Chapter 28
28
I startled the lawn maintenance crew for a second time that day when I peeled away from Robert’s street, probably leaving behind a nasty pair of skid marks. I swerved onto the main highway and headed back toward the apartment. The idea of revisiting Liz’s murder scene made my blood turn icy, but I didn’t plan on staying long.
During the drive, I muttered under my breath irately as I pondered what the hell had happened to my life. Within the time span of a few weeks, my situation had gone from horribly dire to wonderfully amazing, and then dipped back down past horribly dire to land at steaming pile of shit. My best friend had been murdered, my cheating ex had become a real menace, my current love interest—who was definitely a liar and possibly a killer—was a literal vampire, one of my bosses was a flaming bitch, I still hadn’t found somewhere new to live, and I might have a stalker.
To hell with it all.
I pulled over on the highway’s shoulder and ran a quick search on my phone. I found the cheapest flight on a travel website and booked one to Florida. Tilly’s trailer had been willed to me, but I’d left it untouched since her passing. She’d paid her space fees bi-yearly, so it had been okay to leave it sitting at the mobile home park. If there was ever a perfect time to leave town for a few days so that I could finally go through her belongings, it was now.
I’d only have to let Michael know not to book me for decoying. It wouldn’t take me long in Florida, so I’d be able to fly back in time for Liz’s funeral. I made a mental note to contact David and ask when it would be taking place. While it may have been irresponsible to up and leave with everything that was going on, it was the best thing I could do for my mental health. My sanity was barely hanging on by a thread.
Once I was at the apartment, I grabbed my suitcase out of the hall closest and stormed into my bedroom. I flung the suitcase on my bed, filling it with whatever random summer garments happened to be accessible at the front of my wardrobe. I changed into clothing more appropriate for travel, then lugged the open suitcase into the bathroom. With a single sweep of an arm over the countertop, my toiletries were packed.
I parked the suitcase by the front door and went into the kitchen. Leery of shadows, I flipped on the light, wincing as I saw scattered smudges of black where the police had dusted for fingerprints. I snatched a bucket from the pantry, threw it in the sink, squirted in a couple drops of dish soap, and filled it with water.
I went out onto the porch and scrubbed the door. I hated every second of the task, but to leave the bloody smear would have felt like a great disrespect toward Liz. I scoured as hard as I could, but it was impossible to restore the door to perfect white. There would always be a stain, until it was painted over. I was glad as hell I’d be moving out of there soon.
When I finished, I dumped the pink water out onto the grass and trudged back into the kitchen. I found a scratch pad and had written Gone home to Flor before it dawned on me that I didn’t have anyone to leave a note for. The sad realization should have made me bawl, but I couldn’t summon a single tear. I was numb.
Feeling more alone than I’d ever felt in my twenty-five years of existence, I crumpled the note into a ball and lobbed it at the wastebasket. It bounced off the rim and rolled to the corner of the room. Some days you just can’t win. I left the ball where it was. It wasn’t as if I had anyone to impress with my cleanliness.
I gave the apartment a final scan. Breaking through the numbness, a wave of joy, pain, love, and loss overcame me. I swallowed it down, this bittersweet pill. I shut the door and locked it, then strode towards the waiting taxi.
See you around, San Francisco.