Lurker (4 page)

 

Mandy's mother returned home from work an hour early. She didn't usually get home until six, but Mandy heard the key in the lock, startling Drew into another yelp. Mrs. Collins walked into the den, where the girls were waiting for the news to come on, and put her handbag down on the edge of the glass-topped, lacquered cabinet. The act was unheard of in the Collins household. That glass top was reserved for a family portrait secured in a crystal frame and a large black crystal bear. Nothing else touched its surface. Ever. Her mother had to be really upset. It didn't show in her face, though.

“Hello, Drew,” Mandy's mother said, running a hand through her blond hair. She crossed the den, threw a glance at the cocktail table—a reflex, Mandy knew, checking to make sure the girls were using coasters for their coffee mugs—and leaned down to kiss Mandy's cheek. “How are you?”

“Fine.”

Mrs. Collins's lips twisted into a tight smile and her eyes grew doe soft, like she was looking at Mandy after a successful operation: concern, relief, and pity mingled in her expression. “Are you?” she asked, a bit too seriously.

“Yes, Mom,” Mandy said. Normally she would have added a
Jeez, chill out
, but this wasn't the time for attitude. Her mom was worried and Mandy got that. “We came back here after school.”

“Has there been any news?” Mrs. Collins asked.

“It's just coming on.”

“Drew,” Mandy's mom said, “does your father know you're here?”

“Yes, Mrs. Collins,” Drew said quietly. “My father knows. He'll be home at five-thirty.”

“Well, good.”

Mandy watched her mother's uncomfortable hovering. Clearly, she didn't know what else to say and had no fresh excuse to remain with the girls, but she didn't want to leave. Her worry warmed Mandy; it made her feel a little awkward, but good.

“You can watch the news with us if you want,” Mandy said, sliding closer to Drew on the sofa to make room for her mother to sit. “It's coming on now.”

“Maybe I will,” Mrs. Collins said, lowering herself to the cushion.

The three settled in and Mandy retrieved her mug from the table, holding it to her lips. The flashing graphics of the local news program came on. Drew pushed closer, her leg bouncing nervously against Mandy's.

“Another car bomb rocks the Iraqi capital,” the African American anchor with the thick mustache said. “And, is Britney Spears pregnant again? These stories coming up, but first, tragedy strikes a local youth….”

“Oh,” Drew moaned tearfully.

A picture of Nicki suddenly appeared to the right of the anchorman. Her black hair hung to her shoulders in a neat wave; her eyes sparkled. From the mottled blue background, Mandy could tell it was a yearbook photo.

She's so pretty,
Mandy thought.
And she's dead
. A fist of sadness punched her belly.

The picture of Nicki disappeared, replaced by a video showing the corner of a blond brick building, a field of tall, brown grass, and a stand of trees beyond. “That's the library,” Mrs. Collins said, practically sighing out the words. A half dozen men,
some in police uniforms, some in suits, and one in a white smock coat, walked through the dry grass, looking intently at the ground.

The anchorman's voice accompanied the images.

“This morning at about three a.m., police found the remains of seventeen-year-old Nicolette Bennington in a wooded area behind Elmwood Public Library. Bennington, a Lake Crest High senior, was abducted from her home last night by an unknown assailant.”

A thin-faced man with gray hair appeared on the screen, standing in front of the library. The man was the chief of Elmwood's police department. Beside him, a woman in a police uniform stood with her hands clasped behind her back. A flash of recognition struck Mandy as Officer Romero looked up at the camera. The policewoman looked just as serious and as concerned as she had when speaking to Mandy that morning. Her eyes were sad, but her jaw was set with determination as she listened to her boss speak.

“Our hearts go out to the Bennington family,” said Police Chief Dean. “At this time, we're combing the area for forensic evidence. No suspects or
persons of interest have been currently identified, but we're following a number of leads. We know that we'll bring Nicolette's killer to justice soon. That's all we have at this time.”

“Nicolette's parents had no comment for us, but local residents are in a state of shock,” the anchor continued.

Another familiar face appeared on the screen. Tracy Renquist, a girl who shared the same P. E. class as Mandy, Laurel, and Nicolette, hugged herself tightly. She stood in front of Lake Crest High, eyes red from crying.

“My God, that's Tracy,” Drew announced. “She's in my English and Poli-Sci classes. We went to camp together.”

“It's horrible,” Tracy cried into a microphone. “Nicki was just so great. I can't believe this.”

“When were they at school?” Mandy asked. She hadn't seen any news vans when leaving the school grounds.

“They must have come after we left,” Drew said. “Look, there's Mr. Thompkins, and, oh my God, Dale.”

“My eyes work,” Mandy said. As Mr. Thompkins expressed his condolences to Nicki's family,
behind him, on the steps of the school, Dale stared at the walk, looking dazed and sad. Seeing him tugged at Mandy's chest. She wanted to be with him. He'd hold her close and make some of the sadness and fear go away.

Why did the jerk have to pick last night to pull such a lame stunt?

After the report ended and the anchorman turned his attention to Iraq, Drew was crying again. Mandy's eyes stung, but she didn't break down. Instead, she held Drew. Her mother patted her leg, then excused herself.

“I'll fix some dinner, so we can make it to the park by seven.”

Apparently, her mother already knew about the candlelight vigil.

Mandy looked around the crowd, over her shoulder at the fountain, and into the dark band of trees on the far end of the lawn. She stood with her mother at the north end of the park in Holm Field, an expanse of grass roughly half the size of a football field. In the center of the lawn was a landscaped garden with concrete walks winding between plots of dirt that come spring would be bursting with flowers. The fountain was the focal point of the garden. An ornate concrete sculpture stood twice Mandy's height. People holding candles surrounded them and formed a rough fan shape facing north, where a small platform had been erected. Next to the platform, Mandy could
just make out the sorrow-creased faces of Mr. and Mrs. Bennington; Nicolette's older brother, Stan; and a group of people Mandy imagined were family and close friends. Between her and them, the flames of hundreds of candles cast an orange glow over the people and the field.

Oddly, Mandy thought about Elton John. She didn't want to, but there he was in her head.

When she was a little girl, only six years old, her parents brought her with them to an Elton John concert in the city. She remembered being hoisted onto her father's shoulders and looking out over a sea of shadows, dappled with flickering flames. Fans held lighters in the air, tiny bits of light, like stars, in the dark arena. Her dad bounced her with excitement, and she was entranced by the tiny sky rolling out before her. When she looked down, she saw her mother's face bathed in the dancing flame of a lighter. Then, Elton John was there, pounding on piano keys.

She remembered little else about the concert, but she remembered the thrill and the good feeling and her mother glowing with warm light. There was no thrill for Mandy tonight, standing in the park. But there was her mother, face awash in candlelight.

“So many people,” Mrs. Collins said, tipping her candle to let wax drip into the paper collar, protecting her hand. “Are Drew and Laurel coming?”

“Supposed to.”

“Their parents were probably driving them in, and I can't imagine parking being easy. It looks like the entire town is here.”

Just as her mother finished speaking, Laurel appeared at the edge of the crowd. Barely a foot behind her, hovering like her shadow, was Laurel's father, his face stern and dangerous looking. He searched the crowd anxiously, eyes darting from side to side.

“Girl, get this damned bodyguard off my back,” Laurel whispered in Mandy's ear while they hugged.

Mandy laughed and squeezed tight before stepping away. “Can't help you with that.”

“He's been on me like a rash since I got home from school. He took the rest of the week off. God, even
we
have to go to school Friday.”

“He's worried about you.”

“Ya think?” Laurel looked around and said hi to Mandy's mother. She waved at her own father, who stood less than four feet away, mocking his concern playfully. “Where's the Drew?”

“Don't know. She was pretty weirded about being out past dark.”

“Figures. She thinks the shadows have teeth. Dale and his posse are over by the benches.”

“So?” Mandy asked sharply.

“Just sayin'.”

“Well, don't. That's the last thing I need tonight.”

At the front of the crowd a whine of feedback sounded. Mandy looked up to see Mr. Bennington pulling away from the microphone. He looked around confused for a moment, then leaned forward to speak.

“Here we go,” Laurel said, looping her arm around Mandy's.

 

By the time Mr. Bennington thanked everyone and shared a few words about his daughter, and Nicki's brother, Stan, made an impassioned plea for justice, Mandy was tired and cold. She had shed a lot of tears that day. She just wanted to sleep and maybe even forget, though she knew that wasn't going to happen.

Drew showed up with her father just as the formal presentation ended.

“Dad didn't want to come,” Drew said. “I mean,
I didn't
want
to come, but I knew I
had
to, you know, for Nicki.”

The three walked a bit farther away from their parents to the back edge of the fountain. Laurel's father gave them a hard glare, looked at the grassy field behind them, and then returned his attention to the platform, where Nicolette's aunt walked up to the microphone.

“So, y'all have to come over tomorrow,” Laurel said, once she was certain her father couldn't hear them. “I'm in lockdown, and I'll go full-on Mariah if I have to sit around there by myself with Daddy pacing outside my door.”

“Okay,” Mandy said, not sure if her parents had plans to work the next day or not.

“Totally,” Drew said. “I'm not staying at my place by myself, and my dad is acting like it's no big deal.”

“Cool,” Laurel said. “Somebody bring DVDs. Something funny. We've got enough drama these days. Nothing with David Spade, though. I hate that guy.”

“Who doesn't?” Mandy asked.

They stood quietly for a few moments as Nicolette's aunt finished a poem about clocks stop
ping. Mandy checked her mom, who was looking at the stage, so she only saw her back. Laurel's dad looked at them again, and Drew's dad checked his watch before doing a quick survey of the crowd.

“What do you think Nicki wanted to do after high school?” Drew asked, suddenly.

Both Mandy and Laurel looked at her like she'd just sprouted warts and a tail.

“What?”
Drew asked. “We know who she was, but we don't know who she would have been. That's what was lost. I mean, did she want to go to college? Did she want to be a mother? She could have formed a rock group or become president. She could have become anything she wanted. I can't stop thinking about that.”

“A vet,” Laurel said. “We talked about it once, and she wanted to be a vet. She loved animals. She didn't have a question in her mind about it. Nicki would have been a veterinarian.”

“She's going to miss so much,” Drew said, welling up with tears.

“Yeah, she is, but you don't have to make it sound like it's her fault,” Mandy said. “Jeez, Drew, grow some tact.”

“That's not what I meant.”

“Whatever,” Laurel said.

“But, I mean, what if she did do something? I mean, something like this doesn't just happen, right? I'm not saying she did anything wrong, just did something. Maybe she broke up with the guy or made fun of him. She was always making fun of people. Maybe she was teasing him, leading him on. I don't know, something.”

“I have never wanted to call someone ‘bitch' so much in my life,” Laurel said.

“Calm down, L,” Mandy said. “She's just trying to make sense of this.”

“There is no sense in this,” Laurel said, growing angrier. “This is life, not some fairy tale. Psychos aren't interested in morality plays. They hunt and they slice and it's usually the innocent that take the blade. So put all of your Brothers Grimm she-had-it-comin' crap away. The only thing Nicki did was
not
plant a boot in this guy's sac and run fast enough to get away from him. And if you think being all innocent and sweet is gonna protect you from anything, then take a good look around, because the next one of these is yours.”

Mandy looked on, astonished. Drew burst into tears, her hands covering her face, shoulders trembling.

“Think you could be a little more Simon?” Mandy asked.

Laurel folded her arms across her chest in defiance. Mandy looked at Drew, who kept her face buried in her hands, and shook her head.

“Great,” Mandy said. She walked over and pulled Drew into a hug. Her friend sobbed harder and pushed in tight to her side.

Then Mandy's cell phone vibrated in her jacket pocket, and she had to pull away. She looked at the device, saw that she had a text message, considered ignoring it, but was eager for a distraction. Right now, anything was better than dealing with the drama. She opened the phone and retrieved the message.

When she saw the letters printed across the tiny screen, they confused her. She squinted as if the act might bring clarity, but there were only two letters, repeated over and over. They were perfectly clear, but they made no sense. Unless someone had a very sick sense of humor. A profound chill, so strong that it made her tremble, ran over her neck as she read:

Hahahahahahahaha.