Hearing him reference Hayzel by our last name is jarring. It makes me feel like an interloper, like I’m hearing things not intended for me, but I have no desire to give him privacy. Boone tips his head back and lets out a huff of frustration. “Let me look over the photos again and see if I can find anything more solid. In the meantime, send me what you have in Texas and thesurrounding states. I know he’s willing to travel, but we have to narrow it down somewhat before we cast the net further.”
There’s a rather long pause before he finally says, “Got it. Thanks, Kel,” then ends the call without saying goodbye. Boone pulls out the chair and lowers himself into the seat, barely taking his eyes off the laptop screen in the process. I want to ask a slew of questions, like who is Kel, what was in the email, and what photos is he talking about.
Instead of voicing the thoughts running through my mind, I remain on the couch, silently watching him while his sole focus is on the laptop. Seconds turn to minutes, and when nearly half an hour elapses without him so much as looking up, as if he’s forgotten I’m in the room, I clear my throat. His gaze leaps to mine, and he blinks rapidly.
I wonder how often he gets so absorbed in his work. “Sorry,” I say more out of habit than actual regret.
“When was the first time Hayzel mentioned the strange events?” he questions as if he’s resuming a conversation.
“Um…” It’s a thought I haven’t examined too closely, and now I’m certain it was to avoid feeling even more guilty about what I let happen. “A while,” I hedge, though my mind is piecing together a better answer. “Before I moved in with her.”
“Weeks? Months?” he asks.
“Maybe months,” I say, but I’m unsure.
“Not before she left for school though?”
“No,” I state with confidence. Boone and the space around him become a little hazy as my eyes become unfocused. My mind goes back to the first week after we both moved. I was in a small studio just off campus. I was both excited to finally be on my own and terrified. That first couple of days was a whirlwind. Getting everything settled was fun, and putting all my new stuff away and setting up my space kept me entertained for a little while,but then the newness wore off, and I had time to think about how alone I felt and how much I missed Hayzel.
She seemed okay while getting to know her housemates and checking out the area she moved to. I remember being a little jealous at first that she didn’t seem to be missing me as much as I missed her. We still talked nearly every day, but it always felt like she was running out to get something to eat with a new friend or checking out the nearest pub, and I didn’t want to feel like a leech, so I gave her some space. I got good at pretending I was doing the same kinds of things, like exploring the campus and stuff, but really, I was so damn bored, I went out and got a job to keep me occupied.
It was about a month later when I was finally getting into a groove and beginning to actually like where I was when she called, and I knew right away something had changed. She sounded different, and the excitement in her voice was gone. I thought the few hundred miles between us finally caught up with her, but now I’m not so sure.
“I think it was about a month after school started,” I murmur. “She didn’t say anything that early, but that’s when she changed. Before that, it was hard to talk to her for anything longer than five minutes. Then, all of a sudden, she wanted to talk all the time. I didn’t mind, since it was nice to feel close to her again, but she seemed different.”
“Different how?”
“She seemed kind of sad.” I frown just from thinking about it. “I thought she might have been homesick or whatever.”
“But now you don’t. What changed your mind?”
I shrug. “I guess how fast she changed. She kept saying she was fine, that she was just tired or not liking her professors, but I knew there was something else going on after a few days. She was never sad, and if she was, it wasneverfor that long. I think something must have happened. I think… I think—” It takes mea second to get the courage to say what I’ve been keeping locked away in my soul for a while. Boone patiently sits, waiting for me to continue.
“I think Hayzel did know the person who killed her. I think she was just afraid to tell anyone who it was, or maybe she didn’t think anyone would believe her.”
Boone squints, his brow furrowing. “Someone she knew. You said you thought it was a stranger.”
“I did, and I don’t think this person was close to her, or that she was close to them anyway. It could have been a bouncer at one of the clubs she was going to, or a guy she met on campus or in one of her classes. Maybe she rejected him or something, and he couldn’t accept that, or maybe he just likes stalking girls and killing them, but I think she knew something or at least suspected. There are some pages missing from her diary. I didn’t notice them at first, but those missing pages fell in line with when she changed.”
“Why would she take the pages out? Why hide who she thought it was?”
“I don’t know. I’ve tried to make sense of that. Maybe she wrote about him, and then he did something to piss her off, or maybe she just mentioned something she saw or ran into the same person too many times, but someone ripped those pages out, and there has to be a reason why.”
“Will you let me read it?”
I start to shake my head in denial, but the motion doesn’t match my answer. “You can read it, but I won’t hand them over as evidence to anyone.”
“I’m not asking you to do that,” he agrees without hesitation.
“I could be wrong,” I admit, knowing it’s a definite possibility. “It just feels like there’s something there.”
“Everything is a theory until it isn’t. Is there anything else I should know? Anyone you’ve come across who didn’t sit right with you?”
That question gives me pause, but I decide to answer honestly. “It may not seem like it considering how receptive I’ve been to you, or maybe I should say howI pursued you, but I don’t trust many people anymore, or ever really. Hayzel was the sweet one.”
The corner of Boone’s mouth curls up in a little smirk. “There’s nothing wrong with having discerning tastes, and don’t try to take all the credit. I did ask you to breakfast after pretty much inviting myself to join you for dinner.”
As the conversation falls quiet, I notice the distant sound of an emergency siren growing louder and louder. “Sounds like there might have been an accident.” I make my way toward the front door to peek outside. I won’t have a great vantage point of the main road, but I’m drawn by the sound nonetheless.
