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Ella collapsed on the bed and kicked off her shoes. Hearing Ben’s voice had soothed the troublesome thoughts and filled her head with pleasant memories, although a lot of them were still in the future. They always said that when you met the right person, you just knew it right away. You felt it in your soul. She felt like she could say anything to him and he’d either have something interesting to say or a funny retort. Both were fine in her book.
“What’s your case about? Are you allowed to tell me?”
Ella had a lot of information to share but she had to stop herself before she spoke. Something about sharing these details with her boyfriend made her feel dirty, like she was dragging him into this somehow. She’d already exposed him to the horrors of her job in the worst way possible, and that fact alone crippled her with guilt.
“Two dead girls. Brutal killing methods. We’re in a super small town so the terror is amplified. Small town gossip and the like.”
“That’s all? How were they killed?”
Why couldn’t she bring herself to talk about this stuff with him? If he was out of town for his job, she’d want to know all the minor details too.
“I’ll give you all the info when I get back. What are you going to do out in Virginia? You could be out there a while.”
“Good. It’s nice to get away from D.C., actually. I forgot what it’s like to not hear car alarms every minute of the day. I’m probably just gonna hang out with the mother while I’m here. She’s already got me fixing her toilet. Tomorrow I’m laying some stone down in her garden. I’m basically an unpaid laborer for the next few weeks. I told her about you, by the way.”
Ella nearly dropped the phone. “Oh God. That’s…. something.”
“Nah, she was super excited. According to her, you sound like a diamond in the rough. I guess she’s got a point.”
When was the last time she’d met one of her boyfriend’s mothers? Had it ever happened? Maybe in high school but she couldn’t recall it in much detail. It was a bizarre feeling.
“Tell her I said hi.”
“You want to meet her when you come down? My brother’s down here too, and a couple of my old buddies.”
Last night she and Ben were fighting for their lives, now he was talking about meeting the family. It was a jarring, alien transition. A pang of discomfort settled in her stomach, and for some reason she thought of Mark, her ex-boyfriend. Mark’s constant abuse was fading from memory, but what she’d never forget was the sight of his corpse on her sofa. Tobias Campbell had done that, unknowingly removing one obstacle from her life and creating another.
The obstacle, of course, was that he might do it to her next boyfriend too.
She’d spent her life putting other people first: her father, her aunt, her roommates, Mark, the lives of America’s innocents. Now, Tobias Campbell was holding her happiness hostage.
“I’d love to, Ben, it’s just…” She didn’t want to say it aloud for fear of it coming true. Tobias was the black cloud in her sky, the perpetual winter that brought endless rain and misery.
“You think this madman is going to put a stop to it, don’t you?”
Looks like Ben said it for her. “Yes. I can’t think of the future. I can’t get excited for what might be because it might never happen.”
“Okay,” Ben said, bluntly. She sensed his dejection down the phone line.
“Please don’t be upset.”
“It’s kinda hard not to be.”
“I promise this will end.”
“I know it will, but… when?”
Ella didn’t have an answer. “I’m not psychic. Tell your mom I’m looking forward to meeting her,” she said.
“Okay. Good luck out there,” Ben said and hung up.
Ella stared at her phone and sighed. She debated calling him back, but couldn’t offer Ben anything but empty promises. She threw her phone down beside her and did everything she could to hold back the tears of frustration.
CHAPTER TWELVE
For once, Clara Provost had made it on time. She had risked a speeding ticket – one more and her license would definitely be suspended – and she’d been forced to park in a ditch on the roadside. Gigs were hard to come by in this town, but she’d landed a 10-song set at the Three Furnaces Inn on the edge of Hicksberg. The place had been packed full of oldies making the most of their pensions, but $400 for a night of cover songs was an easy choice.
On the way out she thanked the venue owner then made her way back to her car in the ditch. She caught her reflection in the front window of one of the stores and balked at what stared back at her. At 25 years old, she was no spring chicken, so she told herself she was going to get gigs in better places in the future. Baltimore was a hotbed of kitsch acts, or she could make the move to D.C. and try her luck there. The future was bright – provided she acted fast.
