the physiological reactions: the flutter of my pulse as the doors slid shut in an elevator; a ringing in my ears in the darkness of a movie theater before the first trailer kicked in; the cold sweat that came over me when someone stood between me and an exit—the need, the compulsion, to act.
It had happened the first time in the high school locker room, right after the ten-year anniversary: a girl standing between me and the only way out.
I thought it had probably happened again that time I was drunk in college.
Six years had passed since that last episode.
Now that box had kicked everything closer to the surface again, as if the past and the present could coexist on the same plane.
“I missed dinner last night,” I said, explaining.
“You’ve been through a lot. Adrenaline like that takes a toll. But it’ll make you sick if you eat too fast. And you want that painkiller to stick.” Elyse ate standing up at the counter, barely touching her food, gazing out the kitchen window, as if watching for something.
Like whatever she’d heard about was made real by her standing there—the fear transferring to her by mere proximity.
“What do you think happened out there?” I asked.
She stopped moving the food around her plate. “I don’t know. It’s pretty deserted out here, though.”
“It’s not deserted,” I said.
“You know what I mean. Look, I love your house. I’m jealous of it, really. I’ll probably be living in that same shitty apartment until I’m fifty by the time I pay off all my debt. But come on, Liv. It’s so dark at night. A reason people might want to come out here. Meeting in the middle of nowhere for a drug deal. Or, I don’t know, someone could’ve driven out this way and dumped the body, less chance of witnesses.” She shook her head, like she was clearing the image.
I could understand her point of view. She lived in the apartments where most of the newer hires moved at first, before deciding whether they were going to stay. The younger people tended to live there anyway, with the gym and the pool and the on-site laundry. It was convenient in more ways than one. My area was just as close to work but not as traveled. The lots had been cut wider, from before the industrialization. I’d gotten a good deal, when all was said and done.
Still, I thought the chance of random crime was higher near her, as the population density increased. Where people and walls abutted one another.
This, out here in the openness, had always felt safe. My primary fear was not of other people, of what they might do. I was afraid of being trapped, and even then, of people not knowing where I was. I kept my phone beside me at all times. And I liked having Rick close by; I liked that he noticed when I was gone. I liked being sure that, should I not return one day, there was someone who would know. I thought it was easier to be overlooked where Elyse lived, with the rush of bodies and activity.
We finished eating in silence. I tried to help clean the dishes, but she took the plate from me, gestured with her free hand down the hall. “Go get some sleep. I’ll stick around in case you need anything.”
I was grateful that I didn’t have to ask. My limbs had turned sluggish, and my walk was slow and deliberate.
Elyse followed me down the hall to my bedroom, eased a pillow under my leg to keep it elevated. Her gaze drifted to the window, and I could see the activity reflected in her eyes.
“Are they allowed to be on your property?” she asked, edges of her mouth pulling down.
“The body was close . . . just over the property line.” My voice was slurring, a lightness settling in my head. Every worry becoming smaller.
So they were still out there. And coming closer. I felt I should care more—something in Elyse’s expression said I should. But I was already drifting. The sleep, dark and heavy, pulling me under.
TRANSCRIPT OF EMMA LYONS’S LIVE INTERVIEW WITH LAUREL MAYNOR
OCTOBER 19, 2000, 7:03 P.M.
EMMA LYONS: I’m here in front of the site of the volunteer center with Laurel Maynor, Arden’s mother. Laurel, thank you so much for sharing your time with us today. We want you to know that all our viewers have been hoping and praying for Arden.
LAUREL MAYNOR: Thank you. That means