Bend, Oregon
December 12, present day
Making sure my bag is zipped, I carefully get out of my car. The faster my heart beats, the more my wrist hurts, and seeing Ladonna and Hailey together sends it over 130 per minute. I approach cautiously, noting Hailey’s smile and Ladonna’s—Essie’s—lack thereof.
“Hi, Hailey,” I say as I reach the porch. “And hi, Essie. Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Essie and I have known each other for a few years,” Hailey says. “I was still working at the hospital when they hired her.” She pats Essie’s arm. “She’s the first face hurting patients see when they come to the ED. Always a smile, but she also knows exactly how to triage and get people where they need to go.”
My eyes meet Essie’s. I know full well what she’s capable of. But I’m not supposed to know her at all, so I smile and say, “That was certainly the case last night.”
“I figured you’d be tucked into your bed and resting, Ms. Dora, but I see you’re on your feet today,” says Essie, focusing on my bag. “Busy, busy.”
“It’s just my wrist,” I reply as it throbs. “I can do my job with a cast.”
“And what is your job exactly, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“She’s a copy editor and fact-checker for an online news magazine,” Hailey says. Her proud and hopeful expression makes my chest ache.
“News magazine?” Essie’s eyes go just a bit wider. “Is that what brought you back to Bend after so many years of giving your mom the silent treatment? Because I didn’t realize that Hailey’s daughter named Christy was actually you last night!” Her tone is pleasant enough, but the words make me want to scream.
“Yeah,” I say, staring her down. “Name changes can really be confusing, am I right?”
Her smirk dissolves. “And you’re in town for work?”
“She’s working on a story about the Oracles of Innocence anniversary,” Hailey says. “Almost twenty years. Can you believe it, Essie? Were you in the area at the time?”
“Hadn’t moved down from Portland yet,” Essie says, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Finally on the defensive.
I tilt my head. “Nice of you to stop by, but did you want something in particular?”
“I was on my way to work, but I wanted to see how you were doing,” Essie says. Her hand is in the pocket of her scrubs, fisted. “Just checking in.” Her eyes narrow. “You’re looking a lot more energetic than anyone expected.”
“No rest for the wicked,” I say.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Essie says, glancing at Hailey. “Would you mind if I spoke to Dora privately? I actually had a question about her insurance. You know how strict everyone is these days about confidentiality! I wouldn’t want to get in trouble.”
Hailey waves her off. “No problem at all. But don’t be a stranger, Essie. I’ve missed hearing your laugh. We should get together sometime soon for coffee or lunch.”
“I’d love that,” says Essie, waving as Hailey goes back in the house. As soon as the door shuts, Essie rounds on me, nostrils flared. “What the hell kind of stupid game are you playing?”
I take an instinctive step back, eyeing the windows and wondering if Hailey is watching. “I could ask you the same question. Any chance you’ve been out to visit Marie in the last month or so?”
“I haven’t gone any damn place. I’m trying to live my life and do my job,” she says in a low voice. “And suddenly you show up like a rat that’s been hiding underground for twenty years while the rest of us faced the consequences.”
“You faced consequences because of what you did, Ladonna,” I snap. “And we both know you did a hell of a lot more than you were charged with.”
“And you? I’ve seen reports about what they found after the fire. And now I’m wondering what exactly you had to do with that.”
“Because I’m not conveniently dead?”
“No, because you pretended to be dead for the last two decades. And if you did nothing wrong and had nothing to hide, I wonder why that is.”
“I’m not here to hurt you, Essie,” I tell her. “So stop threatening me.”
She blinks. “Threatening you?”
“The veiled comments in front of my colleague Miles, and now Hailey? Coming to the house?”
“Poor Hailey has no idea who she’s dealing with, does she?”
My watch chirps to inform me of an irregular heart rhythm, and we both flinch.
Essie pulls her hand out of her pocket. Fingers fisted. Like she wants to hit me. “How can you be trying to paint me as the threat here?” She holds out her hand. On her palm sits a meditation stone, blue with red letters. “I found this on my windshield early this morning as I left work,” she says.
I stare at the rock, suddenly dizzy. I can’t tell if she’s playing me or not. The rock that was sitting on this doorstep this morning and is now hidden in my suitcase—the stone I was so sure she left for me—looks almost exactly like the one in her hand. “I didn’t leave that for you,” I say slowly.
“Uh-huh. That’s why it showed up the day after I see you again for the first time in twenty years.” She steps off the porch, shaking her head. “You were always a two-faced snake, you know that?”
I move closer to the door. My good hand shakes as I reach for the knob. “You’ve been threatening me since the moment you recognized me. Don’t come here and suddenly claim you’re the victim.”
“I heard a rumor,” Essie says as she puts the stone back in her pocket. “Arnold Moore—he was found with one of these in his mouth.”
“It’s true,” I tell her. “And I was up in Seattle at the time. But you were here. And I’m wondering if it happened on your night off.”
“Why would I want to hurt him?” she asks.
“You’ve hurt people before, and you didn’t seem to feel a stitch of remorse.” I lower my voice, my gaze darting around to make sure no one’s within earshot. “I know you hit Octavia with the van, and I’ve never believed for a second that she stepped in front of you. You might not have gone to jail for murder, Ladonna, but you deserve to.” And with that, I open the door and head inside, where I go back to my room. The bed has been made, the area rug vacuumed, my suitcase closed with everything tucked inside. I guess the cleaning crew was here… I kneel in front of my case and rummage through it until I find the stone exactly where I hid it. I climb onto the bed and collapse. I’m sick with pain and terror, sick with memories of blood and carnage and fire. I can’t tell if Essie’s just a bystander in all of this or the perpetrator.
Or another target.
But if she is, then I am too. Somehow, someone found us both. And either that person has a sick sense of humor or they’re the killer, and this is the warning.
I have to get out of here. I can’t put Hailey and Martin at risk. I drag myself off the bed and start to pack.
I whirl around when Hailey knocks on the door. “Yeah?”
She pokes her head in. “Can we talk?”
I jolt with a memory. “I forgot to leave the key under the mat for the cleaners.”
“They called me this morning. I gave them a key—I shouldn’t have been just leaving it under the mat anyway. But that’s not what I want to talk about.”
“I’m checking into a hotel, Hailey. I…need to concentrate on my work.”
“I need you to be straight with me,” she says. “And we both know you don’t have the best record on that front.”
“I’m sorry again about the name.”
“I think you know that’s not what I’m talking about.”
My mouth is so dry, even though the rest of me feels like it’s about to melt down. “Have a seat,” I say hoarsely.
She sits on the end of the bed. “Funny you’d come to town to report on the Oracles.”
“It happened here, Hailey. And I didn’t choose the story. Miles did.”
“But you said you didn’t travel for work. Yet you traveled for this. And please don’t claim it was to see me and Martin. I don’t think I could bear you lying about that.”
I slump, realizing what a shitty person I am. “I might not have come here just to see you, but I’m glad I did. You both saved my life, and I’ll always be grateful.”
“Were you one of them?” she blurts out.
“What?”
“I’ve always wondered.” Her eyes are glazed with tears.
“You never let on,” I murmur.
“We cared about you,” she said. “We wanted to protect you.”
Maybe they shouldn’t have. I’ve been so selfish. That rock in my suitcase, so similar to the one found in Arnie’s mouth—it was left on Hailey and Martin’s doorstep, not mine. Whoever did it knows I’m here.
“I need to finish packing,” I whisper, moving to get up.
“You’re not going anywhere,” she says.
I edge off the bed. “I’m in a crap-ton of pain, and I don’t need to be interrogated, okay? I’ll be out of here in a bit.”
Tears slip from her eyes. “Martin told me I shouldn’t ask,” she says quietly. “I don’t mean to chase you away.”
“You’re not,” I say wearily. “I just have so much work to do right now.” I don’t know if this was a real threat or if someone—like Ladonna—is just playing mind games, trying to scare me off while making me believe she’s a victim too. But I can’t put Hailey and Martin in danger. I can’t risk losing them.
With a muffled sob, Hailey leaves the room, and I pull out my phone and make a reservation at the Doubletree. I ignore another text from Noah about meeting later this evening; at least this one includes an inquiry about how I’m feeling, but it’s still annoying. And as I’m zipping the bag, my phone pings with yet another text, this one from Max.
I’m missing some of my notes. Any chance you tucked them in your bag by mistake?
I can’t deal with this right now. I put my phone away, drag my bag down the hallway, and wrestle it out the door. Once in the car, I text Hailey, thanking her for her patience and promising I’ll explain when my work in Bend is done. I owe her a lot more than a shitty electronic goodbye, but it’s all I can manage right now.
I drive to the hotel in a daze, check in, and gratefully accept help getting my bag to my room. I close the door and lock every lock, leaning against it and telling myself I’m safe for the moment. I have the space to think. This is going to be okay.
I trudge down to the ice machine, fill my ice bucket, and use the plastic bag that lines the bucket to create an ice pack for my wrist, holding it right where the searing pain makes it hard to think. I haven’t eaten all day, so I scrounge a protein bar from my suitcase, from the box of twelve I brought with me.
My food for the week. I know I have an issue, and I know why. But right now, I just have to push forward. I text Miles. How’s it going? You coming back tonight?
His response comes after a few minutes. Staying over in La Grande tonight. Meeting with sheriff in the morning. Marie’s husband told me she was found with a rock in her mouth. Still waiting for the rest of the autopsy, but I was right—serial killer. I’m gonna get a Pulitzer for this.
I can barely breathe as I reply, so I have to dictate it more than once. You earned it. Then I toss my phone onto the bed.
Arnie and Marie, killed and burned, left to be found with meditation rocks in their mouths. The same kind that was left for me and Essie.
I didn’t really warn her. I was so convinced she was the one who’d left it for me. As much as I don’t trust her, the anger and fear in her voice when she showed me that rock seemed genuine. And if it wasn’t her, she’s in danger.
For a half second, I consider leaving it alone. I remember her willingness to kill in Darius’s name. I remember how she backed him to the very end. And she’s the one person who can out me now, the one person who knows for sure. Hailey and Miles just suspect, but Essie? Max’s receipts have nothing on her.
But then I realize what a hypocrite I am, telling myself I’ve changed while not considering that maybe she has too. How her friendship with Hailey seemed sincere and how truly rattled she seemed by the rock.
I grab the phone, dial the hospital ED, and ask for Essie Green. When they tell me she’s not in, I ask for a call back and tell them it’s urgent. After I end the call, I take a Vicodin for the pain, brush my teeth, and slide between the sheets. My phone is charging on the nightstand, the ringer turned up to max volume. When Essie calls, I want it to wake me up. I need to warn her. And maybe talk straight with her. Maybe, just maybe, she could be an ally. We weren’t always enemies. We used to be sisters.
On that strangely hopeful note, I drift into a deep, hollow sleep.