Chapter Text
“There are fears that a serial killer is on the loose in San Francisco. Police are warning people not to walk alone at night in the Foster City area. That’s after the third person in twenty days was shot to death on Thursday night. And, as our own Lee Franklin reports, while the victims did not appear to know one another, police seem certain that their murders are all connected.”
They’re connected, alright.
“More on this story, Lee Franklin – what are you hearing, Lee?”
“Well, frightened residents did what they could to reclaim the streets of Foster City this Friday night, a day after twenty-year-old Max Malvo was found shot to death in the woods behind his former residence. He had just gotten off the wrong bus home from work when he was shot.”
Right, yeah, he got off the wrong bus. They always say that, you know. Seems like too much of a coincidence, right? I mean, statistically, how many people get off the wrong bus? Much to think about.
“Police did not hear the shots that killed Malvo despite there being extra patrols in the area after two other murders had occurred. Malvo was murdered just five blocks away from where Aaron McHargue was killed one week prior, and one mile away from where Felix Bay was found. He was found five days earlier. Foster City police say they have no leads and can’t determine a motive.”
Good.
Their dates are a bit wrong, but hey, what can you do?
“On Monday, they released surveillance footage of a person walking in the area when the first murder happened. The only thing they seem certain of is that the murders are not coincidence.”
Bingo.
“A supposed witness – “
… A witness?
“- has come forward, offering a description of the shooter to a sketch artist – “
Oh, I gotta see this.
“ – resulting in this sketch.”
I can’t help but laugh. They’ll never get my face right. Too many weird angles. Whatever. That’s enough of the tube for today. I’m getting ahead of myself. Lucy’s probably hungry.
[Lucy is a Great Pyrenees. She’s mixed with something, but I don’t know. I don’t know dogs. I’m not a dog person; you could know that just by looking at me, I bet. Dogs are just… they’re approachable. If you’re walking down the street and you’re tall and off-putting like I am, and if you’re moving away to hypothetically make connections and throw some anonymous shadow-people off your trail as they seek to track you for your past mistakes, having a dog is very good. And, by all accounts, Lucy is very intelligent. If she weren’t half my size and… uh, a dog, I’d say she was a cat. She’s too drool-y to be a cat. I love her, though. Or, I’m beginning to love her.]
Anyway, I’m officially a Californian! Well, I have been for a few months. But I’ve moved from sunny Foster City to sunnier Santa Monica, and I’m starting over. I’ve been saving up for a wonderful house here, close to the beach but not too close that a tidal wave or rowdy hurricane will lay ruin to all my worldly possessions. I took a cheap apartment for my Foster City stay, but no longer will I live a life short of luxury. Like I said, I’ve moved on and I’ve never been happier. Living large. No regrets. Maybe a few.
Every morning for the past week, I’ve: woken up, watched the news, fed Lucy, and taken her for a walk around the neighborhood. After that, who knows? My official agenda stops there. Maybe I’ll go downtown, try to get a job. Maybe I’ll try and bond with Lucy further than just giving her a nod every now and then. It’s all in the air.
Lucy likes to sniff the mailboxes as we walk. Every. Single. One. That’s fine, she’s… curious. Kinda like a cat, I guess. (I’m pretending she’s curious so that I don’t have to come to terms with the fact that she’s fascinated with the smell of other dogs’ piss.) I usually try and tug her along, trying to keep going – still not accustomed to the heat of the sun, an Illinois boy at heart – but there’s this one house I’ll let her stall at. We’re almost there, actually.
The house with the blue shutters. I’ve actually encouraged her to linger at this one house for the past week in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, one day –
“Hey, neighbor!”
I’m so glad I actually dressed up today. I nearly thought today would be like all the other days, empty and pointless, and wore something less put-together. I glance over to the porch, where he stands.
“Hey, there!” I do my best suburb wave. He steps down onto the concrete walkway, walking toward me. “Sorry about my Lucy, she seems to love your mailbox.”
“So do all the other dogs. It’s a real hotspot.” He smiles. His teeth are impossibly white, way whiter than they seem in all the pictures I’ve seen. He has his hands on his hips. I keep my eyes on his face, though I want to explore a bit more at some point. Hopefully this interaction goes well so I can. “I haven’t seen you around. I’m Ryan.”
I know! “Yeah, I just moved in this week.” I don’t put my hand out. I’ll wait for him to do that. I reach down and give Lucy a pat. “Nice to meet you, Ryan. I’m Shane.”
He extends his hand. I look at it for a second like oh, for me? and take it. “It’s really embarrassing that I didn’t notice a new neighbor. I’m supposed to be good at that.”
“I’m just a block down, too,” I throw a thumb in the wrong direction. “But I didn’t have much to move, so it was pretty quick. Sorry it’s taken so long to get acquainted. This is my first, uh, suburb experience. Not sure about the customs.”
Ryan (Ryan Bergara, twenty-nine years old, current detective for the Santa Monica Police Department) looks in the direction that I pointed. He sweeps his view across the neat row of houses behind me.
“Well, to be honest,” he leans closer, I can smell his cologne, “there isn’t a close-knit neighborhood vibe, here. I wish there were but… you know. Can’t pick your neighbors.”
“Hm,” I hum like I’m disappointed. “A shame.” I only wanted to talk to one person, and I’ve done so incredibly quickly. What am I gonna do with all my free time?
“Right!” Apparently he liked that answer. He smiles again. Lucy has forgotten about the mailbox and is now moseying her way toward Ryan, who seems delighted. He kneels down next to her before looking up at me, “Can I pet her?”
“I think, if you don’t, she’ll die.” I attempt a wink. I’ve never winked at someone before. Ryan doesn’t seem perturbed. Lucy lays down and rolls onto her back, asking for a belly rub. Ryan is more than happy to oblige.
“She’s a big lady,” Ryan says, raking his fingers through her fur. He looks at her collar. “Nice name, Lucy. What breed is she?”
“Great Pyrenees and, uh… something else.” I squint, “Some sort of Shepherd?” That seems like something that makes sense to say.
Ryan nods, “I can see it.”
I’m nailing this first interaction. I can feel the smile on my face, it feels too genuinely overjoyed to be meeting a neighbor. Should I be downplaying this? Should I be acting annoyed? It’s too late now. I get the feeling I’ve started something I can’t stop.
“Don’t know. I’m not much of a dog person, but this big gal…” Seemed to be a good alibi. “…really spoke to me.”
Ryan laughs. Lucy rolls back over and sits in front of him, both of them the same height when he’s squatted down like this. He frames her face with his hands, considering her. “She’s… she’s kinda got human eyes, man.”
“Yeah, right!” I noticed this last night. And eyebrows. “And her fur above her eyes kinda looks like eyebrows, doesn’t it?”
“You know – you know what, it does!” He laughs again, almost manic. He falls back to sit. Lucy follows, licking his cheek. “Wow. She’s really sweet, Shane.”
“Thanks. Raised her right, I guess.” I overexaggerate a shrug. It’s a shot in the dark, but Ryan laughs pretty hard at it. This is going better than I expected. Am I dreaming? “Anyways. Sorry to uproot your day.”
“No uprooting took place!” Ryan pushes himself to stand. Lucy whines. “I uprooted your life, actually. You probably have places to be.”
I almost laugh. “Not yet! The rest of my day is a mystery. After this walk, who knows! I may go to the moon.”
He chuckles. It’s an awkward one. Sorry.
“Well, we’ll have to talk again soon. I don’t want to eat up all your Lucy time.” He smiles and brushes his hands on the front of his jeans. I can’t tell if he doesn’t want to talk anymore or if he thinks I don’t want to talk anymore. He looks over in the direction I pointed earlier, still not a correct glance toward where I actually live, “You and your wife can come over for dinner sometime if you’d like. I’d love some company, there aren’t many conversationalists around here.”
He thinks I’m married! Now I get to do this weird shuffle thing with him.
“I’m not married, actually! That’s actually why I got Lucy, for company.” I hold up my ringless hand for proof. Ryan’s shoulders round out. I don’t know what that means. “But I’d be glad to bring her over sometime to meet you and yours.” I know he isn’t married. I’ve already looked.
“Not married either! And I’m sorry to have assumed.” He rubs the back of his neck, his watch glistens in the California sun. “It’s all elderly couples around here. Just force of habit, I guess.”
“No worries at all. I’m flattered, really,” I run my free hand through my hair, “Glad I give off some happily-taken energy.”
Ryan laughs at that but says nothing else. He gives Lucy another head-ruffle of a pet.
“I’ll keep in touch,” I finally say with a final nod. I don’t want to seem too desperate. I want him to think I don’t really care that we have to go. I tug the leash gently. “C’mon, Luce.”
I give him a wave and an odd thanks for your time before I head off, walking down the sidewalk. I glance back after a few minutes, a considerable way down the road, to find him still standing where I left him.
He jumps when I see him, jogging back inside.
Nailed it.