Opening the lunch that she’d walked a mile to get, the girl fished out a granola bar and bit off a big hunk. Then she peered into the open bag and considered its contents before reaching in again. Pulling out a bright green apple, she tossed it to Faye.
Truthfully, tossing was a kind word for what she did. She threw it overhand at Faye’s left arm, hard enough to leave a bruise. Faye felt a petty joy in plucking it out of the air with her right hand after it bounced off her arm. She was pretty sure that the girl had meant for her to fish it out of the disgusting water.
“You sure you can spare this apple?” Faye asked.
“I got plenty here for today. It’s the free lunch people. From the school, you know? In the summertime, they bring the food here every day.”
“Weekends, too?”
“Naw. Just during the week. But they bring us whole backpacks full of food on Fridays. It lasts long enough. And I can always go eat with Uncle Laneer, but I don’t like to do that. He gives me too much and don’t keep enough for himself. He ain’t got enough to eat as it is. Anyway, there’s always potato chips at home. And popcorn. That’s what my mama likes to eat, when she eats. And ice cream. She really likes ice cream.”
So she had a home and a family. That was a relief.
Faye bit into the apple, despite the fact that she’d never really liked apples all that well. It would have been rude to turn down a gift of food from someone who’d walked the whole morning to get it. Besides, she was hungry.
It occurred to Faye that she might need to recalibrate her notion of “hungry.” She’d been short of money for her whole life, but she’d never lived in a house where her only options for food were to walk for miles or to subsist on potato chips and ice cream.
Her teeth punched through the tough apple skin and released a burst of juice into her dry mouth. Its flesh was crisp and full of tartness, not at all mealy. Faye decided that she might not like most apples, but she liked this one.
“Thank you,” she said. “What’s your name?”
The girl said something indistinct and Faye said, “Come again?”
Obviously irritated, the girl said, “Kali. K-A-L-I. Not like the dog.”
“Oh, like the Hindu goddess? That’s a great name. It suits you.”
Faye was being honest, because it was a great name and it did suit her. Kali was revered as the Mother of the Whole Universe. Often portrayed with black or blue skin, she was a powerful image for an African-American girl to look up to, even if she did hail from the wrong subcontinent. Faye remembered how hard she’d looked for role models when she’d been a dark-skinned girl on a light-skinned street. She would have been a huge Kali fan.
There was no arguing, though, that Kali the goddess was flat-out fierce. She liked to wear skirts of human arms. Oh, and a garland of skulls, also human. Faye could absolutely see this scowling child growing up to be that awesome.
“A Hindu goddess? Yeah? That’s better than a collie. The kids at school say collies ain’t nothing but big ugly dogs. Never seen one, myself.”
“They’re wrong. Collies are beautiful dogs. Truly. Shiny, shaggy fur. Sweet faces. Let me show you a picture.” Faye pulled her miraculously undrenched phone from her only-slightly-damp shirt pocket and plucked a picture of Lassie off the Internet.
The dog’s happy face made the tiny Mother of the Whole Universe crack a grin, revealing a row of teeth like pearls set in polished iron.
“You went down like a rock when I tripped you. You know that? You sure you can walk and eat that apple at the same time? Not gonna fall again? ’Cause I ain’t waiting for you. We gotta get back before the crack heads wake up.”
“I thought they were meth heads.”
“Don’t matter. None of ’em wake up happy.”
Faye chewed on a mouthwatering bite of apple. “I can keep up. Just watch.”
Kali’s grunt sounded doubtful.
“You couldn’t lose me if you tried. And Kali? My name is Faye.”
Chapter Three
He’d hidden his car at the bar down the street, where it blended in with dozens of cars. They were the cars of ordinary people. Unexceptional people. People who were not planning homicide.
After locking his car door, he had slipped into the woods behind the parking lot and headed across the creek, eventually stopping at a sheltered spot where he had stood many times before.
From this familiar vantage point, he had a clear view of Frida’s driveway. If she came or went, he would see. He knew this because he had stood here many times before, watching her live her life.
Sometimes, it took her a long time to come home. This only gave him more time to think. He thought about the way she looked and sounded and smelled. He thought of the things he’d done to other women, carefully considering which of those things he’d like to do to Frida.
Sometimes, like tonight, she was gone so long that she couldn’t possibly be visiting a friend or working late at the restaurant. On those nights, he knew she must be with another man, and the fury rose. Once, it had crossed his mind to take his fury out on the man instead of Frida, but then he’d come to his senses. And he had laughed.
No lights had shone in any of Frida’s windows since he had been standing there, and it told him that Frida had planned for this late night. The girl was sleeping elsewhere, and this was good. Neither the child nor her keeper were nearby where they might see him.
Just as the sun came down, he had seen Kali emerge from the woods, creeping quietly down the street and out of sight, presumably heading for
