Chapter Text
Jess plays dead.
It happens so quickly. She’s screaming, Chris’s blood and brains splattered all over her front. Benson shushes her, but she’s still screaming. He points the gun, and fires.
He misses.
She’s not sure how she finds the courage to do it, but she grabs her stomach anyway, and falls to the ground. She’s covered in Chris’s blood, and she prays that it’s enough to disguise the fact that she isn’t bleeding.
She holds her breath, tries not to shake. She hears Benson reload the shotgun and walk away, presumably towards Bradley.
He should be screaming. Why isn’t he screaming?
She hears Benson’s feet pad against the floor, away from her. Bites the inside of her lip to avoid making a sound, spilling copper into her mouth. Waits for the gunshot.
But instead, she hears, “Help me clean this up.”
She’s slung over Benson’s shoulder, holding her breath and praying to God that he won’t question why her body is still warm. He dumps her unceremoniously in the freezer, on top of Chris and Hardy.
“Where’s your phone?” she hears him ask.
“In my jacket,” says Bradley’s faint voice, and the freezer door swings closed.
Jess forces herself to count to three hundred. There’s something mushy under her elbow– brains, or maybe guts, or maybe something worse than that.
It doesn’t matter, she lies to herself.
When her count is up, she raises herself up. She’s shivering from the cold. God, what a fucking day to wear fishnets.
The freezer door is open a crack. Maybe Benson didn’t close it as hard as he thought he did, maybe Bradley snuck back and opened it when Benson wasn’t looking. She doesn’t care.
After 9-1-1 is called, and after she’s been taken to the hospital, and after her father and brothers have all sworn that they’re going to “make that fucker pay,” Jess sits in her room.
Benson and Bradley– Randy– have skipped town. There are no leads.
She sits in bed, drinking a beer. In her other hand is the stupid little charm bracelet that Chris had given her for her birthday. He had probably stolen it, knowing him, and it wasn’t even that cute. Sparkly purple and white beads, like something you’d get from Claire’s, with two daisy charms and a smiling bee in between them.
Benson didn’t kill Randy. That meant that there was something special about him. Randy was the key to the whole thing. Figure him out, and she’d be able to find them.
She sighs. Takes a sip of beer. Slips the bracelet on her wrist.
Wonders if her dad still keeps the shotgun in the garage.
——
Jess isn’t stupid, okay?
Lots of people think she is, because of the way she dresses and the jokes that she cracks. Being Chris’s girlfriend certainly didn’t help. But she was a B+ student in high school and has read every Sherlock Holmes book there is, so she knows she has to be methodical about this.
She looks at maps, trying to chart the route that Randy and Benson took. They would have gotten on the freeway, most likely. But would they drive north? West? South to Florida, or would they just keep driving till they hit Mexico?
She doesn’t fucking know, because she doesn’t know them.
She spends an uncomfortable afternoon having tea with Randy’s mom and sister. They’re both in hysterics, telling her that she’s “so brave,” that Randy is an “innocent victim,” that the cops will “bring that horrible man to justice.”
She doesn’t believe any of it, but she nods, gulping down too-hot tea and trying to understand Randy Bradley.
Most of the info is unhelpful. He likes putting together model ships. He’s quiet. He likes to clean. He’s a good boy.
Fuck that shit.
In her opinion, Randy Bradley is a milquetoast little bitch who will let anyone manipulate him into anything. Benson’s taking advantage of that, sure, but Randy’s going along with it. If he had any stones, he would have tried to fight back. But he didn’t.
What the hell did he do to make Benson not shoot him?
Jess smiles and pretends to be concerned for Randy for three goddamn hours. Finally, as she’s leaving, she gets something. Her fingers brush the mantelpiece, and she notices a photo of Randy with an unfamiliar dark-haired girl.
“Who’s this?” she asks sweetly.
“That’s Randy and his girlfriend,” his mother says. “Ex-girlfriend, I suppose. But they were so good for each other. Her name is Lisa.”
And Jess smiles at her, and says, “I’d love to talk to her, if that’s okay. To help me heal.”
——
Lisa works at the mall, at some off-brand Build-A-Bear. Jess can’t imagine how shitty that must be. An eight hour shift full of wrangling snot-nosed kids? She’d kill herself.
Jess stalks it out for a couple of weeks. Gets a feel for Lisa’s routine. She’s in there Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday, eight AM to four-thirty PM.
She doesn’t know what stops her from going inside. She just needs to talk to her– to get more intel. Anything that can tell her where Randy and Benson are going.
But she watches her for a long time. Watches her bring out stuffed animals from the back. Help a kid’s hands steady themselves as they spread glitter-glue all over a puppy. Offer a kid a juicebox to quell a tantrum.
She’s not sure where she gets all that patience from. She’s either a goddamn saint, or a psychopath. Maybe that’s why she and Randy dated. They’re both fucked up, and hiding it super well.
Finally, Jess makes her move. It’s a slow day. Lisa is the only one in the store, leaning over a register scribbling onto a legal pad. Jess takes a last drink of her Dr. Pepper, tosses it in the trash, and makes her way into the shop.
Lisa looks up, smiling. She’s pretty, in a plain sort of way. Needs more eye makeup, and some red lipstick. She’d be a knockout then. “Hello!”
Jess shoves her hands into her jeans pockets. “I need to talk to you.”
Lisa’s smile doesn’t falter. “How can I help you?”
“I need…” Jess’s voice dies in her throat. What does she need from Lisa?
“Do you want a stuffed animal?” Lisa says.
“No,” says Jess.
Finally, that smile starts to flicker. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Jess forces herself to say. She smiles back. “I just wanted to talk to you.”
“Oh,” says Lisa. “Okay.”
There’s an awkward pause. “I’m Jess,” Jess finally says.
“I’m Lisa,” says Lisa.
“Right,” says Jess. “Um, you used to date Randy Bradley.”
Lisa’s eyes squint. “How do you know that?”
“Talked to his mom,” says Jess. Then, quickly, so she doesn’t get more freaked out, she says, “I was working at the restaurant when it happened.”
“Oh,” Lisa says, her face broadcasting useless sympathetic bullshit. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Jess says. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Okay,” says Lisa.
“Yeah,” Jess says again. “What’s he like?”
“Randy?” Lisa asks.
“Yeah.” It’s like she’s a parrot. Yeah, yeah, yeah.
“He’s nice,” says Lisa. She looks down at the pad she was scribbling on. There’s a doodle of a girl with big anime eyes on it.
“That’s it?”
“No,” says Lisa. “No, of course not.”
“So then, what’s he like?”
“He’s… smart. Smarter than he thinks.”
“Uh huh?”
“Look, don’t you know him? You were his coworker, right?”
“Sure.” Jess feels her nails dig across the bottoms of her pockets. “Keep talking.”
“We only dated for a few months,” says Lisa.
“Why?”
Her eyes are everywhere but on Jess. “I don’t know. Just stopped talking, I guess.”
“You didn’t like him?”
“I liked him– I guess it just wasn’t meant to be.”
Bullshit she liked him.
“Did he ever talk about leaving?” Jess says, cutting to the chase.
“Like leaving town?” Lisa asks. Jess nods. “No.”
“Nothing? Not even in passing?”
“I don’t think so,” said Lisa. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Does it matter?” Jess snaps.
Just then, Jess sees something real in her face, something behind the fake concern. Something sharp.
“Yeah,” Jess says, to Lisa’s look. “Okay. Yeah. No, it’s fine. Thanks for your help.”
“Do you want me to call someone?” Lisa asks.
“Nah.” Jess takes her hands out of her pockets, shakes them. Lisa tracks the motion with her eyes.
“I like your bracelet.”
“Thank you,” says Jess, even though she wants to say fuck you. She turns on her heel, paces out of the store.
She’s about to do something really fucking stupid.