No.
It couldn’t be.
It… couldn’t.
Tammy wasn’t a serial killer. Neon-orange-puffer-vest-wearing, 1980s-frosted-hair Tammy couldn’t be…
“Hang on a minute.” I grabbed my phone and pulled up Tammy’s social media pages. I skimmed back to the oldest over the last year, and sure enough. She’d taken trips to Chicagoland on the very days people were murdered. Little jaunts to visit her son and daughter living in the city, or her mother in the suburbs. Most of them overlapped.
I heard the horn of the RV in Tammy’s driveway next door. They were about to leave.
I limped toward the front door.
“Where are you going?” Mom asked, alarmed.
“It’s Tammy, Mom! Tammy did it.” I was already at the door.
“What do you mean?” Mom called after me, confused. “Tammy did what?”
“Call Oscar!” I shouted. Outside, I saw the Briton Landscaping truck parked at the street and a crew working to bag up fallen leaves. Tammy and Ted’s RV sat in the driveway, Ted loading grocery bags of food inside the mini kitchen. I moved toward the front door, noting it was wide open. I limped up the steps and straight inside. Thekitchen was empty. No Tammy. But in the small three-season porch off the kitchen, I saw three full-grown indoor lemon trees.
She did it.
And then I realized I was in her house, unarmed except for my crutches. I should get out of here. Why didn’t I think before I acted? Had I learned nothing at all?
Then I heard a footfall behind me.
I whirled.
Ted stood behind me, looking as startled as I felt.
“Ope, sorry! You scared me!” Ted said.
“Where’s Tammy?” I asked.
“Around here somewhere.” Ted scratched his head. “Tammy?” he called up the staircase. There was no answer. Ted opened a nearby door, revealing stairs to the basement. “Tam?” he called down. Again, no answer. “Ope, well, I guess she must’ve taken Barry on a little walk before we take off.”
“Do you know where?”
“I don’t know, but when she takes him out, she usually goes toward your house. That way.” Ted pointed.
Jude. Mom. Olivia. I’d left them alone. They were in danger.
I hurried past Ted and back to Koi. I limped into our backyard through the bamboo gate, and that’s when I saw a flash of orange by the back of the Airstream. I whipped out my phone.
Diamond David slapped a big golden tail against the surface of the koi pond, but otherwise the pebble paths and stone lanterns sat cloaked in silence.
My heart thudded in my chest as I approached the Airstream, dialing 911 on my phone while trying to balance on my crutches.
I put my phone on speaker. I could hear it ring once. I slowly inched behind the Airstream. Another ring.
That’s when I felt a singular prick in my neck. I slapped at my neck, dropping my phone. I spun around.
Tammy stood there, holding a half-empty syringe in one gloved hand and her dog’s leash in the other. Barry the Chihuahua growled at me, baring his little pointy teeth. She fixed a plastic cap back on the needle and wrapped it up in a neat doggie bag. Then she snapped off her rubber glove and tucked it in the bag, tying it neatly and slipping it into her vest pocket.
“Lake Sanguis 911, what’s your emergency?” I heard faintly from my phone, half buried in the Zen garden sand.
Tammy leaned down, picked up my phone, and ended the call.
