Page 34 of Savage Keepsakes

I stare at her as she continues.

“Gabby and Faith. They were part of a group I’m in for DIYers. It’s gotta be that twisted serial killer. I wanted to believe that they left town for vacation or something, but their families are upset.”

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly.

“It’s alright. We have to keep safe. I’ve picked up some things, and I want you to carry them.” Her voice is hushed, and soon the server returns.

“Can I get you any dessert?”

“No, thanks. Is it possible to get a to-go bag?” I point at my sandwich and she grins before taking off.

“We can’t carry anything here. It’s illegal in Canada to protect yourself.”

I focus back on JoJo, who only rolls her eyes, but before she can speak again, the server returns with a paper bag and two bills.

“Here. In case you run into any wild dogs, and this keychain is for your love of cats,” she says before leaving to pay.

I slip the items into my purse. Wild dog spray, which hurts like a bitch—I’ve seen it used in thefield—and the keychain is of a kitten, but hard metal with very pointy ears.

“We have to be safe. I can’t lose my best friend over some bag of shit,” she says as she returns. JoJo looks around the restaurant. I tuck my sandwich and items into my purse and stand to leave with her.

“Thank you for dinner. I was going to treat us, but I’ll catch the next one,” I tell her as we push through the glass front door.

Walking to our cars, I embrace her in a bear hug. “I love you. Be careful out there.”

“I’ll look into the market for Billy. I love you.”

Once I get home, I head up the steps. There is a black box adorned with a vibrant red bow resting on the cushion of the swing. Picking it up, I unlock the door and head inside.

After I put away the sandwich, I turn to the box and loosen the ribbon.

With trembling hands, I lift the lid, my stomach twisting in knots. On the tissue paper are two distinct eyeballs I’d know anywhere.

Miles isn’t behind this. One of his eyeballs lies in the box, soaking through the paper. I swallow the lump in my throat. He’s been dead awhile, his orb having been pumped with saline.

One thing I’ve learned during our wellness checks in the field is that eyeballs don’t last long, they deteriorate pretty fast unless kept. The thought of it makes my blood run cold, and as Ilook through the window, I wonder who the fuck is behind all this.

The other eye is Ken’s from this morning, the bluest I’d ever seen.

A note is glued to the lid of the box. I turn it to read.

Lucy,

This will be the last time you’ll ever look into the eyes of anyoneELSE.

Xo

I close the lid, as if on autopilot, and walk out to the back side of the house. Using one of the old rusty shovels, I dig a hole in the soft ground.

Calling the cops would only have more questions directed at me.

I place the box inside, covering and patting the dirt. After leaning the shovel against the house, I wipe the sweat from my forehead with my arm and head inside.

After I wash my hands, I flick the light on in my office. A vase of delicate white flowers sits on my desk, their petals shimmering in the light.

Billy must have come by today, but my mind is too foggy to focus on writing. I glance at the note he left next to them.

Lou, I believe in you.

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