Page 12 of Worse Than Wicked
She hesitates like she might offer further explanation than they did earlier, but then she nods, her lips tightening. “Be careful,” she says. “Goodnight.”
A minute later, I’m sliding into Duke’s new Lexus LX. Like Mabel, he gets attached to things, and he didn’t want to give up the old Hummer he’d been driving for years, even when I pointed out that Mabel had gotten a new car and I’d upgraded every year since then. Finally I bought him this for Christmas so he couldn’t drag his feet and make excuses anymore. Of course, the moment he got in and turned it on, he had to admit it’s a huge upgrade.
He deserves it, operating Wonderland the way he does. He deserves more than all the luxuries money can buy, even if he won’t get them for himself. I wanted him to know that, to believe the words I always tell him, that he’s indispensable. The comfort and status of this car are only small indicators of how much we value him. As the head of our little family, it’s my job tomake him feel important, even when I don’t understand why he doesn’t.
I think about that as I drive up the coast, following the road along the edge of the cliffs. When I see the little pull-off where we parked the night I killed Jane, I turn into it and cut the engine. My heart is beating slow and steady, but it feels heavy in my chest, each beat like the thud of an approaching footfall. At last, I climb out and stand in the biting wind, listening for the sound of an engine over the shriek.
Nothing.
I hurry across the road and into the woods, not slowing until I’ve made my way deep enough into the pines that if a car passes, they won’t see me, even if they’re looking. In the dark, I blend with the trunks. The deciduous trees are bare this time of year, but the pine boughs cast shadows on the carpeted floor beneath, helping conceal me. I don’t need a tracker to remember where I left Jane. I removed it before I left her, anyway, cutting it quickly from her arm when I pulled Duke’s shirt off her and checked her slowing pulse before I walked away.
I knew I wouldn’t need any help finding her. My memory is impeccable. And even though I’d ensured that her tracking device paired only with my phone, I couldn’t be sure that it wouldn’t malfunction when I was far away, unable to intervene if something went wrong. Even if her tracker did become discoverable, though, no one would find her because no one would look. No one ever filed a missing persons report. She has no family to wonder where she went. There is only Olive, and she doesn’t know what happened to her sister, and she never will.
Jane is lucky I kept her so long, paid her all that attention girls want so much. If it weren’t for me, no one would have even known she existed all those months. She would have lived on the street, selling her body and becoming a junkie until one day, she died in some alley and was tossed into the nearest dumpster likethe trash she was. A girl like her has no future. She would have contributed nothing of value to the world, left no mark when she was gone.
I gave her a purpose. One might even say she taught me things about human endurance that I wouldn’t have otherwise learned—at least not with firsthand experience and observation. I let her die with a legacy: informing one of the world’s most brilliant minds. When I leave my mark on the world, in some small way I’ve let her be part of it, even long after she’s gone.
As I make my way to the place where I left her, I try to picture what she’ll look like now, what’s left of her. Though I like studying the human body, I haven’t studied it in advanced stages of decomposition, so I can only guess. It’s freezing now, but after months of being out here, I won’t find her frozen corpse intact.
I want to increase my pace, but tonight is much darker than the night we left her, with only a sliver of moon to light my way. I move methodically, and at last, I reach the spot. My eyes have adjusted, but even so, under the canopy of trees, I can’t see much. I can’t make out even a glimpse of white on the ground that could be bones. The wind wails mournfully overhead, and in the distance, I can hear the crash of the surf, but no other sounds reach me in the night. Finally, I reluctantly switch on the flashlight on my phone and shine it around the area.
Maybe I didn’t remember as well as I thought, because not only do I not see a skeleton lying there, but I don’t see the small trench I kicked in the dirt before I covered her. I search for a few minutes before I find what I think marks the place, a long indentation that’s now filled with pine needles. I crouch and sweep away the debris with a gloved hand, examining the ground where she lay.
I move out from the grave in a slow circle, searching for a bone, a scrap of cloth, any sign of her. The area is remote, so it’s not impossible that an animal dragged her off—a bear or fox orsome kind of wildcat. Still, it’s more likely they would have torn her apart here. I should have taken my time, dug a real grave for her. But I’m far enough from the road that no one can see my light, let alone a person. Even the stench of her rotting corpse wouldn’t reach the lookout, since that’s a good half mile up the hill.
For the first time since I left her body, I regret taking the tracker from her. At the time, I was more concerned with Mabel’s disobedience than ever finding Jane again. Leaving the tracker in her body didn’t make sense, since she wouldn’t be going anywhere, and I had no interest in revisiting her. Worse, it could have drawn suspicion if anyone found it, possibly even lead to me if someone was better at uncovering digital connections than I was at erasing them.
It doesn’t make sense, though. If someone found her, I would know. It would have been on the news, if only a line in the local paper about unidentified remains found in the woods. I may not have wanted to see Jane again, but I monitored the local Havoc Harbor news even back in Tennessee. It was important to know if the body was found, so I would know if I needed to be careful.
It was never found.
So where the fuck is it?
I expand my search, studying the ground for signs that don’t exist. She’s gone like a ghost, like the fog that blows up from the ocean.
Like Mabel.
It doesn’t make sense. I felt her pulse slowing.
But I didn’t wait for it to stop, did I?
I felt her windpipe cave in my hands.
But that’s not always fatal, is it?
She has to be here…
But she’s not.
At last, I’m forced to admit it. I make my way back to the place I left her, then back up the hill to the car, retracing my footsteps until I reach the road. Low clouds have covered the sky, and the wind off the ocean is biting enough to steal my breath. I listen for a minute to make sure no traffic approaches, then hurry across the road and into Duke’s car. My fingers are numb, but I get the car started, and once the steam clears from my glasses, I drive back the way I came, obeying the speed limit, careful to stay within my lane around the curves. The last thing I need is a policeman pulling me over, questioning my whereabouts this evening, wondering why I’m out so late, why there’s dirt on my shoes and gloves.
I pull into the driveway of Mabel’s house and shut off the engine. Sitting there, I take a deep breath. I’m shaking with cold, but also, with rage.
Inside, I find them curled together in sleep, Mabel in Duke’s arms. I drag her from the bed and slam her against the wall before she can blink the sleep from her eyes. She cries out in shock, and I slam my hand around her throat. “Where is she?” I demand.
This feeling coursing through me is unfamiliar—consuming and… Reckless.
I do not lose control.
