Page 38 of The Change
“What if a man tried to drag you into his car?”
“Then I’d scream my head off and kick him in the balls and bite and punch and make the pervert wish he’d picked some other kid.” Lucy sounded like she’d enjoy nothing more.
“Good,” Jo said, though the conversation had done nothing to settle her nerves. The dead girls down by the beach must have had similar chats with their mothers. “But there’s one more thing I want you to do if anyone ever tries to hurt you. I want you to look them right in the eyes and tell them ‘If you mess with me, my mother will fucking kill you.’ Make sure you use the word ‘fucking,’ and try to look crazy when you say it.”
“Sure. I can do that.” Lucy seemed confident.
The traffic in front of Lucy’s school was worse than usual, andthere were fewer kids walking alone. The line of cars came to a stop. “Show me,” Jo ordered.
Lucy lowered her chin and looked up at her mother with a hideous grin. “If you mess with me, my mommy’s going to fucking kill you. She’s going to rip your intestines out of your butt and shove them into your eye sockets and out through your mouth.”
“Yeah.” Jo nodded with genuine admiration. “If that doesn’t do the trick, I don’t know what will. Did you come up with that last part by yourself?”
“Yep!” The adorable eleven-year-old Lucy was back. “Pretty good, right?”
“Absolutely terrifying,” Jo commended the girl. The line of cars surged forward until they reached the drop-off point. “But seriously, Lucy, be careful. I can’t lose you. And I don’t really want to kill anyone. So please stay safe, okay?”
“Okay, Mama.” Lucy leaned over and planted a kiss on her mother’s cheek. And then she was out, the car door was slammed, and Jo’s most precious possession was skipping away from her across the schoolyard. It wasn’t until the SUV behind her honked that Jo finally stepped on the gas.
Her unease only intensified when she pulled up in front of Nessa’s prim two-story white colonial ten minutes later. Though she knew her friend to be an early riser, there were no signs of life inside. Jo felt the first flicker of panic as she hurried down the flagstone path to the front door. She should have checked on Nessa the previous night when her call went straight to voice mail. After all, there was a killer in town, and as anyone who watched shows likeDatelineorNewsnightwould know, Nessa’s picture-perfect house, with its jolly red door and white picket fence, was the ideal setting for a gruesome murder.
Jo rang the bell six times and tried the door handle. She’d started pounding with her fists in frustration when Nessa answered thedoor, still in the outfit she’d worn the previous day. The sunlight hit her face, and she recoiled with a hiss like a vampire.
Jo grabbed hold of the doorframe. Relief had weakened her knees. “Oh my God, I thought you were dead.”
“I wish,” Nessa said. “What time is it?”
“Eight forty-five,” Jo informed her. Then she leaned toward the woman and sniffed. “You smell like a winery. Did you throw a party after I dropped you off?”
“Don’t you go smelling me,” Nessa scolded her. “I saw three dead people yesterday. I needed to take the edge off.”
Jo gave her a hug. “How many bottles did you go through, you lush?” she whispered in Nessa’s ear.
Nessa pushed her back. “Just one,” she said with a wince. “But apparently that was one too many.”
“Aww. Poor thing. Thank goodness I know where to fix you up,” Jo told her. “Don’t bother putting on fresh clothes. Just hop in the car.”
“Take me to the hospital,” Nessa ordered as she shuffled toward the driveway. “If I’m unconscious when we get there, tell them to give me oxygen and hook me up to a saline drip.”
“Trust me,” Jo told her. “We’re going somewhere much better than the hospital.”
Nessa strapped on her seat belt and closed her eyes for the ride. She’d barely settled in before the car stopped again.
Nessa opened a single eye. She could see Harriett’s jungle pushing against the property line as if eager to claim more territory. “Thisis where you brought me?” she asked.
“Trust me.” Jo helped Nessa out of the car and escorted her to the house, holding on to Nessa’s elbow as if she were ninety years old.
Jo had just lifted her knuckles to knock when the door opened and Harriett emerged from a fragrant fog of pot smoke like a magician appearing onstage. She was wearing what appeared to be ablue linen shawl with a hole cut for her head and a vintage YSL belt to cinch the waist. A pale cloud followed her outside and drifted up into the atmosphere.
“Jesus, Harriett.” Jo fanned the smoke away from her face. “It’s not even nine.”
“Did you come to tell me the time?” Harriett replied with her gap-toothed smile. “I know this might surprise you, but I do own a clock.”
“Oh yeah? Where is it?” Jo challenged her.
“I have no idea. Perhaps in one of the drawers.”
“Have you been smoking marijuana?” Nessa asked. She spun around to confront Jo. “Is that what you think’s gonna fix my hangover?”
