18

Rachel nearly lost her balance as she crutched across the auditorium toward where Lynn, Alex, and Ann stood chatting. Lynn put out a hand as Rachel approached. “What’s wrong?” she asked, eyes flicking between Rachel’s approaching form and Matt’s distant one. “What happened?”

“It’s not him,” Rachel said, panting slightly. She came in hot and nearly clipped Ann and Alex in the legs with her crutches as she misjudged the distance of her last hop. Lynn steadied her as she wobbled.

“Rachel,” Lynn said, “Calm down and start at the beginning.”

~*~

Ann was hungry, and since no one seemed to be in any immediate danger, she and Alex convinced Lynn and Rachel that they could just as easily discuss the matter over fried breakfast foods and hot cups of coffee at Stu’s. Once the eggs had been mostly consumed, and with Ethan distracted by a game on his dad’s phone, the four adults got down to the serious business of hashing out the details.

“So the gifts aren’t from Matt after all,” Ann said, putting up her eyebrows.

Rachel began shredding her napkin into strips. “No. They’re not.”

“So, maybe you have something to say to Lynn and me…” Ann prompted.

Rachel stared across the table blankly. “Like what?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Ann pretended to think. “Maybe something like, ‘I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you guys last time when you tried to tell me they might not be from Matt.’ Something like that. How you word it is up to you.”

Rachel sighed. “Will you take this seriously, please?”

Ann’s eyes narrowed. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Ladies, please,” Alex interrupted.

“We can talk about that later,” Rachel said, waving her hand toward Ann. “What I’m really worried about now is, well…you know.”

“Say it,” Ann said flatly.

“I don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’ll sound stupid.”

“That’s because it is stupid. The Memento Killer is not stalking you.”

“But what if he is, though?”

Lynn put up a hand. “Rachel, think about it. The FBI says that the Memento Killer’s gifts are highly personal.”

“He got me a copy of Jane Eyre!”

“And red roses,” Ann pointed out. “One of the most generic gifts of all time. You don’t have any particular love for red roses, do you?”

Rachel crossed her arms. “Every woman loves red roses.”

“Exactly. So…not personal,” said Ann. “I like daisies, and Lynn likes potted violets.”

“That’s because you’re both weird. And I guess that means when you guys start getting anonymous daisies and potted violets in the mail, we’ll all start to worry.”

“You like potted violets?” Alex said, turning startled eyes on his wife.

“Yeah, Dad,” Ethan said, totally bored. “Everyone knows.”

“You’re being irrational,” Ann said to Rachel, undeterred. “And also a moron.”

“Ladies,” Alex said, covering Ethan’s ears. “Little pitchers have big ears.”

“Mom calls you a moron all the time,” Ethan said.

Alex removed his hands from his son’s head and shot Lynn a pained look.

“I love you dear.” Lynn patted his hand. “Even though you have never once bought me potted violets.”

“Focus,” Rachel said.

Lynn poured herself more coffee. “Rachel. I understand your cause for concern. But honestly, I still don’t think it’s time to panic just yet.”

“And what would you suggest I do?”

“Well, first of all, the Memento gives four gifts, right?”

“You know he does.”

“Well, then I guess you still have some time to weigh other alternatives.”

“Such as?”

“You know what we think,” Ann said.

“I already told you, Lee isn’t giving me presents.”

“If you say so.” Ann slurped the last of her orange juice.

Alex looked thoughtful. “I know how much you guys like to give Rachel a hard time for overreacting all the time—”

“I don’t overreact all the time—”

Ann gave a false cough. Rachel shot her a venomous look but didn’t rise to the bait. She quirked her eyebrows at Alex in a signal that he should continue.

Alex cleared his throat. “As I was saying. Let’s not forget that there actually is a killer out there targeting women in her specific demographic and that he does, in fact, give anonymous gifts before killing.”

Silence settled around the table.

He reached out and picked up the check, waving aside all offers to chip in. He looked Rachel in the eye. “I’m not saying that you should hit the panic button just yet,” he said, “but in all seriousness—and I mean this for the three of you—you really should be careful.”