I’d let her down.
I hadn’t done what I needed to do. And now she was gone.
FIFTY-TWO
I don’t know how long we stayed at Liz’s. I know that I tried to answer more of Wellton’s questions. I know that he and Carter continued to yell at each other. I know that Klimes and Zanella showed up at some point. And I know I saw her body come down on a stretcher beneath a white sheet.
That, for sure, I know.
At some point, Carter took me home. The rain was still pounding against the streets and his car as we drove. “We’ll find him,” Carter said.
I didn’t know who he meant, and I didn’t ask. My mouth was sealed shut, like someone had filled it with cement. My eyes stung. Something throbbed in my ears.
Carter was talking, but I was only hearing bits and pieces.
“… I don’t know where …”
A chill rattled my body. I looked across the bay as we neared Mission Beach and saw Liz standing in the water. “… and no one will …” I closed my eyes, trying to abate the stinging. “… don’t let it …”
I leaned my head against the glass, the cold window sticking against my cheek. The car was spinning.
I felt Carter’s hand on my shoulder. “Hey. Are you alright?”
My head fell forward in something resembling a nod.
I closed my eyes again, and when I opened them we were in the alley next to my place. I shoved the door open and slid out, my legs feeling awkward and stiff beneath me. I looked up, letting the rain pelt my face.
Carter appeared next to me and held out a hand to help steady me.
I waved him off and forced myself to walk toward the house. I got the door open. It was pitch black inside. I heard Carter come in behind me.
I didn’t stop until I found my bed. I collapsed into it, shut my eyes, and wished for nothing else than to never wake up.
FIFTY-THREE
Flashbulbs kept going off in my head, showing me snapshots I didn’t know I’d taken.
Liz and me in high school, talking in the hallway. She was a year older than me. She was telling me she wanted to interview me for the paper. I said okay.
Then she was yelling at me. We were in a parking lot. She was furious with me, and I was yelling back at her.
We were in her office. She was pointing a finger at me.
We were sitting on her deck, drinking beer. I could see her legs in the dark.
I was driving the Jeep. Liz was sitting next to me. We were on the 101, the sun setting to our left.
We were in her bed. She was on top of me, sweating, our eyes locked as we moved together.
Then we were in the ocean. I was yelling something across the water to her. My voice was coming out of my mouth, but I couldn’t make out what I was saying. She was coming toward me, the water splashing around her legs as she got closer.
I was still talking, but I couldn’t hear the words.
And then she was gone, and I was standing in the ocean by myself, still saying whatever I’d been saying, turning around in circles, looking for her.
FIFTY-FOUR
My eyes opened, and the daylight forced me to squeeze them shut again.
I opened them more carefully this time. Muted sunlight filtered into the room. The sheets on my bed were twisted around me like ribbons, and I struggled to pull myself out of them. I pushed up and sat on the edge of the mattress. My head ached, and it felt like an entire cotton field had grown inside my mouth. I stood and walked out to the living room.
Carter was on the sofa, watching the television with the sound turned down.
He turned around. “Hey.” He reached over, grabbed the remote, and shut off the TV.
I opened the fridge, found a bottle of water, and downed it in about four swallows.
“You alright?” he asked.
I threw the empty bottle in the sink. “Time is it?” My throat was tight and raw.
“About four o’clock.”
