1 2 3 4

5

Whirring Frappuccino machines greet me as I walk into the Starbucks where I was supposed to meet Akasha for the first time. I join the line of caffeine addicts and quickly spot the woman I’m hoping to find – Akasha’s friend Liza, whose picture I saw in the journal.

Pierced, with a streak of red dyed in her hair, she strikes me as the type of girl to attain besties status with Akasha. Liza hands a middle-aged man his change, and then her eyes find me.

“How can I help you?” she asks.

I tell her.

Fortunately she is open, maybe even eager, to talk about her friend. I use the same story I did with Mrs. Samona – I’m doing a piece about missing teens. It makes my purpose for being here seem more noble and selfless, like I’m trying to make a difference in the world. I hate to lie to people, but I need answers.

Liza informs me that she’ll be off work in fifteen minutes. I order a coffee and find a table. I take a deep swig of my scorching hot brew and burn my tongue. I welcome the pain. It reminds me that I’m alive.

Fifteen minutes turn into half an hour, and time slows. My eagerness to pick Liza’s brain grows with each passing second. I try to distract myself by checking my email but fastidiously avoid Facebook. As I scan my favorite news apps, the irony is not lost on me that all this started with an app. Tinder. Shit, Josh, why couldn’t you stick to the good old-fashioned bar scene?

Thinking about my brother drives the loss home. I’ve pushed a lot of my emotions aside but as I wait here for Liza to join me, they sneak up on me full-force. Finally Liza arrives, iced tea in hand. She is still wearing her work uniform as she sits down in front of me.

“So you're writing a story about Akasha?”

The lies continue.

“Yes, I was hoping you could give me a sense of what she was like. I understand you and Akasha were pretty close.”

“We were best friends,” she confirms. “We had something in common — crazy parents. Only difference is, her folks are loaded and I'm supporting mine.”

This revelation is communicated in such a casual, offhand manner that it’s easy to ignore the weight behind the words. We’ve barely started this conversation, and I already feel sorry for her.

Liza wipes a few tears and continues to tell me about her missing friend. Akasha may be destroying my life, but this girl still cares for her.

“Akasha had a tendency to date guys who weren't available,” Liza explains. “Bad boys, dudes with girlfriends, married men. She’d obsess over people who could never love her back. She’d always get her heart broken.”

“Would she meet some of these dates on Tinder?”

“Akasha loved that stupid app. She was addicted to the attention. She’d hook up with guys and then wonder why none of them called her back after getting what they wanted.”

I consider this. It certainly explains Akasha’s rage.

“Their first date would always be at this Starbucks. I was her lookout. My job was to swoop in and save her if the dude turned out to be a weirdo or some loser who had posted a fake pic.”

“Where do you think she is now?”

“Her mom believes she ran away. That she’s living some crazy party life in Miami or stripping her way across the country.”

“You don't believe that?”

Liza takes a deep gulp from her drink.

“I was Akasha's best friend. If she was still around, she’d be in touch.”

“So what do you think happened?”

“I think she met the wrong guy.”

Liza doesn’t come right out and say it, but the message is clear. She thinks Akasha is dead.

I immediately dismiss the idea. I’m a physical therapist student. I believe in science. Ghosts don’t have a place in my perception of the world.

“Who was the last person Akasha met on Tinder before she vanished?”

“He was some Manhattan lawyer. He picked her up in his BMW. Pretty hot in a late-thirties, GQ kind of way.”

“Could he be…”

“When Akasha first went missing, cops came to talk to me. I told them about the lawyer. Guess what they said? They already checked out that lead and the attorney, I think his name is Darryl or Derek, turned out to be a dead end. Know why?”

The question hangs there for a moment, but I can guess the answer.

Liza leans closer, her face masklike as she speaks. “Darryl died in a freak car accident. Lost control of his Porsche, hit a median and the gas tank blew. He was burned to a crisp. They had to identify him with dental records.”

A chill travels up my spine. Followed by a question. Was Darryl/Derek Akasha’s first victim?

“Want to hear the best part? The creep had a wife and kid. Akasha sure knew how to pick them.”

I spin these new facts around in my head, hoping to make sense of the senseless.

Liza takes a final swig of her drink and rises. “Sorry, but I need to get back to work. It was good chatting with you. Email me when the article hits the Web.”

Liza turns away. I stare after her, pensive.

If Darryl had something to do with Akasha’s disappearance, the knowledge of her fate died with him. I’ve reached an impasse and have no idea what my next move is.

***

The icy road unfurls before me, as perilous as my own future. I view a news report of Darryl Kelly’s accident and recognize the man. Was he her first victim?

At this point I only have one lead, and it’s a longshot. Darryl’s younger brother Adam works as a freelance editor in Manhattan. I already made up my mind not to approach Darryl’s wife. She’s been through enough already without me digging up a possible infidelity in her late husband’s past. My plan is to pay the brother a visit and see if he can be any more helpful than the other people I’ve interviewed.

My chirping cellphone derails this train of thought. I scan the caller ID. It’s Lynn. My heart misses a beat. I’m both relieved and anxious as I press the answer button and Lynn’s voice fills my car.

“Mark, I need to see you. We have to talk.”

The voice is businesslike, determined. She must’ve rehearsed this call numerous times. “Let’s meet at the diner across from your place in an hour?”

“Sure,” I say robotically. Her mission accomplished, Lynn ends the call without further comment.

My mind is churning. I was hoping Lynn would break the silence and reach out to me, but this chilly communication has unnerved me further. Has Lynn made up her mind about me? Is she about to officially dump me? I take the fact that she is coming to my neighborhood as an ominous sign. Sounds like she’s making sure I don’t get any funny ideas about spending the night at her place. She finds my man cave endearing in an anthropological way — she prefers to experience it from a distance. Sleepovers tend to happen at her place, where we don’t have to worry about Cyrus disturbing our privacy.

Anxiety spreads from deep inside the pit of my stomach.

I can’t let Akasha tear us apart.

I can’t lose Lynn.

Doing my best to manage my growing unease, I turn the wheel and head to Briarwood.

***

As I pull into the diner’s parking lot I know I’m running about five minutes late, but Lynn isn’t there yet. This seems out of character for her – not only is she incredibly organized (to an almost scary degree), she’s rarely late for appointments.

I seat myself at a comfy booth in the ‘50s style diner and inhale the scent of sizzling comfort food that wafts through the air. The corned beef and hash is amazing here, but my frayed nerves have robbed me of my appetite. This isn’t a date, and I prefer to receive bad news on an empty stomach. I order a Diet Coke but after two sips of my artificial treat, I switch to beer. I don’t want to be drunk when Lynn shows up, but I need something to take the edge off while I wait.

Thirty minutes and two beers later, I conclude that Lynn has had a change of heart. I pay my check and walk across the street. The cold air diminishes the alcohol’s effects but I still have a buzz going when I step into my apartment. I have the place to myself and the loneliness immediately makes me melancholy. Lynn has been such a big part of my reality for so long that I feel lost without her.

Goddammit, I want my old life back.

Who knows what made Lynn blow me off, but I don’t take it as a good sign. I slip off my jacket and decide to take a shower. Moments later, a stream of hot water is warming my frozen limbs. I’m been out and about all day and this winter weather is getting old. I close my eyes and bask in the soothing sensation. That’s when I hear a familiar voice.

“Mark…”

Startled, I open my eyes and find Lynn standing behind the shower curtain. The plastic distorts her form. I pull the curtain back a few inches and realize she’s naked. My body immediately responds to the sight of her lithe, shapely figure. God, she’s beautiful! I’m flooded with relief. Lynn is back and that’s all that matters.

Wordlessly she steps into the shower and joins me under the hot stream. Steam wafts around us. We hug and I don’t want the moment to end. What does it mean? Is all forgiven? Has Lynn figured out that Akasha was lying?

“I’m telling you, Lynn, this girl set me up.” The words sound lame the moment they leave my lips, but I have to explain my actions.

I can’t allow Akasha to tear us apart.

I have to fight for the woman I love.

Suddenly, I realize that the shower is becoming hotter...unpleasantly so...

I run my hands down my girlfriend’s bare back, bury my face in her smooth shoulder. Lynn leans forward to kiss me and I gladly accept. Our lips find each other and lock with hunger.

My passion cools in a hurry.

Something is wrong.

The woman I’m making out with doesn’t taste like Lynn. I once kissed a girl in high school who was a chain smoker, and this is about ten times worse. It feels like someone emptied out an ashtray in my mouth. As I pull back, my gut clenches with terror and a knot forms in my throat.

It can’t be...

The woman staring back at me isn’t Lynn, it’s Akasha. Empty eyes fixed on mine.

I slip in the wet tub and fall backwards. Pain flares up my shoulder as my 180-pound frame hits the fiberglass edge. Hard.

Dazed, I squint through the steam and water and realize that I’m alone in the shower.

Was it all in my mind?

I dismiss the thought. I know what I saw. And touched.

Suddenly the shower-head turns toward me and the hot-water knob turns by itself. Instincts take over and I react without thought. I snatch the shower curtain and pull it off its hooks to shield me. It’s not a moment too soon as a jet of boiling water blasts down on me. The heat singes my fingers and the super-heated tangle of plastic is painful to the touch, but at least it’s deflecting most of the suddenly scalding water.

And then the sizzling spray dies down, becoming a mere trickle.

I gasp for air and scramble out of the tub. My naked flesh smacks against the cold floor tiles. My body has turned crab-red, skin inflamed from the hot water’s assault. I leave a wet trail on the hardwood floor as I stumble into the kitchen. My gaze locks on the gallon of mineral water sitting on the kitchen table. Without hesitation I pour the bottle’s soothing contents over my body. I remember my first aid training. Cooling the burn reduces swelling by conducting heat away from the skin.

Dread bubbles up and I let the truth reach the surface of my mind.

I’m being stalked by a dead woman.

***

I do my best to contain my increasing anxiety. Akasha’s advances are growing more insistent, and I sense that time is running out. As I get dressed, I receive a call from Lynn.

“I’m so sorry I stood you up,” she says, and I know she’s fighting back tears. “I got off the train and was all ready to head to the diner—” She breaks off. “I was scared of what I would do if I saw you.”

I read between the lines.

Lynn’s plan was to end our relationship. But she couldn’t go through with it. This gives me hope. Hopefully we can fix this and put it all behind us. But first I must resolve the Akasha problem.

I know I’m grasping for straws here, but I decide to reach out to Darryl’s brother Adam. Adam works as a freelance editor at Visual Aid, a post-production house that cuts commercials and movie trailers. I look up his work number and make the call. The receptionist picks up after a couple of rings and with some prodding, she tells me that Adam quit several weeks ago. I look up his home address online.

Adam lives in Greenwich Village – editing must pay well. I arrive around five o’clock just as a cold, gray day becomes an even colder night. As I walk up to the majestic brownstone, I feel like a peasant visiting royalty. A week ago I was thinking I’d have my own sweet pad somewhere in Manhattan, down the road a bit. Now I’m not sure I’ll see tomorrow.

I’m reaching out to ring the buzzer when an elderly lady emerges from the front lobby, about to take her Cocker Spaniel for a walk around the neighborhood. She’s in her own little world and before the door can close, I slip into the hallway.

A few minutes later I’ve located Adam’s apartment. I press my ear against the heavy oak door. Based on the muted shuffling of feet and the low drone of the TV, I can conclude that someone’s home.

I knock on the door.

The television turns off and someone approaches. I go over my pre-rehearsed spiel in my head. Adam and I share something important in common – we’ve both lost our brothers to Akasha. I’m banking on this connection to make Adam talk, assuming he knows anything. The lock snaps back and the door swings opens, revealing Adam.

He wears ragged sweats and heavy bags ring his hollow eyes. It looks like he hasn’t shaved, or even bathed, in days. I catch a glimpse of his apartment behind him and it mirrors his sorry state. Empty boxes of takeout and crushed beer cans litter the dwelling. I’m still debating my next move when I notice the burn marks on his hands. They’re identical to the ones Akasha left on my neck a couple days ago.

I’ve come to the right place.

My presence unnerves Adam and he shoots me a suspicious look. “Who the hell are you?”

I avoid the question and cut to the chase. “We need to talk.”

“Talk about what?”

I had planned to be subtle about this, but instead I just come out and say it. “Akasha.”

His expression goes from annoyed to outright hostile. But I press on. “Akasha Samona vanished six months ago. I know she was dating your brother Darryl...”

“News flash, pal — Darryl was married, and he’s dead now. You don’t look like a cop. So why bug me with this shit?”

He leans closer. “I told the cops everything I know, which isn’t much. Now get the fuck out of my face.”

I remain frozen in place.

“What are you waiting for?! Get the hell out of here before I kick your ass!”

I’m about to comment on the burn marks but decide against it. Instead I grab his arm and push him into the apartment. He’s a big man but too drunk and surprised to put up much of a fight. I’m not sure what has gotten into me. The pressure, anger and loss of the last few days must have made me snap.

I’ve lost my brother.

I might be losing my sanity.

But I’m not going to lose Lynn.

I can’t allow Akasha to go after my girl. Adam is hiding something and I will make him talk. One way or another.

I slam Adam against the wall. He catches his bearings, pissed now. He takes a swing at me but his punch is alcohol-sloppy and misses. I fire back, landing two quick punches that topple him onto the couch. My eyes land on a small fire extinguisher resting on the couch. Looks like someone is taking his safety seriously.

A moan escapes Adam’s mouth and he rubs his jaw, spits blood on the floor. After two punches, my hands feel like they’ve been pounding a brick wall. It’s been quite a while since I’ve been in a fight.

“What the fuck do you want, man?” Adam asks, half confrontational and half afraid.

“Akasha was seeing Darryl when she disappeared. Tell me what happened.”

Adam only glares at me.

My rage detonates and I pull the collar of my jacket back, exposing burn marks identical to his.

“She's been coming after you too, hasn't she? That’s why you quit your job. Why you’re trying to hide in a bottle. What did you and Darryl fucking do to her?”

Still no response.

My anger drains and turns into desperation and fear.

“Talk to me, goddammit.”

Adam lets out a deep sob. “She can't hurt you! She can't hurt anyone anymore.”

My eyes bore into him and I say, “Tell me everything.”

Adam does.

***

The words come haltingly as Adam dredges up a past he prayed would remain forgotten.

“Darryl was getting antsy during Megan’s pregnancy. Their sex life was suffering, and he started looking at other women.”

“He started hooking up with women on Tinder,” I say.

“It’s my fault. He saw me using the app, meeting new girls all the time. I guess one day he downloaded Tinder and met up with someone.”

I process this. Darryl had money, a cool career, a beautiful wife. But it wasn’t enough.

“How often?”

Adam shakes his head.

“I don’t know. It happened a lot. Darryl was out of control. It became an addiction, I think. Don’t need to be a shrink to know he was trying to destroy his marriage. I told him he was playing with fire.”

And he finally came too close to the flame. I keep this thought to myself.

Adam pauses and downs a shot of Jack Daniels before continuing. “He would take his dates to our parents’ cabin in Long Island. Mom passed away a little over a year ago and the place has been empty ever since. We were thinking of putting it on the market, but it needs a lot of work...”

Adam’s voice trails off for a second before he says, “Darryl’s wife was eight months pregnant and he was meeting women online and taking them back to the lakeside cabin we spent our summers at.”

Adam’s voice trembles with anger. “I knew it wouldn’t end well. One night I got a call. Darryl was freaking out on the other end, begging me to come to the house. He refused to go into detail on the phone, but I knew something terrible had happened. The panic in his voice...it wasn’t like anything I’d ever heard before. God, how I wish I’d never answered the phone that night.”

Anger is making way for another emotion: deep remorse. Tears well up in Adam’s eyes. Suddenly I’m not so sure I want to hear the rest of the story. But no turning back now.

“Your brother had murdered Akasha.”

The words slip out because by now I know Akasha must be dead, and I’m tired of Adam dwelling on the details. I want...no, I need to know what happened to the woman who has turned my life into a waking nightmare.

“Darryl didn’t say a word when I pulled up. He just walked into the house. I followed him into the living room and that’s where she was. Sprawled out on the floor, her neck twisted... I just knew she was dead.”

I can vividly picture the scene in my mind. I can almost see Darryl’s panicked, ashen features and the numb shock Adam must’ve experienced when he first laid eyes on the woman on the floor.

“Why did he kill her?” I ask.

“He said it was an accident. He was trying to break it off with Akasha. He told her he had a wife and kid.”

Maybe he should’ve mentioned that before he contacted her online, I think, but keep my mouth shut.

“Akasha threatened to tell his wife everything. That’s when he snapped. He gave her a shove, she lost her balance... Hit her head on the chimney.”

“Why didn’t you call the cops, if it was an accident?”

“I told him he should. Darryl said nobody would believe him. He figured they’d take one look at a high-paid lawyer with a baby on the way and a dead nineteen–year-old in a remote cabin turned fuckpad... A jury would send him away for good.”

“What then?”

“God forgive me... I decided to help him destroy the evidence.”

Adam wipes away the tears that keep welling up. I know he wants to stop talking about this – reliving that night must be torturous – but I need him to finish his story.

“You became an accomplice to murder.”

“I figured she was dead already. We couldn’t bring her back, couldn’t change what happened. What was done was done. I kept thinking about Darryl’s wife, the baby on the way... Lot of fallout, man. Didn’t want to see more lives be destroyed in the process.”

Adam stares a hole in the carpet, shaking his head. “I felt responsible, you know? I introduced Darryl to that stupid app. If it hadn’t been for all my bragging about banging chicks that I met on Tinder...”

I don’t want to hear apologies and excuses. “What did you do with the body?” I ask, curtly.

“I told Darryl we’d take care of it, and we did. We buried her in the woods a few miles from the house.”

I imagine being dumped into a shallow grave, the world unaware of what happened to me. Just another missing person in a long line of missing people. I know I’d want my story to be told and for the truth to come out.

Will Akasha stop seeking retribution if we find her body? Will she accept that she’s dead and move on to whatever’s next?

I notice a strange look of determination in Adam’s eyes. Then it hits me — he hasn’t finished telling the story. There’s one final part of Akasha’s dark tale that remains untold. Having come this far, he wants to go all the way and get it off his chest.

“Something else happened that night,” I say, to prompt him.

“I was worried that someone might find the body and be able to identify Akasha’s remains. After we put her in the ground, I went back to my Jeep and got the emergency gas tank.”

Dread spikes inside me. I’m about to receive the chilling final piece of the puzzle.

“Darryl dumped the gas all over her body. I was going to use my lighter, but I quit smoking a couple months earlier. There were some matches in the glove box, though...”

Adam takes a deep breath. “Darryl was too much of a mess at that point, so it was up to me. This was a cold, windy night. The first couple of times, the match didn’t stay lit. You know what they say — third time’s the charm.”

Once again I can vividly picture the scene. I see the match catching fire as if I’m standing next to Adam. I see it falling into the open grave. Flames ignite on Akasha’s gasoline-soaked body...

“She went up almost instantaneously.” Adam lets out a heaving sob that shakes his whole body. The next words come sudden and sharp. “All of a sudden she was screaming! I can still hear her. Oh my God, I swear we thought she was dead…”

Adam’s hands are trembling now and his face has turned to marble. A shudder ripples through me as the full horror of what happened that night is finally revealed.

No wonder Akasha is torching men like Darryl.

She was burned alive.

6