Letting Go (Chapter-26)

Edmond

The library was 30 minutes from closing when Edmond arrived, so it was nearly empty by the time he sat down at the computer. He knew his time was limited; he wanted to go to Serena’s apartment that night, before it got too late. There was no chance that Serena would be there, he knew, but all he needed was to run into one person - a friend, neighbor, or even an acquaintance - who had just enough information to get him going.

Edmond clicked on the most recent article covering Serena’s break in. Break in took place in Winnetka, Edmond thought as he read, Winnetka… He opened a second tab and typed in “west hills california zip codes.” When the page loaded he repeated the numbers under his breath as he wrote them down, “91396, 91306.”

He returned to the initial article and scrolled down to a set of pictures and videos. The street number, Edmond thought, that’s all I need. He double clicked on a picture of police crowding in front of Serena’s apartment and zoomed in. Only two of the four numbers were visible, but after looking at a different photo posted further down on the article, he was able to decipher the entire number -- 3851.

The next step was simple. He typed in “3851 Winnetka, Ca” and the first zipcode, 91396. Nothing, he thought as he scanned down the results, no matches. He replaced the zipcode with 91306. Bingo, he thought, smiling to himself, five hits. There were five potential streets her apartment could be on, all within minutes of each other. After writing down the street names, Edmond glanced at the time on the computer. It was 8:53pm. Too risky, he thought as he logged out, way too risky to put it into google maps. He left the library quickly and quietly without acknowledging the librarian as he walked passed the desk.

Edmond found the apartment building 20 minutes later, after trying two other possible locations that didn’t fit the picture from the article. When he pulled up to it, he spent several minutes coasting around the neighborhood before parking several buildings down. He moved swiftly and quietly out of his car and down the street, and by the time he reached the walkway leading up to Serena’s apartment building, a felt wave of regret. This is stupid, he thought, what the hell was I thinking, coming here? It’s not like she’d be here after the break in. He turned and glanced both ways down the street. The cops could be anywhere - in the bushes, behind the trees...this was such a fucking waste of my-- wait, he felt something against his foot on the pavement, what’s that?

He bent down and picked up the object, put it in his pocket, and walked back. He kept the small object in his pocket, feeling it press firmly against his leg as he drove along various main roads, keeping his eyes in the rearview mirror to ensure he wasn’t being followed. After ten minutes of straight driving he pulled over into the dead end of a residential neighborhood, turned on the car light, and pulled it out.

“A flip phone?” Edmond said as he turned the phone around in hands, “What a flimsy piece of crap.” He flicked his wrist, revealing the home screen. It took him a moment of scanning through the unread message notifications before he realized whose phone it was - and when he did he nearly dropped the phone in shock.

“It can’t be,” he said, his eyes widening, “it just can’t be.”

Edmond wouldn’t dare return back to the condo with Serena’s phone, in case there were any way to trace it. He’d have to take what information he could, then destroy it. Quickly.

He pulled out the scrap of paper he had used earlier that evening and retrieved a pen from the glove compartment. Edmond decided to give himself no more than ten minutes with the phone, to be safe. There were countless missed calls and text messages from “Mom” and “Dad” which Edmond could have cared less about, since most of them read “Where are you?!” and “Pick up your phone!” It wasn’t until Edmond came by a text conversation with a “Patrick Tryniski” that he took notice.

[5:40pm] Patrick Tryniski: When are you gonna come by?

[5:42pm] Serena: soon. sorry, J is taking forever.

[5:45pm] Patrick Tryinski: np, just got home. Txt when you’re on your way

[5:50pm] Serena: K, thanks Pat

[6:15pm] Patrick Tryinski: Hey, checking in

[6:19pm] Patrick Tryinski: you guys need help?

[6:30pm] Patrick Tryinksi: have you been getting my calls??

[7:38pm] Patrick Tryinski: saw the news, with your parents now. on our way to the station

Edmond wrote down the name “Patrick Tryinski” before scrolling down to another, shorter text conversation with a “Kelli Rice”:

[2:34pm] Kelli Rice: hi, you coming back to work soon?

[2:57pm] Serena: idk, hopefully tmrw

[2:57pm] Serena: did troy say anything?

[3:00pm] Kelli Rice: not really, no. but he wants us to cover your case. see if we can get some info from you. just wanted to give you a heads up…

[3:05pm] Serena: K, thank you.

[3:07pm] Kelli Rice: no problem. take care

Edmond wrote “Kelli Rice-work” down and moved on to the missed calls icon. He glanced at the digital clock in his car. It was 10:23pm. “Shit,” he said, “I need more time.” He looked back at the phone, scanned through the missed calls, and stopped at a voicemail that had been left by an 805 number at 4:56pm.

“Hello, Serena, this is Agent Nancy Keene calling. I need to set up a time with you to discuss Michelle Wilke’s will. We need to meet as soon as possible, preferably before her funeral on Friday. Please give me call on my cell once you get this.”

Edmond wrote down the words “Agent Nancy Keene” and “Funeral - Friday” on his scrap of paper, switched off the phone, and turned on the car. He drove five miles north, parked at a 7-Eleven gas station, and walked to the bridge above the LA river. He leaned over the edge, looked down at the darkness beneath him, then at Serena’s phone. “Damn,” he said as he hurled it into the distance, “I’m one lucky bastard.”