Blowing about a breath, she eyed her devices. After plugging them both in and getting her laptop booted back up, she pulled up her email again, where the EVPs waited.
“One more,” she said to herself, putting her headphones back on. “Dammit dammit dammit.”
She hit play on the second file.
A long silence followed by, “Are you stuck here?”
Riley preemptively pressed her fingers to her lips, the side of one foot tapping rhythmically under her crossed legs.
“Hank … lied.”
Riley ripped the headphones off again. What creeped her out more than anything was that this thing—because it wasn’t the same as Pete’s spirit, not even close—had been in the room with her and she hadn’t heard it. She knew on an instinctual level that this voice belonged to Orin. That the force that tried to shove her out of the room, that had tried—and succeeded—to scare her into fleeing the ranch had been the spirit of a lingering serial killer. She shuddered.
Slapping her laptop shut, she propped her elbows on the table on either side of her computer, and shoved her fingers into her hair, cradling her head. What the hell was she supposed to do with this?
Stick to the plan to contact Francis and casually ask him if he knew where Pete was buried? Contact a guy who the ghost of a serial killer seemed to hold a grudge against? Maybe Michael was right; maybe contacting the guy couldn’t possibly go well.
But Riley remembered Pete standing at the window of the ranch, watching her from the top floor. Recalled his laughing, smiling face as his father spun with him.
Pete was fading now. If he could no longer manifest, would he soon be gone forever—lost and forgotten in some in-between plane where even Riley couldn’t find him?
She couldn’t live with herself if she didn’t try everything in her power to set him free.
Even if it meant getting in contact with someone like Francis Hank Carras.
CHAPTER 16
She walked through the forest, music blaring through her headphones. She hadn’t listened to her “Great Composers” cassette in ages, but it always calmed her. Something about the swell of the piano combined with the tranquility of the still woods put her at ease. It’d been a rough week at work and she was happy to get away for a hike. She tried to come out here at least once a month.
Her irritation at her boss came creeping in past the music. He’d chastised her in front of the entire office two days ago—calling her out for something she knew damn well he’d been responsible for, but publicly blamed her to save face. But what could she say? She was a lowly secretary who’d only been there for eight months. Even if she’d beaten out dozens for the coveted position, she had absolutely no power there.
The flash of something to her left caught her eye. She glanced that way, thinking she might’ve startled a deer or rabbit. But she didn’t see anything moving amongst the tree trunks or fallen needles and pinecones.
She focused forward again. Don’t think about Daniel. He’s not worth it. Enjoy your time out here.
Willing herself to shift her focus, the tinkling sound of the piano filled her mind again. She adjusted her pack on her back, the space between her bag and her shirt growing damp with sweat. She’d been walking for well over two hours.
Another half hour passed before she realized she’d zoned out and wasn’t totally sure where she was. She stopped suddenly and glanced behind her. Had she missed the fork? Crap. If she didn’t make it home before it got dark, Nick would make fun of her. He was always telling her that her tendency to get lost in her own head would get her lost in real life one day.
She backtracked, sure the fork was just ahead.
Another blur of color, this time to her right. The hell? She pulled off her headphones, the headband pressing her unbound hair to her neck. The quiet forest seemed even quieter in the absence of her music. The lilting sound of the violin still seeped out, soft and low, from the headphones. “Hello?”
She didn’t know why she thought anyone was out here; she rarely ran into anyone on her hikes. From what she heard, there was a ranch somewhere nearby, but she’d never seen it. The forest was open for hiking, seeing as it was a national park and all, but she also knew she ran the risk of crossing onto private property. Though maybe if she’d strayed that far off the path, a kindly ranch hand could set her in the right direction again.
No reply.
She had a hand on either one of her headphones, ready to pull them back up over her ears, when someone appeared from behind a tree off to the right, several yards away. It was a boy a few years younger than her. It looked like he’d been in a fight, though now his cuts and bruises were mostly healed. The area under his right eye was still purpled and there was a cut on his bottom lip that looked like it had split open recently.
Despite being banged up, she was still initially taken aback by how cute he was—like an underwear model who’d been in a bar brawl. He was dressed in jeans and a black shirt, not like someone out for a hike.
“Hello?” she tried again, clicking the stop button on her Walkman after he remained standing by the tree.
“Hi,” he said, finally walking toward her. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”
She swallowed. “Are you okay?”
When she motioned to her own face, near her eyes and lip, he reached up, mirroring her, fingers pressing gently against the puffy skin. “Oh, this? Yeah, I’m okay. Are you lost?”
Her stomach flopped. “Just a little turned around.”
“You’re almost to the ranch,” he said. “My uncle lives there. If you want, he can drive you back to your car. It’s getting late.”
She looked up, realizing the sun was much lower in the sky than she first thought. Even if she made it back to the fork and kept going, by the time she hit the spot where the path looped back the way she’d come, it would be well after dark.
Nick would never let her hear the end of this. “How far is it from here?”
“Twenty minutes, tops.” He offered her a 1000-watt smile.
Her stomach flipped again. And not in a good way. “I don’t mind walking—do you think you could just get me back to the fork? I can walk back the way I came. If I hightail it, I think I can make it before it gets too dark.”
The boy’s jaw clenched for a moment, but he quickly smiled again. “Of course.”
He started walking and gestured for her to follow him. Taking a deep breath, she did, working her hand casually into the side pocket of her bag. She kept a can of pepper spray there to scare off wild animals. Easing it into her hand, she primed it in her palm so she’d be ready in case this went south.
When he looked back, she smiled at him, hoping he couldn’t tell how strained it was. His gaze roamed her face and her chest, where the strap of her pack clipped under her breasts, pushing them up more than usual. Ugh. Creep. He slowed a little to allow her to fall into step next to him on the narrow path. They had to walk so close together that their arms lightly brushed every few steps.
She couldn’t explain it, but something about this guy made her uncomfortable. Everything in her told her to run in the other direction, handsome face or not. “So you said your uncle lives out here?”
“Yeah,” he said after a moment, almost seeming startled—like he’d managed to forget she was beside him. “The place used to be a cattle ranch but my uncle kind of let it go. Now it’s like having a really large backyard when I come to visit a couple times a year.”
“That’s cool,” she said, hyper alert, actively scanning the area around them, worried whoever did that to his face would show up. “What were you doing way out here? You aren’t really dressed for hiking.”
He shrugged. “We’re not all that far from the ranch. I like coming out here when it’s near dusk. I have a couple of rabbit snares out here—I check them around this time.”
“Oh.”
Where the hell was the fork?
“What’s your name?” he asked her.
She hesitated f
or a moment, then said, “Renee. Yours?”
“Hank.”
They walked for another fifteen minutes or so, and she saw a clearing to their left. A large house sat in the distance. Her heart started to hammer in her chest.
“I thought you were taking me back to the fork …”
“It’ll be easier just to have my uncle drive you,” he said. “It’s getting dark.”
She stopped walking. “You know … I think I can make it on my own, thanks.”
He turned to face her, his brow furrowed. Eyes roaming her body again, he said, “I think my uncle would like you.”
“What?”
“Like to help you,” he said. “Sometimes we get lost hikers out here. He likes to make sure they get back safe.”
She didn’t move. Her gut told her she’d be better out in the woods than with this guy.
Quick as a whip, he reached out and snagged her wrist. “What’s wrong with you? I’m trying to help you.”
“Let go,” she said, momentarily forgetting the pepper spray she kept fisted in her other hand. She yanked on her arm, but he only held firmer.
“Just … it’ll be better for everyone if you come with me.”
What the hell was this guy’s problem?
Without giving it much thought, she reached up and sprayed him with her mace. To her horror, the nozzle hadn’t been facing him directly, and he ducked out of the way of the mist.
“The fuck?” he said, startled enough that he let her go.
They both coughed, the air suddenly heavy with the scent of pepper. She took that as her chance and ran.
She could hear him crashing behind her as she veered off the path and ran full-broke through the leaf litter. She really had no idea where she was going now; all she knew was she had to get away.
If she got out of this alive, she would never hike again.
The pack on her back bounced violently as she ran, and it weighed her down, but she couldn’t bear to drop it now. It had snacks and water and a change of clothes—if she lost him and was trapped out here after dark, her supplies might be the only thing to assure she wouldn’t meet some other horrible end.
She really wished she’d stuck with the Girl Scout program.
Her headphones still hung around her neck, the padded earpieces tapping against her collarbones as she struggled to maintain her pace.
The guy kept up with her better than she’d hoped, and even had enough wind left to call her a “stupid bitch” every few minutes.
If she hadn’t been so damn scared, she was sure she would have been sobbing. She needed to get the pepper spray into his eyes. It’d slow him down for at least half an hour. Enough time to find the fork. Her dad had made her practice with pepper spray so many times, she couldn’t believe she’d managed to miss.
Her palm sweated where the can touched her skin. She needed to try again.
He shoved her backpack and she pitched forward and hit the ground, the wind knocked out of her. They wrestled in the fallen pine needles, him grabbing onto her ankles and trying to pull her toward him while she kicked and scrabbled away from him on her elbows. A foot got loose and she kicked with her heel, making contact. He howled and let go. She was up in an instant, moving so fast she almost didn’t get her feet back under her as she struggled to remain upright.
She’d only made it a few feet when something slammed into her and she was down again, on her back this time, struggling to get up with the pack still strapped to her. She flailed like an overturned turtle. Kicking and clawing, she tried to get him off her, but he was straddling her now, his bony hips digging into hers as he squeezed with his thighs and reached for her hand holding the pepper spray.
She bucked, hoping to knock him loose.
The smile on his pretty face creeped her out more than anything, like this was the most fun he’d had in ages. When he leaned forward, their chests pressed together, she realized with a whole new horror that he was hard as a rock. Her breath came in shallow, quick gasps. Oh god. No.
One of his hands snaked behind him and he pulled a rock out of his back pocket—one he must have picked up in his pursuit of her through the underbrush.
With renewed desperation, she yanked her arm free, aimed the pepper spray, and pressed the button. The boy screamed, hands flying to his face as he continued to straddle her, sitting squarely on her stomach. The rock dropped with a thud. She bucked even harder now, trying to dislodge him.
A growl that sounded far more animal than human erupted from his throat. His eyes were swollen shut and tears and snot ran from his eyes and nose. Despite all this, he thrashed out with his fists, managing to land a blow to her cheek and light burst behind her eyes. Her head snapped to the side, and she cried out.
Dazed, she clawed at his face, nails slashing across already tender skin.
He howled again, coughing and gagging.
Twisting under him, she caught him off balance and knocked him loose. She struggled to get up, clawing at the clasp of her pack fastened under her breasts. Her head still spun from the blow he’d landed to her face. Her fingers weren’t working right.
And now she was crying, the world a blur of green and brown and black.
She started to crawl away on hands and knees, body racked with sobs.
He yelled again, coming for her on his feet now. Could he see her? Had it been three minutes yet? Her dad had told her that the first three minutes was the worst of it—that her attacker would be incapacitated.
Something clobbered her from behind and she went down on her stomach, pinned by her bag and his body weight. A sharp thud sounded right by her head. Her hair was a tangled mess, blocking her view of everything. She screamed and thrashed and tried to push off the ground with her hands. But he was too heavy; her arms shook with the effort.
Thud.
She realized then that he had the rock again and was smashing it down blindly in hopes of eventually hitting her. Her thrashing became even more frantic, her sobs so violent, she could hardly breathe.
Crack.
Spots swam in her vision.
Crack.
The pain was so immense, the fight left her abruptly, her limbs going slack. Then her vision blurred at the edges. Blackness seeped in, swallowing up everything. Like the end of a black-and-white cartoon where everything was reduced to a pinprick of white before that disappeared too.
He stilled then, heaving heavily on top of her. After a few moments, wandering fingers slipped under her, crawling and creeping until they found the button on her jeans. The teeth of her zipper gave way, tooth by tooth, as if time had slowed to a snail’s pace. The top of her pants slipped down her hips, followed by her underwear. Gruff hands ran over her bare skin.
“Mmm, Renee,” he said. “I can’t see you too good right now, but you feel good.”
A choked sob sounded in her throat and then the tiny sliver of white turned black.
Riley woke with a start, then immediately burst into tears. She couldn’t breathe. She gasped and pulled in air as best she could but she felt like she was drowning. Like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room and she was going to suffocate.
She kicked her blankets off, wanting nothing to touch her. She could feel his phantom hands on her. Creeping, rough hands.
Riley’s stomach roiled. Hurrying to her bathroom, she splashed cold water on her face and willed herself not to throw up. When the nausea passed, she slipped to the bathroom floor, the tile cold beneath her legs. She pulled her knees to her chest, hugged them, and cried for what felt like hours. Every time she stopped, something would flash through her head or she’d feel something she knew was both real and not real at the same time and lose it all over again.
She needed someone to talk to. Someone to hold onto her and tell her that these things hadn’t happened to her. That she didn’t need to hide under her bed and never come out.
But this had happened to Renee. And Riley was almost positive that poor girl hadn’t lived through it. Rile
y wanted to contact Hank—Francis, whoever—if only so she could tear his goddamn eyes out.
This assuredly would have come up in her search if Francis had been convicted for it. Or even arrested for it. Had he murdered and assaulted Renee and somehow been living as a free man ever since?
The idea of it made her stomach turn over.
When she found the strength, she got up and found her phone. It was Saturday. Jade would be home. The moment Jade answered the phone, Riley burst into tears again.
“Babe!” Jade said. “God, are you okay?”
“No.”
“Call in sick. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
Riley miraculously found someone to cover her shift in only a matter of minutes—she’d covered for so many of her co-workers, she had good karma built up—and was a comatose mess on her couch by the time Jade let herself into Riley’s apartment.
“Jesus,” Jade whispered when she saw Riley. “What the hell happened? What did Michael do? I will destroy him.”
“Nothing. He didn’t do anything.”
Riley curled up in a ball on the couch, her head on Jade’s lap, while she cried for a little while longer. Jade ran a hand slowly over her hair until Riley was calm enough to talk.
It took her a while, but Riley got it all out: Mindy, Francis, the EVPs, Renee.
By the time she was done, she was sitting up, arms wrapped around her knees. Jade’s eyes welled up as Riley told her about Renee.
“Damn,” Jade breathed. “Oh! That day in the woods at the ranch … you heard music, remember? Was that Renee trying to get your attention?”
Riley’s eyes widened. She’d heard the music from Renee’s Walkman that day. Did Renee haunt the woods like Pete haunted the house?
“So what’s your theory?” Jade asked, clearly trying to pull Riley out of her own head. “That this Francis guy killed Renee and was never caught?”
“Yes,” Riley said, never more sure of anything in her life. She wondered if Pete was behind the dream somehow, just as he’d somehow shown her his own death. Had he contacted Renee off in the Great Beyond and told her the best way to get in contact was through a creepy-ass dream? She told Jade as much.
The Forgotten Child Page 21
