The Girl With the Bad Dreams

Chapter 7

Carlin checks the time on her phone: she's been waiting in this corner diner for twenty minutes. She sighs, puts the phone down, and takes another sip of ice water, hoping the cold liquid jolts her awake.

She needs the jolt. There are dark circles under her eyes and she's slumped with exhaustion. "You sure you don't want some coffee?" the young waitress asks for the third time as she passes by Carlin's table.

"No, thank you, water is just fine." Carlin doesn't want anything that will keep her awake. As soon as Mark gives her the pills she wants to go right to sleep.

"You ready to order then?"

"No, sorry, I'm still expecting one more."

The waitress sighs sympathetically. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I think you've been stood up."

Carlin chuckles. "He'll show up."

"Oh yeah? What makes you so sure?"

"Because this isn't a date."

Sure enough the door swings open and Mark steps into the brightly-lit diner. He sees Carlin and starts making his way toward her booth.

The waitress notices Mark's tall frame and chiseled features. She raises an eyebrow in admiration. "All right. I stand corrected."

"Steak and eggs," Carlin tells the waitress as Mark slides into her booth.

"And for the gentleman?"

Mark glances up at her. "Just water, thanks."

"He'll have steak and eggs, too," Carlin corrects him. "And he's paying."

The waitress looks at Mark, who frowns and nods. The waitress turns to place the order. Mark and Carlin sit in silence until she's far enough away that they can be sure their conversation will remain private. Then Mark pulls the prescription bottle from his coat pocket and holds it on the table in front of him. "What are these, anyway?"

"You don't know?"

Mark shrugs. "I just took them because they looked important."

"They are important."

"So where are my knives?"

"Under the table."

Mark glances under the table where he sees the duffle bag. A smile spreads over his face. "Thank you." He slides the bottle across the table to Carlin.

"Aren't you going to open the bag and make sure they're all there?"

"Why? Did you steal something?"

"No, of course not."

"Why would you?"

"I dunno, they also seem really important."

Mark frowns with disgust. "I hate these fucking things I wish I could just throw them out or something but I can't."

"Why not?"

"My grandparents...they left strict instructions in their will to take care of them. Not to lose them. Not to sell them, just keep them."

"Fuck your grandparents. Get rid of them."

"I would, but..." Mark cuts himself off, like he caught himself before he said too much.

"But what?"

"Never mind, it's not important. Maybe I'll just bury them at the cabin. Never see them again."

"What cabin?"

Mark smiles. "I bought a cabin up in Wisconsin. Beautiful lake view, isolated, romantic, best of all: peaceful."

It sounds terrible to Carlin. "Why?"

Mark is surprised she doesn't share his enthusiasm. "For Heather, you know, a wedding present. That's why I pretended to go to New York, so I could surprise her with this beautiful place to get away from it all."

"Heather doesn't want to get away from it all."

Mark's slightly deflated by Carlin's attitude, but he tries not to despair. "I think she does. She's been seriously stressed out by all the wedding preparations."

Carlin laughs. "Are you kidding me? She lives for that shit." Carlin stuffs the pills in her coat pocket. "Besides, when I tell her you stole my pills she won't wanna go anywhere with you."

Mark sighs in despair. "Come on, don't be like that."

"No, you're the one being a dick. These are important to me."

"I only took them because I needed something in case you took my knives." He leans toward her. "And I was right, wasn't I?"

"I took your knives because you left them in my storage space."

"The storage space of an apartment I'm paying for."

Carlin grabs her coat and stands up. "Yeah, well, fuck you, enjoy your steak and eggs." She storms out of the diner.

                                                                                           * * *

Carlin shrugs her coat on over her shoulders as she turns left on the sidewalk and takes long strides toward home. She pulls the bottle of pills out of her pocket and considers them as she walks. She pops open the top and is about to throw one into the back of her throat when her phone chirps.

Carlin doesn't stop walking, but she doesn't take the pill, either. She glances down her phone, instead. The number listed as "blocked". It chirps again. Carlin decides to answer it. "Hello?"

"Carlin, it's Hank, I'm sorry, don't hang up –"

Carlin hangs up.

The phone chirps again. Carlin answers it. "Stop fucking calling me!"

But the voice on the other line isn't Hank. It's female. "Is this Carlin?"

Carlin, surprised by the woman's voice, checks the number in embarrassment. It's unfamiliar, but not blocked. "Yes, I'm sorry, this is Carlin. Who is this?"

"It's Andrea, from the Red Door?"

"Oh right, Andrea, of course. Listen, I think I was wrong about Mark. He's an asshole, but I doubt he's a killer. I'm just under a lot of stress and really depressed I should have –"

"You're not wrong," Andrea interrupts her.

Carlin stops dead in her tracks. "What?"

"You're not wrong. I dug up some information, very disturbing information that I think you should see."

"Uh...okay...when?"

"Right now."

Carlin thinks as she looks around. The sun is starting to rise. A pickup truck drives by on the empty street and a "thud" interrupts her thoughts.

"Carlin? You still there?" Andrea asks over the phone.

Carlin looks down at a pile of Chicago Tribunes that have been thrown from the back of the delivery pick-up truck. "Yeah, hold on a sec Andrea."

The pile is tied into a bundle so Carlin can't pick up the top paper, but she crouches down next to it and reads the front page headline: "Missing College Student's Bloody Clothes Found Near Wisconsin Cabin". Under the headline is a photograph of a smiling young Asian woman, a photograph Carlin recognizes from the white board of the police station. Carlin continues to stare at the paper in shock until Andrea's voice pulls her back. "Are you still there Carlin?"

Carlin stands up, her mind reeling. "Yeah, yeah, I'm still here, sorry. I can be there in about twenty minutes."

"Great. See you soon." Andrea hangs up the phone.