Jo
I am an absolute disaster human being. Mentioning Jake like that? Giving cagey answers about my parents? Disaster. Really it’s for the best that I stay in my apartment the rest of the day, looking at but not responding to further texts that are really just introductions: This is Ricky. Mitch. Trevor. You’ve been added to the group chat.
I really shouldn’t have mentioned Jake.
I work on the book about the natural disaster, which is somehow the only Erik Larson I’ve missed, and knit some more. At least I’ll have progress to show Mom next week. I eat a healthy microwave dinner and get to bed on time, and because it’s past the first couple nights in a new bed, I even sleep pretty well. Then it’s morning, and I get to enter Waiting Mode while on alert for Jamie’s text.
A teenage Allan resented having a baby in the house because it meant too much parental supervision, and here Jamie and I are decades later, annoyed by that same thing. Helen’s used to having Jamie to herself. It’s been just the two of them for years now, and even the smoker keeps him home a lot. Game night means he’s still there, even if she’s not. He moved back from Chicago so she wouldn’t have to be alone after the death of her husband of, what would that be, fifty-something years, and that’s a huge change. If she’s clung to Jamie in the wake of all that, who can blame her?
That’s a lot to shake up, and I don’t know if it’s worth trying. I already did Jake and Elaine, and right now Helen’s more like end-stage Elaine. It was Jamie’s suggestion to avoid her, though. Is that good or bad?
My phone lights up: The hen has flown the coop.
I guess it could be worse. It’s not like I have to worry about Helen checking my messages or something, so I don’t have to delete it, even if he ends up doing that on his phone. What do you want from Babycakes?
The bubbles pop up and disappear a few times. The meaty would be great, thanks.
Sure, but What about coffee?
The bubbles do their thing again. I guess technically he could say no, but I’m offering. I’m putting on my shoes to head up there anyway, and I’ll be buying myself stuff.
Just a black coffee, thanks.
I give that a thumbs-up and grab my backpack. Maybe it’s a black coffee because it’s less expensive, and maybe it’s a black coffee because he likes it. Either way, he’s getting a large black coffee.
It’s a familiar walk by now, even with the little detour to Babycakes. I’m not sure if it’ll be soothing or embarrassing when they start to recognize me, but since today it’s two orders to go instead of one for here, I’m not predictable yet. Jamie’s house isn’t that far, and he must’ve been keeping an eye out because he opens the door before I can knock, with that same sort of surprised smile. Maybe he’s used to people not following through.
“Thank you,” he greets me, taking the cup I hold out. I can slip my shoes off without having to kneel down or take off my backpack, though, so he just nods me on toward to the dining room table.
It seats eight, which is fine for game nights I guess, but it’s too big for just the two of them. He’s already got a stack of papers at one seat, so I go for the chair across from it. That gives me plenty of room to spread out my own stuff. It looks like he’s taking me seriously.
Jamie grabs plates and silverware and even gets us both glasses of water, hovering a moment before sitting down. So he’s used to being the server in this space, even if Chase kind of took that over from him on Friday. If Helen, Jamie, and Chase were in here at the same time, who’d get the override?
“Okay, so.” Jamie sits down and starts opening his breakfast burrito, and wow, yeah, that’s basically breaking the silence. I’m not necessarily a chatterbox, but I’m also not usually good with quiet when I’ve just met someone. “I haven’t made it through everything, but I did …”
Wow, I missed his laptop. He opens it and clicks to a bunch of pictures before turning it so I can have a look.
It’s the crime scenes. That’s the place where Julie was found. They’re pretty sure it’s also the place where she died, but that certainty goes down the further into the series a murder happens. They figure the killer got more comfortable with disposal, and wanted more time with them, so for the later women it’s a second—or third—location.
“Google street view, mostly,” Jamie tells me with a little shrug. “I was trying to visualize it. Do the trip from my apartment and all.”
I hesitate, but my backpack’s right here. I’ve got a map with the most likely paths and average walking times handy. He didn’t get a copy of that, but I pull it out now and pass it to him, smiling a little as his eyebrows go up. “I really did my due diligence to make sure it wasn’t you.”
“Yeah, well.” He pulls the map closer, leaning in, and frowns. “Wait, how did you …?” Jamie traces a certain convergence of lines.
I lean in, too, because the table’s nice and large. It’s hard to share a single sheet of printer paper. The section he’s pointing to is a foot path, overgrown at this point but still noticeable if you’re looking. “I’ve been there.”
“You’ve walked it,” he corrects, going for something more specific.
I nod. Not Forgotten fans have made pilgrimages, but they don’t know about this path because they weren’t starting from the same spot. I went in daylight, and it’s basically at the edge of the stuff that’s been gentrified—Jamie’s building was torn down a few years back and turned into ritzy condos—but it was still there. I have photos.
“Wow, so, uh.” He grins at me, adorably lopsided and entirely open. “I was going to try to be helpful, but I think I’m just redundant.”
I can’t help but grin back. “Try me anyway.”
Was I wondering if he was taking me seriously? He’s got his own map, and he’s marked out about how long it would take to walk to certain areas, including the places he knows were corners for sex workers. They’re not necessarily the spots mentioned in the podcast, and I’m not going to ask him how he knows, but it’s the sort of information only a local could give me. I do have a reason to get out my notepad, and I barely eat my own burrito before it gets cold, and partway through Jamie pushes his plate across the table so he can sit next to me and we can look at things at the same time, and I really shouldn’t be thinking of what he smells like or how his arm’s on the back of my chair while we’re discussing seven murdered women.
End of Part One (May)
Chapter Sixteen – coming October 16
