Jayne Doe (13 page)

“Jayne—”

“Please?” Her voice drops until it's just above a whisper. “I need to know.”

“I-I did a vaginal exam.” His shoulders slump in shame. Jayne cringes, blocking the image from her mind. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be sorry.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out the yellow box. “I found this today.” She pushes it across the table.

Casey's neck prickles. “Where did you find this?”

“In Johnny's glove box.” She moves to open it.

“No,” he says, raising his hand. “Please don't.” He already knows what's inside.

“But it's here. The broken half.” A tear rolls down her cheek.

Casey swallows. He's seething and his face is so red he looks like he could burst. He’s trying to keep his cool for Jayne's sake, but his emotions are on display. He’s soaking in anger; I’m reveling in it. It feels like retribution.

A gentle hand tugs on my arm. Jillian is out of her seat.

I want to see the pretty dresses.

Not now. I need to hear this.
I think.

Please? I want to see them.

Jayne's confused. Casey pleads with her to go to the police, but she's afraid that they won't believe her.

“I'll file the report for you,” he says, leaning back in his seat. “I want you to go home and pack a suitcase. We need to get you somewhere safe.”

Good idea.
I try to ignore Jillian, but the pressure on my arm is becoming more frantic.

Somebody's here,
she whines.

Who's here?

Somebody.
She shrugs.
I don't know.

I scan every table for a familiar face, but nobody stands out. Casey scoots out his chair, but Jayne remains in hers. She doesn't want to leave at the same time for fear of being seen together.

I want to see the dresses.
Jillian stamps her foot and whines.

I grab her shoulders, hoping she'll settle down.
I'll take you in a minute if you're quiet.
She purses her lips.

“I want you to call me the second you get home,” Casey says, slipping the box of crayons in his pocket. “I'll come and get you right after I'm done. Please don't call Johnny.”

“I won't.” Her voice cracks.

“Promise me? Even if he texts you, ignore it.”

“I promise.” She breathes. I want her to run after Casey, to tell him how stupid it is and that she wants to go away with him now, but she won't. She's too scared of what Johnny might do if he finds out. What he'd do to Casey. To her. To the baby.

I watch Casey stroll through the sliding glass doors and into the parking lot. When I glance back at Jayne, a quiet resolution has set in her face and I know she'll be okay. As long as she has Casey. He'll take care of her and protect her from Johnny, something I can't do. A warm smile crosses my lips. Jayne reaches for her phone. She's going to call Mom and tell her what's going on.

This is my chance to take Jillian to the see the dresses like I promised.

Let's go.
I take her tiny hand in mine.
We have to be quick. I have to come back to check on your
—
on Jayne.
I slip a little, but catch myself. Jillian can't know more than she's supposed to. It's not good for her. It's not good for anyone.

Look.
Jillian squeals and imagines that she's in a long, vintage dress complete with pearls.
Am I pretty?
I hadn't been paying much attention, but her words slice through my core. She sounds so much like her mother.

Yes, you're very pretty.
I stare into her innocent blue eyes.
You're beautiful and I want you to remember that.
I glance back at Jayne. Her phone is smushed against her ear and she's deep in conversation.

I am beautiful.
Jillian shrieks and twirls, making the imagined dress billow out around her. She looks like she's sitting in a giant marshmallow.

Watching her, and the easy happiness she exudes when it's just the two of us and we're not worrying about anything else, makes me wish I could be there when Johnny gets thrown into jail. I want to see the look on his face. I want to hear his voice break when he finds out he has a daughter he'll never meet. When Casey takes Jayne's hand and they start a life together.

A heavy sadness falls onto my shoulders.

I won't be around for any of that. I know this because something in the air is changing; I have to go away soon. I miss Stephen and I know he misses me. I can feel it in my bones. But something is telling me I’m going to be away from him. Forever. I’m going to be alone.

Look. You're getting married.
Jillian holds up an imaginary picture of me in a smooth, straight gown covered in sparkling crystals that catch the sunlight. I stare into the picture knowing that I'll never get the chance to wear such a pretty gown and it makes me feel sad, cheated.

Why are you mad?

I'm not,
I lie.

You can marry, Stephen.
She twirls on her tiptoes like a ballerina and giggles.
You can live with Stephen forever.

Don't say that.
My voice snaps out much harsher than I intended.

You love Stephen.

No, I don't. He's my friend.

You love Stephen. You love Stephen.
She's taunting me and it's pissing me off.

Stop.

Jillian thinks it's so hilarious, I can't stay mad at her for long. She would've annoyed me my whole life if I could be around to watch her grown up. I shake my head, annoyed with myself. But I don't love Stephen. Not like Casey loves Jayne.

Casey loves Jayne.

The words echo through my head. Johnny isn't going to be the one rotting in prison. Casey is. He's angry. Full of hate and it's all directed at Johnny. The real criminal will get away if I don't do something.

A feeling in the pit of my stomach settles like sand in an hourglass. I've wasted enough time. Jillian has been trying to tell me this along.

The gun.

It's in my hand.

I'm already dead.

I'm the best candidate to get rid of Johnny.

This is something I have to do unless I want Jayne to be alone. The thought of killing someone repulses me, and in a funny way, it's also comforting. I know I'm not as screwed up as Johnny, but I want him to die.

I look back at Jayne and see her hustling out of the mall. I have to go with her. And I have to say goodbye to Jillian. I need her to understand that this is the last time she'll ever see me.

Jillian.
I kneel down so that her eyes meet mine.
I need you to listen, okay?
She stops bouncing and fanning out the skirt of her dress, making the items disappear until she's standing there in her regular clothes. Like she's preparing for what I'm about to say.
I love you so much. Nobody can love you as much as I do.
My eyes become cloudy with the tears that won't fall.

What about Mommy?

Mommy loves you too.

But not as much as you?

No, Jillian.
I smile at her and clasp her tiny hand.
She loves you just as much as I do.
I suck in a deep breath like my lungs need it, trying with all my strength to hold back the bitterness in what I'm about to say.
I need you to do something for me. I need you to go back to Stephen until it's time. Do you understand?

Yes. I think so.
She pouts and stares down at the floor, her lower lip quivering.
You're going to do a bad thing.

Yes. I'm going to do a very bad thing.
Somehow, saying it this way makes it easier than telling her I'm about to kill her father.

I won't get to see you again. Not ever.
Great big alligator tears roll down her cheeks and for a moment I wonder why crying is actually possible for people like me.
You have to do a bad thing because you love me. And you love Mommy.

She doesn't blame me for this, and she doesn't blame herself, which makes me happy. This is my choice. I pull her close to me and wrap my arms around her the same way Jayne used to hug me. I've made my choice and it's time for me to let her go.
Goodbye, Stephen,
I whisper to the ceiling.

Jillian, I need you to go now.

She wriggles away from me.
What's your name?
Her head cocks to the side and I realize that, as much time as I've spent with her, she doesn't know anything about me.

It's Jill. Kind of like yours.
I smile at the sweet distraction.

I love you, Jill kind-of-like-mine.
She throws her arms around my neck and burrows into me.
I love you so much.
The moment the words leave her mouth, she's gone and I'm left standing under the hum of florescent lights in a store full of strangers and sparkling dresses.

Nothing—absolutely nothing—has ever hurt this much.

Sixteen

Where is Jayne?

The empty parking space makes me nervous. Something is wrong.

Seriously wrong.

I can't feel Jayne.

Broken bits of cell phone scatter across the pavement and crunch under my feet. The familiar shade of pink makes my heart stop.
Jayne's cell.

I concentrate on the last place she may have been. I look down at the scattered pieces again. Right here. She was standing here and now she's gone. The pounding of my heart swims in my ears, drowning out all other sounds until I'm hearing the world like I'm inside a fish bowl.

Where is her truck?

I'm not sure how much time has passed since Jillian left me in the dress store. I look out over the horizon and into the afternoon sun. It couldn't have been long.

Casey.

I focus on where he is. He's heading to the police station. I warp myself into his car. The familiar smell of Juicy Fruit reminds me of the last time I sat in the backseat with Jillian.

“Casey, where's Jayne?” I speak to him directly, trying not to break my concentration. I'm still searching for her. He's too busy reciting what he's about to say to the police officer. Jayne is the last thing on his mind. He's worried that they won't believe him. He thinks they'll blame him for my death. He has the evidence and he doesn't know how to explain it. I glance at his coat pocket. The box of crayons is in there next to the Ziploc bag. That's why the Payless box was so important to Jayne. But I don't know how Casey got the baggy back from her.

We pull into the police station. I've never been here before, but the cruisers in the lot tell me we're here. Casey accidentally pulls into the back lot. He isn't familiar with this place either.

I follow Casey as he rushes to thick metal doors, tugging on the handle. It's locked. He runs around to the front of the building and a man in uniform greets him. He scans Casey with a metal-detecting wand to see if he has a gun.

“How can I help you?” His voice is soothing and he's relaxed now that he knows Casey isn't armed.

“I need to report a crime.”

The man points to a woman behind a glass window. “She’s the one you need.”

After speaking with the woman at the front desk, Casey's ushered into a small room so that he can talk to an officer. I follow him in. A large man with a five-o'clock shadow and heavy mustache gestures to him to sit down. Something about the man sets off an alarm in my head.

“What can I do for you?” His voice is gruff, curt.

“I need to report a crime,” Casey says, timidly taking the offered seat.

“Fill out this paper.” The man slides a piece of white paper across the table to Casey with his pointer finger. He hasn't once looked away from his computer screen since we stepped into this small office.

“I-I thought I could talk to someone.” Casey pulls out the Ziploc bag with the broken tip of the purple crayon. “I found this in a girl.”

The man looks up. My stomach roils. My body tells me that I know him, but my mind hasn't caught up. I can't place a name to his face.

“You say you found this
in
a girl? Where exactly did you find it?”

“I'm a mortician,” Casey replies, hoping that it will explain what he's about to say.

“Okay,” the officer says, growing suspicious.

“I was preparing a young girl for her funeral and found this in her vaginal cavity.”

The man looks to his computer screen again. He's annoyed that Casey's wasting his time. “How long ago?” He's bored.

“About a week and half.” Casey is as confused as I am. Why doesn't the officer seem to care?

“What's the decedent’s name?” He's typing notes.

“Jill—”

“Is she from the trailer park?” the officer asks.

“Yes, sir.” This doesn't have anything to do with what Casey's saying.

“My nephew is dating her older sister.” The officer smiles. “Jayne, I think.”

Casey lifts his brow, the weight of the situation settling on his chest. I look back at the officer. His strong jawline. That chiseled face. I know who he is. It hits me like a punch in the back of the head.

This is the guy from Johnny's hell.

Except he isn't dead.

Those were Johnny's thoughts. His hell. His prison. His nightmare.

“
Get out of here.” I yell at Casey and try tugging on his arm, but my fingers slip through his skin

Casey looks over toward me like he can hear me. I try again.

“Get out.”

He stands.

“Are you okay?” the officer asks. The dark circles around his eyes deepen; I hadn't noticed them before. “I'm going to file this with our evidence division.”

“Yes, sir. I'll fill out this paper and bring it back.”

“My cell number is on this card,” the officer says, handing Casey a business card. “Please don't share that with your friends.” He grins like he's cracking a joke. “I've got enough on my hands. I don't need to deal with pranksters.”

Casey shuffles toward the door. “No, sir. Of course.” He turns and rushes out of the building as fast as he can without raising suspicion. Once we're outside, he grabs his cell and taps in Jayne's number. The busy signal feels like death. He doesn't know that her phone was crushed in the parking lot.