The Killing Kind (17 page)

March 24

The low-slung canvas beach chair was a comfortable and peaceful place to be. The softly rippling ocean was so beautiful. It looked endless and eternal, so big it seemed nothing else could possibly exist somewhere beyond all that water. She imagined a world covered in water and populated by benevolent sea people. In her mind she pictured them as a weird cross between sea monkeys and mermaids and mermen. It was a silly, whimsical notion, but Zoe found it deeply appealing.

Most of her friends were wading in the ocean, either just standing there or splashing in the gently rolling tide. Chuck was farther out, floating on a rubber raft. Zoe was content to stay where she was for now. It was nice to just kick back from a slight distance, to just relax and observe. Zoe slipped her still mildly chilled Corona from the drink holder built into one of the chair arms and took a slow, refreshing pull from the bottle.

She heard footsteps approaching from behind—the distinctive slap of flip-flop soles on sand—and remembered there was one other of their number who had yet to dip her toes in the water.

She tensed.

Please don’t let this be weird…

Emily flopped into the chair next to her. She seemed a little agitated. Not a good sign.

“I hate Sean Hewitt.”

Zoe blinked. “What?”

“I hate Sean Hewitt.”

“I heard you. I just don’t understand what you’re saying. Did he…do something?”

Emily grunted. “You could say that.”

“Want to tell me about it?”

Even as she said it, Zoe regretted the words. She liked Sean well enough. He treated Annalisa well, from what she could tell, and he seemed a decent sort. Sure, he liked to joke around with the guys and make occasional rude comments. No big deal. It was what guys did when they drank beer and hung around together.

Emily huffed. “He grabbed my boob in the kitchen.”

“What? Seriously?”

Emily took her dark sunglasses off and looked right at her. She looked pissed off, but there was another quality evident just below the surface of the anger. She looked…hurt. Zoe frowned. Maybe she was wrong about Sean.

“Seriously. Said maybe we should play around some while everybody else was down here.”

“You’re shitting me.”

Emily sneered. “Nope. Had to pry his hand off my tit. The bastard.”

“That son of a bitch.”

“Yeah. You can’t tell Annalisa, okay? Things are weird enough between us without throwing that in the mix.”

Zoe was inclined to agree. There had been enough drama on this trip already. Enough for ten fucking vacations. She’d let it go for now and maybe bring it up at a later date.

She shrugged. “Okay.”

Emily was staring at her. “Like the bikini. Baby blue suits you.”

“Thanks.”

“You look hot.”

“Um…”

Emily laughed. “Don’t worry. I won’t go there again, I promise.”

Zoe smiled. “Thanks.”

“Are we cool then?”

Zoe shrugged again. “Sure. You’re my best friend.” A sudden welling of tears surprised her. “Shit.”

Emily leaned toward her and patted the back of a hand. “Hey, it’s okay.”

Zoe clasped hands with her. “I’m sorry I was a bitch all yesterday.”

Emily stroked Zoe’s wrist with the ball of her thumb. “Don’t worry about it. Seriously.”

The words brought forth another gush of tears. She wiped them away and sniffled. “I guess I was suppressing this. God, I’m such an idiot. I’d hate to lose my best friend over one freaky night.”

Emily smiled. “Honey, you’re not about to lose me.”

“Well…good.”

Emily, as always, looked amazing. Stunning. Everything toned but shapely. Legs so long and lean. Hair so perfect. The face of an angel crossed with a 1940s femme fatale. She looked like a movie star, like a woman born for a life of glitz and glamor. Hell, she was young yet. Zoe suspected those things lurked somewhere in her friend’s future.

Emily let go of her hand and reached into the tote bag she’d carried to the beach with her. She pulled out her cell phone, flipped it open, and punched in a number.

“Who are you calling?”

Emily smirked. “Remember Clayton Wilson?”

“That pitiful geek who had a crush on you last fall?”

“Yep.”

“Why are you calling him?”

Emily’s smile was evil. “To play with him a little.”

Zoe laughed. “You’re such a bad girl.”

“You know it.” Emily’s face brightened, and when she spoke her tone was one of bubbly enthusiasm. “Hey, Clay!”

A tinny voice came from the cell phone’s speaker.

Emily winked at Zoe. “Yeah, baby, I’ve missed you, too. Sooo much.”

Zoe covered a giggle with a hand.

Emily touched her knee and mouthed the word
Stop!
She grinned and again spoke in that obnoxious bubbly tone. “I wish I could see you right now. I’ve been thinking about you every day for
weeks.
“

That tinny voice emanated from the phone again.

Emily shook her head. “No, no, no. I
was
gonna go to Myrtle Beach, but I had a huge fight with stupid Joe right before we left and stayed behind.” Her voice had turned pensive, and she nodded along as the voice from the other end spoke painfully earnest words of comfort and reassurance. “I know, I know. It’s not fair at all. But I know what would make me feel better, baby. Do you think you could meet me up at the Villager Tavern tonight? Say around seven?”

Loud squeaking sounds emerged from the cell phone’s speaker.

Sounds of joy.

Zoe covered another giggle, and Emily slapped her knee and waved an admonishing finger.

“Yeah, good. So glad to hear that, Clay. We’ll just hang out and have fun. Maybe stroll around campus hand in hand.” Now she sounded wistful, as if this would be the fulfillment of a fond wish. “Awesome. Excellent. Love you, too, sweetie. See ya at seven. We’re gonna have so much fun. Ciao, baby.”

She flipped the phone shut and giggled.

Zoe uncovered her mouth and laughed out loud. “That was fucking sick, Emily. That poor boy.”

Emily smiled. “It was awesome. And you know it.”

Zoe smiled back. “Yeah.”

Emily laughed. “Can you just picture it? That little loser waiting and waiting, walking around, looking all over for me, staring at his cheap watch? Too bad all my friends are off campus this week, or I’d have somebody go over there and get some video footage, maybe put it up on YouTube.”

Zoe thought of something and her smile withered. “Huh…don’t you feel sort of hypocritical now?”

“Why would I?”

Zoe frowned. “Well…you were so hard on Chuck about how he treated that little goth girl. I was mad at him, too. I feel sort of bad now.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “Oh, whatever. You know I just like to fuck with Chuck. I don’t really give a damn about that stupid girl. Speaking of Chuck…are you two really back on? I thought the split was a done deal.”

Zoe picked up her Corona bottle again and took a sip. “It’s complicated. I guess we’re back on. For now.” Her mood shifted again, her eyes twinkling and her smile curving in a way that suggested naughty thoughts. “We’ve been having some wicked-hot sex.”

Emily snorted. “Maybe he should get the shit beat out of him more often.”

Zoe grinned. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Emily stood up and stretched, purposely displaying the full glory of her gorgeous figure. “I think it’s time I got wet.”

Zoe stared at her. “Yeah.”

Emily started walking toward the ocean. She turned and walked backward a few steps as she said, “Come on, Zoe. Come get wet with me.”

Then she turned away again and sprinted toward the ocean. She waded out until the water was up over her hips, then she sucked in a breath and dove beneath the surface. She surfaced again some twenty yards farther out, bobbing above the water like the top half of the hottest mermaid ever.

She spotted Zoe and waved.

Zoe waved back.

She finished off her beer and stood up, began to walk toward the ocean. She smiled, her gaze alternating between the still-recumbent form of Chuck Kirby and the sleek, dazzling water acrobatics of the best friend she’d ever had.

She shivered with delight at the first sensation of water sliding over her feet.

Time to get wet.

March 24

The motel parking lot was jammed with the cars of spring breakers. The Tercel was wedged between a powder blue Mustang and a black BMW in a row of cars facing a long, two-story wing of the motel. Rob sat in the Tercel’s driver’s seat, drumming his thumbs along the upper curve of the steering wheel. Roxie sat scrunched down in the passenger seat, her feet propped on the dash. Rob kept glancing at her. Her new outfit was bugging him. She wore tan khaki shorts and a blue T-shirt with a picture of a surfboard on the front, both purchased from a nearby souvenir shop. The clothes looked good on her. That wasn’t the problem. The girl would look good in anything. They just didn’t look…right. If you ignored the several visible tattoos, she could pass for any preppie college kid out for a hot time in the sun and sand.

She looked at him. “For fuck’s sake…
what
?“

“Those clothes don’t look right on you.”

She smiled. “I should be wearing something cool, right? Something tight and black, with a skull on it, maybe?”

“Well…yeah.”

“This is a costume. We need to blend in. You, too.”

Rob wore black jeans and a shiny button up black shirt with a bright red flame pattern across the front. The same duds he’d been wearing since she’d taken him.

“No. I…can’t.”

She smirked. “You’ll do it if I say so, bitch.”

Rob pulled a pained expression. “Please…don’t. I couldn’t bear it. I’m begging you. I’m allergic to khaki.”

Roxie laughed. “I do like to hear a man beg, so whatever.”

Rob gripped the steering wheel and started the thumb-drumming thing again. “Look. We’ve got money. Why don’t we just check in?”

Roxie shook her head. “No. I don’t want any motel clerk remembering us.”

“You didn’t seem worried about that before.”

“Things were different then.”

“How?”

“I wasn’t in love with you yet.”

Rob shifted in his seat, fidgeting a little as he became uncomfortable.

Okay, this is fucking crazy.

It was the third time she’d invoked the L-word today. He couldn’t fathom it. He liked her. Liked her a
lot
when she wasn’t killing somebody or doing something else completely insane. This was their third day together. Even leaving out all the craziness, wasn’t it a little soon to be bandying that word around? He didn’t know how he felt about her profession of love, assuming it was how she really felt. She could just be fucking with him again. But some deep-down instinct told him she wasn’t playing with his head this time. She liked him.
Loved
him. Or at least thought she did. And if she truly believed it, for her there would be no difference between delusion and true love. Rob’s feelings for her were complicated by so many things. The repugnant acts he’d seen her commit. His lingering feelings for both Charlene and Lindsey. But what truly troubled him was the sense this thing with Roxie was likely to be painfully brief. Her lifestyle was going to catch up to her sooner or later. One day she’d slip up and be caught or killed by the cops. There was no “happily ever after” waiting somewhere down the road
for them. Just a steep and rapid drop deep into the heart of darkness.

“Snap out of it.”

Rob blinked. “What?”

“Your head was off in the fucking clouds.”

He sat up straighter in his seat. “Right. Sorry.”

“I love you.”

For fuck’s sake…

“Right. You said that.”

Roxie laughed. “You don’t have to say it back yet. I know you like me. You’ll come around to the love thing sooner or later. Probably sooner.”

“Right.”

“Anyway, as I was trying to tell you, going gaga over you has sort of changed my perspective a little. Don’t get me wrong. I’ll always be what I am. But I do mean to be more careful.” She pried one of his hands off the steering wheel and laced fingers with him. “And that includes no interaction with the staff here.”

Rob grunted. “So…
instead…
”

He let the implied question hang.

She flexed her fingers slightly for a better grip on his hand. “We watch for a likely target. Preferably someone vulnerable. Preferably alone.”

“We catch them going in or out of their room.”

“Right.”

“Get them inside the room and tie them up.”

“Wrong. Fucking waste of time. We kill them.”

Rob groaned. “Is that really necessary? You haven’t killed anybody in over twenty-four hours. The bloodshed reduction was sort of refreshing.”

“What’s your favorite horror movie?”

Rob stared at her with his mouth hanging open for a long moment. The abrupt conversational shift had caught him off guard. “Um…I…wait. Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Rob shrugged. “I don’t think I have a single favorite. I like so many. There’s
The Texas Chainsaw Massacre
and
Dawn of the Dead.
Obviously.”

“Originals or remakes?”

“Both.”

She smiled. “Good answer. The
Dawn
remake is better than the original, though.”

“Blasphemy. And what does any of this have to do with murdering innocent spring breakers?”

She laughed. “I didn’t want to talk about that anymore, that’s all. I’m killing them. End of story. Don’t make me say it again.”

Her hand tightened around his. A reminder.

This was a command, not a request.

He forced a smile. “Understood.”

She relaxed her grip and smiled back. “Good.”

Rob opened his mouth to say something, but the words died on the edge of his tongue, unspoken and forgotten. He stared at the black BMW parked to the right of the Tercel. Its doors had come open and two passengers climbed out. The very unlikely looking pair started walking toward the motel. It was a middle-aged man and a girl in her teens. The man looked like a powerfully built wino in ill-fitting clothes. The girl was cute as hell. But something about her haircut was off. It looked…unprofessional.

Roxie was staring at them, too. “Something’s not right there.”

“No shit. That car was there when we pulled in, which was“—he glanced at the dashboard clock—“an hour ago. So…”

Roxie nodded. “They hid behind those tinted windows the whole time, waiting for us to get out or go away.”

“Because they didn’t want to be seen together.”

“Right. Or something like that.”

“Weird.”

The strange couple stopped at the door to a room on the first floor. The man opened the door with a key card and they slipped inside the room. The old bum tried not to be obvious about it, but he shot a quick look their way before shutting the door.

Roxie slipped on her sandals (also newly purchased) and retrieved the .38 from the glove compartment. “Change of plans.”

She was out the door and moving toward the motel before Rob could protest.

He slapped the steering wheel.

“Shit!”

One day her impulsiveness really would get her killed. He glanced at the keys dangling from the ignition. For the first time in more than a day he gave serious consideration to the possibility of escape. He could drive away and leave Roxie to meet her inevitable doom on her own. He could go home. Make excuses. Maybe find a way to reconcile with Charlene. Then there was Lindsey. Sweet Lindsey. His best friend. Maybe Roxie was right about her. Maybe she really did want something more than friendship. Or maybe not. Bottom line, he had options. Possibilities. Normal, sane things he could do with his life. Somehow, it was all still just within his grasp.

He looked at Roxie.

She was already at the door to the room the strange couple had entered.

Rob sighed. “Shit.”

He grabbed the keys from the ignition, hopped out of the car, and hurried after her.