Robert Browne - Kill Her Again

“See you tomorrow, dear.”

Suzie had saved her a spot in the bus line. Jillian and Suzie had been best friends ever since kindergarten, when Suzie’s family moved in next door to Jillian’s. That was back before the divorce, when she and her mom and dad were living on Randall Street.

When they sold the house, Jillian had been afraid she’d have to move too far away and go to another school, but they got lucky and found an apartment close by. Jillian was relieved, because she couldn’t imagine having to go to another school and make new friends and all that. And she couldn’t imagine being without Suzie.

Suzie said, “So did you ask?”

“Ask what?”

“About Big Mountain, dumbo.”

Big Mountain was the new amusement park that had opened up over in Allenwood, which was about a half-hour drive away. Right before they got married, Mom and Craig had taken her and Suzie to opening day, and Suzie couldn’t stop talking about it.

“I forgot,” Jillian said.

“Forgot? How could you forget? Your birthday’s only two weeks from Saturday.”

Suzie was dying to celebrate Jillian’s eleventh birthday with another trip to Big Mountain, but the truth was, Jillian wasn’t all that excited about the idea. She’d had fun, sure, but not that much fun, and there was something about the place that had given her the creeps.

First off, Big Mountain wasn’t all that big. Northgate Shopping Mall was bigger and even had a McDonald’s. Second, it was supposed to be brand-new and everything, but Craig told them that all Big Mountain had really done was buy a bunch of old rides and stuff from a park that closed up in Oregon somewhere, then slap some new paint on them and add a big plaster mountain with a tunnel in it, so sky cars could go through.

And Craig should know, because he worked for the company that owned Big Mountain.

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Jillian’s mom had asked.

“We’re not looking for a lawsuit,” Craig said. “They test those rides like crazy before they let anyone get on them.”

And that was the other reason Jillian wasn’t so thrilled about Big Mountain. If Craig Winterbaum worked for the company that owned the place, how good could it really be?

“Promise me you’ll ask tonight,” Suzie said.

Jillian didn’t want to, but she didn’t want to disappoint Suzie, either, who was not only her best friend but practically her only friend-and vice versa. So she reluctantly nodded. She was about to say, Promise, when the whistle blew and all the kids started piling onto the buses.

It was almost their turn when Jillian had a sudden inspiration. Anything to keep from going straight home. Craig had taken a day off from work, and he and Mom were probably on the sofa right now, going at it.

“You wanna walk today?”

“Huh?” Suzie said.

“I got carsick yesterday. I feel like walking.”

Suzie looked around, then shrugged. “Okay.”

They quickly got out of line.

The bus ride home usually took about ten minutes, but walking was a different story. Carl’s Liquor Store was on the corner of Crestwood and Mill, and whenever they walked, Jillian and Suzie usually stopped there for Pixy Stix.

Jillian’s favorite flavor was lime, but they were out today and she had to settle for grape. It didn’t hit the spot like lime did, but it was better than nothing.

They were coming out of the store, Suzie still blathering on about Big Mountain, when Jillian noticed the car.

It was an old thing, kinda funky-looking, and she was sure it was the same car she’d seen parked outside of school a couple times.

And on her street the other night.

She had been getting ready for bed when she noticed it. Just happened to look out her bathroom window and saw it parked below. There was someone sitting inside, but it was too dark to make him out, and all she could see was an arm dangling out the driver’s window, cigarette in hand.

For a moment Jillian had thought it might be her dad, because he had always smoked cigarettes, but then that didn’t make much sense. Dad had moved to Idaho with his new girlfriend four years ago and didn’t seem all that interested in staying in contact with Jillian. So why would he be parked outside her apartment building?

But whoever it was, Jillian got the sense that he was watching her. And she didn’t like it. It made her feel kinda crawly, like she had spiders inside her blood.

So she made sure that both the window and her curtains were shut, even used a clothespin to seal the gap between the curtains, then promptly tossed off her school uniform and climbed into the shower.

She knew she should have told her mom about the car, but she hadn’t. Every time she thought about it, Craig had been there. Craig was always there.

Now here the car was again. Parked outside Carl’s Liquor Store.

But why? Did he live in the neighborhood?

“That’s it,” she said to Suzie. “That’s the car I told you about.”

Suzie looked at it. “The Rambler?”

“Is that what it’s called?”

Suzie nodded. “My uncle has one just like it. He collects old cars.”

“Does he live around here?”

“He lives in New Jersey, dumbo. You know that.”

“I thought maybe he moved or something,” Jillian said. “Who do you think it belongs to?”

“Probably some hobo. Come on, let’s go.”

But Jillian wasn’t ready to go yet. Curious, she started toward the car.

“What are you doing?” Suzie asked, sounding a little nervous.

“I wanna look inside.”

“What?” She sounded alarmed now.

“Just a quick look,” Jillian said. “I’m not gonna get in or anything.”

“What if somebody catches you?”

“I’ll tell him we thought it was your uncle’s car.”

Moving up to the driver’s window, she took a look inside. The seats had rips in them and the ashtray was hanging open, overflowing with funny-looking cigarette butts. Jillian had never seen yellow cigarettes before.

Then she noticed a crumpled pack lying on the passenger’s seat. It had some kind of foreign language written on it.

There was a locket dangling from the rearview mirror. It looked like it was open, but the reflection from the window made it kinda hard to see, so Jillian bent down a little to get a different angle.

Inside was a photograph. A really old one, from the looks of it. A faded black and white. Jillian had seen pictures like it in her history book, from back when cameras were first invented and everybody stared into them like they were possessed by the Devil or something.

The girl in the photograph looked that way, too. Was probably about fifteen or sixteen, with curly black hair and really big dark eyes. Her skin looked brown, like she’d spent a lot of time in the sun, and she had a shawl on her head.

She was probably one of the most beautiful girls Jillian had ever seen. And there was something familiar about her. Like maybe she was somebody Jillian had known once.

The girl looked like a gypsy. At least the gypsies Jillian had seen in the movies. And Jillian wondered if she was the driver’s great-grandma or some other relative, long dead, because if she was still alive, she was bound to be as wrinkly as a sun-dried fig.

Jillian squinted at the photo a moment longer, then stood upright and moved to the rear passenger window. Nothing in the backseat or on the floor except for a crumpled McDonald’s bag that looked like it had been there for weeks. Jillian was about to move on when her attention was drawn to a familiar sight in the back windshield.

That was weird.

Down in the bottom right corner was a Big Mountain parking sticker. One that said: EMPLOYEE.

Craig had one on his car, too. So whoever was driving this old heap worked for the same company that Craig did.