Page 84 of Haven't Killed in Years
“Do you have somewhere you can go?” I asked. “I mean a reasonable place like an aunt in Nebraska or something?”
“Do I look like someone with an aunt in Nebraska?”
I shook my head at his taking offense to that.
“What if I go to the cops?” he asked. “Tell them everything. I think I know where she’s hiding out. There must be evidence there. They can protect me, right? Give me immunity?”
“You know where she is?”
“I think so. She paid for this room for me in a motel for a couple nights. You know, before I knew she was a psycho. I’m pretty sure she was staying there too.”
I landed on the couch beside him and paused my barrage of questions. It was exactly what I needed to know—where to find Natalie. Only now I’d have to do something I didn’t actually want to do. Something I had never wanted to do—hurt her.
Forty-Seven
Gwen
I sent Porter into thecity with the five hundred dollars’ cash I kept in my apartment for emergencies and told him to get noticed. I told him to put a hotel room on his credit card for the night and I would reimburse him. I needed him to have an alibi and I couldn’t have him coming back to my apartment if I was about to do anything in the realm of what I was telling myself I was about to do.
He sent me to look for Natalie at a cheap, grungy motel in Revere Beach. It was two blocks from the actual beach, enough distance to obstruct any view of the ocean but close enough to give it a vaguely nautical name. It was the end of the offseason and there were only a few cars in the parking lot.
Most of the motel was dark. There was a light on in the first-floor room that was two doors to the left of the vending machine—the one Porter thought she was staying in.
It was forty-five minutes before I saw her silhouette pass by the window. I couldn’t know it was her for sure, but it wasn’t a three-hundred-pound man, so it was enough to make me sit up in my seat.Stalking was not nearly as exciting as they made it seem on TV. I should have kicked the door down the moment I got there; sitting quietly in the dark had really deflated my sails.
There was no sense of urgency. She wasn’t going anywhere and I didn’t know what I was going to say or how I was going to say it. It was Natalie. I needed her to listen to me. I needed her to stop. But nothing I had ever tried before had worked.
- - - - -
Two hours later andnothing had changed. She hadn’t left the motel room and I hadn’t left the car. Maybe she was done with the whole thing. Maybe she was going to slink off into the sunset and I wouldn’t have to hurt her. I’d never wanted to hurt her.
I yawned. Then I thought about leaving. Tomorrow night might be better for escalation and murder. I’d have a late-afternoon espresso and skip the stalking part. But before I could wimp out under the guise of strategy, her silhouette appeared in front of the curtains again—at least I assumed it was her. The figure stayed there for a moment, staring out onto the street. It was as if she were looking at me, but I couldn’t tell if the curtains obstructed her view the way they did mine.
Then I saw the curtains separate, enough for her to get a good look outside and for me to get a decent enough look at her face. It was definitely her. She released the curtain and slipped away.
I popped open the glove compartment and pulled out the largest, pointiest knife I’d been able to find at the thrift store, originally for self-defense and not necessarily to ambush my old friend with. I didn’t want to use the knife and I still hoped there was a chance I wouldn’t have to.
I gripped the handle in my sweaty hand and waited. Minutes passed and I started to second-guess the whole staring-at-each-other-across-the-parking-lot moment. Had she even noticed me or my car? Stalking was hard. I understood why my father preferred impulsivity when it came to killing.
I almost put the knife back in the glove compartment, but then the motel door opened and Natalie stepped out onto the paved landing.
Then there was no doubt she was looking directly at me.
Forty-Eight
Gwen
The irony of itall was that none of this would have happened if I had stayed Marin Haggerty. I never would have met Natalie, and maybe more important, she never would have met me.
She stood outside her motel room, staring at me but not moving. I took a deep breath and ran my tongue along my bottom teeth. I closed my eyes and let myself go back to Cody. I didn’t remember much from before I attacked him, but I remembered everything about it once I’d started. The first hit had satiated my need. I’d been feeling helpless and then I suddenly wasn’t. But I didn’t stop. The second hit against his skull elevated me to powerful. The third hit was to convince myself I was in control. Each hit after that proved the opposite; I had lost control. I was staring down at Cody’s still body, tugging at his shirt, slapping his face, unable to garner a reaction. There was no power there, no control; it was true helplessness. It was nothing like my father had promised me it would be.
I slipped the knife into the large front pocket of my hooded sweatshirt—a wardrobe choice I had made specifically for thatreason. It’s difficult to conceal a long, sharp knife with no sheath, but I was going to have more than a rock at my disposal this time.
I stepped out of the car and closed the door. I was standing, but that’s about all that changed. She didn’t move. After everything that had happened, she was still waiting for me to tell her what to do, timid all of a sudden, like she hadn’t already taken matters into her own hands.
I started to walk in her direction, fast at first but then slowing down so she understood she should come and meet me in the parking lot. I wasn’t looking to be trapped inside an enclosed space with her.
Her face was blank. It was a face I’d seen many times before. I had always been so intrigued by the way Natalie’s brain worked. It was as if it had an energy-saver mode. When she wasn’t thinking about something specific, it was just…off. Only, how could she not be thinking about something in this moment? Seemed like a pretty big deal to me.
