Letting Go (Chapter-19)

Serena

Serena’s interview with Agent Becker was cancelled that morning, she assumed because Michelle’s death required more investigative work than they’d expected. There were no clocks in the overnight or interrogation room, so she had little idea of what the day would look like when she left. Serena was led to the front room by a male officer with a buzz cut who returned her wallet, small purse, cell phone, and keys to her in a plastic bag, then walked her through the lobby to the glass exit doors. Before leaving the facility, she glanced up at a digital clock near the exit. It was 3:10 pm.

Serena felt blinded by the sun after spending over 24 hours in the dark rooms of the agency. Once in her car, she turned on her cell phone, put it on the passenger’s seat, and clicked off the radio the moment she started the ignition. Listening to her phone buzzing beside her as she drove reminded Serena of the people she’d have to call, now that her case had been reopened. She’d dropped all social media accounts and kept from sharing her full name with friends and co-workers after college, in an attempt to keep her abduction a secret. But the identity she’d created for herself, free from the sympathetic treatment she’d grown to despise, would be lost.

Serena felt anxious when her list of people to contact turned out to be longer than she’d expected. She reached to turn on the radio but swiftly pulled her hand back. The silence was safer. She knew better than to risk hearing her name in the media, especially considering how emotionally unsteady she felt after the news of Michelle’s death. To keep her mind busy, Serena focused intently on the road. She counted every red light, green light, and yellow light she sped through, comforted by the fact that every passing street sign brought her a minute closer to the warmth of her own bed.

Serena’s feeling of relief for making it home vanished the moment she turned onto her street. “You have got to be kidding me.” She slammed her foot against the brake, pounded her hands against the steering wheel, and dropped her head against the headrest.

The reporters were crowded in front of her apartment, five buildings down from where she’d stopped. They were standing in tight groups of threes and fours - one person carrying a camera, one or two holding sound booms, and one gripping a microphone. She was certain that at least three of them were from the LA Daily, feeling either betrayed by her for keeping her secret from them, or assuming, as her co-workers, that they had an advantage over the others. These thoughts made Serena feel sick to her stomach as she pulled over and parked behind a red truck large enough to hide her Subaru. With her keys, phone, and wallet stuffed into her purse, she slowly got out, ducked behind the truck, and knelt beside the curb. She glanced to her right. There was a small opening to an alleyway about ten feet away, which led behind the buildings where the dumpsters were. This backway could lead to her apartment, as long as there weren’t walls dividing the separate properties.

As Serena gripped her purse tighter, preparing to move swiftly into the alley, a high-pitched voice erupted from behind.

“Serena, hey!”

Serena quickly turned, maintaining her crouched position, to find Lori - one of the new journalists for the LA Daily - kneeling no more than a foot away from her. She was dressed in a pair of torn-up jeans and a blue tank top, with a white headband pulling back her curly red hair.

Serena replied, not masking the annoyance in her voice as she spoke. “No notepad? Pen? Recorder?” She glanced at Lori’s empty hands.

Lori scooted closer, “Oh! Oh no, I’m off the clock,” she spoke in almost a whisper, “do you seriously think they’d let me work looking like this?” She adjusted the strap of her shirt and let out a small chuckle, “No - I just want to ask how you’re doing…off the record, of course.”

Serena sat still, uncertain of how to respond. She couldn’t recall ever saying more than five words to Lori, even though their cubicles at the newspaper were within three feet of each other, and she knew better than to believe anything was ever ‘off the record.’

“Lori,” Serena turned to face her, “don’t pull that ‘off the record’ crap. If you seriously think I’m going to talk to you right now, you’re delusional.”

Lori’s eyes widened. “Serena, I can’t believe you think I’d--”

“Just, cut the crap,” Serena could feel a strong heat rising to her cheeks, “You’re getting nothing from me. Seriously. Leave me alone.”

Lori paused, pushed herself back slightly, and stood up. “Fine. I was just trying to be a good friend, Serena. Whatever.”

Serena watched her leave then stood, turning her back to the reporters who were a good distance to her left, and moved swiftly into the alley. She moved slowly at first, jumping over trash bags and squeezing through large, discarded pieces of furniture until she heard the voices of a crowd approaching from the sidewalk. She paused and listened closer, recognizing the shrill voice of Lori above the clattering sound of camera wires against the sidewalk.

Damn it, Lori. You little bitch. Serena hastened her pace, keeping her eyes forward, avoiding the extraneous piles of trash that seemed to increase in size as she neared the end. When she finally reached the backlot she turned around the corner to her left, closed her eyes, and took a heavy breath of relief.

But her sense of calm vanished the moment Serena opened her eyes. Four tall wooden fences, each one starting against the wall of the building closest to her, then traveling across to the building on the opposite side, stood between herself and her apartment. The distant, yet the determined sound of the reporters entering the alleyway sent a wave of panic through Serena as she helplessly scanned the fence for an opening. “Shit,” she said under her breath, “shit, shit, shit.” She pulled her phone from her purse and, ignoring the missed calls and message notifications, dialed Jilliana’s number.

At first, Serena thought Jilliana wasn’t going to answer, but after four rings she let out an audible sigh of relief at the sound of her sister’s annoyed voice on the other end.

“Hello?”

“Jills, thank God,” Serena spoke hurriedly, “I’m here, in the back.”

“I’ve been calling you.” The annoyance in Jilliana’s voice was more apparent now.

“Yeah, sorry - are you home?”

“Of course I am. The idiots out front give me no choice.”

“Yea they’re behind me, like literally following me - and I don’t know how to get in from back here. There are fences...”

She heard her sister sigh on the other end. “They as in --”

“The reporters - yes, the reporters. Seriously Jills they’re coming--” Serena could feel panic rising in her chest.

“Okay, okay, how many buildings down are you?”

Serena took a second to count. “Four.”

“Walk down to the end of the fence. The last two posts should be loose if they haven’t fixed it. If you pull hard enough you’ll be able to separate the nails from the main post so you can slide through.”

Serena walked down, counted the wooden posts from the end, and wiggled them slightly.

“Jills, they won’t move! What do I do?!?” The crowd in the alley was getting louder. Serena tried to remind herself to breathe as she gripped the phone tighter in her right hand.

“Just pull harder, Serena. Pull harder,” Jilliana’s voice sounded more desperate as she continued, “don’t be a wimp, Serena - break the fucking things if you have to!”

Serena dropped the phone to the ground, gripped the last post, and yanked it until the nail came loose. She pulled the second post free, knowing that at best she had about two minutes before the reporters entered the back lot. She kicked the posts to the side, picked up her phone, and squeezed between the fence and the wall.

“Hey, you still there? I got through,” Serena spoke hurriedly, hoping her sister hadn’t hung up.

“Yeah, I’m here,” there was relief in Jilliana’s tone, “It’s the same all the way down - the last two posts of each fence.”

Serena ran to the next fence, propping the phone against her ear. The two pieces of wood popped off, almost too easy.

“Thank God,” Serena said into the phone, “I’m through the second fence.”

“Great. Do you need to keep me on? I’ll stay on the line if you want.”

Serena peered through the fence. She could see the crowd of reporters wandering aimlessly on the opposite side of the first fence.

“No, I’m okay. Meet me in the back in five minutes.”

“Okay. Be careful, Serena. See you soon.”

Serena heard a click as Jilliana hung up, and ran to the third fence.

By the time she’d made it through the fourth fence, Serena assumed the reporters had left - or were outside of the first fence waiting for her to show up. Imagining them sweating in the summer heat made Serena smile as she glanced down at her splinter-filled hands.

“Yeah, you should always wear gloves.”

Serena turned to see Jilliana walking from the back door of their building.

Her sister continued, speaking smugly, “It took me nearly an hour to get all the splinters

out my first time.”

Serena walked to meet her sister halfway and pulled her into a tight hug. She remained

still, holding Jilliana tighter with each passing breath, feeling more relief and comfort than she had in days.

Jilliana gently pulled away, smiled back, and linked her left arm around Serena’s right.

“Let’s get inside.”

“So, how did you know about the fences?” Serena was sitting on the couch now, holding a China Express menu.

Jilliana put out her cigarette and walked over to the couch.

“I used to date a guy six buildings down,” she said nonchalantly.

“Oooh, what came of that?”

“Nothing. He was married.”

Serena looked down,“Oh,” she tried to keep any hint of judgment out of her voice.

“Yup,” Jilliana lay her head back, “It didn’t last too long.”

Serena held up the menu and changed the subject. “I’ll have the vegetarian feast with white rice.”

As Jilliana ordered the food, Serena went to the bathroom, rinsed her hands in warm water, and searched for a pair of tweezers. She returned to the living room several minutes later with a rusted pair she found in the medicine cabinet.

“So...sorry for not answering your phone calls. I haven’t even looked at my phone since I left the agency.” Serena sat down beside her sister on the couch and began plucking the splinters in her left palm.

“It’s alright, I was just worried. I’ve been watching the news and all this stuff with the case, that woman Michelle… It’s kinda freaking me out.”

Serena lifted her eyes from her hand, “What are they saying about Michelle, on the news?”

“Not much. Just that they think she had some kind of connection with you. Your case, I mean. I don’t think there’s anything definite, but they aren’t losing an opportunity to talk about your whole stupid case again.”

“Jills, they’re right--right about Michelle.”

Serena watched her sister’s eyes widen. “Wait, how do you know for sure?”

“They told me everything at the agency this morning. Michelle was the person who came forward, who gave them Edmond Rowen’s name, everything.”

“But--” Jilliana shook her head slightly, “how could someone know all of that? How do they know it’s all true?”

“Because--Michelle was Edmond Rowen’s wife.”

There was a long silence, then a knock on the door that made them both jump.

“The food,” Serena said under her breath.

After paying for the takeout and locking the door, Serena placed the unopened bag on the coffee table and sat back down on the couch.

The smell of hot Chinese food filled the room, but the bag remained unopened. Serena glanced over at Jilliana, then at the blank television screen.

“Jills,” a thought quickly came to her, “how long were the reporters outside of our apartment?”

“God, I don’t know, maybe since noon? I thought they’d never leave.”

“Do you know if they took any pictures - recorded any statements out front?” Serena could feel her hands start to tremble.

“I mean, I don’t know --” Jilliana stared at Serena, “I heard a lot of talking down there.”

Serena glanced down, clasped her hands firmly together to minimize the shaking, then scanned the living room. The empty wine bottles still covered the carpeted floor. The coffee table was strewn with used cigarettes, three empty beer cans, and untouched Chinese food. She looked toward the window, then turned to her sister.

“Jills, we need to get out of here.”

Jilliana’s face turned pale. Serena could see her lips tremble slightly before responding. “Why?”

Before Serena could reply, her train of thought was interrupted by a memory that stopped her from speaking. It was Edmond’s voice, emerging from the nightmares she had spent years trying to suppress. The words began as a faint echo, but within moments were heard with such clarity it felt as though he was whispering directly into her ear.

Do you want to play with fire, my little one?

She shut her eyes, attempting to make it stop, but couldn’t.

Now watch - watch the flames dance.

She wrapped her arms around her chest instinctively and pulled herself into a ball on the couch.

Don’t be frightened, little one. The flame only burns for a second.

She jerked her eyes open. Jilliana was staring at her, also holding her knees to her chest, looking more petrified than she had before. Serena wanted to shift closer to her sister, but her muscles felt too frozen to move.

“Serena,” Jilliana spoke almost in a whisper, “what’s wrong? Why do we have to go?”

Serena shifted her gaze to the door and took two deep breaths. “Because,” she spoke slowly and turned back to her sister, “he’s coming.”