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“I tried. Last night. Even followed up with a couple of texts. But she hasn’t responded. Even though she made it sound urgent.” He sighs heavily. “You know how it is with opioid addicts. When they stop answering your calls…”
Holly knows exactly how it is, but she still can’t slow her breathing. “How did you find me, Tyler?”
“I don’t know any of Elaine’s friends down there. But she mentioned your name in a couple of texts. And I found your office online.”
“I see.”
“Look, I’m four hundred miles away. I thought, maybe…”
“Yes, Tyler.” Holly rubs her temples. “I’ll check on your sister.”
“Thank you, Dr. Danvers.” He pauses. “And if… if you do find my sister, please tell her not to come looking for me. I’m not ready to see her yet.”
After she disconnects, Holly cradles the phone in her hand, wavering. The last time she attempted to intervene with Elaine, she only made the situation worse. But how can she leave things as they stand? Particularly after what she just learned from Tyler.
Holly takes another deep breath and then tries Elaine’s phone, but it goes to voicemail.
“Screw it,” she mutters under her breath as she hops up from her desk.
Holly drives over to Elaine’s building, fighting what passes for rush hour traffic in Laguna Beach, and parks in the same spot as she did two days ago, beside the blue Nissan. She steps up to the ground-floor door and knocks. Her mouth goes dry, and her palms dampen. After their run-in, she never expected to find herself at this door again, let alone so soon. No answer. She knocks harder. Still nothing.
“Elaine!” Holly calls, pounding on the door with the side of her fist.
A minute or more passes without a reply.
Holly reaches for the doorknob. It turns freely. Pushing the door open slightly, Holly calls out again. “Elaine? Are you home?”
When there’s still no answer, Holly opens the door wider and takes a tentative step inside. Just as she’s about to call out again, something in the corner of the living room catches her eye.
Across the room, Elaine is slumped on the chair, her head angled back, her ear pressed to her shoulder. Her vacant eyes are wide open. Her skin is the color of slate. A single trickle of blood has dried from the crease of her left elbow down the inside of her forearm.
An empty syringe lies beside her bare foot.
CHAPTER 13
Tuesday, April 9
The sun has barely risen, and despite the cloudless skies, the cool breeze off the water still carries a bite. But Simon, who wears only a T-shirt and board shorts, doesn’t mind. It’s one of his favorite times of day: sitting on his deck and savoring his morning coffee, an oat milk cappuccino. While Victoria Beach is still deserted. Before the lapping of the waves and the crooning of the gulls are drowned out by a cacophony of children, boom boxes, volleyball players, and countless other invaders of his beach.
As Simon leans back and peruses the e-version of Rolling Stone on his tablet, a pop-up notification labeled “The Tribe” appears in the corner of the screen. He immediately taps on the group chat icon and sees two new messages from Salvador.
The first reads: HOLY FUCK!!
The second is a hyperlink.
As soon as Simon clicks it, a web page from some news site that he doesn’t recognize fills his screen. His jaw drops the moment he sees the headline: “Opioid Crisis Activist Dead.”
As Simon reads the story, he experiences more déjà vu than shock. Too often, he has learned of the death of a friend or an acquaintance through a similar type of media report. While the post offers some details about Elaine’s history of addiction, recovery, and activism, including a well-attended march she organized to city hall last year, it lacks any specifics about her death. It says only that Elaine was found in her home and that officials have not yet confirmed a cause of death. But that doesn’t stop the writer from speculating. He even tracked down a friend of hers in the movement who bemoaned her loss and cited her death as a cautionary tale for the ever-present risk of relapse among recovering addicts.
Simon hasn’t even finished reading when his tablet pings with multiple texts from other group members.
Baljit: Elaine died after we saw her? The same day??
Salvador: OMG, SHE MUST HAVE!!
Liisa: Do we know for certain she overdosed?
Baljit: You think it was killer bees?
