Chapter Ten
It’s almost six. The evening is cool and headed toward chilly as I hop off the crowded bus and walk toward Navy Pier.
I find my way to a bench in front of the Chicago Children’s Museum, which stands guard at the beginning of the pier, where Liam and I agreed to meet.
Even though I’m now the proud owner of a very nice leather jacket to the tune of a hundred-fifty bucks – and that was the sale price, be still my heart – I chose, as per my plan, to ‘forget’ it at home.
I’m dressed in an entirely new weather-inappropriate outfit: an ivory midi pleated skirt and cropped tank combo with sneakers and oversized hoop earrings.
An outfit that made George go apoplectic with glee, probably because it makes me look like a normal, well-adjusted and even possibly attractive person who takes care of herself.
But more importantly, the outfit guarantees I’ll be freezing my ass off within the hour.
From there, Liam’s apartment will be the natural next step – I’ll make sure of it.
While I wait, I stick one hand in my purse and practice challenging myself to find various weapons quickly. Stun gun – one second. Not bad. Knife … two seconds. Too slow!
‘Margot,’ says a voice, and I jolt up from the bench, releasing the knife back into my purse.
Liam looks incredible. Jeans and a tan leather jacket over a long sleeve Henley. He smells good too, like he just shaved, which I notice as we give each other a quick hug. ‘You look beautiful. But aren’t you cold?’ he says as we pull away.
‘Cold? Hah! Me? No. I’m great!’ I have to keep the cold card a little longer so it doesn’t seem contrived. ‘Should we walk?’ Oh God. I’m talking too fast. Can he tell I’m nervous? I have to stop being nervous.
‘I have something for you first.’
‘Like, a present?’
‘Yeah. Like a present.’ From his pocket, he pulls out a small, badly wrapped package, and gives me a half-grin that I’d interpret as nervous if I didn’t believe there was a stone-cold killer lurking under there.
I take it; it’s about the size of my palm. ‘Love the Christmas paper.’
He scratches the back of his neck, his expression adorably shamefaced. ‘All I had on hand.’
I rip it open, with no idea what to expect and – oh my God. What? An uncontrollable bubble of laughter bursts out of my mouth.
A squirrel. A tiny, porcelain squirrel standing on its hind feet with a nut between its paws, two big black shiny eyes looking at me and, for reasons that defy logic, a sentient, smiling strawberry sitting on its head. It’s simultaneously the ugliest and cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
‘Where did you find this?’ I say, turning it over in my hands. The squirrel’s eyes are manic, his paws creepily hand-like. I think I’ll call him Ramone. The strawberry is clearly a Rhonda.
‘Thrift store. I was walking by and saw it in the window. Obviously, I had to get it for you.’
‘It’s hilarious. And creepy.’ And sweet.
‘Thank you.’ Impulsively, I go on tiptoes and kiss him on the cheek – just a peck, but the warmth from the brief contact travels down my whole body.
Then I tuck Ramone back into his wrapping paper and into my purse.
It bumps against the weapons, sending a chill straight through me.
It’s like there’s a wall between the two halves of me and they aren’t communicating.
One side feels all mushy because of how thoughtful and sweet his gift is.
The other is like, Girl, watch out – or you might die.
I tune into side two and try to stamp out my warm feelings. It’s going to take more than a ceramic squirrel wearing a sentient fruit to make me let my guard down, buster.
We set off down the crowded pier. Families push kids in strollers, couples hold hands, tourists pause to snap pictures of the pier and the skyline behind us. I half wonder if Liam is going to reach for my hand, so I wrap my arms around myself, because I’m not ready for that.
‘Maybe we could do the Ferris wheel?’ I suggest.
‘Well that’s a given. You can’t call yourself a Chicagoan if you haven’t been on the Centennial Wheel. Did you know the first Ferris wheel was in Chicago?’
‘I didn’t know that.’ But it’s just the kind of bizarre little piece of history I love to know.
‘1893 World’s Fair.’
‘Aren’t you Mr Smarty Pants?’
‘Don’t give me too much credit. I got it from that show – Loki.’
‘Hah! I’ve been meaning to watch that!’ I’ve just been a tad busy in the evenings.
Soon, we’re getting in line. The wheel rises above us, lit for the evening in multicolor expanding circles. The noise and music triggers a dormant memory.
‘I did come here once,’ I say suddenly. ‘With my parents. I guess I forgot.’
‘Oh? How old were you?’
‘Six or seven, I think.’
‘Good memory or bad?’
‘Good. I can’t believe I didn’t remember it until now. Mom convinced Dad we had to ride it. He didn’t want to at first. We all went up together. I’ll never forget that feeling, of being just the three of us in a bucket. Like – stuck there, but in a good way, if that makes sense.’
Liam tilts his head. ‘Hmm. Like you were safe because they couldn’t leave you while the ride was going.’
A slow tingle burns its way through me.
‘Uh … yeah.’ In fact, that’s exactly it. ‘They weren’t super adventurous people. Most evenings they’d have the TV on, and it’s like we weren’t really together. Just … alone in the same room. But for fifteen minutes, in the bucket …’
A beat of silence sits between us.
‘They belonged to just you,’ he completes.
I laugh. ‘You’re unnervingly insightful.’
He shrugs. ‘Trick of the trade.’
‘Art collecting?’ I say, trying to ignore my swirling thoughts about how a serial killer would certainly have to be observant, to get away with it …
‘Nah, my day job.’
‘And what is your day job again?’
‘Trust me, it’s boring.’
The first time he said his work stories were boring, I bought it. Now I see how obviously evasive he’s being.
‘I heard it was finance-related?’
He grins. ‘Yeah … it’s one of those jobs that’s too complicated to explain, but it pays the bills.’
OK. A little condescending, but it’s what every guy in finance says, without fail. Still …
‘You could try me. I’m a smart girl.’
‘Oh, I don’t doubt that. But the last girl I explained it to literally blocked my phone number.
’ He pauses, but briefly. ‘And remind me, do your parents live near by?’ Liam reaches for my hand, and now I feel ready to let him take it.
If I want to go home with him, we have to have some kind of connection.
‘Nah.’ I shift my fingers in his, ignoring the warmth that seems to multiply in my body from that single touch point and making a mental note to come back to the job thing later.
‘They hightailed it to Florida as soon as my dad took early retirement. Their favorite pastime is reminding me how they don’t have to shovel snow any more. ’
Liam laughs. ‘Sounds insufferable.’
‘Yeah. Anyway, shoveling snow is kind of fun.’
‘Agreed.’
‘The weirdest part is how little they seemed to value staying close to me.’
‘Their loss,’ he says with unexpected fervor, squeezing my hand.
I blow out a breath and fling my head back. ‘Ugh. I mean, I can’t be mad at them. It’s their life. Their choice. And I love them, you know?’
‘You can be mad at them even if you still love them.’
‘Yeah, Walt Whitman, we contain multitudes—’ I give him a little dig with my elbow and he chuckles.
‘Didn’t know that was Whitman.’
‘But hey!’ I exclaim, because it’s time to get him talking for a change. ‘Are you on the socials? We should find each other!’
‘I’m not. I mean – I have an account on Insta under a silly name, so I can stalk people, as one does. But I don’t post.’
Stalk people? Shit! Is that how he finds his victims?
‘So who do you stalk? Famous people? Crafty people? Or those accounts with all the cat videos?’ I put ‘crafty people’ in the middle so he doesn’t suspect I mean Kayleigh Aimes, who Instagrammed pics of her whole plushie-making process. Or would it have been better to put it at the end?
‘Mostly my old high school friends,’ he says. We inch forward in the line. I eye the ticket prices – and it’s a testament to my heightened anxiety that I don’t even blink at the $22 per ticket price tag.
‘What about Kayleigh Aimes?’ I blurt out.
The second I say her name, my heart starts pounding.
I did not plan on saying the name of one of his actual, potential victims. But it’s out there now.
‘Do you follow her? You should! She makes these reaaaaallly cute plushies!’ I bunch my fingers together.
‘Little octopi. Tiny walruses. So cute. All from organic materials!’
‘Name rings a bell …’ His forehead wrinkles. ‘Wait. Isn’t she the one whose body turned up on a beach last year?’
My heartbeat revs up even more.
‘Wait, what?’ I say in my best over-the-top shocked voice. ‘Oh my God! What happened to her?’
‘I haven’t really followed the story. I just saw a headline. I guess her body—’ He winces. ‘Sorry, I don’t want to get too graphic. But it wasn’t pretty.’
‘This is terrible!’ I say, and I don’t even have to fake my distress. ‘Did they catch whoever did it?’
‘Not that I’ve heard.’ His expression darkens and a muscle in his jaw feathers. He looks angry. Almost … scary. ‘I always wonder about the partner in those cases.’
‘She was single.’
Liam’s gaze seems to penetrate my soul. ‘You seem to know a lot about her. But you didn’t know she died?’
My heart skips a beat. Thankfully, the ticket seller is waving us forward.
‘Oh, hey! Our turn!’ I sashay up to the counter, clasping my hands so they don’t shake. ‘Two tickets, please!’
Liam pays, and I happily let him, since this date has already cost me hundreds of dollars in clothing and weapons.
‘So you didn’t follow Kayleigh, then?’ I say as we board a bucket, closing the tiny gate behind us. The bucket sways gently as we take our seats across from each other.
‘No, but headlines about women disappearing always catch my eye.’