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  Orange flames erupt behind Lexa’s sea green eyes. “Yeah, well I don’t give a damn what he thinks.”

  Maybe I don’t give a damn what you think anymore either.

  “He told me what happened the other day, the day you arrived back home.”

  “Really? What a surprise. And?”

  Sensing he was probing a raw nerve, Dr. Cross changed gears. “I know you’re still having trouble dealing with long repressed memories of your parents’ deaths, and how their deaths irrevocably affected your childhood. I also know you’ve been through hell trying to deal with your friend Kimberly’s murder. One can sympathize with all of that, and I do. But none of that justifies taking higher and more frequent doses of your medicines than I have prescribed.” Cross reached over and pulled out an empty prescription bottle from Lexa’s purse. “If you don’t follow my instructions, your pills can do more harm than good.”

  “I know,” Lexa conceded, “but the pills don’t even take the edge off the pain anymore. And I’m…” She hesitated.

  Should I tell him? What will he do if he knows?

  “…I’m starting to have flashbacks again. Of the cabin,” Lexa admitted. “They’re getting stronger and more vivid each time.”

  Cross looked down toward his shoes—brown Berluti Oxfords that precisely matched the color of his bag. “Kimberly’s death is probably the reason for your aggravated headaches.”

  “No, they got worse right before I left for Avalon.”

  “Tell me about your flashbacks,” Cross said, still staring at his impeccably polished shoes.

  “They started just after I left for Avalon.”

  “Were you experiencing any added stress at that time?”

  “I was upset. I hated having to be away from Alex for Thanksgiving. He looked so sad and alone when I left that morning.”

  Dr. Cross sat quietly for a moment, staring at Lexa.

  Lexa tried matching Cross’s stare, but was only able to return timid glances.

  “Maybe I was wrong,” said Cross. “Maybe you weren’t ready to go out on your own like this yet.”

  Lexa struggled to keep her composure.

  I knew you’d say that, you asshole.

  Cross opened his journal and took out his pen. “I’m increasing your dosage to help you deal with the headaches. And remember, absolutely no alcohol is ever to be taken along with any of your prescriptions.” He tore off a fresh prescription and handed it to Lexa, but kept his grip upon it after she touched it, his stare piercing deep into her green eyes. “We never meant to hurt you, Lexa, or make you feel like a prisoner.” Lexa turned away for a few seconds, then back toward the doctor. “There’s a lot that you don’t remember about those years.” Dr. Cross clasped his free hand over the new prescription they were both holding. “What was done was done for your own protection.” He released his grasp on the prescription.

  Lexa stuffed the new prescription into her purse. “Thank you, Doctor,” she said.

  No—fuck you doctor!

  “You’re welcome. And remember, no appointment necessary. My door’s always open for you.”

  Lexa showed Dr. Cross to the door.

  “Never forget what John Donne taught us,” he said from the porch. “We are not islands to ourselves. We’re all here to help each other. Sometimes the only way to receive that help is to reach out for it.” Cross winked and then left.

  Lexa shut the door and hurried upstairs to her room.

  Slamming the door behind her, she rushed to her desk and grabbed a framed picture of herself and Kimber.

  Please God, let it be here.

  Lexa removed the easeled backing and found a key labeled “Kimber” taped behind the picture. She breathed a sigh of relief while replacing the backing, then sat down in her chair and tearfully stared at the picture of her and her dead friend.

  CHAPTER TEN

  LESSON LEARNED

  CK stood behind a lecture hall podium teaching Professor Riggins’ Psychology 101 class. A third of the students vigorously took notes and hung on every word spoken by the handsome grad student. The other two-thirds whiled away the time with everything from doing their makeup to posting selfies on their Roommates page.

  “Obsession is a narrow scope held up in front of the mind’s eye that focuses attention on one thing, and one thing only. Like all other addictions, it gives its user, or more accurately its host, a euphoria unequaled to anything else they’ve previously experienced. Unfortunately, as time goes by, the lives of those obsessed become unbalanced, as all their time and energy is spent desperately trying to recapture the pure ecstasy of that first obsessive high. If left unchecked and untreated, obsession can grow and evolve into what some would diagnose as a psychosis. This condition may lead those plagued by it to engage in activities such as harassment, stalking, and even murder.”

  A girl in the first row raised her hand. “Like in that movie Fatal Attraction?”

  “Exactly,” CK said. “Obsessions start innocently, but often evolve into what some in the psychological community would classify as a mental disorder.” CK pressed a button on the podium and a projection screen lowered in front of the chalkboard. “Someone get the lights, please.” As the lights went down, so did the noise. He picked up a slide projector controller and advanced the first frame. The cell phone in his shirt pocket started to vibrate. He snuck his phone out and saw Lexa’s picture on the screen.

  Seriously? You pick now to call?

  He pushed “accept” and whispered into the mouthpiece, “Hello?”

  “Hi, CK, it’s Lexa. Gotta a free minute or two?”

  CK looked around the packed lecture hall in front of him. “Uh, sure. Sure I do.”

  “Great.”

  “Just gimme a second and I’ll be right back, okay?”

  “No prob.”

  CK thought for a moment, looking around the darkened classroom until his eyes found the girl in the front row who’d asked him the question. He caught her attention and motioned for her to come forward. When she reached the podium, CK said, “Do me a favor. Wait thirty seconds, and then advance the frame until you reach the last one, okay?

  “Sure,” she said. “Sounds easy enough.”

  “Thank you.” After handing her the remote for the projector, CK hurried to the back of the room near one end of the chalkboard. “So what’s up?” he said into the phone.

  “Nothing much, just following John Donne’s advice.”

  “John Donne?”

  “I mean I just wanted to talk.”

  “Sure. Hey, I’m always c-cool w-with—I m-m-m…I mean I’m d-d-down with…”

  Take a breath and stop stammering, you fucking idiot!

  “What I’m trying to say is that I’m always here for you if you wanna talk, or something.”

  Oh that was way cooler, dude. Yeah, right.

  “Thanks, CK.”

  “You’re very welcome.”

  After several moments of silence passed, Lexa said, “I just…I still can’t believe what happened to Kimber.”

  “Yeah, me either.”

  “I…um…”

  “What?” CK prodded.

  “Nothing.”

  “That doesn’t sound like nothing, Lexa. Go on, tell me.”

  “It’s just that…I don’t want to sound self-centered, but I can’t stop thinking what if I was there when…when it happened.”

  “That’s not being self-centered,” CK told her.

  “Then what am I being?”

  “I dunno, normal, I guess. I’ll tell you this, if I was you, I’d be thinking the same thing right now.”

  “Really? Guess I’m not as awful as I thought.”

  “No, don’t worry, you’re not.”

  I don’t think you’re awful at all. In fact, I think you’re quite the opposite. I think you’re wonderful. The most wonderful, beautiful, intelligent, sexy woman I’ve ever seen. Too bad I haven’t the guts to tell you all of that out loud.

  “Who cou
ld do that to Kimber? And do what they did on the island?” CK offered no response. “Do you think the police will ever catch him?”

  “Who knows?” CK replied. “But I hope they do though, and soon. Someone who would do something like that shouldn’t be walking the streets. He should be…” The image of the hooded chef from Storm’s Thanksgiving party popped into CK’s head. “I did see someone, at the Thanksgiving feast. A guy in a chef’s uniform wearing a hood over his face.”

  “You saw him?” Lexa asked excitedly. “I saw him too, the same guy!” A wave of fear washed over her. “He was standing across the pool. Just standing there, staring at me.”

  “Yeah, that’s what he was doing to me. I think he was holding something too, a bag or something.”

  “Do you think he was the killer?”

  “I dunno. All I do know is he was weird and out of place.”

  Lexa sighed. Weird and out of place was the story of her life. “I told the FBI about him, but they didn’t seem too interested. Captain Styles hasn’t mentioned him at all.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know.” Nervous perspiration made it difficult for CK to keep his grip on his cell phone.

  C’mon, CK, man up and finally tell this woman how you feel.

  “Lexa…”

  “Yes?”

  “I just want you to know…” He struggled to speak his heart, but as usual nothing was coming out.

  “Know what?” Lexa asked with girlish curiosity.

  “I just…”

  Go on, you pussy, don’t stop now!

  “I just want you to know that if you ever need to talk, or just hang out or something, my door’s always open. If it’s not, I keep a key inside the flower pot next to the window.”

  What the fuck was that? What happened to telling her how I feel about her? What happened to telling her how much I want her? What happened to—

  “Aw, that’s so sweet, CK. Thank you.”

  Goddamn great. Now he’d sunk down into the “sweet” category. The bright, blank screen signaled to CK that the slide presentation had just ended. The female student at the podium shrugged and held up the remote control to the projector. “Um, I’m sorry, Lexa, but I gotta go.”

  “Oh, okay,” Lexa said. “Um, I just want to thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For being here for me. And for being a good friend.”

  CK cringed in the darkened room. “Don’t mention it.”

  Yeah really, don’t. Friend?

  He had to do something about this, and fast, or he’d never be able to crawl out of the “friend” sinkhole.

  “Okay, I’ll see ya later.”

  “Okay.”

  Yeah—you will.

  “Bye, CK.”

  “Bye.” CK hung up, stuck his phone into his pocket, and headed toward the podium.

  Another missed opportunity. I guess the old adage is right. “He who hesitates is lost.” Well the next time I get the chance, I’m sure as hell gonna take it.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE PIKE

  The Pike at the Rainbow Harbor was the name of a waterfront entertainment district in downtown Long Beach. With over three hundred and fifty square feet of places to go and things to do, the Pike was one of the city’s most popular places to shop, eat, and have a good time. There was even a giant Ferris wheel. What more could one ask for?

  Paige, Cassie, Bastian, and Palmer sat in their usual outdoor table of Rob’s Joint, a vintage hipster restaurant/bar along the Pike. Cassie scanned one of the menus with her mobile phone’s KNFB Reader. The state of the art text-to-speech software was the newest addition to her arsenal of assistive devices. The reader’s computerized female voice read aloud: “Turkey club sandwich, turkey wrap, spicy turkey burger, turkey with—”

  “Jesus, Cass, would you move to another part of the menu please?” Bastian groused.

  “Sorry.” Cassie turned off her K-Reader and put it away.

  “I never want to see another turkey again,” Palmer said. He glanced about the restaurant. “Aren’t Lexa and CK coming?”

  “Nope,” Bastian answered. “CK’s teaching a class for Professor Riggins and I think Lexa’s off somewhere crying to her shrink.”

  A waitress who was dressed like a refugee from the Age of Aquarius walked up to their table. “Do you wish to order now?” she asked with little enthusiasm.

  Cassie turned toward the sound of the waitress’s voice. “Yes, please. I would like—”

  “Just freshen up our coffees,” Bastian interrupted in his trademark insolent fashion that had earned him the nickname “The Bastard” among his peers.

  “Yes sir,” replied the waitress with more than a hint of sarcasm. She headed for the counter, the fringes on her suede vest swinging to and fro.

  Paige glared at Bastian. “Was that really necessary?”

  “What?”

  “Maybe Cass was hungry.”

  “It’s okay,” Cassie said.

  The waitress returned with a full pot of coffee. She topped off everyone’s cup, all the while sporting a look on her face as if her headband was tied too tight, and left in a huff.

  “Look, I didn’t invite you guys here to eat,” Bastian said with an irritated loudness.

  “Then why are we here?” asked Paige, adjusting the silk scarf draped around her neck.

  “We’re here, Paige, because some fucking psycho chopped off Kimberly’s head and cooked it up for Thanksgiving dinner,” Bastian said with such carelessness that it caused Cassie to knock over her cup of coffee. “And I’m not going to rest until we nail the fuck.”

  Palmer leaned over and helped Cassie with her mess. “I know how you feel, dude, but trying to catch this guy is way, way out of our league. The police and the FBI—”

  “Don’t know shit,” Bastian snapped. “And they probably never will.” He took a sip of coffee and put on his best serious face. “It’s up to us. We have to do something.”

  “What can we do?” asked Cassie.

  Bastian cleared his throat, his usual indicator that he was about to say something very, very important. “We can start by—”

  Paige’s smartphone’s message alert chimed. “One sec.” She took her phone out of her purse and read the screen notification:

  FORWARDED MESSAGE FROM ROOMMATES: Paige, I’m in town for the weekend. The paparazzi have been on me but I gave them the slip. Meet me on the Queensbay Bridge at 7:00. I can’t wait to get my hands on you.—SSS

  Paige grinned. She put her phone away, took out her compact, and touched up her face.

  “Sounds like someone has a date,” Cassie said with utmost certainty.

  Paige gave her blind friend a puzzled look. “How did you know that?”

  “By the way you were breathing while reading the text, by your opening your compact right after reading the text, by the urgent and hurried way you applied your makeup,” Cassie said with a wily grin. “Need I go on?”

  “No, I get the picture.” Paige stood and slung her purse over her shoulder.

  Bastian flashed Paige a look like she just spit in his coffee. “Hold on a sec, we’re not finished here.”

  “We’ll finish this another time, when Lexa and CK can make it as well.”

  Bastian shook his head. “Life does go on, doesn’t it? Glad to see all of this hasn’t damaged your fuckin’ libido.”

  “How dare you judge me!” Paige exclaimed. “I miss Kimber just as much as you do, probably more, but we can’t cry forever.”

  “We can’t cry forever? How fucking profound, Paige. I hope we’d all be holding up that well if it was your fried head in the turkey pot instead of Kimmy’s.”

  “Fuck you, Sebastian!” Paige shouted, realizing she was on the verge of causing an unladylike scene and quickly composing herself. She corrected her posture, tilting her head toward Cassie and Palmer. “Later, guys.”

  With an exaggerated effort not to catch any further sight of Bastian, Paige left the outdoor dining area.

>   After a few moments, Palmer said to Bastian in a condemning voice, “That was really uncalled for.”

  Bastian took a sip of coffee. “Yeah, maybe it was.”

  ***

  While on her way to the Queensbay Bridge, Paige noticed a group of small children fussing amongst themselves near the Ferris wheel. As she got closer, she started to realize what was going on. A little girl, dressed in old and tattered clothes, was being picked on by the other children. The little girl’s mother, who was selling homemade jewelry from out of a bike cart, could only watch the events unfold. Paige stopped for a moment and watched the little girl sit down in defeat upon the pavement, crying, while the other children surrounded and taunted her.

  Those mean little fucks.

  Paige headed straight for the helpless little girl and yelled, “Leave her the fuck alone!” Everyone within earshot stopped dead in their tracks, including the children doing the teasing. After parting the circle of mean children, Paige knelt down next to the crying little girl. With a welcoming smile on her face, she stroked the little girl’s unwashed hair. The little girl unburied her face from her hands and looked up at Paige.

  “Hello, sweetheart. My name’s Paige. What’s yours?

  “Ma…Mary,” the little girl said shyly.

  “Mary. What a beautiful name for a beautiful little girl.” Paige glanced at the children surrounding them. “Mary, would you do me a favor?” Mary nodded shyly. “Good. Now I want you to cover your ears tight, and keep them covered until I tell you to stop, okay?” Mary mouthed “Okay” and put both hands over her ears.

  Paige stood up and one by one shot the other children a look that could only be described as wrath personified. That look alone caused the children to take a couple of steps back. “I’m going to say this once, and only once,” Paige said. “If I ever, ever see one of you repulsive little fucks picking on Mary again, I will pay a gang of lowlifes to find you and kill you and your whole goddamn family.” The ring of children backed up and readied for flight. “Now get the fuck out of here!” Paige’s words sent the pack of mean children fleeing, screaming for their lives. After a few moments, she looked at Mary and signaled for her to remove her hands from her ears. Mary’s mother, who had been watching this whole time, waved at Paige, who waved back.