Chapter Eight

My Last Nerve

A knock on my bedroom door pulls me away from the dark spiral of my killer’s rampage. I’m writing the crux of the climax, where my heroine figures out the pattern and is able to stop the psycho before he kills the man she’s fallen for.

“Colleen? Are you almost ready?”

I hear my mom’s words but they make no sense. My brain takes much longer than it should to process the fact she's talking to me in the present and not from the pages of my work-in-progress.

“Ready?” I ask, still confused about what timeline I’m in; Silver Valley or small town murder spree.

“For the picnic. We always go to Silver Valley’s annual Founders Day Outing.”

I smack my forehead, remembering where I am and what day it is. The picnic slash festival is a tradition. Everyone stops everything and gathers together for games, music and food. It’s hometown camaraderie on crack.

I didn’t mind it as a kid, but now I’d rather eat hay with the horses for dinner than attend this monstrosity.

“Um, I think I’ll just hang out here.” Having the house to myself sounds like heaven on earth. I’ll be able to write the finale without either parent breathing down my neck.

“Colleen, you cannot skip. We always go and the last few years you haven’t been here to attend.” I hear her severe intake of oxygen before she delivers the final blow. “It’s a family tradition.”

Ugh. She had to pull out the guilt trip. Dropping my forehead to my desk, I give up. “Okay.”

“Good. We’re heading out in five minutes.”

Her retreating footsteps fade away leaving me irritated with myself for allowing her coercion to work. To be fair, I haven’t gone to this shindig in at least three years. But in my defense, I was usually back on campus preparing to start a new year at school. The summer is coming to an end and this event reminds me exactly how much I’ve moved backwards rather than forwards.

I’m a college grad. I should be out in the world, working a real job and forging my future. I should be dating men who aren’t still leeching off their parents' fortune. I should not be living with my parents and working my old high school job, thwarting the unwanted attention from my ex. Yet here I am, sleeping in my childhood bedroom and dealing with not one of those disasters, but all of them.

“Whatever,” I mumble to myself then cringe. “I’m even acting like a bratty teenager.” Living here is like a time-warp.

With nothing to do about it at the moment, I pull a brush through my hair and twist it into a knot on top of my head. I slip into a yellow t-shirt and my cleanest pair of denim overalls. Gray vans and a sling bag secured, I accept my fate and go hop into the jump-seat of my dad’s pickup. He’s had this Dodge truck forever. It's scratched and dented because he drives it all over the ranch. He never bothered to buy something nicer.

I feel like a little kid. The outfit, the attitude and my tiny seat don’t do me any favors, that’s for sure. I watch the fields as we pass cows and horses in pastures on our way to the picnic grounds by the local swimming hole. It’s every summer I ever lived growing up all over again and I want to cry.

I’m sure I’d feel different if I was here for a visit from my big time life as a career woman. But a generic business degree with zero experience doesn’t open many doors. It all makes me want to curl into a ball because so far, I’ve proved no one wrong.

Dad drives into the dirt pad being used for parking, kicking up dirt as we go like every other beat up ranch truck in town. Then I follow my parents to the booths selling roast chicken and pulled brisket. We also grab orders of baked beans and fresh corn. There’s all kinds of games set up near the pond with silly prizes like paper crowns and honey sticks. It’s all very home town and cozy but I can’t enjoy a second of it this year.

For decades, maybe a hundred years--I've lost count--the town has set aside a day in August to remember the town's beginnings. A few dolts spread a story that they'd found gold in the river that runs through the valley so they could set up a township and get people to move here. Turns out it was just Pyrite and not worth a thing. But the people who came to make their fortune stayed and started raising horses. When they started making real money on their herds, they named their town Silverton. Someone surmised it was to deflect from the embarrassment of falling for fools gold. Then eventually this area became known as Silver Valley because of their ranch and that's the name to this day.

And now we play silly games with silly prizes and marvel over hometown cooking to commemorate our beginnings. Even back then, this town was all about rumors. Another reason I should get out before more come my way. It's practically in the minerals of the soil.

I catch sight of Zack’s family–his mom and sister, Mandy. Seeing them gives me an emotional boost for some reason. Maybe because Zack is my link to the outside world now. Or maybe it's because his family is reasonable, living above the town rumors and expectations and not letting it rule them the way everyone else does. Probably because Mandy sees through the Ross haze the town seems to be in.

No matter the reason, I find myself wandering their way without thinking twice about it. They’ve got Mrs. Marin’s famous peach cobbler set out on little plates for the taking. I grab a few slices for my parents and myself before saying hello.

“You are a sight for sore eyes, Colleen honey,” Mrs. Marin says.

“Good to see you, too.” I smile for the first time today. Glancing at Mandy, I take a deep breath at the knowing look in her eyes. “How’re the rug rats?”

“Probably sticky and raging through a sugar high. Grandpa took them to the ring toss with the promise of suckers if they were good.”

I laugh, another first for the day. “That was enough for them to behave?”

“Never underestimate the power of sugar.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Marin scoffs lightheartedly. She gives her daughter a playful shove. “Zack told me you had a nice visit with them. I’m so glad you two were able to work out all that gossip with those awful magazines.”

I nod. “Yeah, same.” I don’t bother telling her that it was people from our own town who sold the pictures. The magazine was just doing their job. But my neighbors sold Zack out when he wasn’t looking. I was collateral damage.

“Any more progress on that project of yours?” Mandy asks before I have the chance to leave gracefully.

“Project?” her mom asks.

“Oh, something I’ve been fixing up at home,” I say as deflection. I don’t want to mention my desire to leave town and start my real life with Mrs. Marin before I talk to my parents. And I can’t talk to my parents until I have a plan. And I can’t make a plan until I can figure out how to make more money…in other words, it’s not happening any time soon.

“And, no. I haven’t made any progress.”

I don’t even want to hint about my book. Right now, it’s a pipe dream. I haven’t deluded myself into thinking it will be a success. I’m just trying to finish the darn thing at this point.

I wish I was working on it right now, to be honest. But while I'm here, I’ll take this peach cobbler and say my goodbyes.

“Nice to see you both.” I lift the plates in gratitude and take them back to our table only to find my parents have gone off somewhere. I don’t see them, but know they’ll wander back eventually. Instead of looking, I take a seat and dig in. Mrs. Marin’s crumble is perfectly crisp and the peaches are just the right amount of tender. Even the crust on the bottom is flaky and light.

Before I’m able to allow the perfection of the dessert to brighten my mood, Ross plops down in the seat next to me.

“Seat's taken,” I say without making eye-contact.

“Your mom will be happy to find me here.”

Using my mom’s approval of him to win points? Gross.

“That makes one of us.”

Ross tsks me. He makes the actual clicking sound with his tongue and directs it right at me.

And I’m done.

“Kay. Bye.” I stand up and stride away. But he wouldn’t be Ross if he let me go so easily.

“Colleen, wait.”

He speaks loud enough to turn a few heads our way. I’ve already dealt with my fair share of town rumors. I don’t need another one featuring a public lovers spat. The gossip mongers will have it spun to be a tale of cheating before the day is done.

“What.” I speak through clenched teeth. It’s the only way I can hold my volume down. I want to rage at the man.

“I’ve had about enough of your cold shoulder.”

Unbelievable.

“Oh, have you?” Crossing my arms over my chest, I aim a pointed look his way, saying nothing else. I can tell by the twitch in his left eye he doesn’t like it.

“Come now, darling. You’re much too smart to play the fool.”

“Sounds like an oxymoron.”

Ross narrows his gaze at me. “Name calling isn’t very lady-like, Colleen.”

I can’t hold back the laugh. Because, what?

“An oxymoron is a literary device,” I say despite a wheezing chuckle that persists at his idiocy.

Ross’s nostrils flare. He glares a hole right between my eyes. I’m unnerved by the darkness in his presence that’s taken over. I have the distinct sense that if we weren’t in a public setting I might actually be in trouble. 

“Back up,” I say quietly, heart racing. It’s only when he does take a step away from me that I’m able to take in a full breath.

“You will show me the respect I deserve, Colleen. I have a good standing in this town. Expectations. Duty. As do you.”

He holds steady after his little speech. I don’t dare move, not wanting to set off his fury again. Thirty seconds or a minute later, he turns and leaves. He saunters through the crowd like a king, as though we didn’t have a heated exchange surrounded by everyone we know.

Without bothering to seek out my parents, I scurry to the dirt lot and directly into the bed of the truck. I’d rather sit here the rest of the day all alone than head back into that mine field. The last thing I need is a run in with someone from the Grab n’ Go, especially if anyone heard us.

What a complete shit show.

I hide in the lot for an hour or so, making plot notes on a little notebook I keep in my sling bag since there’s nothing else to do. I might as well make the most of the solitude.

My phone rings in my bag, pulling my mind out of my plot. I grab it, thinking my parents must be looking for me, only to see Brianna’s name on the notification.

“Hey.” I answer, happy to speak to someone outside of town.

“I need the next part. Have you finished writing it yet?” Her desperation shocks me.

“Almost. Why? What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong! She’s onto something, but the killer is tracking her every move! She’s in a new town, all alone, except for her interactions with the psycho’s next victim. WHO IS GOING TO DIE NEXT?”

I pull the phone away from my ear as Brianna yells frantically.

“Oh my gosh, okay. I’ll send it when I get home.” I can’t help but laugh again, only this time it's truly joyful. “I can’t believe you’re that invested.”

“Collen. It’s so good. Thrilling and suspenseful. I’m scared, but in a totally safe way, you know? And the tension between the two…are they end game? Are they falling in love?”

“Do you really want the answer before I send it?”

“NO!”

I laugh again. “Okay, okay.”

“Text me as soon as you send it. I have my email notifications on, but still. I want to know the second you do.”

“I will. I promise. But I’m not sure how long it’ll take. We’re at the Founder’s Day picnic and my parents are off somewhere. I have to wait for them to be ready to leave.”

“Aw, that sounds so sweet. It really is a Hallmark Card.”

“No, it really isn’t. It’s more like the town in my book. But I’ll let you think that if you want.”

“Oh, dang! At least it inspired your story. That’s a win.”

“Well, it’s something.”

Something I need to leave as soon as possible. And maybe this book will actually be the thing that gets me there.

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QDkNCt5AcMw