Deep Trauma

“You’ll have to forgive me today, Riley. I’m not the best company, I’m afraid.” Holly hunched over in her chair on the patio of a trendy bistro on Ocean Boulevard. Her voice was flat in a way that signaled defeat.

It was cooler now that they were near the water. It had been a foggy morning, chilly and damp. The sun battled to gain an advantage in the latter part of the day, shedding a muted glow on the cloud bank still lingering over the Pacific.

“Lexi was an exceptional person. We’re all still in shock,” Holly said, setting her martini glass back on the table. “She was such an asset to our cause. She raised so many donations for our center over the years she was with us. She’s probably the reason we’re still afloat. And the way she was murdered . . . ripped from the kids who counted on her to help them find hope. It’s just so cruel. It’s hard not to lose faith in humanity . . .” Her voice trailed off, as if she were withdrawing into her shell again.

“I try never to lose faith in people, Holly, even with all the crap I see in the ER. There are plenty of good eggs out there. You and everyone who helps the kids at the center are great examples of humanity at its finest.”

Holly shot her a dubious look, dabbing her eyes again with her napkin.

“I’ve come to accept that life is a double-edged sword, Holly. You know, both beautiful and terrifying all at once, an equal measure of yin and yang.”

Holly’s attention seemed to drift, her dark eyes settling on the olive in her glass.

“It does sound like Lexi left an indelible mark on all the lives she touched,” Riley went on, knowing she must have sounded glib but seeing little point in the brutality of truth at that moment. What had happened to Holly’s colleague was nothing short of horrific, and there was no platitude or reassurance capable of blunting that.

“You still haven’t told me what brings you here, Riley.” Holly’s eyes snapped back to her. Something between suspicion and curiosity clouded the question. And for the first time in Holly’s presence, Riley felt uncomfortable. But she could rationalize Holly’s distrust of someone she barely knew in the wake of her friend’s unsolved murder.

Riley scooted her chair in closer and brought Holly up to speed, filling her in on the incident she’d been involved in with the pedestrian struck on the 101 Freeway in the prior week. She also shared the details about the bald man in the black pickup she’d met at the scene, who had later stalked her on the night Themis and Cedrick from Avenging Allies scared him out of her neighborhood. As Riley delivered these details, Holly’s eyes widened, her guard seeming to drop as her curiosity grew.

“That’s truly terrifying, Riley.” Holly shook her head, gaze darting back to her, and for a moment, they both seemed to weigh the danger of it all. “What next? How crazy can this get?”

“It really affected me, of course,” Riley admitted. “The accident itself was horrific, even though I’m used to seeing trauma and death in the ER. I was caught out of my element to be sure. And now that I know how similar that incident was to your friend Lexi’s murder, I have to believe that the crimes are in some way connected.”

“And of course, you’ve been to the police?” Holly asked.

“Oh yes. The detective I spoke with at LAPD was the one who indicated it was a crime and not an accident. But outside of that confession, she didn’t tell me much, so I began my own little inquiry, if you know what I mean.  That led me to the Avenging Allies—”

“Avenging Allies?” Holly interrupted, as if the monicker had only just registered. “Funny, and is Themis even a real name? Sorry, but Avenging Allies just sounds so hokey. Like a cartoon superhero group or something.”

“Yes—just kids, really. I met with them yesterday morning. Amateurs at best, but well intentioned. A couple of citizen sleuths, if you will. They say they’ve solved several hate crimes in the Valley over the past few years. They’re working on Lexi’s case now, and I gather they see a pattern between these two events.” Riley thought for a minute. “In truth, they’re on to something, and I wonder how they’re gathering their facts. They seem to have details that aren’t public. But for sure, the cases have obvious similarities the media are highlighting.”

“What are you saying—we have a serial killer situation here?”

“Well, maybe.” Riley sat back, clutching her napkin in her lap. A chill settled over the patio as the sun dropped behind the clouds. “We’ll know more, I suppose, when information about the person killed last week is released. For example, if they were also transgender. I sense they were, based on the way the cops were talking, how they kept flip-flopping on pronouns. The autopsy must be done by now. I work on the same campus as the LA medical examiner’s office. So I have professional connections. I’m pretty sure I can get some answers from a trusted source. And when I talked with her, Detective Roberts said she assumed the person was homeless. I can find out if anyone has come forward to claim the body. There haven’t been any updates on the news, so I don’t even think this person has been reported missing yet, and it’s been almost a week.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not unexpected, is it, if they were unhoused?” Holly shook her head. “Shameful but not surprising what some of these kids go through when their families disown them.” They both sat quietly in the wake of Holly’s comment. Riley was sure Holly was reflecting on her own life traumas. “Even when they’re supported, kids sometimes just take off. It happens all the time. Occasionally residents from our shelter go back to the devil they know. They end up back on the streets, selling themselves or trafficked by others. Using. God knows what becomes of them. But it’s a sad fact that some end up in the most dangerous place of all—back at home with their victimizers.”

The afternoon shadows grew longer, and the temperature continued to dip. It would be dark within the hour, Riley realized, wrapping her scarf around her shoulders as she signaled the waitress for the check.