A Murder Meet Cute

I’d taken the trip to get away from it all. Since my sister had died, my life had been full of noise. At home, I couldn’t escape her memory, seeing her in the mug she’d left on my counter the last time she’d visited, the roses she’d helped me plant in the backyard, even in the stupid lemon painting she’d picked out for my kitchen. I’d never had the heart to tell her how ugly I thought it was. Ugly or not, it was all her. 

The third day that I’d broken down crying over something completely mundane, I decided I couldn’t stay. Not in my house, not in the state, not even in the country. It was the first time I’d understood people who traveled the world to find themselves. But instead of finding myself, I was traveling the world to escape myself. 

Something I hadn’t expected was that there would be someone who saved me from myself along the way. 

Because as it turned out, changing locations didn’t help escape pain. Maybe for a few moments but in the grand scheme of things it was still there lurking. Telling me I didn’t do enough to help her. That I hadn’t called 911 quick enough, that my CPR sucked, that if I had been someone else, anyone else, I would have been able to save her.

But all of that wasn’t the worst of it. No. The worst of it was that the person who had done it, the person who killed her, hadn’t been caught. With every day that passed, I lost hope that I would ever get justice for her death.

A fact that I was reminded of as I boarded the plane, my phone going off just as I finished showing my passport to the gate agent. I pulled my phone out as the line shuffled along, my heart hammering as I saw that it was a missed call from the Chicago Police Department.

Whatever they had to say, it couldn’t bring my sister back. I wasn’t going to let it ruin my flight. I’d booked first class and I was going to make full use of it, which I couldn’t do if I cried the whole time. 

I stumbled as the person behind me bumped into me and it was only then that I realized I’d stopped and was holding up the line. I turned to apologize profusely and was met with a man in a crisp business suit, not scowling at me as I had assumed he would be but smiling kindly. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, waving a hand before running it through his dark hair. “Can’t ever get away from the business calls. I understand.”

I gave him a small nod and we continued onto the plane where we ended up sitting across from each other. We spent the entire flight chatting and drinking far too much. I learned that his name was Scott and he worked in finance. We parted ways when we touched down in New Zealand. I was there to stay and he was just passing through.

That was the first time that I saw him. 

The more I traveled, the more I never wanted to return home and a week in New Zealand turned into two which turned into me deciding to stay away from Chicago as long as possible. It had always been on my bucket list to surf in Hawaii so that’s where I went. 

From the moment I touched down, I was filled with more energy than I’d had in months. I booked a surfing lesson before I even made it off the plane and bought a new swimsuit before I went to the hotel. As I stepped out of my room, I heard a door close near me and my head snapped up to see none other than--

“Scott?” I asked incredulously, stunned at the unlikely encounter.

“Liz?” He laughed, his eyes shining as he turned to me. “What are you doing here, I thought you said you were headed back home after New Zealand?”

I shook my head, “Yeah, I couldn’t go back. I just needed some more time.”

He smiled as if he knew exactly what I was talking about. “I’m about to go down to the beach, if you want to join me? You look like you’ve got plans though.”

Damnit. I really didn’t want to say no to a beach day with him. He was the first person I’d had energy for since my sister died. Instead of feeling exhausted after spending time with him, I felt rejuvenated.

“I’m actually headed out to a surfing lesson but maybe we could catch up later?”

His face lit up. “I could teach you! I have a timeshare here, I’ve been surfing at this beach for as long as I can remember.”

A one on one surf lesson versus embarrassing myself in front of a bunch of people in a group lesson. Sign me up.

“I would love that.”

The run-ins didn’t stop there. We spent almost every day together that week going out for dinner, hiking, surfing, and laying on the beach. Everything was exciting with him, even something mundane like reading the newspaper and drinking coffee. Maybe that’s just how vacation was. Or maybe it was just how he was. 

He breathed life back into me. Being around someone who didn’t remind me of my sister. Who didn’t remind me of death. It was bringing me back to life. There just wasn’t enough time. 

After Hawaii, we parted ways again with plans to meet up at some point in the future. Nothing concrete, but it felt like the universe was pulling us together in a way that we weren’t meant to ignore. We promised we’d meet up in Chicago when I finally decided to come back. 

As it turned out, I didn’t need to wait that long. I kept traveling and we kept running into each other. The CN tower when I went to see Niagara falls. A cruise of the Caribbean that him and his work buddies were on at the same time as me, and the weirdest one of them all, a yoga retreat in Bali. If it was anyone else, I would have thought it was weird but he came into my life at a time where I wasn’t sure I wanted to live and he made it worth living.

We grew close during our time together and our chance encounters turned into a whirlwind romance that left my head spinning. It felt like a fairytale that I never wanted to wake from. 

He was the reason I ended up returning to Chicago at all. The dread I had felt for so long had been enough to keep me away but he made it worthwhile to come back. I’d expected to feel the emotions rushing back as soon as I touched down but he had insisted he meet me at the airport and, wrapped in the safety of his embrace, I felt nothing but bliss.

He dropped me off at my place, kissed me like his life depended on it, and promised he’d be back in the evening to cook for me because I said I was too jet lagged to go out. I entered my house with blinders, refusing to see anything that might remind me of her. My only goal was to get into bed and take a nap.

I was awoken a few hours later by a knock on the door. It had been a long time since I’d heard that sound. As I rose to open the door, my phone went off on the bedside table and I grabbed it, checking the notification as I walked only to stop dead in my tracks in the middle of the room. 

KILLER IDENTIFIED IN CHICAGO MURDER CASE

My heart dropped into my stomach. That couldn’t mean what I thought it meant. 

The killer of 26 year old Maya Jensen has been identified as 31 year old Mr. Scott Stevenson. He is described as being 6”1’ with dark brown hair and a slim build. If you encounter this man, do not approach, please call 911.

The phone clattered to the floor loudly and my legs grew numb. The knocking on the door turned to pounding and the knob started rattling. I couldn’t do anything but stand and stare. I watched the door rattle in its frame as he kicked it over and over again until it finally gave way, wood splinters and hardware from the door flying  in all directions. 

He stepped over the threshold, his eyes wild as he searched for me, settling on me in the middle of the room. And I realized for the first time, I was staring at the face of my sister's killer. 

And soon to be my own.