Chapter 15 Emma
FIFTEEN
Emma
The sky was just starting to purple up, that time of evening when every porch light looks like an invitation.
Beth and I turned down the lane, if we could call it a lane, since it had about as much pavement as a gravel parking lot behind a dive bar, and the house at the end was bright pink, the color nearly blinding in intensity.
The address matched, but I still checked my phone to be sure.
Beth whistled. “Krissy’s taste is, well. I guess the best thing I can say is consistent?”
I snorted. “She probably eats shrimp cocktail on Wednesdays and has a matching outfit for her cat.”
“She doesn’t have a cat,” Beth said. “Two ferrets, though. Their names are Legolas and Lucien.”
How she knew that I had no idea, but it tracked.
Everything about the house was aggressively girly.
A pink picket fence, heart-shaped wreath on the door, pink mailbox with “Krissy” painted in sparkly script.
But there were also black plastic bats hanging from the porch railing, and a life-sized cardboard cutout of Iron Man peeking out from behind a rosebush.
I could already smell vanilla frosting, and we hadn’t even knocked.
Beth pressed the doorbell, which played something that might’ve been the theme from Sailor Moon, and almost immediately the door swung open.
Krissy was not what I’d expected. I braced for pink, but it was pink like a science experiment.
Bleach-pink hair with streaks of electric blue, a unicorn onesie that left nothing to the imagination, and a bubblegum pop smile that could’ve launched a thousand Instagram accounts.
I also did not expect her to be taller than me, or to wear heels with her pajama pants.
“Are you here for the convention?” she said, scanning us from head to toe and landing on my Chuck Taylors like she’d never seen black canvas in her life.
Beth answered before I could. “We’re actually here to talk about Alice.”
Krissy’s face flipped from excitement to confusion so fast I almost got whiplash. She blinked, opened her mouth, forgot to speak, closed it again.
“Alice?” she repeated.
“Yeah. She was here yesterday, right?” Beth said.
Krissy nodded, but slowly, like the information was moving through peanut butter first. “She had tea. She said she needed a break from work. I made my famous red velvet muffins.” She turned to me, earnest. “You would love them.”
“I believe you,” I said.
She beamed.
I tried not to let my skepticism show. “Do you have a few minutes to answer some questions?”
“I have hours!” she said, as if this was an obvious improvement. She stepped aside and welcomed us in with a little flourish.
Inside, the house was even more intense.
It was like a shrine to every princess, superhero, and anime character ever created.
There were Funko Pops lined up in color order on every shelf.
A bouquet of lightsabers in an umbrella stand.
Signed photos of various actors, some real, some not.
The TV played a Sailor Moon episode on mute, and next to it a life-size cardboard cutout of the main character in a tutu guarded a display case of retro Polly Pocket sets.
The air had the sticky sweetness of marshmallow cereal.
The sofa was bright pink, the carpet a deeper shade, and the pillows were shaped like cartoon hearts.
Three of them featured shirtless, rippled men in artfully suggestive poses.
It was a lot. My brain tried to process it all and failed, so I stuck to observing.
Beth followed Krissy to the living room, where Krissy motioned for us to sit. I picked the edge of the couch, but Beth went right for the anime-man pillow and hugged it to her chest with a smirk.
“I see you’re a fan,” Beth said.
Krissy perked up. “Oh my god, are you into Inuyasha? No one else here even knows what that is.”
“I’m more of a Fruits Basket person,” Beth said, “but I respect the fandom.”
Krissy squealed, then tried to stifle it, then gave up and clapped her hands. “I knew I liked you guys.” She plopped down next to Beth, tucking her knees under herself, and offered me a muffin from a pink tray on the coffee table.
I took it. I didn’t have the heart to say no despite having two muffins at the cafe.
Once she was settled, Krissy smoothed her pajama pants and gave us her undivided attention, like she’d been waiting her whole life for this exact conversation.
“So,” Beth began, “Alice was here yesterday?”
“Yes.” The other woman’s smile was wide.
“And she left around…?”
Krissy took a minute to think, then said, “four.”
“And how long did she stay over?”
Krissy nibbled her muffin. “She was only here for an hour. Maybe less.” Her painted nails glittered with every movement. “She said she was going to go home. Is she okay?”
I met Beth’s eyes. She gave a tiny shrug.
“We’re not sure,” I said. “She hasn’t been seen since she left here.”
Krissy’s mouth opened in a small o. “But she texted me after? She sent me a meme.” She whipped her phone from her pocket and started scrolling. “Let me find it. Oh, wait, that was yesterday.” Her face clouded. “I messaged her last night, but she didn’t answer.”
“Did she say anything about being followed?” Beth asked. “Or anything else weird?”
Krissy hesitated. I could almost see the gears turning, one glittery tooth at a time. “She got a phone call when she was here, but she stepped outside to take it. I only caught a little. I think it was her grandma.”
“Her grandma?” I repeated.
Krissy nodded so hard her hair bounced. “They’re, like, best friends. She visits her all the time. I’m jealous, honestly. My grandma barely remembers my name. Alice’s grandma is the coolest, she still makes her homemade pie and plays poker with her friends. Even lets Alice join. I wish I had that.”
That tracked with what I knew about Alice’s home life. She kept her cards close, but she’d mentioned her grandmother several times.
“Do you remember anything about the call?” Beth pressed.
Krissy scrunched her lips and stared into the middle distance. “She sounded upset, I think? She was doing that thing where she pretends not to be, but you can hear it anyway? Sorry, I’m bad at reading people.”
That was a lie, but it was the kind of lie people told about themselves to avoid further questions.
“Anything else?” I asked.
“She left really fast,” Krissy said, then looked ashamed. “I should’ve asked what was wrong, but she said she’d call me later.” Her hands fluttered like she was considering folding them, then thought better of it. “Is she really missing?”
“Yeah,” Beth said, gently. “She never made it home. Henry’s worried, too.”
Krissy’s eyes glistened, and for a second I thought she might cry. But instead, she straightened up and nodded with determination. “Then we have to find her.” She pointed at us, dead serious. “I’ll do anything you need.”
Beth patted her on the shoulder, which nearly sent Krissy into another round of happy clapping.
“Do you know where her grandmother lives?” I asked. “If that’s where she went, it’s our best shot.”
Krissy bit her lip. “I think I have the address somewhere in my phone under her grandmother’s contact details.
Alice and I have spent the weekend up there once or twice, but it’s been a long time, and a few phones ago.
” She started rifling through her phone again, tongue poking out in concentration.
After a minute, she yelped, “Found it!” and held the phone up for me to see. I copied it into my notes.
“It’s a little outside of town,” Krissy said, “up on Spirit Mountain. Past the old ski lodge. There’s a gate, but you can just open it.”
Beth and I looked at each other. “That’s at least an hour away,” Beth said, even though it could be two or three, depending on how far up the mountain she was.
“Yeah. Maybe less if you drive like Alice.” Krissy smiled at her own joke, but it didn’t hold.
The Sailor Moon episode finished on the TV, and the next one started up, the opening theme muted but insistent.
“So she got a call from her grandma, and took off,” I summarized. “No one’s heard from her since.”
Krissy nodded, then wilted a little. “I’m sorry. I really should have checked. I just thought she was, I don’t know. Busy, I guess.”
I stood. “You did nothing wrong, Krissy. If anything, you might’ve given us the clue we needed.”
She brightened. “Really?”
“Really,” I said. “Thanks for the muffins.”
“Anytime!” she called as we made our way to the door.
Beth paused in the foyer, studying the rainbow wall of collectible swords. “You have any training?”
Krissy waggled her eyebrows. “I went to fencing camp for three years.”
I believed it. I also believed that, if pressed, Krissy could take down an intruder with a replica katana without breaking a nail.
I opened the door. The sky had deepened to full dusk, and the porch light came on automatically, casting everything in a warm, fake glow. It was hard not to like Krissy. Even harder to dismiss her. She was too earnest, too much, but it was all so honest.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Krissy asked, suddenly serious.
Beth shook her head. “You stay here, in case Alice calls or comes by.”
Krissy saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”
I waved, and she closed the door behind us.
We got back into Beth’s car. She sat for a second, turning the key but not starting the engine.
“So. Spirit Mountain?” I said.
“Yeah,” Beth replied. “But first, food. If I don’t eat, I’ll crash this car into the next restaurant I see.”
I grinned. “Krissy’s muffins not enough for you?”
“They were fine,” Beth said, pulling away from the house. “But I like my sugar with a side of bacon.”
“We need to catch up with everyone anyway.” I sighed and sat back. “I feel like we’re on the verge of something. Finally.”
May my words be correct.