The next few days seemed to crawl by. A sluggish stream of events that seemed to blur into one uneventful passage of time. True to their word, the officers had returned and taken statements. These came not just from Jess and Alice, but also from neighbours. Alice could only guess at what her neighbours may have offered. The loud music that often erupted from houses on the street could be mistaken for students’ wild antics for anyone unaccustomed to the area. In actuality, it was merely a symptom of worsening hearing due to old age and an unwavering resistance to modern technology, including hearing aids.
One blessing that Alice was thankful for was that she wasn’t expected to return to work until the following week. She had requested only a day or two of respite but upon hearing her ordeal, her line manager had insisted that she take extra time off. The luxury of working for a small family-run business. Accounting wasn’t exciting, by any stretch of the imagination, but any perk was better than no perks.
Jess had remained at Alice’s home throughout. Her presence was both uplifting and chaotic, like a hurricane that howled song lyrics and brought audacious offerings of pizza, cake, and experimental non-alcoholic cocktails. Normally, this would be considered an unusual choice by anyone who knew Jess well. Alice could only assume that Jess had reconsidered her drinking patterns in favour of sobriety in order to stay alert to the danger that seemed to loom in every shadow around the house.
The smell of baking chocolate wafted through the house. A bitter shadow of burning chased the sweet scent. Jess, for all her efforts, had never been an accomplished chef.
“I think they’re burning, Jess,” Alice called through the house. She continued to scroll through the videos and updates on her phone as she waited for a response. When there seemed to be no answer or movement, she sighed and walked to the door to call out again. “Jess. The cookies are burning.”
Tendrils of worries and doubts began to tickle. The house was too quiet and much too still.
“Jess! Can you hear me?” She called out, louder this time. Music was loudly playing upstairs, an upbeat indie rock band that seemed to feature often on her friend’s playlist. Was it drowning out her voice? If so, why couldn’t she hear Jess? No singing, no dancing, no movement could be heard from where Alice stood. The house felt eerily empty, save for her.
The sound of the front door opening put Alice into an instant fight or flight response. Without realising, she lifted her phone as though she might use it as a weapon, spinning to face the intruder.
She relaxed at the sight of Jess’s startled expression. One which was quickly replaced by a guilty one.
“Sorry,” Jess apologised, “I should probably have told you that I had nipped out.”
“Where were you?” asked Alice, concerned now. If her friend had simply left the house without her noticing, what else may have slipped under her radar? More importantly, how long had the door been left unlocked?
Seeming to sense Alice’s fraying nerves, Jess gave a wry smile. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t out long, and the door never left my sight.” She locked the door behind her and tested the handle as though proving her competency. Without warning, a look of panic spread across her face and she darted past Alice towards the kitchen.
“That’s why I was looking for you. I think your cookies are burning,” Alice called after her. She gave a distrusting final look at the locked door, as though it might seek to betray them, before padding through to where she assumed Jess to be.
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
As she walked, Jess’s voice called back in an annoyed tone, “Why didn’t you save them if you smelled them first?”
Alice rounded the doorframe to see Jess frantically waving a kitchen towel over the cookies. The kitchen smelled much more strongly of smoke but there was no haze of smog in the air. The cookies themselves were a dark colour, clearly burnt on top.
“I was more worried about you than those,” she answered, pointing to the cookies, “I shouted twice but you didn’t answer.”
Jess said nothing, instead, she inspected the cookies at a cautionary distance.
“They might be ok. Cocoa can go a bit dark before tasting really burnt, can’t it?” Alice offered gingerly.
“They’re not double chocolate,” Jess answered with a deflated sigh. “They were supposed to be vanilla choc chip.”
Alice grimaced. So much for her attempts at raising Jess’s spirits. Rather than putting her foot in her mouth again, she opted to return to the previous topic. The need to know why Jess had been out of range was still gnawing at her insides.
“You still didn’t answer my question. Where did you go?” she asked. She avoided eye contact with Jess, attempting to appear casual, but she suspected that Jess would see through her act. They had been friends for far too long for such subterfuge to work.
“I just took the pizza boxes out. The guy across the road was out front though. He was asking how you are,” Jess replied. Her attention was still mostly on the cookies. She had retrieved a spatula and was attempting to lift one from the greased parchment with difficulty. “He said that the police hadn’t been back for his CCTV footage.”
“I can understand why,” said Alice, smiling slightly.
Jess paused her extraction process to look at Alice with a bemused expression. A raised eyebrow requested more information.
Alice obliged. “He’s got three cameras on the outside of his property and all of them point at his greenhouse.”
“What the fuck is he growing? Weed?”
Alice laughed, “Not even close.” She paused while Jess lifted the freed cookie and tentatively sniffed it. “Apparently, he grows prize-winning cucumbers.”
Jess snorted a laugh as she threw down the hazardous smelling cookie. “Why are your neighbours all so weird? It’s honestly like the twilight zone out there but with people in their twilight years.”
“His wife supports it so…” Alice broke off and shrugged.
Jess snorted another laugh. “I’m sure she does,” she replied, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.
With an exaggerated grimace, Alice waved away the lewd suggestion but seemed only to fuel Jess.
“He’s still got enough hair to be considered a silver fox,” Jess continued with a smirk.
“They’re in their 70s, Jess,” said Alice, shaking her head. She couldn’t hide the smile on her face though.
Jess sighed in a wistful way. “I know. Imagine being able to retire with your own Christian Grey and an endless supply of prize-winning cucumbers. If that isn’t the secret to a long and happy life, I don’t know what is.”
It was a ridiculous sounding scenario, but Alice had to admit; her friend had a point. The words ‘different strokes for different folks’ came to mind.
Their shared reverie was broken by a firm rap on the front door.
“I’ll tell Mr Grey that you’re not interested in the threesome with his wife then… yeah?” Jess joked as she made her way to the front door.
Alice hung back as the door was opened, just out of sight. She didn’t expect it to be anything ominous, but they couldn’t afford to be complacent. She listened in on the conversation and realised that it was the two officers that had visited them previously. Their tone was sombre and serious. Not a good sign.
“Alice,” called out Jess, “We need you up here.”
She was hesitant, but Alice couldn’t refuse. The tension at the door was palpable. Jess gave her a sympathetic smile and offered her a hand to hold. Not a good sign.
“Miss Shepherd. We were hoping that we might be able to ask you a few more questions,” stated the female officer politely.
Alice reached for Jess’s offered hand and clutched it tightly. “Did you find some more information about the guy?” she asked nervously.
“Unfortunately, no. These questions are relating to a man named Justin Crossley. He’s been reported by his family as a missing person. We have reason to suspect that he may be the man that you referred to as Austin in your previous statement. May we come in?” the officer explained, her voice calm and sympathetic.
“Shit,” said Jess under her breath as she squeezed Alice’s hand tightly. “Not this again.”