Chapter 17

17

Nola

Jonah’s sitting on the front porch when I pull into my driveway. Strange, as Diane usually drops Oliver off to me on nights I don’t drive over myself to pick him up. Typically, the later shifts.

He pushes to his feet, as I make my way toward the front door.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

“Diane picked Oliver up today. He had a black eye.”

“What?” I lurch toward the stairs, but Jonah sets his hand on my shoulder.

“He’s okay. We iced it, and the swelling’s gone down a lot. Diane asked Oliver how he got it. He wrote it down on a piece of paper for her. Claims some kids ganged up on him this afternoon, when he was walking home from his friend’s bus stop.”

“Dammit! I told him not to get off at Brett’s. He knows better than that.”

“Well, I’m guessing he knows a lot better now. Anyway, he wrote that Voss scared them off.”

“Yeah?” Something about that casts a tingle through my body, and I have to tamp it down, or risk my brother seeing it written all over my face. “I mean, that’s good, right?”

“If he’s telling the truth, it sounds like he scared the shit out of the kids.”

“You think … Oliver is lying?”

“I think contrary to what you think, he tries to protect you more than you realize.”

“What are you suggesting Jonah? That Voss gave him the black eye? Kids are shitheads. Wait ‘til you have one.” I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head. “Strike that last comment. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I know you didn’t. And no, I’m not calling Oliver a liar. It’s my nature to investigate. For both of you.”

“Well, I should probably tell you, a few nights back, Harv from my work? He left me a note on my windshield.”

Jonah’s brows dip, and he unravels his crossed arms like I’ve just hit the intrigue button. “What kind of note?”

“The lovely kind that asked me if I’d prefer to be raped, or strangled.”

“And you’re sure it came from Harvey?”

“Pretty sure, yes. He was at the diner the day I found the first note.”

By the narrowing of Jonah’s eyes, I know I’m in trouble for not saying anything. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“Because Harv is an asshole. That’s relatively mild compared to what he’s said to other women, believe me. Anyway, Voss scared him off tonight.”

“Voss was at your work?”

“Yeah.”

“What for?”

I recall the comment he made about not being able to stop thinking about me. “Nothing I care to go into with you, especially when you’re looking at me like that. You don’t have to worry about me, Jonah. I’m an adult.”

“Yeah, except that another woman was found this morning. A hiker stumbled upon her in the woods.”

“I heard that. How’d she die?” While the idea of a woman being found in the woods, dead, is terrifying, with a few women having gone missing lately, how has become a common question.

“She had bruises on her neck, and her carbon dioxide levels were high. Coroner thinks she was strangled to death. There were signs of sexual assault, as well. So you need to be careful. Vigilant. Do you have the note Harvey gave you?”

“No. I tossed it.”

“Don’t toss shit like that. Might be evidence.”

“Please don’t turn me into another crime scene, Jonah.” Harvey Bennington is undoubtedly the biggest prick I’ve ever met, but he doesn’t give me the serial killer, dump-a-body-in-the-woods vibe. Particularly if he’s stumped someone as smart as my brother, because Harv is a tool. A tool who can barely figure out how to run a washing machine, let alone think to scrub a crime scene for evidence, and I refuse to believe anything else. “I’m trying, desperately trying, not to live my life as a victim every day. I’m trying to give people the benefit of doubt and not view every male I come into contact with as a potential murderer. You know what, though? It’s hard. Every day, I’m looking over my shoulder, wondering if the right man is behind bars.”

“You think we were wrong. With Denny’s murderer.”

“No. I want to believe you were absolutely right, because I’ve had enough bullshit in my life. We both have. It’d be nice to lay something to rest for once.”

He stares off, thoughtful, and I don’t have to wonder what he’s thinking about. Our family is cursed by lack of closure, which has sent Jonah into a tailspin with these missing girl cases. They’re too personal for him. “I want to know if this Harvey gets in touch again. If he leaves a note, or tries to contact you, call me immediately.”

I nod, but run my fingers through my hair, anxious about one other thing relating to Harvey. “Can you check on Beth? I mean, she didn’t come to work today. I’m a little nervous.”

“You got an address?”

Rifling through my purse, I tug my phone and text him Dale’s number. “My boss should know it. Just tell him I asked you to check on her. He knows my brother is a cop.”

Lips pressed to a hard line, he pulls me in for a hug. “Just be careful, okay? This Voss could be anything. Clean record, or not, I wouldn’t put too much faith in anyone right now.”

“Fair deal. Thanks for dropping Oli off.”

“See if you can work some early shifts. This guy targets women at night. Party girls, mostly.”

“Well, then, I have nothing to fear. Last I checked they were rich party girls, which means, I’m definitely not the killers soup du jour.”

“Perhaps not. Doesn’t hurt to be careful, though.”

“You’re right. I’d be foolish to assume anything,” I concede.

Offering a pat on my shoulder as he passes, Jonah heads toward his car, and when he drives off, out of view, I glance around one more time at the quiet neighborhood before making my way inside.

Upstairs, I stop at Oliver’s room where the door stands cracked, and peek inside. He’s already in bed. Considering it’s after nine, I’m thankful for that.

I tiptoe across the floor to beside his bed and peel back the blankets covering his face. The streetlamp outside his room offers just enough light to see the black plum around his eye, the sight of which makes me flinch.

Like a slap in the face, I remember this morning, when Oli woke up for school in tears. He didn’t want to tell me what was troubling him, and if I had to guess, he didn’t want to go to school.

It makes me wonder if he’s been silently dealing with the cruelty of others in the last six months. Here I am, so preoccupied with bringing back the past and trying to restore his innocence that I’m failing to see the present.

Through a blur of tears, I stare down at him, brushing his hair behind his ear. I bend forward and kiss his temple, careful to avoid his eye. “I love you,” I whisper, before slinking quietly back through the room.

In the morning, I’ll be sure to have a chat with Oliver’s school counselor about this, and see about a meeting with this kid’s parents, since it happened at the bus stop, but in the meantime, I’m glad Voss was there today.

Wiping my eyes, I pad back down the hall to my bedroom and peer out the window to see Voss’s car isn’t parked in the driveway, and the lights in the apartment are off. Every instinct inside of me says he’s not a bad man, but what if everything I once knew, all the natural inclinations I’ve spent my entire life paying attention to, have suddenly become mis-wired with Denny’s death? What if I no longer recognize the difference between a good and bad man?

Here, I thought Harv was nothing but an annoying asshole with some weird kinks, but what if he’s more than that?

What if he’s a killer who removes the eyeballs of his victims and stuffs the sockets with sand?