a strange way, I felt her with me that night as I wrapped a body for the second time in my life.

One in a shower curtain, one in a blanket.

One who deserved it and one who didn’t. The parallels felt comforting, because nothing made sense.

The one thing in my life I’d wanted to succeed at was loving Jessica, and making her safe in that love, and I had failed.

Just like my mother. Who hadn’t protected me from Trevor, after all.

She only struck Trevor after Trevor struck me.

But I don’t tell Daniel all of this. I just say, ‘When I found her that night, she was already gone.’

Then I cry again, but it’s different this time. More like I’m choosing to release something pent up rather than being attacked by something outside myself.

And then, somehow, in Daniel’s arms, I fall asleep.

*

When I wake up, I’m disoriented. The light has changed; the blade of sunlight is gone. What time is it?

‘Hey, sleepyhead,’ says Daniel, swivelling in his chair. He’s on the computer at his desk again, though this time, fully clothed. The air conditioner is humming. It’s after two o’clock.

‘Skylar,’ I say.

‘I called the hospital ten minutes ago. No updates yet.’

I exhale. I feel heavy with worry over Skylar, but also, somehow grounded.

‘I know your name isn’t Daniel Black,’ I say as I sit up, drawing the comforter around my shoulders and leaning against the bank of pillows.

Daniel doesn’t even flinch; in fact, he goes extra still.

I’m still too. My heart doesn’t pick up speed. There’s zero adrenaline in my body.

Something happened to me when I told Daniel the story of that night– the night that split my life in two.

It’s not that I’m suddenly liberated from my grief. It’s not that I’m happy or healed. No; I can still feel the familiar tight centre of pain around Jessica, who I know is in limbo still, waiting for me to save her, which I can’t do.

I don’t feel afraid any more. That’s what’s changed.

This cat-and-mouse game I’ve been playing with Daniel suddenly seems silly, childish.

Unnecessary. I’m ready to face what Daniel knows and what he plans to do with that information, fully confident that whatever I do next– flee, lie, kill– will be clear to me when the time comes.

I’ve made plans, and they’ve gone to shit.

Now I’m trusting my gut, and whatever happens will happen.

‘I know you’re a podcaster,’ I continue, ‘and that you’ve been investigating me.’

He shuts his laptop, then comes over to the bed. He sits on the side, one knee up, and braces himself on his arms. We don’t touch.

His gaze, as always, meets mine without hesitation. ‘I wanted to tell you at the Sunset last night.’

For a second I don’t know what he’s talking about. Then I remember his arm slung around me; his confession. I think I may have misjudged you.

‘What were you going to tell me, exactly?’

‘That I did come here to look into the pattern of deaths. There’s been one every July at the Riovan for the past four years.

I did come here thinking you might be behind it.

But—’ He shakes his head with a mirthless smile.

‘Yesterday, I saw you save a man’s life, and then this morning, your reaction when they loaded that kid into the ambulance, and then hearing your story about losing Jessica– it just confirmed how wrong I was about you.

’ He reaches forward and I allow him to take my hand.

‘Lily, I can’t apologize for looking into you.

I’m here to find the truth, and I can’t be sorry for that. But I never wanted to hurt you.’

This is the last thing I ever expected Daniel Black-Lukiewicz to say. His hand is warm, but my hand in his feels cold. I should feel relieved, like a tremendous weight has been lifted.

Instead I feel… what?

‘I understand,’ I say. ‘You’re here for truth and justice, and you did what you had to do. I can respect that.’

‘And you’re here to grieve the woman you loved,’ he says, meshing his fingers with mine, his eyes full of compassion. ‘I see that now.’

‘Yes,’ I say, surprised at this insight. I’ve never thought of what I do here as grieving, but it makes sense.

‘Here’s the thing,’ Daniel says, his voice low as his fingers twine with mine.

‘At first I got close to you because I needed to figure you out. I mean– I was attracted to you from the start, but in my head, it was strictly in service of the story. And then, somehow, along the way, I—’ His eyes on me are so intense. ‘I fell for you.’

Oh.

His words hang between us.

Daniel Lukiewicz is in love with me.

And honestly, it’s a bit of a mindfuck for the person you thought wanted to see you in handcuffs to declare their love.

My heart should be singing right now. I should be laughing, crying happy tears, kissing him. Because isn’t this what I wanted? Not a fling, but someone to love me?

Now my pulse quickens, just a little, like a bird on a branch poised for flight.

I could forget about killing Serena and leave here with Daniel.

It’s not the first time I’ve had this thought, but before it was a pipedream, a silly fantasy. Now, it’s an actual possibility. I could start fresh with Daniel. Sell Taste of Heaven. Give up my apartment. Leave the city where I first found love and so horrifically lost it…

Slowly, I pull back, withdrawing my hand from Daniel’s. I lift both knees under the blanket and wrap my arms around my legs. The Riovan may let me go without a second thought, but not Jessica. She won’t let me go so easily.

It’ll never work, Daniel and me. Where would we go?

Not Cincinnati. That’s Jessica’s territory. But I can’t give up all the places that were hers either, can I? The business we dreamed up, the apartment, the bakery downstairs with the croissants we’d get on weekends. I can’t give her up. He can’t come, and I can’t leave.

Daniel’s expression doesn’t register hurt– he’s too stoic for that– but he leans back as well, patiently waiting for me to respond.

I’ve fallen for you, too , I want to say. Can he see that in my eyes, even though I’m not speaking it aloud?

But there’s a deeper reason this can never work: he doesn’t know me. Before, during our cat-and-mouse, we were on equal footing. Both of us lying about our reasons for being here, and both of us trying to get the truth out of each other.

Now, I’ve won. I finally know the truth about him.

But he doesn’t know the truth about me.

I want Daniel to know me– to know what I’ve done, every detail of it– and love me anyway.

And that is impossible.

‘This is my last year coming here,’ I say. ‘I’ve been told I won’t have a job here next year.’

‘What?’

Now it’s my turn to quirk my lips in a mirthless smile. ‘I guess you could say I’ve “aged out”.’

I watch Daniel take this in, and I’m thankful he doesn’t say something obvious, like, How dare they? Or, What do you mean, aged out? He’s not one for cheap talk. Instead, he nods slowly.

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘I can’t be in a relationship with you, Daniel.’

He leans forward, intense. ‘I’m not asking for that.

I know I’m probably coming on too strong, too fast. But Lily, if there is any part of you that wants to explore this with me—’ His face is set.

‘We’ll do it how you want. Long distance, if that feels safer.

Or, after I wrap up my work here, I can come to Cincinnati.

Just to visit. Or I can rent a place. I can run the podcast from anywhere.

We can take it slow. I just– never felt this way about anyone before.

You’re the most alive person I’ve ever met.

When I’m with you, everything feels more real.

It’s beautiful, and it’s fucking with me in the best of ways, and I don’t want you to walk away without knowing the full extent of how I feel.

I want you in my life. Whatever that looks like for us.

Period. I’ve never been so sure of anything before. ’

You don’t know who you’re talking to! I want to scream, and then I want to shake him. You don’t really know me! Or maybe it’s myself I want to shake.

I want this, just as bad as him, maybe even more. And I can’t let myself have it.

It would hurt too much to have it, just to watch it break.

I force myself to unwrap the comforter from around my shoulders and immediately shiver. The room is freezing. I slowly work my way off the bed, Daniel tracking my every movement.

‘Maybe people just die,’ I say.

I can tell by his expression I’ve lost him. He’s still sitting on the bed; I stand above him, and lay a hand on his cheek. It’s bristly and warm.

‘Maybe the Riovan deaths aren’t part of some pattern, Daniel. Life is chaotic and strange. I know you want to tell a story. Have you considered there isn’t one?’

‘No way,’ says Daniel, his eyes suddenly fierce. My hardheaded Daniel not-Black.

Maybe I’m off the hook for now, in his mind, as a suspect. But he’s not going to let this go, is he? I guess Daniel and I have that in common too– stubbornly hanging on.

He’s hanging on to his story, and I’m hanging on to my plan.

I am going to kill Serena tonight.

A girl is hospitalized because of her– a sweet, insecure girl who Serena merrily sent towards destruction.

I’ll do it at Island Vibes, during the chaos of Randy’s retirement party.

I’ll convince her to come; I know I can do it.

She’s already debating it, I just have to push her over the edge– metaphorically speaking, this time.

I can sell it as a TikTok opportunity. Positive media that she’ll surely want after today’s disaster– positive media that Vic demanded she come up with. Plus, half-priced drinks!

The location is actually ideal: it gets her away from the Riovan.

Now that I think about it, maybe it was a blessing in disguise that I didn’t kill her this morning on the jetty.

Not only will this break the pattern of the past four years of deaths, but it will dilute suspicion, because Sean and Vic, Daniel’s other suspects, will both be there.

I don’t feel bad about this. Vic deserves it, and Sean will be just fine.

With my hand still caressing Daniel’s cheek, feeling that delicious wolfish stubble that I love and trying to memorize how it feels against my palm, I say, ‘Let’s not force things.’

What do you mean? his eyes ask me.

I tilt my head. ‘Let’s just let this be what it was.’

Now I can see the pain in Daniel’s face– tattooed in the creases of his forehead, written in his eyes. It’s almost unbearable to look at.

His eyes say, So this was just a fling to you.

I try to send back, Just a fling. One final lie.

‘Let me take you to dinner,’ he pleads in that husky, podcast-perfect voice of his.

I shake my head, but allow my hand to run up through his hair.

‘Don’t worry, Daniel,’ I say softly. ‘You’ll forget me soon enough.’

Or at least, that’s the hope.