Ask for Andrea (Ask for Andrea, #1)

by Noelle W. Ihli

“On a date that isn’t going well? Do you feel unsafe or just a little uneasy? Ask for Andrea at the bar.

I thought I heard someone call out as I dove down the rocky slope of the shallow stream bed. It sounded like a woman.

He didn’t follow me. He didn’t need to. Because when I finally stopped running, I realized to my amazement that I wasn’t out of breath. Just as quickly, the amazement turned to horror. I wasn’t breathing hard because I wasn’t breathing at all.

A year earlier, we had dated for exactly one week. How do I know that? Because he was upset when I spent our “one-week anniversary” with my girlfriends.

To my amazement however, I rolled away from his grasp. To my horror, he didn’t even notice. Because the girl with the dark, messy curls lying face down in the dirt didn’t move at all.

I just felt the terror of being alone, of being lost, of being dead, in every part of me that was left.

That’s when I realized that the capsules he had added weren’t shaped like the others. They were round and white instead of oblong and white. And they were scored down the middle. Rohypnol.

Instead, he waited until her kisses grew sloppy and she mumbled, “I might call it a night, I’m feeling pretty tired.” He ignored her. And she didn’t protest when he pulled out a condom. I made myself stay. Because I couldn’t bear to leave her alone with him.

The kid’s triumphant expression crumbled when the officer looked less than impressed. “If you ever get a request like this again, which I really hope you don’t, I want you to back up the footage before I show up. If we’d gotten here twenty minutes later, these poor people would’ve been out of luck. And that would have been your fault.”

I wanted to believe that the young couple at the bar would call the police. That the gruff bartender with salt-and-pepper whiskers would tackle him to the ground the moment he grabbed April’s arm. Would the camo-clad hunters gathered around the table in back reach for the backpack on the floor that—just maybe—contained some type of weapon? I already knew it wouldn’t happen like that. The girls were afraid of a bear—not their dad. As soon as they saw him, they would rush to him in relief, throwing their little arms around his waist and cowering away from April as she screamed for them to stop. I could already imagine the customers’ anxious looks of concern fading as James disappeared out the door with all three of them into the parking lot, apologizing for April’s seemingly insane behavior while the girls clung to him in fear and April thrashed. The bartender, and the young couple and the hunters would exchange wary looks that said “What the hell was that?” and then hesitantly turn back to their beer or their burger. Later, when they were interviewed for the news, they’d say, “I knew something was off about him.” For now though, they would give him the benefit of the doubt. The burden of proof was high to get involved with a stranger’s business. I probably wouldn’t have done anything different if I were still alive.

I studied the spot on the corkboard where April had been looking and gasped. Brecia and Skye saw the water-stained paper sign at the same time I did. On a date that isn’t going well? Ask for Andrea at the bar. We’ll make sure you get home safe.

James screamed for help. The lights in the jail stayed off. As his frantic screams echoed through the cell block, the three of us walked down the hallway and into the moonlight beyond the barbed wire and bars. We didn’t look back. He’d taken enough from us in life—and in death, too. There was no pleasure to be found in whatever happened next. Only justice.