Makani was still thinking about the type of person who could sit beside a hacked and slashed body for five hours. “If the killer stayed there for so long, they must not have been concerned with getting caught. They must’ve known that Rodrigo’s parents were out of town. They must’ve—”
“Known Rodrigo before the attack.” Yeah. All three murders have been so personal—not to mention that killing someone with a knife is significantly more intimate than using a gun,” he added, sounding like his cop brother, “so it doesn’t seem probable that the killer is some random, crazy drifter. It’s probably someone they all knew.”
“Someone we know.”
An unintelligible voice in the background interrupted their conversation. “Okay, okay,” Ollie said with his phone pulled away from his mouth. “Sorry.” He was back on the line. “Chris wants me to get back to organizing his files.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
Neither of them said goodbye.
“Hey.” Her stomach tore open like a buzzing wasp nest. “I miss you.”
His response was silence. The wasps dropped dead. But then he spoke, and she could hear him smiling. “I miss you, too.”
When they hung up, she clutched her phone against her chest. It vibrated, and the sensation startled her. A long, garbled text had arrived from Darby: The Feed ’N’ Seed was open, he was meeting Alex there for work, and he’d update her again after seeing Alex in person. All morning, they’d been pretending like their fight had never happened. It was more important to make sure that Alex was okay. She still hadn’t texted Makani, but she’d made contact with Darby. Makani tried not to feel hurt by this.
A crocheted throw materialized over her legs. “You looked cold,” Grandma Young said. She sat down on the sofa, on the side nearest to Makani’s chair.
Makani pulled up the blanket with a shiver. “Thank you.”
“Have you spoken with your parents yet?”
“No.” She shook her head. “But I will.”
Grandma Young had given strict instructions to call them both when they were awake, to let them know that she was safe. Makani dreaded it. She wanted sympathy and crocheted throws. Not her parents. With the five-hour difference, it was 7:30 a.m. on the Kona Coast. People were out of bed and checking their phones. Would her old friends notice Osborne in the news? Even if they did, they wouldn’t make the connection. No one would recognize the name of the town. No one except for Jasmine.
Makani and Jasmine had once been as close as Darby and Alex, but now Makani knew that even the strongest of friendships cracked under pressure. And her bedrock with Darby and Alex wasn’t nearly so thick. She had to see Alex. She had to make the effort, because, otherwise, Alex might stop making the effort in return.
“Can I borrow the car this afternoon?” Makani’s question seemed loud and abrupt. “I’d only be gone for an hour.”
“May you borrow.” Despite her alarm, Grandma Young still had to correct Makani’s grammar. “And what, in heaven’s name, is so important?”
Her best chance of succeeding was to tell the truth. She did.
The heavy tick of the grandfather clock permeated the house as Grandma Young weighed her decision. “I can’t let you take the car and go alone.” She held up a hand to stop Makani’s protests. “But I will drive you there myself.”
Ollie went to work at Greeley’s Foods, and Darby and Alex went to the Feed ’N’ Seed. Even in times of crisis, humans and animals needed to eat, and teenagers earning minimum wage needed to be there to ring up the sales.
The sky was dim and overcast. The Feed ’N’ Seed was located on the outskirts of town, and Makani arrived shortly after her friends had begun their shift. The store smelled grainy with a fetid, tangy undertone of livestock, though it contained no animals.
Alex’s eyes were smeared and wholly rimmed with charcoal eyeshadow and black mascara. Evidence of crying. Darby sat beside her on a stool behind the long sales counter, as somber as a grave.
It was less embarrassing to be in public with her grandmother than Makani had expected. Grandma Young made her feel safer. The Osborne Slayer, as the media had dubbed the killer, wasn’t stalking Makani—apart from Ollie, her only local connections were here, surrounded by enormous bags of food pellets—but her nerve endings were frayed, all the same. The musty scent of foreboding clung to the town like mold on a decaying house. It was impossible not to breathe its stench into her lungs.
Near a display of pasture pumps, two middle-aged men wearing Carhartt overalls and matching frowns spoke in low, tense voices. They were the store’s only customers. Normally, the Feed ’N’ Seed would be bustling, and the ranchers and farmers would be booming jovially as they swapped stories. Makani didn’t need to hear what the two men were whispering to know that they weren’t talking about football or the weather.
Darby’s posture lifted when he noticed Makani and her grandmother.
“Hey,” she said awkwardly. She wasn’t sure where else to start.
“What’re you doing here?” And then, remembering his manners, he added, “Hi, Mrs. Young.”
Grandma Young nodded hello.
“We came to see how you’re doing,” Makani said to Alex. She corrected herself. “How you’re both doing.”
“Pretty. Shitty.” Alex drew out the rhyme.
Makani glanced at her grandmother, but Grandma Young didn’t blink. It was neither the time nor place to criticize. Sometimes, swearing was acceptable.
“I’m sorry.” Makani reached across the counter to squeeze Alex’s limp hand, injecting as much compassion into it as she could. They conversed with their eyes. Alex didn’t say anything, but Makani could tell that the gesture was meaningful to her.
Grandma Young had engaged Darby in a series of questions. “Yeah, my parents are freaking out,” he said. “They didn’t want me to come here today.”
“Oh!” Grandma Young’s posture changed like she’d remembered something important. She pivoted back toward Makani. “Your parents called while you were in the shower. Both of them.”
Her tone was accusatory, but Makani’s avoidance had turned into genuine forgetfulness. Momentarily, she was surprised that her parents had seen the news, though she wasn’t surprised that they’d called her grandmother—asking about her, instead of asking her directly. They’d met humanity’s minimum requirement.
“Sorry, Grandma,” she said.
Grandma Young cocked an eyebrow. “What about Oliver? I’m sure you didn’t forget to call him. Is he all right?”
Alex’s hand grew rigid.
Makani released it and stuffed her fists into her coat pockets. “He’s fine,” she mumbled. I shouldn’t have let go. I should have pretended like this wasn’t a thing.
But Grandma Young wouldn’t stop talking. “I’m glad he came over this weekend. I don’t know why he’d put that thing in his lip, but he’s a nice boy.”