Page 28

Lucy

3 Months Later

“ G reat shift, Lucy,” Artie says to me as we make our way to the parking lot.

“Thanks. It’s been tough with the new hires. I’m sad they’re breaking up our partnership,” I tell him.

Once I reach the car, I toss my bag into the passenger seat and lean against the vehicle, heat radiating from the metal.

“It’s because they know you’ll be an amazing teacher for the newbies. With Leah gone, we’re going to need all the help we can get.”

I nod in agreement and wave goodbye to him.

Artie has gotten the promotion he deserves, and although I don’t want to train new people, I’m proud of him.

I settle into the car. The evening casting a golden glow on the landscape. The sudden ring of my phone startles me .

“Hey JoJo, how are you?”

“Alright. I’m at your house with dinner. What time do you get off work?”

“On my way home now. Have I mentioned how much I love you?”

She laughs and ends the call.

With the windows down, I turn up the metal music and try to vibe along. The wind whipping through my hair.

Everything feels dull and lacklustre in the absence of Billy. His infectious silliness and ever-changing moods always brought a positive energy. Life isn’t the same without him.

However, I know I still must live my life as empty as it seems without him. My heart still aches for him, and maybe it forever will, but his secrets will die with me.

Despite the harm he may have caused the world, he provided me with more than anyone ever has. If that makes me greedy, then it’s what I am.

Parking behind JoJo’s little black car, I pull my bag off the passenger seat and climb the stairs to the porch and walk through the front door.

“Honey, I’m home.”

She only laughs and turns from the counter.

“You know, I learned the lot next to me is up for sale. We literally could be neighbours. It’ll be a huge downgrade in size, but something to think about. ”

I raise my eyebrows and set my bag down. “Sounds perfect. I’ll get in touch with the realtor to see what I can sell this for.”

JoJo grins and claps. “You’d be the best neighbour, Lucy.”

“What’s for dinner?” I ask, but she says nothing and gives me her phone.

Looking down at the screen, I watch the video playing. It seems to be a big newscaster talking about the investigation of the Keepsake Killer hitting a dead end. They will never find him if he doesn’t want to be found.

“Do you think with Leah dead and the case going cold, he’ll come back?”

I shake my head, knowing he won’t risk both our lives.

“Well, when you move in next door we can live out the rest of our years as little old ladies angry at the whippersnappers that speed down the streets.”

“When have we ever been mad at that?”

With a casual shrug, she breaks into a wide grin, handing me a plate piled high with pasta casserole and a dish of salad.

“Have you heard anything more about the soap recall? They didn’t provide enough details. Even when I called the number, they barely offered a refund. ”

“No idea. I don’t see why it wouldn’t be safe for human use. Mammal fat is as useful as chemical shit,” I say.

Digging into dinner, I realize I’m hungry and would most likely starve half the time instead of putting in the effort to feed and water myself.

“I miss the organic soap. It was perfect. He made excellent products. The community misses them,” JoJo says.

“You know, I didn’t think I’d heal overnight, but I hoped this giant hole in my heart would close at least a little. With Leah dying, and time passing, I thought maybe it would help, but it feels like my chest is cut open.”

I glance downward, my eyes settling on the contents of my plate. I haven’t been honest with anyone about the burden weighing me down.

“Lucy, I know. The love you both had was the type from the movies. You fit together and he adored you so fucking much.”

Her words don’t comfort me. The tears well in my eyes before spilling down my cheeks.

“New topic. How’s the book coming?”

I sniffle and wipe away my tears as I take another bite, trying to mask my emotions. “It’s back from the editor. I still need to make all those changes. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing for marketing,” I say.

“Well, I’m no pro, but I’ll read through it and brainstorm ideas, okay? Anything I can do to make your life easier.”

“I love you, Jo,” I whisper.

“Love you too, Lucy,” she utters before going back to her meal.

We eat the rest of the dinner in silence and take iced tea to the porch. Among all the difficulties, I find solace in the simple act of sitting on the swing, accompanied by her presence, as life slowly becomes more bearable.

Some days carry a weight of sand in the air, while others feel lighter. Eventually, things must improve.

“Work tomorrow?” she asks.

“Yeah, then I’ll be off for a few days. Will you be available to help me with the realtor’s stuff?”

“Of course.”

After she leaves, I take my place at the kitchen sink, the warm water, and soap bubbles soothing my hands as I wash the plates.

Like a movie playing in my mind, flashes of the past bring back vivid images of doing dishes with Billy or stealing glances at him as he tidied up.

I yearned for a fresh start in this house, but I think now it’s for the best to pack it up and move away. Living in a small cottage like JoJo seems ideal for me, with less room to clean and new walls to build memories .

I never expected to find myself entangled in the aftermath of a breakup, but this feels like more than the conclusion of a relationship.

Memories of him are etched into every crevice of my mind. Our souls must be connected, because nothing makes sense without him.

“I’m so excited that you’re going to be my neighbour!” JoJo squeals.

It has been a week since I spoke to the realtor and listed the house for sale. It moved a lot faster than I thought it would.

The last thing in the world I want to do is pack, but this is for new beginnings.

“It’ll be good. The place is more spacious than what I had in mind. I’ll be able to set up my office in the living room and still have space for all my bookshelves.”

We walk up to the café she always raves about, and I sit down in one of the comfy fabric chairs. A low table beside each chair holds a menu with the specials of the day .

When JoJo gets back with a latte for me and a tea for herself in outrageously large cups, I grin at her.

“Thank you. I feel like I’ve been running on empty for days.” Taking a sip of the drink, the hazelnut flavour wraps around my tastebuds.

“You always do. Another reason I’m glad we’ll be neighbours. I’ll be able to take better care of you,” she says and leans back in her chair.

With a pout on my face, I declare, “I’m a grown adult.”

My eyes drop to the contents of my cup. I’ve stopped searching for Billy everywhere, and I feel like that’s a step in the right direction.

“Sure. It doesn’t change the fact that you eat PB&J more times than proper food, or that you’re dehydrated seventy-five percent of the time. For a medic you kinda suck at life, ya know?”

I stick my tongue out at her and glance around the café. It’s very chaotic but calming at the same time. The decor is all over the place and the colours are loud, but the ambiance is cozy and warm.

“Do you want help packing?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?”

I grin and finish the last of my latte. “You’re the slowest tea drinker. Maybe you should change to coffee,” I tell her, wiggling my eyebrows.

“It’s a good thing you don’t drink alcohol. You’d be on the floor in no time,” she mutters, scrolling on her phone .

I open my own, flipping through the news, hoping for any new information about the Keepsake Killer, but it seems like there have been no updates lately. The noise of other patrons chatter around us, and I tune them out.

“I had a boring call today with that detective. He said the case was moving to the cold files because they didn’t have a witness or evidence,” I tell her.

“That’s good, right?” she asks.

“Mostly. I feel like they have something. I mean, it feels similar to waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

She nods and shows me the empty cup she’s holding.

“Wow. Proud of you, grandma,” I joke.

“You’ve sure turned into an asshole, you know. Come on, let’s get out of here.” I nod in response, and JoJo grabs our mugs to bring to the counter.

As soon as we step outside, I take a deep breath, savouring the coolness of the air before getting into her car.

“But your favourite kind, right?” I sneak a look at her.

“Yeah, you’re a funny asshole. How’s the book coming along?”

I glance out into the darkness, flying by through the car window. “Good. Everything’s done. I barely have a social media following, but I think I’ll publish it before I move.”

“You should, then get started on the next idea. ”

I grin. Having her believe in me is amazing.

As we pull up the driveway, the solar lights I installed on the front porch cast a faint glow, illuminating it better than before. Among the many things left undone, installing a light was one of them.

My breath catches in my chest as I see a package resting on the swing. The air around me feels thin. As fear surges through my veins, I scramble to exit the car.

“Thanks for everything, JoJo. Tomorrow I’ll make muffins and we can start packing?”

She pats my leg. “Or—hear me out—I’ll buy breakfast and you make coffee.”

I scoff at her but bid her farewell.

Once I enter the house, I bring the package to the kitchen table. Trepidation fills me. I don’t think I can handle another fucking set of eyeballs, but as I un-peel the tape, a leather notebook is revealed.

It’s almost the same design as the first one I received, and my mind immediately goes to my past stalker. There is no chance he would wait until I was completely caught off guard after all this time.

With shaky hands, I open the cover. It is loaded with notes. The writing isn’t the same as the disturbing packages, but similar.

Thumbing through all the papers, I know who this is: Billy was both the stalker and the man I’ve never stopped loving .

Realizing he killed for me and watched me fuck a dildo shaped like his dick fills me with fear and excitement.

I flip through the pages, some comprising sentence fragments and others filled with paragraphs of research for my book. Toward the end are a bunch of letters. I read the first of them:

Lucy,

I’m such a coward. Couldn’t even look you in the eyes when I broke you. I need you to know I’d rather have broken my rib cage and pulled out my beating heart to lie at your feet. You’ll understand this, eventually. I’m so sorry.

Billy

The next few pages are odd diagrams and sketches of what looks like us if we resembled badly drawn stick figures. I turn to the next letter.

Lou,

I fucking miss you. Life isn’t the same without you. I always thought I couldn’t love. Anger? Easy. Happiness? Sure, I guess. Love? Not a chance. But it turns out something is more powerful than the black sludge that coats the inside of my brain. It’s the heartache I feel with every breath I take.

I love you forever,

Billy

There are more pages of doodles, random research from my book. I knew what he was doing toward the end, but I never dreamed he tested out everything I was writing about. At least I know it’ll be believable in my stories.

My heart clenches as I read his words, feeling the perfect blend of our contrasting energies, the lightness of my being with his darkness.

Taking a pause from the journal, I rise from my seat and reach for a glass of water. My attention fixates on the blackness beyond the kitchen window.

I realize he must have been here today. Flicking through the book, I look for clues to anything and wonder if he’s out in the old barn I haven’t been out there since the day I saw him in the mask. Every fibre in my being tells me to stay away from that barn.

Sitting back at the table, I read each and every word in the journal. The pages scattered through the book tell me a message. It’s a mess, but I know exactly what it means:

Can someone die from shock if you skin them alive? Lou asks. Come to. So far, it depends on the person…

The place. Eye socket too small for dick, unless micro—poor guys…

Temporal lobe stays the same roughly, but imagine it was like scrambled eggs? We had…

Who knew fucking her with a severed hand would be so hot, except I didn’t enjoy the fact that someone else was touching her. A picnic. Even though I controlled it, the jealousy burned deep in my belly…

Without hesitation, I spring up from my seat and clutch the journal in my hands. I swing my purse over my shoulder, the weight of it against my side, and grab my keys before making my way to the car.

Navigating through the darkness, it feels like an eternity, but eventually I drive into the cleared pathway, grateful for the small victory.

I stumble in the dark through the thick brush, the trees blurring together. A scream threatens to escape my lips.

I recall the run-down cabin, eagerly searching for any signs of proximity. Finally, after pushing through a massive thornbush, my eyes glimpse a glowing light.

Walking over the uneven ground, I keep my gaze downward, relying on the beam of my phone flashlight to illuminate the path until I stumble upon a trail of rocks.

Glancing up, I drop everything on the forest floor, startled by the sight of him leaning against the door.

He’s wearing dark grey jeans and a deep green button-down shirt adorned with vibrant, eccentric flowers.

“Hey, darlin’,” he utters in his gritty voice, sending shivers down my spine.