Inevitable (10 page)

I screamed and jumped to my feet, pressing my hands to my heart.

“Jayne?” Aaron was at my side in an instant, one hand on my elbow and the other on my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

I gasped and shook my head, tears streaming down my face. I lowered my eyes, aware of people in the restaurant staring at me.

Aaron’s hand reached for mine, and I jerked away. “Jayne, I’m sorry. Listen, I’ll make it up to you.”

“No.” I pushed him away, my legs trembling. “You should’ve told me you had a girlfriend. Just go away.” I turned and fled out of JT’s.

My mood progressively worsened on my drive home. How could I even warn Aaron about this one? “Don’t marry her! She’ll kill you!” He’d think I was just jealous.

I let out a sob and pounded the steering wheel. Why? Why Aaron? How could I convince him to be with me instead? I yearned to be able to change what I’d seen. I threw myself from the car, stumbling toward the house. Tears fell down my cheeks, and I swiped at them with one hand while opening the front door with the other.

I almost didn’t see the woman watching me from under the streetlight. My lip twisted and I glared at her. Then I slammed the front door shut and ran up the stairs, plowing straight into my room and onto the bed. Leaning across it, I fumbled for my sweet pea candle and the matches. The fragrant aroma reached my senses, flooding out the earlier feelings of despair.

I closed my eyes and lay back on my bed, letting my mind give in to the nothingness.

My eyes snapped open when my phone began to ring loudly on the dresser. How long had I been lying here? It felt like only a few minutes, but outside it was dark. I glanced at my watch, confirming that it had been nearly half an hour.

The phone stopped for a moment and then started again, the display flashing. I grabbed it up and groaned. JT’s Bagels. I gritted my teeth and answered. “Hello?”

“Jayne? This is Tom.”

My manager. I pinched my nose. This was it. I was about to get fired. “Hi, Tom.”

“Jayne, what happened? You just took off without saying a word. Where are you?”

“I’m at home. I, uh...” I let out a shaky sigh. “I all of the sudden got really sick. I couldn’t think straight, I just had to go.”

Silence on the other end. I wondered what Tom was thinking. Would he give me a second chance? Did I even want a second chance?

“Jayne, you can’t leave without telling anyone. Take the evening off, be here tomorrow for your shift. People get sick, but if you ever take off like that again

” Tom paused and then sighed. “I’ll have to let you go.”

I could hardly believe it. JT’s must be more desperate for workers than I’d realized. “Um, okay. Thanks, Tom. I won’t let it happen again.”

I collapsed on my back, trying to decide if I was better or worse off than before. I pounded my pillow in frustration.

The murders. I sat up, suddenly glad for something to focus on besides Aaron. I took the steps two at a time to the downstairs den, where the family computer sat at a desk. My parents told me I could have my own laptop—when I went to college. If I wanted one before then, I had to buy it. Fat chance of that happening, considering I never kept a job.

Beth sat at the card table, headphones on while she worked on her homework. I took a deep breath and looked away. I couldn’t stand to See someone else today.
Don’t think about her. Think about the serial killer.

Even I thought it was a weird thing to comfort myself with.

I pulled up a search engine and typed in, “Lacey Township serial killer.” Several different hits popped up, some from several years ago, others taking place in other parts of New Jersey or even New York. I ignored those and clicked on the one connected to the local paper. A message popped up.

“Please enter your name and phone number to confirm your subscription to the Lacey-Barnegat Times.”

We didn’t have a subscription. Heaving a sigh, I ran upstairs to get my check card. I didn’t have a lot of money in my checking account, but it would cover a newspaper subscription. I filled out the required information, lied about my age, and started my subscription. It wasn’t too bad, since I only wanted the e-version.

Then I read each article slowly, absorbing the information.

The first murder came as a shock to the community. Twenty-three year old college student Claire Eastman was found in an alley behind a dance club. She had been sexually assaulted before he slit her throat and threw her in the dumpster, where the body was discovered the next morning. Her black leather purse, which hadn’t been touched, quickly identified her. The article included a smiling photograph of a brunette in a tank top.

I thought I was going to puke. I put my head in my hands. Just like Hannah, Claire had been at the prime of her life. So much in front of her. And then to have it taken from her in such an ugly, cruel way...I could only hope that she had also been numb to those last moments, as Hannah had.

Shaking it off, I flipped open my notebook and started a new list.

Name: Claire Eastmon

Age: 23

Occupation: student

Hair color: brown

Eyes: brown

I studied my list. I needed more. Like where Claire lived, where she worked. Did something about her make her a target? Or was he choosing girls on a whim?

Finding her address was easy. She lived over by Tom’s River, about ten miles from my own house. She worked as a waitress at the Lobster Shanty, a rather expensive seafood restaurant with the best crispy spinach I’d ever eaten.

I tapped my pencil on the desk. There had to be more. More about Claire’s life. I wasn’t likely to find it here, though. If I were a real journalist, I’d get in my car and drive out there, interview her family and friends. But I wasn’t, and I quickly dismissed the idea. I’d have to find the information another way.

Next one.

Name: Emily Gardner

Age: 17

Occupation: student/cheerleader

Hair color: brown

Eyes: brown

Neighborhood: Crestwood Village

Place of death: Pine Barrens

So far all the girls had brown hair and brown eyes.

I searched my memory. Did Hannah? I was pretty sure she did. Maybe that was the link. I stuck my thumb in my mouth and nibbled on the nail, scanning the next few articles until I found the headliner about the third murder.

Name: Melanie Swift

Age: 19

Occupation: hair stylist

Hair color: blond

Eyes: blue

Neighborhood: Waretown

So much for that theory.

Number three was the last one. There were no more murders. I exhaled. Hannah was still alive, then, somewhere.

I put my pencil down and studied my notes. I was familiar with all of these towns; they were close by. I knew the police were doing the exact same thing, and probably with more information. But I knew something they didn’t: I knew who one of the future victims was. I needed to at least find Hannah’s last name. How? I winced when I bit off too much nail and shoved my hand under the chair.

“I’m going to bed,” Beth said, standing and stretching. “Night, Jayne.”

“Night,” I murmured. I had the sudden urge to warn Beth, to tell her to be careful. The desire to meet her eyes and know for a certainty how she would die almost overwhelmed me. But I couldn’t. What if it
was
the serial killer? To know, to warn her, and then still have her die, would absolutely destroy me. “You know there’s a serial killer out there, right?”

“Oh?” She glanced toward me, but I stared at the computer screen. “I think I heard something about it.”

“Be careful,” I murmured. “Stay in groups when you’re out.”

“Sure. Of course.” She waited a moment, and, when I said nothing more, stepped out of the den. I heard her footsteps ascending the staircase.

I shut the computer down and gathered my papers. I’d sleep on this. Maybe something would be clearer tomorrow.

CHAPTER NINE

“A
pril showers bring May flowers,” I murmured as I parked my car at school. I preferred the sunshine, personally. I flipped down the visor and narrowed my eyes at the frizzy strands of hair framing my heart-shaped face. I had tried to get my hair into a ponytail, but the rain made a rebel of it.

I jumped out of the car and hurried into the front entrance. Kids stood  in groups inside, water dripping into small puddles at their feet. I shivered in the manufactured air of the A/C and headed for my locker.

The black Doc Marten’s standing next to my locker caught my attention as soon as I got to the top of the staircase. I lifted my eyes and caught sight of the back of Aaron’s head as he talked to Dana. I took a deep breath, inhaling the lemon-free air. I knew all there was to know.

Dana met my eyes over his shoulder. I marched up and took her by the elbow, pulling her down the hall to her own locker.

“What’s going on?” she murmured, swinging the metal door open and grabbing a book. She glanced behind us. “You avoiding him?”

“Yeah.” I patted the strands of hair around my face, trying to coax them down. “We kind of had a disagreement.”

Her eyes raked over me, begging for details. “Bad?”

“Yes.” My mouth twitched. I concentrated on keeping my features placid. “Let’s just say, he’s no longer an option.”

Dana’s eyes went over my shoulder again. “Does he know it?”

I was so tempted to turn around. I knew Aaron was there at my locker, watching us. “I told him. He has to accept it.”

We started down the stairs. I made a plan to come back to my locker before the tardy bell and get my books.

Dana hooked her arm through mine. “You have to tell me everything.”

I shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. He’s not over his ex-girlfriend, actually. She’s coming into town this weekend and he canceled our date to be with her.”
And he’s going to marry her,
I added to myself.

Dana gave a low whistle. “Yikes. That is low. Good for you for sticking to your guns.” She squeezed my arm. “Are you okay?”

I nodded, feeling my eyes tear up a bit at the question. Sensitivity was my middle name lately. “I feel like a stupid idiot, that’s all. At least I found out before I got too involved.”

“Yeah. Come over to my house tomorrow. We’ll go out. I’ll find you a dream guy.”

I let out a weak laugh. “Thanks, but I’m working. All day.” Dana and I had different dreams. I didn’t want one of her guys.

“Your loss, babe.” She kissed me loudly on the cheek and pushed off of my arm. “See ya in math!”

The warning bell rang and the halls filled with students, all in a mad rush to get to their first class. I fought the crowds back up to my locker. The halls emptied quickly, and Aaron was nowhere to be seen. I felt a twinge of disappointment.

You don’t like him anymore
, I chastised myself. I grabbed my books for the next two classes and trotted to Spanish.

I couldn’t help but remember last night’s research while I listened to Mr. Livingston talk about the past perfect progressive conjugation, or something like that. I glanced at my classmate, Troy Mason, who was text
ing away on his iPhone, like he did in every class.

“Troy,” I whispered, learning over.

He looked up at me, surprise flickering in his gray eyes. “What’s up, Jayne?”

I kept my grimace to myself. Troy was friends with Stephen, and though he was cordial, I hadn’t spoken to him since Stephen and I broke up. I suspected Troy had something to do with the Jessica element. “Can you look up news on that thing?”

“Sure.” He moved his hand over it as quickly as if he were waving a wand. The exact dynamics of the movement were lost to me. “What do you want to look up?”

Out of my peripheral vision I saw Mr. Livingston glance my direction. But he didn’t say anything, and I knew he wouldn’t. There was a fine line between students and teachers as far as friendship went, and I felt pretty secure knowing he’d let me get away with almost anything. I couldn’t push it, though. “Look up that serial killer. See if there are any new murders.”