"Two thirds of the earth's surface is ocean, and all we can see of it with the naked eye is the surface: the skin. We hardly know anything about what's beneath the skin.”
― Haruki Murakami
John arrived before Veronica and ordered himself an IPA. For a Friday night the Coat of Arms was slow. Not a pool game in progress anywhere. He recognized a few locals up near the bar, but the conversations seemed to be at a dull roar.
As the waitress was returning he saw Veronica walk past the red telephone box near the stairs. He took a pull on his beer and gestured to the seat across from him. Again, he was struck by how young she looked and he almost felt foolish being seen in a bar with a girl who could've been in her late teens.
The waitress returned to take Veronica's order of a raspberry lambic.
"I wouldn't have taken you for a pub type of girl."
"I'm not honestly," she said, "but it was important we came here."
"Why's that?"
"This is where it all began and where Caitlin and I had come on the first night we met."
John stirred in his seat and leaned forward. He had to wait to speak until their waitress left who had just returned with Veronica's drink.
"I thought you said you didn't know who she was?"
"Yeah, well ... I lied."
"Why lie?"
"You going to have me arrested? That's not going to bring Caitlin or any of the other girls back."
"How do you know there were other girls?"
"Because I got them killed."
John put a hand to his face and scrubbed at the two day growth he had on his chin.
"Look, Veronica. I'm not the police, but you're walking a very fine line because if you do truly know something it could help. I don't have to tell them I got it from you."
Veronica pulled her chair closer to the table and leaned in toward him. He could smell the raspberry on her breath.
"If I tell you, they'll find out. They'll kill me and then they'll come after you and anyone you care about."
"I can pro --"
"No, you can't, Mr. Raide."
John sighed. "Let's slow down. Who would try to kill you?"
"I'm not quite sure who they are," she said, "but they are very dangerous. They don't like to use names and the chain of command goes a long way up. I had a handler, this guy Alan. He's the only one I ever dealt with. At first it was just easy money to pay back some student loans. I was just a shitty waitress."
"What did he have you do?"
"People watching mostly. I would go to a coffee shop or a bar and just watch people. Then, it eventually started to get more in depth."
"Explain."
"I started getting more assignments to watch certain girls who met a criteria that Alan had been given to give to me."
"And you just watched them?"
"At first, yeah."
“What changed?”
Veronica put a hand to her mouth, then swept it up through her hair. “I was asked to make contact with the girls I had been watching.”
“Then what?”
“Most of these girls,” Veronica started. “They had to meet a certain criteria and one of the things was they had to have some affiliation with the macabre.”
John leaned back in his chair and squinted his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re losing me. What does that have to do with anything?”
“Molly Abrams, Jennifer Daly, Megan Lee ... Caitlin Donaher. I bet you have those names on a list somewhere am I right?”
John nodded.
“Each one of them had their own, I don’t know ... kink I guess. Some type of compulsion toward bizarre shit. From collecting obituaries, to buying spells from witches off the internet, to being a groupie to a death metal band.”
“Why would any of that matter?”
“It made it easier to bring them in. After I made contact I was to get to know them, befriend them. Look, I want you to understand I didn’t know what was going on. I just thought it was going to be innocent fun with a mild threat of danger. That’s what these girls get off on you know.”
“What happened after you befriended them?”
“Well, I would play along, pretend I was into the same weird stuff they were and then I’d tell them about this exclusive party that weekend. And I’d plant some type of seed of interest to get them there. But it wasn’t a party really. It was more like an auction.”
“What went on at these auctions?”
“I don’t know. Clearly nothing good, right? These girls are dead now. I led them like sheep to a slaughter.”
“Why are you taking the risk of telling me all this? What’s your angle?”
Veronica shifted in her chair again, and pushed the loose hair back behind her ear.
“I just needed to talk to someone about this. I can’t keep it with me any longer. Besides, after they killed Alan when him and I got close, I got nothing left to lose. I’m not scared to die anymore, Mr. Raide. I’m just scared for how long they’d keep me alive for.”
John leaned back and sighed, but then something occurred to him and his hand went to his jacket pocket.
He removed the slip of paper where he had written down the untraceable phone number from Caitlin’s phone.
He slid it across the table to Veronica.
“What do you know about this phone number?”
Veronica’s eyes widened, then lowered.
“That was the invitation to the party. The numbers are written in obscure places over town, usually in bathrooms because no one ever really calls those numbers. Once they found the number, they called it and it would begin. They would be given an address of where to attend the event.”
“And you made sure you brought them somewhere where the number could be found?”
Veronica didn’t answer, but instead looked away which he took as a yes to his question. She caught him by surprise as she reached out and took his hand. Her fingers felt fragile.
“Promise me you won’t call the number.”
“Well, I wasn’t --”
“Yes, you were. Listen to me, there is nothing good that will come of it. Let this end.”
“I can’t. It’s my job to not let this end. Those girls need justice and it’s my responsibility to get it for them.”
![[Image: John_Raide_zpsc05d7d5c.jpg]](http://s1315.photobucket.com/user/johnraide2113/media/John_Raide_zpsc05d7d5c.jpg.html)
![[-]](https://xwf99.com/images/portal2/collapse.gif)
