It was barely eight o’clock in the morning, but Whole Spring’s lobby was already full of patients. I signed in at the front desk and asked to speak with Aaron. The bartender hadn’t given me his last name, so my fingers were crossed there wasn’t more than one Aaron employed here.
I’d stopped by the Manger’s office this morning and paid him a hundred dollars. I’d expected him to ask questions—about Valerie, or how long I planned to stay—but he’d swiped the money and that was it.
The lady working the counter at Whole Spring was behind a Plexiglass wall, and I couldn’t help feeling like a criminal as she wearily instructed me to take a seat. “I’ll let him know you’re here,” she said.
A man wearing glasses and too-high suspenders sat beside me. His lips were moving, some silent dialogue only he could hear.
After thirty minutes, I was starting to wonder if this was a mistake … but then a wooden door in the wall swung open and a guy with spiky brown hair and fashionably ripped jeans called my name.
“Do we have an appointment today?” He didn’t look suspicious of me, just curious.
“No, but I was hoping you could help me,” I said, tucking my hands in my pockets. My clothes were rank; I hadn’t changed them in a couple days.
“I’m looking for a friend of mine and I think you know her. Valerie from Rook Pharmaceuticals,” I said, quietly. I could feel people watching us in the lobby. I shifted from foot to foot, hoping for a more private place to ask him questions.
“Ah, okay. Why don’t you follow me?” Aaron said. I did just that, zigzagging through windy corridors filled with doors, some open and some closed. I could hear quiet voices behind them, people talking in their therapy sessions. I tried to imagine the secrets that were shared between these featureless walls …
“This is me,” Aaron said, pointing to a small eight-by-eight room with no windows inside it. There was a desk and two soft leather chairs, but the office was cramped and devoid of artwork. I did notice a neatly framed diploma on the wall behind Aaron’s desk—Aaron Andes, L.C.S.W.
Aaron took a seat behind the desk and I plopped into one of the chairs, adjusting my hair around my face even though it did very little to hide my scars.
Lincoln’s words came floating back to me … Did he really say I was beautiful? I definitely don’t feel beautiful …
Aaron examined my face, his expression kind but thoughtful.
“Do you know Valerie Hutchens?” I asked, getting straight to the point.
“I do.” He folded his hands on the desk in front of him, then steepled his fingers—I wonder if he practiced this therapy stance in grad school.
I waited for him to elaborate, to tell me how he knew her, but the silence continued.
“I talked to the bartender at Cavern last night … he said Valerie was meeting with you and some other people that work here. Maybe trying to sell some new samples from Rook, I presume? You see, the problem is … she asked me to come here and now I can’t find her.”
Aaron didn’t react the way I’d expected him to. He got up, closed the door to his office, then sat back down. His expression was strangely neutral.
Finally, he said, “I’ve known Valerie for years, ever since she got in the industry. We are acquaintances, I guess you could say. I’d call us friends. She talked a lot about her aunt and mentioned a few friends back in Wisconsin … but I don’t think I know you. What did you say your name was again?”
There’s the suspicion I was waiting for.
“Camilla,” I said, conveniently leaving out my last name in case he decided to look me up and discovered my recent ash-stealing scandal. “Valerie and I went to middle and high school together. Truth is, I’m worried about her. I was hoping you might know where she went … you said you know her, right? Do you know how to get in contact with her besides social media? She stopped responding to my messages …”
Aaron shook his head. “I don’t. I used to have her number, but I don’t think I do anymore. To be honest, I’m a little worried about her too.”
A rush of relief washed over me. Finally, someone else is concerned. Not just me.
He continued: “Valerie posts constantly on social media … I’m not sure if you follow her …?”
I nodded, probably a little too enthusiastically.
“She hasn’t posted anything since she quit. I’m just hoping she’s in a good headspace and didn’t do anything too hasty.”
I raised my eyebrows. “I do follow her accounts, and that’s exactly why I’m worried. It’s like she fell off the face of the earth. But what do you mean by ‘quit’?”
Aaron raised his eyebrows, his first real noticeable emotion. “Oh. Well, she was quitting the industry. Said she didn’t like pushing pills anymore. She put in her notice last week.”
Now it was my turn to look surprised. “Really? That’s odd, considering she was just talking about going to New Orleans on business …”
“Right.” Aaron steepled his fingers again, his eyes boring into mine so intensely that I felt like I was being examined by an X-ray machine. It’s a good thing you can’t see inside my soul, Aaron. It’s dark as shit in here.
“She met with you and your colleagues on business. Why would she do that if she was quitting her job at Rook?” I kept pushing.
Aaron nodded. “Well, initially, we assumed it was business. We all love Valerie. She lights up the entire office when she walks inside it. I hadn’t seen her come through Paducah in nearly a year, so I was eager to meet with her. We all were. But she dropped a bombshell on us … told us that she was leaving the biz and wanted to say goodbye.”
He’s lying. My mind floated back to that post on Instagram. #allworknoplay #hustling.
But why is he lying to me? That’s the real question …
“It’s just hard for me to believe.”
Aaron’s face turned serious again. “How do you know Valerie? You told me your name and that you went to school with her, but not how you’re connected to her now … Do you work in the pharmaceutical industry?”
I cleared my throat. “No, I don’t. We’re just friends. I’m concerned, that’s all …”
“I see. Well, Valerie didn’t like the job, but that’s not the only reason she was quitting … She had a stalker. Someone was following her.”
“I know!” I said, a little too loudly. Excited to have someone who agreed with me on something, I dug my phone out of my pocket and held up the photo of the man at the concert. “Do you recognize this man? I’ve seen him in the background of a few of her photos. He might be the one …”
Aaron stared at the picture, his jaw flexing for a split second. “I don’t know him. I really only knew Valerie professionally. But I was worried when she mentioned the stalker.”
I flipped my phone shut. “Here’s the thing … I haven’t seen Valerie in years. I know it seems odd, but we’re friends online and I don’t know how to reach her …”
“You’re not her stalker, are you?” Aaron smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He is serious.
I could feel my face growing warmer, probably turning the shade of a Fuji apple …
“Certainly not,” I breathed.
“Well, I don’t know where she went, and I haven’t talked to her. I told you all that I know. If she’s your friend, why don’t you have her number?”
He was back in his therapist’s stance. His eyes traveled the road map of scars on my face, then down to the frayed edges of my sweatshirt. I fought the urge to do a breath-check—can he smell the alcohol on me?
“Well, we mostly just chat online, that’s why,” I said, voice barely above a whisper.
He really thinks I might be the stalker, I realized, in horror.
“Well, thanks for your help, Aaron. I appreciate you talking to me.”
Moments later, he was leading me back down the hall. Suddenly, it felt narrower, with less air to breathe. I was so embarrassed that I had to get out of there fast.
“Thanks,” I mumbled for the second time, parting ways with him in the lobby. I nodded at the man in the suspenders. He was still talking to himself, and when I nodded, he shot me a jolted, paranoid look, like I was a Russian spy giving out some sort of signal.
I need to get the hell out of this place, now!
Outside, snowflakes were falling again, like little diamond flecks in the sky. I stuck my tongue out as I walked back to the truck, feeling childish, and still reeling from Aaron’s suggestion that I was the stalker.
So, Valerie quit her job. Maybe she left and gave up her social media because of it. Maybe she went off the grid for her own safety. But where is she now?
I imagined the lonely drive back to Wisconsin … and the hellish consequences lying in wait for me when I got there.
I stuck my key in the ignition and turned it. Nothing happened.
Again, and again, I tried to start the truck.
“Dammit.”
I climbed back out, icy-cold wind blasting me in the face, my hair flying around wildly and getting stuck in the corners of my mouth.
The library was only two blocks away. If I could get there, I could find Lincoln and contact a tow truck.
***
Lincoln’s eyes widened in surprise when I strolled up to the counter.
“Truck’s dead,” I said, teeth chattering uncontrollably from the cold.
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. I can give you a lift when I get off …?”
“Not necessary. I’m going to have to get it towed to the closest mechanic, I guess.”
Lincoln shook his head. “Don’t do that. I’m good with my hands. I might be able to fix it and save you some money.” I looked at his smooth, white hands as they softly glided library slips full of patrons’ names into the back of the library books. I couldn’t imagine those hands working on cars, but I also couldn’t imagine them holding a gun or fighting a war …
“Okay. But I still need to get online if that’s okay … What time do you get off?”
“Three. Grab any open computer you want.”
They were all open, so I chose the one up against the farthest wall in the children’s book section. My stomach grumbled noisily as I pulled up Valerie’s pages to check for updates. I need food and a good night’s sleep, but not as much as I need to find out where Valerie is …
Maybe she’s fine … maybe this whole trip was pointless. Hell, maybe I made this trip just as an excuse to get away from Oshkosh …
My hands shook as I realized there was a new message from Valerie in my inbox.
There were no words, just a picture. Majestic mountains dotted with lush green, red, and orange vegetation filled the screen. A blanket of fog hovered above the ridges, so smoky it blocked out the sky.
What the hell?
I’d never been to Tennessee, but I had no doubt—these were the Smoky Mountains.
Where are you? I’m looking for you in Paducah, I messaged.
I didn’t expect a response from her, but moments later, she’d written back.
I’m sorry, I’m in Gatlinburg now.
Gatlinburg? Was Valerie messing with me? Now there was only one thing left to do: go home.
Disappointed, I wrote back: Have fun.
What else could I say?
It was time to go home and face the music.
Beg Chris’s mom to drop the charges so I won’t go to jail.
The thought of begging Bonnie Brown for anything made my stomach curl in disgust.
“Judy’s going to take over. I can drive you to your truck now.” I startled in my seat as I realized Lincoln was standing behind me. I closed out Valerie’s page and smiled awkwardly up at him.
“Okay, great. I’m ready to go.”
Side by side, we walked out of the library. I was overcome with melancholy, and regret. Why did I steal the ashes in the first place? And why did I come here, searching for a girl who barely knows I’m alive? How could I be this fucking stupid? This fucking impulsive …
“Hey.” Lincoln nudged me. “Where’d you go? You look like you’re a million miles away.”
I shrugged, letting him open the door of his Jeep for me. The powdery white flakes were gone, replaced by warm sunshine that had no place in my life. I want the storms to return … that would be more fitting for my black mood.
“Just a lot on my mind,” I said, climbing in and securing my seatbelt. We rode in silence, back to my truck. When we got there, I stood outside, shivering, while Lincoln bent over the hood.
He looked good, in corduroy pants and a soft, black sweater. I watched the material of his shirt slide up, revealing two dimples on his lower back.
“I think it needs a new transmission.” He stood up and grimaced, then wiped his palms on the sides of his pants.
“Fuck.” I pressed my forehead against the driver’s-side window of the truck, wishing I’d never come here in the first place.
***
It took hours for the tow truck to show up, but I was thankful to have Lincoln waiting with me. While we waited, I filled him in on my meeting with Aaron, and Valerie’s message that she was in Gatlinburg.
“I wish she’d told you she was okay and saved you the trip. Why would she ask you to come, then leave? That’s pretty shady,” Lincoln said, gnawing on his nail beds. His hands were so clean, his fingernails shaped like perfect half-moons. I thought about Chris, the way he used to chew his nails down to the nubs and it annoyed the shit out of me … Oh what I wouldn’t give to watch him do that now.
“Truth is, I haven’t seen Valerie in over a decade.”
“Come again?” Lincoln said, snorting with laughter. I couldn’t help it; his laugh was infectious, and I felt myself giggling, too. It is so ridiculous, when I hear myself say it out loud.
“It’s silly, I know. I haven’t seen her since high school. But here I am … tracking down a stranger from the internet simply because she said she needed my help.”
Lincoln considered that, tilting his head left to right in thought. “You know … it’s pretty sweet, actually. Nowadays, people are so absorbed in their own lives. It’s kind of refreshing, really. I would kill for a friend like that.”
“You would?” I laughed again, but his face was serious.
“I would. She’s lucky to have you as a friend, even if she doesn’t know it, Camilla.”
“Thank you.” I felt a jittery feeling in my stomach and a warmness in my chest. Acceptance, this must be what it feels like.
Talking came easily with Lincoln. He talked a bit about his time in the service. He’d joined the army because he didn’t want to go to college after high school. “I didn’t realize what I’d gotten myself into,” he admitted.
“And how did you become a librarian? Soldier to librarian, it just doesn’t seem very … I don’t know, normal?”
He choked with laughter. “I didn’t know what I wanted to study. The army paid for my undergrad degree, but nothing appealed to me … The one thing I always loved was books. And I can’t write for shit. So, what else was there? I just wanted to do something that put me close to books, if that makes sense …”
“It does,” I said, a pang in my chest as I thought about my own writing, abandoned years ago …
“Most of my friends went into the police force when they got back. They tried to pressure me into joining the academy, but I would have made a terrible cop. It helps, though, having cops as friends, I guess.”
“You’d be good at anything you did. You’re a man who laughs like a girl and opens car doors like an old man and loves books like a saint … where the hell did you come from, Lincoln Smalls?”
For a moment, as he laughed and teased me back, I felt guilty again. I’m flirting … how and why am I flirting with this man?
Lincoln’s phone chimed on the table between us, the moment gone. “That’s the library,” he said, shaking his head. “I have to go help Judy find a missing book.”
“Good luck with that. Do you mind dropping me back off at the motel first?”
“Sure thing,” Lincoln said.
My feelings were all over the place on the way to The Rest EZ. Ashamed about my misguided hunt for Valerie, confused by my attraction to Lincoln, anxious about what awaited me at home …
I was relieved to get back inside the motel and pop my last few remaining pills.
My head instantly hazy, I flipped the TV on and climbed into bed. I might just have to pay the “manger” for a few more days … anything to escape going home just yet, I considered. I had no idea how long it would take to fix the truck, but I hoped not very long. What if it’s a major problem and it can’t be fixed at all? I lamented.
I stared at the local Paducah news station, my head buzzy and warm. A “breaking news” report came scrolling across the bottom of the screen.
“Everything is breaking news these days,” I groaned, grabbing for the remote. I turned the TV back off, then rolled onto my side. My gaze was immediately drawn to the window. The glare from my bedside lamp cast a reflection on the window; I couldn’t see outside, only my own image lying in bed echoing back at me.
I turned onto my other side, staring at the sad, empty desk along the wall.
What are you running from, Valerie? Why would you give up your job and go somewhere like Gatlinburg, Tennessee? I hadn’t been to Gatlinburg before, but I had this idea in my head of what it looked like—Christmas-y decorations all year round and cheesy, overpriced tourist attractions, Dollywood …
As I stared at the desk, imagining Valerie perched in the clunky chair that went with it, I was hit with a prickling sensation. As though I were being watched …
I couldn’t shake off the unnerving feeling of isolation here in Paducah—my sister was hundreds of miles away, my truck was in a shop across town … if someone wanted to get me, now would be the perfect time to do it.
I pinched my eyes shut, fighting off the urge to call or text Lincoln. I don’t know him; he doesn’t know me. It’s stupid to trust him. And it’s stupid of him to trust me …
But there was something between us—a spark—I’d felt it that first day, and I’d felt it again today. Still … I didn’t know him very well. It was silly to call him because I was scared.
I tossed and turned for an hour, finally turning on the TV set again just for noise. In this dumpy motel, I was surprised that they’d invested in smart TVs, but then again, I wasn’t. We can’t survive without our entertainment, can we?
I turned on Netflix, straining to recall my username and password that I used at home. It had been so long since I’d watched anything. But when the black-and-red screen loaded, I was surprised to see an unfamiliar avatar already displayed on the main page.
A cartoon character, with bright-pink hair and shiny-blue eyes, the name “Val” beneath it.
Valerie must have forgotten to log out of Netflix before she left.
I clicked on her avatar, a satisfying feeling washing over me, as though I were catching an unseen glimpse into Valerie’s head. I was slightly disappointed as I scanned through her “Continue Watching” picks—she was a fan of reality TV and young-adult dramas.
Oh well. I guess she’s as bored and lonely as I am. There was never anything good on to watch anyway. I propped the pillows up behind my head and stretched out with the remote in my hand. I clicked on season one of Gossip Girl, hoping I’d fall asleep.
Two hours in, I was still restless. Resolutely, I got out of bed and stretched my legs. Soundlessly, I slipped on my last pair of clean pants—stretchy rainbow-colored yoga pants that used to belong to Hannah—and stuffed my feet inside my boots without socks, and without tying them.
I couldn’t sleep until I checked out the other side of that window. I just couldn’t shake the feeling that the stalker was back there behind the building, prowling through the shadows, peeking inside …
Adrenaline surged through my veins as I cupped my key card in my hand and opened the door to my motel room. I was met with a blast of cool air and something fluttering in my ear … a moth flying around on a snowy day?
I stepped outside in the dark. My hands were shaking as I lit a cigarette.
I flipped on my flashlight app, grateful for what little light it emitted from the screen.
Tentatively, I scanned the concrete patio that connected all the rooms. No one else was outside. There were only three cars sitting quietly in the parking lot. A cloud of low-settling fog seeped over the entire lot and building.
“Fuck it,” I said, puffing on my cigarette as I slid around the side of the building. The grass was overgrown and itchy around my ankles as I followed the windowless brick wall to the backside of the building. The ground was marshy and cold, my boots digging in with every step, encasing them in icy mud.
As I rounded the backside of the building, I was relieved to see no one hiding there outside my window. Did I really expect there would be?
Maybe.
On the other side of my motel window, I was just tall enough—if I stood on my tiptoes—to look inside my own room. The curtains were drawn, but sheer, and sure enough, I had a dimly lit view of my bed and the desk where Valerie had been sitting. I could see the glow of the TV screen casting greenish shadows around the room. Blair Waldorf was planning something vindictive again.
For a moment, I could see Valerie there, clear as day, slouched on the bed watching Gossip Girl, her perfectly painted toenails pointed up at the ceiling as she sipped her Vitamin Water and relaxed …
“What on earth are you doing out here?”
“Jesus!” I jumped back from the window, my right foot sliding on a slippery patch of wet grass. I caught myself, scraping my hand on the brick wall and feeling like I’d pulled a muscle in my crotch as I regained my balance.
“You scared the hell out of me,” I stammered, staring at the building manager. He was gripping two plastic bags of garbage in his left hand. It was then that I noticed a large metal dumpster against the back of the building, between the backside of rooms 11 and 10. I hadn’t been able to see it from my window the first time I looked …
“Just tossing out my garbage,” he said, shaking the bags at me as proof.
He wandered over to the large dumpster, tossed the bags inside, and slammed the lid down so hard, I jumped. He must have come around the other side of the building. I didn’t even hear him, I realized.
“You always take out the garbage this late?”
His lips spread, widening into a mischievous smile. “No, not really. It’s just … I had company tonight. A woman.”
“Ah,” I said, not sure if I believed him.
He glanced at the window, then looked back at me, waiting for an explanation of why I was outside creeping around this late at night. I felt strangely caught in the act of a crime as he strolled over to me, casually swinging his short, chubby arms. He stopped right beside me, edging up on the tips of his toes to look in my room.
“What ya peering into your own room for?” He was close, too close, out here in the dark. I could smell the booze on his breath mixed with the pungent aroma of body odor. Was he outside my room looking in earlier? Was it his eyes I sensed through the curtains? I shook my head. I’m just being paranoid.
I’d seen the man looking in at Valerie, and he looked nothing like this creep.
“What are you doing?” he asked me again, talking slowly as though I was hard of hearing.
“You can see right into my room. I felt like someone was out here, watching me or something … I needed to check before I went to sleep.”
He snorted. “No one hanging out back here, I promise. These woods go far back, forty acres, and then they connect to a highway … we only have one other guest staying here, so unless it was her or me carrying out garbage, no one was back here.”
“Where did all those old rides come from …?”
“Ah. They belonged to my dad. Before the motel here was built, these grounds were used for the 4-H fair. I tried to sell them years ago but didn’t get any takers. And as you can see, they’re too rusty and old to sell now. I guess I could scrap them for metal or something … but getting someone to come pick that heavy shit up … near impossible, ya know?”
I nodded, wishing I hadn’t asked. I needed another cigarette.
“Want me to install some new blinds for you tomorrow?”
Surprised by his offer, I said, “Yes, please. I would really appreciate that.”
“Well, good night to ya then,” he said, scratching his beard and wandering back across the field to the other side of the building, walking bow-legged.
I watched him go and was just about to turn around and head inside myself, when he stopped and looked back at me again.
“Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Cops were here today, asking about that friend of yours.”
“Come again?” My breath froze in my chest.
“Yeah,” he said, still scratching his beard, “I guess you was right about her going missing. Only, from what it sounds like on the news, they’re less worried about her and more worried about her dead auntie.”
Dead auntie.
“Her aunt died? What happened …?”
He tucked his hands in his pockets and rocked forward and back on the balls of his feet, as though he was nervous about something.
“Uhhh … the cops said she was murdered. They’re trying to track down Valerie and make sure she’s safe, and not involved.”
The thought of police officers scrounging around the motel made me sick.
Valerie’s Aunt Janet was dead …
This is too much to wrap my brain around right now.
Oh Valerie, you must be so sad and so scared …
“How was she murdered?” I asked, barely breathing.
Janet was just commenting on Valerie’s posts a couple days ago … how could she be dead? Why would someone kill her? Could it have been Valerie’s supposed stalker?
“Stabbed to death. One cop mentioned something like forty-two knife wounds … that’s brutal, man. I guess now they want to talk to your friend but she’s in the wind.”
Hopefully, she hasn’t been taken hostage by the same person who killed her aunt, I thought, grimly.
“Did you give them any info about the guy who checked her out of the motel? That probably would have been helpful,” I said, suddenly annoyed by this man. His stance of complete privacy wasn’t doing Valerie any favors …
“I did, but he could have been anyone … her boyfriend, even.”
“What did he look like?” I asked, thinking again about the man in the photos.
“He looked like any Tom, Dick, and Harry off the street. Sandy-colored hair, strong jaw. Like I said, it wasn’t the guy in the photo you showed me. But I do hope your friend is okay. She seemed … sweet.”
“I hope so, too,” I said, still reeling. I couldn’t imagine what Valerie was thinking right now—Does she know what happened to her Aunt Janet, is that why she rushed out of town? Or … did someone force her to leave?
“I’m Bruce, by the way,” he said, giving me a little wave before walking off.
I was gasping for air when I got back inside my room. I was craving more pills and a stiff drink to soothe me.
I scooped up my bottles, but then, remembering they were empty, I threw them across the room. I waited for the scream to burst out of me … but it was bottled up tight.
Why would someone kill Janet … and who? I wondered.
Maybe Valerie didn’t go to Gatlinburg by choice … Is she running from something, or was she taken?