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Rohypnol. I’d seen enough episodes of SVU to know the name by heart.
It was one of the most common date rape drugs.
I felt a sort of fuzzy numbness as he tucked the Tic Tac container into his corduroy jacket. Whistling to himself, he hurried back upstairs and into the garage.
When he opened the driver’s side to the Kia, I brushed past him and sat in the passenger side. From atop the neatly stacked boxes in the semi-darkness of the garage, Oscar sat perched, flicking his tail back and forth.
James/Jamie connected his phone to the car’s bluetooth and joined in with the last chorus of “Sweet Sixteen” by Neil Sedaka as we pulled away from the house, east toward Denver.
I studied his face, looking for any indication of a red flag. Anything that would tell Nicole not to leave her drink alone. Not to take her eyes off it for a second. Not to trust the chiseled, clean-cut jawline or the warm smile.
There was nothing. Not right now.
It had been exactly one week since he’d slipped through my side gate and waited for me to appear. And it had been almost one year since I had screened his last call.
I never could have imagined the price I’d pay for rejecting him.
That little bottle of Tic Tacs was apparently the price she would pay for inviting him into her life. The price for hoping that maybe he would be the one.
Were there more people like me who had paid that price? More women who didn’t want him? Or who didn’t realize they wanted nothing to do with him until it was too late?
I forced myself to focus on the road in front of us and kept the rage bubbling inside me at a simmer.
I couldn’t afford to waste it.
12. SKYE
Kuna, Idaho
Now
There were seventy-two hours of security footage saved on the camera.
Ken removed the memory stick and popped it into a thumb drive on his keychain. “It’s good you came today. The camera loops over itself after seventy-two hours. So there’s a lot. If we don’t get through all of it, I’ll make you a copy.” He glanced at the door to the small office, and I knew he was thinking about what Don, the owner, would say about giving out a copy of the security footage. Don said no to everything. Thankfully, Don was almost never around.
Ken hit the “backup” button on the camera, which resulted in a ping to his phone. I wished I could give him a hug.
A few minutes later he pressed play at 8:00 a.m. on Friday, when I’d first arrived for my shift. He and my mom watched in silence as I moved into frame at the east edge of the parking lot, walking quickly but glued to the screen of my phone. I was smiling, watching some video or meme I couldn’t remember now. It was just a normal day. A happy day. The last time I’d have to work a morning shift before my first weekend at college.
After I went inside and out of frame, Ken scanned forward in the security footage. Each time a car entered the parking lot or an employee exited the building, he hit play.
“That’s him,” I screamed when a blue Kia appeared on the screen, in the far side of the lot. The footage stopped zooming forward and froze momentarily, and I tried to tamp down my nervous excitement. “That’s him,” I whispered again as the video resumed at normal speed.
“That’s him,” Ken said as if repeating me. “That’s the regular I was telling you about.”
James walked into the Daily Grind then re-emerged a few minutes later with his hot chocolate. My mom frowned when he got back into the car and drove away. It was slow-going. “I can go through this later, I don’t want to take up any more of your time. I know you need to work. I just thought maybe you’d recognize something out of the ordinary better than I would. Will you go forward to the end of her shift? She was supposed to get off around four.”
Ken nodded and kept scanning the footage in fast-forward. Cars zipped in and out of frame. The mail arrived. A couple of high schoolers made out in front of their car. A flock of seagulls descended to eat someone’s discarded bagel remains.
The blue Kia appeared a second time, pulling into the lot at the very edge of the video frame. Nobody got out of the car this time.
When I saw it, the jolt of emotion shut down Ken’s phone. My mom panicked. “Did you lose it? Where did it go?”
Ken shook his head in frustration and pressed his phone’s home button. “No, the backup is saved. I think it’s just a big file.” He frowned at the black screen.
Just as the phone rebooted, someone knocked at the office door and a petite brunette who had started the week before—Allison?— poked her head into the room. “Hey, uh. It’s getting kind of busy out there—should I call Don about getting someone else on shift or ...” She smiled sweetly, and Ken blanched.
“Um, no. I’ll be out in just a second, okay?” he said, throwing my mom an apologetic look. I didn’t blame him. It was almost eight. But I tried my darndest to slam the door on Allison as she left. I did not succeed.
