Page 9 of Ask for Andrea
Police are asking for potential witnesses or anyone with information about Brecia Collier’s murder to come forward immediately.
“There was no evidence of sexual assault. We believe that Brecia was surprised while taking her recycling bins out to the side yard at approximately 8:30 p.m. on Thursday evening,” read the probable cause statement.
No one answered the door when police arrived at Collier’s home Friday afternoon when a coworker notified police that Collier had not appeared at work. However, Collier’s car was parked outside, and she didn’t answer her cell phone.
Collier’s sister, in a statement to the press made Saturday morning said, “Our family is devastated by this horrific and senseless tragedy. Brecia was so loved by her friends and family. We are desperate for any information. Please, if you know anything, come forward.”
I had time to read my sister’s statement twice before he closed the tab and went back to MatchStrike. They were desperate for any information, which meant they had no information.
They didn’t know who had done this. Red-and-blue flashing lights would not be appearing at the window.
I tried to remember who I had even told about Jamie’s/James’s erratic texts after I broke things off with him. My sister. Lanelle. Robin. A couple other friends, maybe. Life went on. And by the time he showed up in my side yard, he was old news.
The disturbing truth was, James’s texts were par for the course. I’d heard worse stories from plenty of friends. Online dating was a roulette of men who didn’t like to hear the word “no.” I never could have imagined any of them showing up in my side yard with an extension cord.
“What the fuck is wrong with you,” I hissed in his ear. He didn’t react. Instead, he crafted a new message to Nicole: Saturday night? Meet at O’Michaels?
Nicole responded almost instantly in the affirmative.
The piece of paper on the top of his neat office mail filer was a receipt for U-Haul. The truck was rented out for Sunday.
I studied the thumbnail photo of Nicole in the chat window. She had gorgeous auburn hair with perfectly blended highlights. Subtle makeup. Stunning smile. If I knew anything, I knew that right now she was hanging on every word “Jamie Carver” said.
Because he was beautiful, too. He was the kind of beautiful that drew you in before you even considered the fact that beautiful things can be poisonous.
As he read her response, his lips turned up in the barest smile—which disappeared as the sound of little footsteps clattered across the office ceiling, accompanied by shrieks of laughter.
The anger that had been simmering inside me for the past three days bubbled into something white-hot as I watched him close the incognito browser and put in headphones. If I still had a body, it would have been shaking. Since I didn’t, the whole world sort of turned fuzzy and charged.
That’s when I heard a quiet pop, and his computer screen went dark.
He pulled the headphones out of the computer jack and flung them onto the desk in annoyance, as if they were the source of the problem.
I stared at the dark computer screen as the fizzy feeling disappeared. It was replaced by something like hope.
Had I done that? Computers fritzed out all the time. So did light bulbs. It might have been a coincidence.
But I didn’t think so.
6. SKYE
Kuna, Idaho
Now
It was my useless phone that led them to my body in the foothills off Blacks Creek Road. Three days after I was supposed to be driving to college.
Even without service, the phone had pinged off cell towers in Boise and Kuna. Once the police finally started searching, I wasn’t exceptionally hard to find.
I kept a vigil by my body for at least half an hour before giving up hope that I would wake up.
Obviously, I didn’t. Because it wasn’t a near-death experience. It was just death.
My skin was already turning ashy and a sort of sickly grayish brown. I reached out to touch the dusty black curls framing my half-closed eyes, then drew my hand back. That wasn’t me anymore. That was just a dead girl.
Even after I admitted to myself that I was fully dead, I still waited a little longer. Would God beam me up? Where was the light everybody talked about?
Tonta, I berated myself for hoping.