Chapter 19
Beck
Just after eleven a.m. on Saturday, and I've been sitting in my car in the parking lot behind Allie's apartment waiting. She hasn't been at work all week. She hasn't responded to any of my messages or answered any of my calls. I've walked across the street at least ten times to use the toilets at the DQ, and they started demanding I purchase food in order to be able to use their facilities, so now my car smells like chili dogs and opinion rings. I'm tired. I've been up all night, and I just refuse to leave until Allie shows up.
If she thinks she can just ghost me, she's wrong. Her job is too important to not show up. If she's sick, why isn't her Jeep here? And if she's not sick, then maybe something happened to her. So I sip what's left of my melted Oreo Blizzard® and watch the entrance to her apartment. The door to the stairwell is open. I've seen her neighbors come and go a few times--lovely dark-haired couple with a few young kids. But no sign of her.
I don't know if I can sit here all weekend, but I'll sure try. I don't want to risk driving to one of the other fast-food restaurants in town to get something to eat. If she comes back while I'm gone I'll miss that opportunity. So I wait. I eat a plate of chili fries, a dish of onion rings, a bowl of ice cream, and finally after nearly eighteen hours of waiting here for her the black Jeep rumbles into the parking lot.
Only, Allie isn't driving it.
It's her friend, Jess.
I scrunch down in my seat, hoping she doesn't see me, and I watch her. I'm parked at the back of the lot; she parks right by the building. She seems to be talking to herself. Are you a little crazy, Jess? Talking to yourself helps you not feel lonely? And she really goes at it too, like she's arguing or something.
Finally she opens the door and slides out. I recognize the large satchel she carries cross-body over her shoulder. It's Allies bag, and if she's driving Allie's car, and she's here, it means she probably has Allie's keys too.
What are you up to, Jess? Have you done something to our little precious angel? Why would you be here driving her Jeep and carrying her bag?
Curiosity gets the better of me. The minute Jess vanishes around the side of the building moving toward the door, I slip out of my car and run across the parking lot with feather toes. If she hears me, she'll freak out and run or something; I just know it. She's guilty. She's done something with Allie, and now she's back to ransack her apartment and steal from her or something.
I'm winded, sucking air harder than an emphysema patient in a nursing home, but I force myself to breathe quietly as I open the door and start up the stairs. Jess is still talking to herself, now digging through Allie's bag. She doesn't hear me behind her at all. She's on the top step opening the door to the landing. I wait just around the corner as she enters; then I creep up the last few stairs.
Peeking through the crack in the door, I watch her fumble with the keys and open Allie's apartment. If she goes in and shuts the door I'm trapped outside. I can't let that happen. She can't steal from Allie. But if I confront her, and she's armed, she could hurt me too. I bite my lip as indecision tethers me to the top step, but as she pushes Allie's apartment door open, I lurch forward and burst through both doors at once, tackling Jess into the hallway just inside Allie's door.
"Hey! What are you! Beck?" Jess scrambles to get up, frantically looking into the bag as I pry myself off the floor.
"What the hell are you doing! Where is Allie?"
She scowls and pushes the bag around behind her, still slung crosswise over her chest as I use my foot to shut the door, and I push the hair out of my eyes.
"Fuck's sake, Beck. You could have just said hello." Jess's eyes are large like saucers. She turns and walks down the hallway toward the living room, and I hear her whispering something I can't make out.
Why the fuck are you talking to your bag, Jess? You really are delusional, aren't you? Are you dangerous, you little bitch?
"Where is Allie? She hasn't returned any of my calls or messages. What did you do with her?" I follow her up the hallway to the dark living room. The air in here smells stale, like no one has opened the doors or windows all week. Leftovers from our dinner last weekend still sit near the sink, a swarm of flies zipping around in the air nearby. Was Jess so jealous of Allie inviting me over that she did something horrible?
"She's at my house. She's sick." Jess's voice is curt, cold. She walks around the living room collecting things: a laptop and charger cable, a phone charger--that may explain why Allie didn't respond--and Allie's work briefcase.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm getting things for her to work from home. Okay? I'm sorry, I can't give you more information. I'll tell her you're worried." Jess's forehead is crinkled, her eyes flitting about. She's scared of something.
As she passes, I grab the strap of the satchel and pull on it, and she whips around on her heels toward me, yelping, "What are you doing!"
"Give me Allie's bag, Jess. Tell me what you're doing." She drops the load she carries in her arms as I yank the strap over her head, and she grabs it and holds onto it tightly, as if there is something in there she doesn't want me to see. Is it a murder weapon? Are you a killer?
"Stop, be careful!" she squeals, almost fear or concern in her voice.
"Give it!" I tug harder, pulling her so hard she almost falls over.
"I said be careful. What the fuck, Beck." She pulls back, but not with as much force. "You have no clue what you're doing."
"Stop being a bitch and tell me what you did with Allie." I pull again, and hear a muffled scream from somewhere, in the closet maybe?
Both of us freeze, staring at each other. And Jess swallows hard. I can see her paralyzed with fear. I feel the bag jostle even though neither of us moves, and I look down at it. It's moving; something is inside of it.
