Some Laneys Died: A Skipping Sideways Thriller

by Brooke Skipstone

His eyes tighten. “Yes, I do. He brought Garrett to school this morning.”

  “He’s scary, isn’t he?”

  His eyes peer into mine. “Did he bother you?”

  Should I tell him? What would I say? I was looking for a tent I saw three years ago, and Caden jumped me. He might’ve attacked me but for a lucky phone call.

  “I was walking on a trail in Falls Park when he jumped out of nowhere.”

  Gus looks right through my eyes into my head. “Which trail?”

  “Onion Creek.”

  “Why were you walking there?”

  “It’s a long story.” He raises his brows, willing me to tell him. “He just scared me. And he seemed to enjoy it.”

  “Well, you can tell me when you’re ready. I almost didn’t let him enter campus this morning, but I didn’t want to embarrass Garrett.”

  “Why wouldn’t you let him in?”

  “He was expelled his senior year for fighting another boy and threatening his own girlfriend. He’s full of hate, it seems to me. You’d best keep your distance from him, and you need to tell me or someone if he bothers you again. You hear?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m not letting him back onto campus this afternoon. I’ll call the office so they can make other arrangements to drive Garrett home. I understand he wrecked his truck last night.”

  “Yeah.” I hear the sound of flipping over and both of us screaming. I shake my head to get rid of it. “He could’ve died.” I feel spacey.

  Gus stares at me and puts his hand on my door. “You take care of yourself, Delaney. Please.”

  I focus on the criss-cross of wrinkles around his eyes and snap back to the present. “Sure, Gus. Don’t worry. I’m good.” I drive off. I’m sure he knows I just lied.

  I park, scarf down the rest of my sandwich, and finish my drink. About halfway to the door, I remember telling Eddie this morning I’d help him study during lunch. Crap! I hurry to class and see Eddie staring at me outside his teacher’s door. I mouth, “I’m sorry,” as I walk into my classroom. I see Garrett sitting in the back and an empty chair in front of him, but I decide to sit in the front row. Maybe I’ve convinced him that wasn’t me on the video, but I don’t want that distraction bothering me during the test.

  Besides, I intend to finish early and want to leave quickly and easily.

  For the next hour, my mind takes comfort in the logic of math. I have no visions or flashbacks while I manipulate functions in predictable ways. My vision focuses on my calculator screen where everything is black and white with a little red and blue thrown in.

  As soon as I leave the room, I text Gibbs. Just finished my Pre-cal test. Easy peasy. Now I’ll make arrangements to be done tomorrow with my tests. Have you thought about names yet? Also, I’m going to text Dad about flying up early because you and I had a great conversation. We really want to be together, and there’s no reason to wait another day when I can finish finals tomorrow. You think he’ll be suspicious?

  I head toward Ms. Gornet’s classroom to reschedule my French exam for tomorrow. On the way I text Dad. I want to fly up a day early if that’s OK. I spoke to Gibbs, and we’re going to be great friends. I can finish my finals before the flight leaves tomorrow afternoon. I’m going to text Mom now.

  I open Ms. Gornet’s door and find her typing on her computer. “Bonjour, Mme Gornet. Would it be possible to take my final early? Possibly tomorrow starting at 11 am? I’m flying to Alaska to see my father and his girlfriend who is pregnant with my sister.” I throw that in to make her more sympathetic. “She really needs my help.”

  “Peut-être, si tu peux me le demander en français.”

  She wants me to ask her in French. Here goes. “Serait-il possible de passer mon examen tôt? Peut-être demain à partir de 11h? Je m’envole pour l’Alaska pour voir mon père et sa petite amie enceinte avec ma sœur! Elle a vraiment besoin de mon aide.”

  “Comme c’est merveilleux pour toi! Je serais heureuse de te faire passer l’examen tôt. Tu as déjà eu A+ sur la section orale. Ton accent s’améliore bien.”

  She praises my accent and says yes. And I’ve already taken the oral section and made an A+. Cool. “Merci beaucoup! Je vous verrai demain matin. Au revoir.”

  “Au revoir.”

  I leave the room and text Mom. Please change my ticket to tomorrow night. I’ll explain everything when we shop. Dad needs my help, and I can’t wait until Friday. Ms. Gornet will test me tomorrow so there’s no need for me to be at school on Friday. I think the ticket change fee is waived if you call within 24 hrs of purchase. I’ll be home in 20 mins.

  Dad does need my help. He just doesn’t know why yet.

  I walk down the hall and see Garrett thumbing his phone at his locker. He sees me moving toward him and turns around.

  “Marissa showed me the video. You were drunk when you saw it. You came by my house stoned and horny ready to feel my boobs if I’d let you, or even if I wouldn’t. I’d expect that from your brother, but not you.”

  He doesn’t move.

  “Would you expect that from Caden?”

  Garrett shifts his feet. “Maybe.”

  “He snuck up on me in the woods during lunch. I think he would’ve attacked me if my Dad’s girlfriend hadn’t called me.

  Garrett turns around. “Which woods?”

  “At Falls Park.”

  “Why were you there?”

  “I was trying to find something. What does it matter? Your brother threatened me. Do you get along with him?”

  “Not really. I hardly see him since he moved out.”

  “Where does he live?”

  “He rents a trailer.”

  “Is it close to the park?”

  “Why does that matter?”

  “Because he appeared out of nowhere. Looking me up and down. Leering at me.”

  “A lot of guys look at you, Laney. You’re pretty.”

  I harden my eyes. “You still trying to get into my pants?”

  “Jeez, Laney. I said you were pretty, not that I wanted to screw you.” He slams his locker shut, turns to walk away, then stops. “Look, I’m sorry about last night. I guess I was drunk, and yes that video got me all worked up. I’m real sorry.”

  He looks at me, waiting for me to forgive him, but I can’t. “Thanks for saying that, Garrett.”

  He nods and shuffles his feet.

  “What happened to Caden’s girlfriend? I heard he got expelled for fighting some guy and threatening his own girlfriend. For what?”

  “I’m not sure. I think she tried to break up with Caden and go with the other guy.”

  “What happened to her?”

  Garrett shakes his head like what he’s about to say is BS. “She claimed he raped her. He said they’d been having regular sex and that everything was consensual. They were both eighteen. Her parents threatened to file charges, but they ended up moving. Dallas, I think.”

  “Did he hurt her?” I see a quick smile on his face. Why?

  “She said he choked her and wouldn’t let her breathe.” He rolls his eyes. “She thought she was going to die. She had bruises on her throat. Caden said that’s what she’d wanted. That she liked to be choked during sex. It’s called erotic asphyxiation. Supposedly, a lot of people do it. It’s supposed to be fun.”

  He looks at me like I should say, “Yeah? That sounds interesting.” Instead, I ask, “Do you believe him?”

  “Why wouldn’t I? They were together for two years, and she never complained before.”

  I can’t believe I’m hearing this. “Does he live near the park?”

  He pauses. “Not far.”

  “Do you think he’s dangerous?”

  “Do you think I’m dangerous?” He smirks then shifts his pack higher on his shoulder.

  Yes, I think you are. I cannot begin to describe how disappointed I am. How could I have completely misjudged Garrett?

  “Well, I gotta go. Mr. Lewis is giving me a ride home.” He walks away.


  I type erotic asphyxiation into my phone and scan the results. Cutting off oxygen during sex is supposed to heighten arousal. I don’t think Caden was trying to give his girlfriend better orgasms. Choking would be a power trip for him and then a good excuse to get away with murder. I’m sorry officer. I just did what she wanted. It was an accident.

  There’s a reference to autoerotic and I click on it. Several hundred people die from accidents with nooses or belts around their neck while they masturbate.

  A ripple of fear flips my stomach. I remember finding my hand around my neck last night, squeezing, as I pushed the vibrator against me.

  I’ve dreamed of choking to death.

  I’ve also dreamed of being tied up with a noose around my neck while someone leers at me.

  But now I’m not sure they’re dreams.

  12

  Dad texts me as I drive home to pick up Mom. Hey, Baby Girl. We’d love to see you tomorrow. Whatever you said to Gibbs made her day. She hasn’t stopped smiling. And cleaning. Text me back when you have the final flight details.

  A few minutes later, Gibbs sends me a note. I’m soooo looking forward to seeing you tomorrow. This morning I felt horrible. No job, pregnant, worried about another miscarriage, unsure about Sean. Now I’m psyched up and getting stuff done. This house has needed a good cleaning for months. I’m making brownies, so I hope you have a sweet tooth. We’re going grocery shopping in a few minutes, so if there’s anything you’d like, let us know.

  After I park my car, I text Mom. Just got home. I grab my pack and walk up the driveway where I see the newspaper. Either it was delivered late today or Khannan forgot to take it in this morning. I pick it up and take it to the kitchen where I open each section, looking for a follow-up to the twin girls story.

  The article addresses the cause of death. Since virtually no tissue remained from the bodies, the only evidence would be contained in the bones. Within the garbage bags, examiners found one hyoid bone and several cervical vertebrae. It is possible, they said, that at least one of the girls died of strangulation.

  I gasp.

  They died near the same time I heard a girl moaning and choking.

  And Caden. He’s evil, and he likes asphyxiation.

  Maybe there’s something down the footpath he didn’t want me to follow. Just a deer path that goes nowhere, he said.

  Maybe I should call the police.

  And say what? He made me nervous when I was thirteen. He scared me today, both times on the same trail. He choked his girlfriend years ago. He leers at me. But he hasn’t touched me.

  Oh, yes. And I may have skipped between two, maybe three universes. And I’m seeing and feeling things that turn out to be false (maybe), and forgetting things I did just a few days ago.

  So you should check him out.

  That’ll work.

  Mom texts me. On my way.

  The house is empty. If I hurry I can return Mom’s vibrator. I take my pack to her room and pull out her toy drawer. I see the same ropes, but this time I notice bottles of oil, feathers, even some kind of leather riding crop. So much we don’t know about each other.

  I hear the front door open, so I stuff the vibrator back into the box, shut the drawer, and race back to the kitchen just as Mom comes in from the living room.

  She puts her purse on the breakfast bar. “Sorry I’m late. I had a meeting I couldn’t escape.”

  I try to hide my panic and hope my face isn’t flushed. “That’s OK. I just got home.”

  She sees the paper spread out on the table. I go over and put it back together. “Sorry.”

  “Anything more about the twins?” asks Mom.

  “Yes. They think they died by strangulation.” I realize my hand is around my throat. I jerk it away.

  Mom sits down. “Tell me why you need to go tomorrow rather than Friday?”

  Please don’t tell me I can’t go. “Did you change the ticket?”

  “Yes. There was only one seat left, so I couldn’t wait to hear more from you. Why does your father need you?”

  “Because he’s going to need my help dealing with Gibbs. She’s pregnant, but Dad doesn’t know.”

  Her jaw tightens. “Why doesn’t Sean know?”

  “Because she’s worried about having another miscarriage. She’s had . . . problems in the past. She’s under a lot of stress and worried how Dad will react. Plus she thought I’d try to bring Dad back here.” I watch her eyes and see the flinch. “I told her that wasn’t my intention.”

  “Did she believe you?”

  “She does now. This morning they had a fight about me coming up. I was afraid she’d convince Dad to make me stay here.”

  Mom shakes her head. “Then she told you she’s pregnant. Sounds to me she wants to make sure you don’t take Sean away. When is she due?”

  “I didn’t ask her. Do you want me to text her now?” I pull out my phone.

  “No.” I can see the war going on in Mom’s mind—letting me go or forcing me to stay.

  “I don’t want her to lose this baby. She’s my sister.”

  Her head tilts, and her voice lowers. “Your half-sister.”

  I feel my throat constrict and heat rush to my face. “Should that make me love her less? Should I not care about her because she has a different mother?”

  “No, of course not. I’m sorry I said that.” She stands and picks up her purse. “What if your father isn’t happy with the news?”

  I stand and bark back. “That’s all the more reason I need to be there. If I don’t go, he’ll never come back. If I do nothing to help Gibbs keep my sister, I’d never forgive myself if she miscarries. My only option is to go and help her through this.”

  Mom’s eyes widen. “How long do you intend to stay there?”

  “Miscarriage is most common in the first trimester. I looked it up. She knows the gender, so she’s got to be at least eight weeks if she had a blood test. I wanted to stay through January, so that would put her at fourteen to sixteen weeks. The risk should be over by then, so then I can come home.”

  But how can I leave Gibbs and Dad before the baby is born? And then how would I leave my sister?

  “Gibbs took my husband. I don’t want her taking my daughter, too.”

  I reach over and grab her hand. “That won’t happen, Mom.” She squeezes back.

  But I’m not sure. Does regret burn more for things you did or never tried?

  I know how much pain the former causes. I don’t want to find out if the latter is worse.

  Mom stares at me intently. “Delaney, how do you intend to stop Gibbs from using drugs? You can’t watch her every minute.”

  “I know that. If she feels wanted and loved, maybe she won’t want to use drugs.”

  She grips her hands, turning her knuckles white. “You want to make her feel loved? This is the woman who seduced your father.”

  “I can’t think like that anymore. She’s the mother of my sister. Would you care if Gibbs loses this baby, too?” I know the answer. She wouldn’t because Dad would be more likely to leave Gibbs.

  “I would care because you’d be upset. You’ve already suffered enough.” She grips her purse, holding it against her stomach. “What if she’s not pregnant?”

  “Do you think she’s lying?” I hadn’t even considered that possibility.

  “I have no idea, but I think it’s odd she told you and not Sean.”

  “She was fired last night because she smoked pot during a break. If she told Dad now, he’d blow up.”

  “Maybe she hasn’t because she’s not pregnant. Don’t be so quick to believe everything she tells you.” Her words are clipped as she grips her purse. “She can be very manipulative.”

  “With you or Dad?”

  Her nostrils flare, and her face reddens. “Certainly not me. Your father, always. Are you ready?”

  I nod and follow her outside.

  She stops by both our cars. “Do you want to drive? I know you don’t like my driving.”r />
  “If you don’t mind.”

  She smiles and shakes her head. After another minute, we’re past the gate and headed toward Cabela’s south of Austin.

  “Will you text Dad the flight info?”

  “Yes.” She types on her phone.

  If Gibbs is so manipulative of Dad, how did Mom ever convince him to marry her? I don’t remember when I asked Mom how she met Dad, but it was years ago when I was satisfied with, “I beat him playing pool, and he couldn’t stand it. For several days he tried to win back his honor, but finally admitted I was the better shooter. One thing led to another, and we got married.”

  But after I saw Gibbs that day, I knew the story wasn’t as simple as a few pool games. I’d never seen Mom and Dad play pool.

  “Was Dad with Gibbs when you met him?”

  “Off and on. And it sounds like that hasn’t changed.”

  “When did you first meet him? The real story. I’m sixteen, you know.” I look over and flash a smile. “What were you doing in pool halls?”

  “Pool is just physics on a slate table. I was one of the few women in the physics department, and I wasn’t attracted to any of my colleagues. So I looked off campus.”

  “And went straight to a pool hall where you met Dad?” I shake my head and raise my brows at her. “More, please.”

  “My girlfriend and I went to 6th Street on weekends and tried some of the bars.”

  I look at her. My mother bar hopped?

  “Laney! Stop!”

  The car in front of me has stopped, so I slam the brake pedal. We escape collision by inches. “Sorry.”

  “Just listen. You don’t have to watch me talk.”

  We move forward again, my eyes focused on traffic. “You were saying . . .”

  “We tried different bars. Neither one of us attracted much attention unless the men were blind drunk, which was often enough but disgusting. Then we tried The Dogwood where Sean West was a bartender by night, construction worker by day. The most handsome man I’d ever seen.”

  A rush of emotion heads straight to my eyes. I blink. Yes, Dad is handsome, but the main thing about his face is how lively and warm it is. I miss watching his face. I always knew where I stood with him. “Was he interested?”