Page 54 of Beach Bodies

‘You’re welcome.’

*

I don’t return directly to my room. Instead, I head to the beach to clear my head.

Daniel’s name is Lukiewicz, not Black. Fine. He’s not the toxicFit Lifereporter– great. He’s onlyposingas the toxicFit Lifereporter, which– what the hell? Then again, I guess that means I didn’t sleep with some toxic asshole, so that’s a plus! But– killjoy– he’s looking into the deaths I am responsible for. And I can’t imagine it will take him long to realize that the dates of my yearly employment coincide, always, with the demise of someone.Or maybe he came here already knowing that.

Why is he investigating– and why undercover? Is he… FBI? Interpol? But what was that about an advertising slot?

I pull out my phone and type his name– hisrealname, this time– into my search engine. It only takes a little scrolling to find a hit… nope. Broken link. But the next one is a LinkedIn hit, which is very promising. I open my LinkedIn app and switch to private mode so he can’t see I’m looking. And there is his headshot, looking almost as serious as his passport picture.

His work history is very conveniently spelled out… except that it ends over a year ago, with his last job at– oh, shit! ThePacific, one of the most illustrious news magazines in the English-speaking world.

I have no idea what to make of this. Did he get fired? Is he trying to get his job back at thePacificby writing some big exposé… about me?If that’s the case, you’re out of luck, buddy, I think grimly. I’m not ending up in prison like Mom. It’s not that I’m unwilling to accept that my actions may haveconsequences, but frankly, none of the people I’ve killed are worth going to prison over.

I’ve reached the shoreline. I take a seat on the sand, run a hand through my hair, and tilt my face into the cool breeze coming off the ocean. I’ve answered some questions, but… now there are even more.

The most pressing question: am I his prime suspect? Or, God forbid, his only suspect? He didn’t say my name during his phone call. That’s good. But I don’t know who he was talking to, and maybe he keeps his cards close.

I lean my chin on my knees and watch the waves roll in, allowing their rhythm to return calm to my speeding heart. The moon makes a long reflection, like a path made of light.

For some reason, Jessica feels near to me right now. As though the moon-path is connecting me to the place where she’s gone, and at any moment, I might see her walking through the glimmer towards me. I wish I could buy her a ticket on Cat Stevens’ peace train. Send her home.

She’s not at peace, I know it, even though medical science would tell me otherwise. I’m not a spiritual person, but in my heart, I know she’s in stasis. Still with me, trapped here, still needing all the things I failed to give her…

I swallow the lump in my throat. I don’t even know what the lump is– some burning wedge of grief and anger.

I’m shaking. Maybe from cold.

I could still kill Daniel.

But that’s not the playbook, is it?

He’s not toxic writer Daniel Black; that’s just his cover. I only kill toxic people. I don’t kill to protect myself.

I’m shaking harder; I draw my knees close to my chest andwrap my arms tight around them, working my finger under the elastic on my wristband and tugging it rhythmically without letting it snap.

Is this how I go down?

It can’t be; I can’t let it be. Tomorrow at dinner I’ll figure out what he knows. And if he truly is on to me… I’ll deal with it then.

Does Jess know what I do for her?

Maybe she would hate it. I don’t know. I can’t speak for her; no one can. But if she can see me down here, doing my best, I hope she understands that this is my way of leaving some kind of legacy from the pain I fear she’s still in.

I pull out my phone. It’s late, but I don’t care. I dial Beth Ann.

She answers on the second ring. ‘Hi, Lily! Did you find the photo?’ Her voice is breathy and eager.

My mouth is dry. When I start talking, I know I sound like a robot.

‘When you called earlier, I thought maybe you were calling to talk about the– the other disagreement we’ve had.’

There’s a weighted pause.

Beth Ann’s tone takes on a chill I know all too well. ‘Don and I have made our desires quite clear on that point.’

Fury knots in my throat. ‘I was going to marry her.’

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