by Mary Cantell
****
Lacy yanked on Toby’s leash in frustration to keep him moving. The dog kept stopping every few feet to sniff out something only a dog could find interesting. The scent of wet earth filtered the air, and a swarm of tiny gnats floated above her head. This part of the forest smelled awful. Like a dirty washcloth. She curled her nose with disdain.
“How much longer?” she called. “Are we almost there?”
“Almost,” the boy yelled back to her from up ahead.
She could barely see him at this point. Eventually, the forest gave way to an open space, and he ran in the direction of an old gnarled tree. Beside it lay a tattered wooden trunk.
“Here it is.” He pointed at the old heap with tarnished brass hinges.
“What’s in it?”
His eyes lit up. “Treasure.”
“What kind?”
“I don’t know yet but it’s heavy, so there has to be something valuable inside.” He pulled the trunk a few feet and then stopped. “Help me carry it,” he ordered.
Lacy, ready to oblige, grabbed onto the rusty handle with one hand while Tommy took the front and led the way out of the woods. The dog gave another low growl. They stopped and started a few times, struggling to balance the unwieldy weight. By the time they reached the swim club, the handle started to burn her palm, and she dropped her end of the chest.
Teetering on the edge of the newfound discovery, she asked, “Are you going to open it now?”
“No, not yet.”
“Why don’t you open it? Don’t you want to see what’s inside?” she coaxed.
“It’s locked. I’m taking it home. My brother will know how to open it.” Tommy rubbed his hands together and then wiped them on his jeans, not sounding the least interested in sharing the treasure.
Before they picked up the trunk again, out of the corner of her eye, Lacy spotted someone else in the woods—a man wearing a white T-shirt and a red baseball cap. He stood at the edge of the clearing adjusting what looked like a large telescope.
“Quiet, Toby,” Lacy instructed and lifted her finger to her lips. She wondered why the dog suddenly became agitated. Was he upset by the stranger? In the midst of Toby’s barking, the man turned around and looked at her.
“C’mon,” Tommy said, picking up his end of the trunk. “Let’s go.”
The man gave her a wink and turned back to the telescope.
Lacy thought she heard the sound of her mother’s voice in the distance. She cocked her ear. “That’s my mom…I gotta go.” She jerked Toby’s leash, announcing, “Come on, boy,” and darted across the swim club’s parking lot for home.
****
In the near distance, Lissa heard the sound of a barking dog. At the corner, the familiar beige-and-white-spotted Toby appeared. At the other end of his leash, her daughter. The idea of scolding Lacy for being late flitted through her head—she’d been here before—and then she thought better of the message it would send. No, she would not punish her little girl for her own imaginative worries. She simply breathed easily once more.
“Hey, Mom,” Lacy shouted, spotting her mother who waved from the landing. “Guess what? We found something.”
“You did?” Lissa matched her daughter’s enthusiasm. The child could have told her anything, and she would have responded the same.
“Yeah, me and Tommy.”
Her brow tightened. “Who’s Tommy?”
“He lives up the street,” she said, signaling behind her.
“Okay, well, drop off Toby with Miss Rucker and then you can tell me all about it later. We’re going out for dinner tonight.”
****
A little after six o’clock, the warm scent of seared meat permeated the entryway of the cafeteria style steakhouse at the Prince George’s Plaza shopping mall. Standing in line with their trays, Lissa checked out the hot entrees available—veal almandine, broiled flounder with lemon sauce, pasta alfredo. Lacy followed behind, incessantly chattering about her earlier adventure in the woods.
“It definitely had something inside, Mom,” Lacy gushed.
Lissa nodded encouragingly as she moved up the aisle. “Sounds exciting.”
“It was. It’s like we were on a treasure hunt.”
Lissa eyed the roast beef. “Looks pretty rare.” She pointed to the carving station where large slabs of reddish-pink meat were warming under a heat lamp. “Just the way you like it, Lace.”
Lacy’s eyes grew large. “I love it when it’s pink in the middle.”
“I think I’ll get some, too,” she said as she caught the eye of the chef and pointed to the beef. He cut several thin slices for each of them. “Thank you,” she said, taking the plate from him and then moving her tray down the buffet line. Sticking with her new low-carb diet, she skipped the desserts, trying not to even catch a glimpse of the sweet confections on display.
Lissa paid the cashier for their meals and they headed for a table in the corner by the fireplace.
“Mom, it was so neat,” she exclaimed, sticking her knife and fork into the juicy meat.
“I know, you told me.” Lissa unfolded a napkin and placed it on her lap. “That’s exciting, sweetheart,” she said with a forced nod, wondering how long Lacy would remain on the topic of treasure.
“I wanted him to open it, but it had a lock on it.”
Lissa took a sip of ice water. “So who is this Tommy person again?”
“He’s from the neighborhood,” Lacy replied, scooping up the baked potato.
“Does he have any brothers or sisters?”
“An older brother.”
“How old is he?”
She shrugged and answered through a mouthful. “I don’t know how old his brother is, but he drives.”
“I meant your friend Tommy. How old is he?”
“He’s way older than me, Mom.” She swallowed.
“Oh?”
“Yeah, he’s in the fifth grade. I think he’s like ten or something.”
Amused at her daughter’s perspective, Lissa smiled to herself and struggled to refrain from laughing. “Yes, that is old.”
When they finished their meals, they left the restaurant and strolled around the mall, eyeing the mannequins in the window of the Girl Scout shop.
“I like that one, Mom.” Lacy pointed to a mannequin wearing a Brownie uniform. “That’s the kind of beanie I want.”
Lissa once graciously accepted a hand-me-down Brownie uniform from a lady at work whose daughter, now a Girl Scout, no longer needed it. The outfit just about matched the newer ones with the exception of the beanie that appeared lighter in color than the traditional chocolate brown. The day Lissa brought the outfit home and placed it on Lacy’s bedroom cedar chest to surprise her, she took one look at the beanie and cringed, claiming it looked just like peanut butter.
“We’ll see,” was all Lissa could offer at the moment. As the sole breadwinner, she still hadn’t assessed her discretionary expenditures in light of the move. “When I can see my way clear, honey,” she said, hoping that would soon end the conversation. Right now, she needed more important things like a new cell phone. “Let’s see if they have a phone store in this mall, Lace.” Lissa led the way to the middle of the first floor of the huge plaza and perused the directory posted by a small fountain surrounded by greenery. “Here it is,” she said and took Lacy by the hand to go check out what they offered.
Stepping out of the mall with her new purchase in hand, a light rain fell as they headed for the car. While pulling out of the lot, Lissa checked her surroundings for anything unusual. The image of the imposing SUV still lingered in her head, a vivid reminder of how swiftly potential danger could arise. Lissa remained vigilant—and worried. Though the incident occurred over a month ago, the memory was still alive.
Once out of the lot and on the main drag through town, she tensed at the first set of headlights in the rearview mirror. Even an innocuously driven car that happened by coincidence to be traveling in her same directi
on gave her pause. The vehicle maintained a steady pace behind her at some point after she left the mall. She couldn’t tell the make or model through the drizzling rain, nor could she tell whether a man or a woman was behind the wheel. After the next busy intersection at Queenstown Boulevard, she looked into the mirror again and saw no one behind her. She breathed out a sigh.
“We don’t have an umbrella,” she said to Lacy as she pulled into the driveway. She turned off the engine. “So we’ll have to run.” She gathered her purse and plastic bag containing the new phone. “Okay, ready? Let’s go.”
She made a fast exit from the car and dashed up the steps with Lacy close behind. Once at the top, the overhang above the door shielded them from the ongoing downpour. The feature was one of the things Lissa admired in the old Victorian. She rummaged for the key and inserted it into the lock. When the door opened easily, she froze.
“We can’t go in,” she said tersely. Lissa quickly grabbed Lacy’s arm and fled back down the steps.
Chapter Twelve
A policeman stood imposingly at the front door, his big, bulky frame filling the doorway. Embarrassed to be seen in her nightshirt by a total stranger, Lissa gathered the lapels and fastened them with her arms folded across her chest.
“Hello, Officer,” she said.
The policeman tipped his head. “Just wanted to come by again, make sure everything was all right.”
Still nervous from the incident only hours before, she slowly pulled the door open. The police escort back into their apartment earlier had given her courage to walk inside, though barely loosening the tension in her emotional belt but a notch. Hardly enough to feel at home.
“Yes, I think we’re fine.” She cast a glance back toward the bedrooms.
“Need me to do another run through, I’d be happy to do so.”
She closed her arms tighter across her chest. “I think we’re good.”
Earlier, the burly cop had clunked through the rooms—the jarring sight of his pistol and leather holster gave her a mild shock—and shone a flashlight inside each of them, under the beds and the closets. Finding nothing amiss, he made some notations in a notebook and left. A thick scent of musk and leather trailed behind him long after his investigation was over. Ironically, his very presence upset the delicate balance of house and home almost as much as the earlier intruder.
Later, Lissa looked up from her dressing table to see Lacy standing at the doorway.
“Mom, I can’t sleep.”
The sight of Lacy in her pink pajamas and bare feet as she held her pillow sent a ripple of empathy through her.
“Don’t worry, honey,” Lissa assuaged her daughter. “The burglar, or whoever it was, is gone.”
“But I don’t want to sleep alone.”
“I know, honey, come here.” She held out her arms and Lacy snuggled into her. “I know it’s scary. I’m scared, too.”
Even after a thorough search by the police, her thoughts whirled of possible places where the intruder could still be hiding. She could not shake the fear of knowing a stranger had crept into their living space—and could still be there. Somewhere. Was he still inside, hiding somewhere the police didn’t check? She once heard the story of a man who slipped into the narrowest of places and held his breath to escape notice. How hard would it be to sneak behind her one of her winter coats or even inside one of the garment bags? Lissa’s mind raced with possible scenarios.
“The police searched everywhere, honey. They checked all the rooms. There’s nothing to be afraid of now,” she said, emphasizing her assurance. “You may sleep here tonight,” she said, pulling back the sheet and comforter. With that, Lacy hopped onto the bed and Lissa tucked her in. “But just tonight, okay?” Lacy’s green eyes stared up at her from the pillow.
Lacy didn’t seem completely convinced, but Lissa held out hope that Lacy understood and trusted her.
As she undressed for bed, thoughts of Brian came to mind again. She desperately wanted to call him. The sound of his deep voice was just the salve she needed right now—a balm for her frazzled nerves. A security officer himself, of sorts, for the Department of Defense, he’d be the one to help allay her fears. She wondered what he was doing tonight. An abrupt knock interrupted her thoughts. In her robe and slippers, she went to the door.
“Everything all right, Ms. Logan?” Miss Rucker asked, her face pinched with concern. Her gaze shot past Lissa into the apartment as though there was something just beyond she should know about.
“Oh, Miss Rucker, come in.” Lissa parted the door wide and ushered her inside.
“I saw the police and didn’t know what the matter was,” she said, hurriedly. “What happened?”
“Not to worry,” Lissa said and patted the diminutive woman’s stooped shoulders to confirm things were under control. As nervous as she was herself, it felt good to at least maintain a sense of composure. “Everything’s okay, now.”
“Now? What happened, dear?” She nervously cast a glance around the room.
“We had a break-in. When we got back home from dinner, I found the door unlocked.”
“Oh, my, you don’t say.” She clutched her chest.
“Yes, so I was afraid to go in. We immediately ran down to the car for safety where I called the police on my cell.”
“Anything stolen?”
“That’s the strange part.” Lissa glanced around. “I don’t know for sure. I really can’t say.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear this. Really, I am. You should have come to my door. I feel terrible.” Miss Rucker raised both hands to her head as though wanting to squeeze her brain.
“It’s not your fault,” Lissa said.
She nodded. “Yes, yes, I’m afraid it is.”
“Why, Miss Rucker?” Lissa asked, disbelieving.
“I never warned you.”
“Warned me about what?”
“The Peeping Tom.”
“There’s a Peeping Tom?” Lissa’s voice rose.
“I thought it was just my imagination at first. I’m getting old, but I’m not too old to notice things. I’ve heard he hangs out in the woods in the park,” she said, gesturing. “He carries around a—oh, whad’ya call ’em? Those things to spy with.”
“Binoculars?”
“No, no, a big thing.” She shook her head. “Anyway—”
“When did you first notice him?”
Silence.
“Miss Rucker?”
She seemed hesitant to answer.
“When did you first notice that there was a Peeping Tom?”
“I’m not sure really when he began, but I noticed a strange man lingering around the neighborhood around the time you and your little girl moved in.”
Chapter Thirteen
Pop! Lissa awoke from sleep with a startle. The sound came from somewhere inside or outside the house, she couldn’t tell. Her limbs froze as she strained to figure out where or what it was. Maybe it was a newspaper landing on her doorstep? She didn’t sign up for a delivery, though sometimes freebies were distributed. The narrow stairway leading to the second-floor landing was a long shot. Who’d have that good an aim?
When the Freeze King refrigerator erupted with a loud burst by day, she reasoned the appliance had seen better days and was presently on its last leg. Come the wee hours, the same sound rose more threateningly and making the connection was not as easy. Any pop or even the click of the heating/AC unit outside the window evoked a sense of danger in her vivid imaginings. Was it the refrigerator? A rock at the window? The perils of the night lent even the innocuous sounds of the unknown an ominous foreboding.
The clock read eight minutes after six. Gray light appeared around the outer edges of the window blinds. Lissa braced herself under the bed clothes and her mind continued to whirl with possibilities. She knew the sound wasn’t loud enough to be a gunshot but what was it?
She got up. At the bedroom doorway, she paused. Gentle water droplets pattering on the windowpanes usually rela
xed her, but now, standing stiffly at the threshold to her bedroom, her rigid body defied every drop. She waited for a brief minute listening to the water sluice through the gutter in metallic plinks. Just rain or maybe a loose tree limb finally snapped and fell. Satisfied that whatever it was had passed, she padded back to her bed. Before she hopped back in, the sound came again. She stopped short. The sound didn’t come from the direction of the window. It sounded like the creaking of wooden floorboards. The outside stairway. Was someone on the landing?
Lissa hesitated before moving toward the front of the apartment, simultaneously attracted and repelled by whatever stood beyond the doorway. Her heart thumped as she tiptoed toward the door. Maybe it was Miss Rucker who needed help, or Mrs. Houser, who shared the other half of the Victorian’s second floor. She braced against the door frame and stood on her toes to peer through the peephole, careful not to stumble or bump into the door and hoping the old floorboards wouldn’t give away her presence by creaking.
The misty light of daybreak revealed something on the landing. Leaning against the corner of the railing lay a single pink rose.
****
“Hey, Robin, it’s me.”
“Hey, sweetie, everything okay?”
“It’s just so odd.” Lissa stared at the wilted rose.
“What’s going on?”
“This flower…on my doorstep.” She ran her thumb and index finger along the velvety petals.
“Someone send you flowers?” Robin’s voice lilted.
“Just one. A pink rose.”
“What’s wrong with it…stem broken?”
“No, it’s beautiful. But sometime last night or this morning, who knows, it was just sitting outside the door by the railing. But there’s no note or anything.”
“Hmmm…, well, red would be romantic. And yellow is friendship. I guess pink is somewhere in between,” she drawled, cheerily.
