by Laurèn Lee
He gently pushed Harper off his lap and pulled her into a standing position with him. The man heaved her over his shoulder and with some difficulty, they walked up the basement steps. Harper’s pulse raced with every step toward the soft light at the top of the staircase. Each stair represented a step closer to freedom, a step closer to seeing her real dad and her mom.
With the handkerchief shielding her eyes, Harper couldn’t make out anything specific once they reached the landing and the man closed the basement door behind them, but she could sense so much more. She smelled the faint aroma of a microwavable dinner; she heard the gentle clicking of a manual clock, she felt the cold air brushing against her skin. The man cleared his throat and brought her into a new room, one that seemed more clinical, deodorized. He set her down, and she felt cool porcelain against her skin. Vanilla and cinnamon tickled her nose. The man turned on the faucet and rinsed his hands in the sink, at least that’s what she thought he was doing.
“You wash up, okay? I’m going to run to the store and get you what you need.”
“Thanks, Daddy,” Harper replied as sweet as pie.
The man kissed her forehead and Harper didn’t even flinch. She didn’t feel revulsion sizzling under her skin. All she could think about was the taste of freedom lingering on her chapped lips. Soon, she’d be out of this house and back in her own.
The man closed the door behind him, and Harper heard a faint clicking noise as he did so. Her heart sank a touch. Did he lock her inside? She waited until the roar of a car engine sounded and then faded away. The man was gone.
She ripped off her blindfold and dropped it onto the black and white tiled floor. Harper lunged for the bathroom door to find it was locked from the outside. She shook the handle vigorously to no avail. He’d locked her inside. Tears of desperation flooded Harper’s vision as the notion of freedom seemed to slip through her fingertips like water. How would she escape this house now? How would she get away?
She whipped around to see a window on the other side of the room. She leaped toward it and pushed it up, trying to force the wood to move upward. It wouldn’t budge. She’d lost almost all her strength and energy in captivity.
Harper knew she wasn’t any closer to escaping and soon enough when the man returned, she’d most likely be forced back into the basement and back into the darkness of captivity.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Thursday, October 10, 2019
Penny couldn’t shake the dread rattling in her bones after witnessing Jayson and Peter’s dispute behind the dumpsters. She had to know more; she needed to find out what was going on. Despite her and Jayson’s recent awkwardness and distance, they’d always been close enough friends to tell each other secrets, pass along pertinent information, and just generally keep in touch about everything and anything. But he hadn’t told her what had been keeping him on the edge of his seat this past week. All of his unease seemed to stem from Harper’s disappearance, and now, after seeing the two men quip in the parking lot of the vigil, she was sure it had to do with the little girl.
Even Peter had kept his distance from her this week. Why were the men in her life steering clear of her? Was it because they had something to hide and they knew, without a doubt, she’d uncover it?
Penny hid in her car until she was sure Jayson and Peter left the high school parking lot. Her instincts told her she needed to figure out what was happening in Crimson Falls. What if she ignored her gut feeling and Harper ended up hurt, or worse, dead?
Without a second thought, Penny turned the key in her ignition and sped out of the lot. The vigil wound down. Most people swarmed the parking lot to their cars, too. She cruised through Crimson Falls toward Peter’s house. She figured the best way to get to the truth was to face it head-on.
Peter was like a second father to her; surely he’d explain what she just saw. And, if Jayson were guilty of something, maybe they could go to the police together. Would it hurt like hell to turn in Jayson into the authorities? Of course, it would, but if he had anything to do with Harper’s kidnapping, then he wasn’t the man she thought he was in the first place.
Penny drove up the winding driveway to Peter’s dated three-story Victorian. Only a few lights were on, including the downstairs living room and just one light upstairs on the second floor. But his car wasn’t in the driveway.
She parked on the grassy lot underneath a swaying willow tree and pulled her keys out of the ignition. Penny sat there, her breathing labored and uneven.
I could at least knock. Couldn’t hurt, right? she thought.
She opened the car door and her boots sank into the mushy turf of the yard. The sky rained down more drizzles, but she didn’t want to fuss with her umbrella. She already looked like a wet dog, why worry about it now?
Penny hiked across the stone driveway and more messy mud. Several pieces of garbage littered the yard and she could see his dumpster can’s lid had flown open from the wind. She stepped over a few empty beer bottles before she reached the front door.
Blood pulsed through her veins and her head spun with anticipation. Why was she so nervous? It was Peter. Peter! The man who practically raised her outside of her own home. Surely, he’d tell her what was going on to put her nerves at ease.
Penny knocked on the door and held her breath.
Nothing.
She knocked again.
Not a sound.
She knocked furiously one last time and waited, her teeth nibbling on her cheek once more. But, nothing happened. No one came to the door, and no one made a sound. Finally giving up, Penny ambled back to her car as the wind whipped her hair every which way. The dumpster lid smacked against the side of the house in a foreboding fashion.
As the storm swirled around her, Penny swore she heard something else. She looked over her shoulder, but no one was there. Shivers shimmied down her spine. Penny crossed her arms over her middle. Her breathing intensified as her heart rate increased exponentially.
She looked over her other shoulder, but again, she saw and heard nothing. In the distance, she swore she heard someone’s voice. A yelp, even. But no one was there.
Penny looked down at her phone and noticed the time. She was a half hour later than she’d promised the nurse.
Shit!
Penny drove away from Peter’s house back to her own but couldn’t look away from the Victorian in her rear-view mirror.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Friday, October 11, 2019
Early on Friday morning, Penny’s alarm shook her out of her uneven sleep before the sun kissed the horizon. She didn’t have to be at work for another few hours, but she wanted to sneak into the office early to work on her piece about Harper’s vigil before anyone else started their shifts for the day.
She pulled herself out of bed and peeled her damp t-shirt over her head. Most of her hair, damp, too, was matted and tangled. Visions of children crying for their parents and scratching against concrete walls filled her nightmares throughout the night. Even if she woke up, tossed and turned, and fell back asleep, the dreams only resumed where they’d left off. A handful of times, her own distressed yelps roused her from the persistent nightmares.
After immersing herself in a brief, yet relaxing, steaming hot shower, Penny tiptoed to the kitchen and dug through the pantry until she found an older Cheerio box. Inside, a secret stash of bills lay folded for emergency use only.
She needed a little extra money to pay Sophie’s overtime for the additional hours she’d taken care of her mother this week. And, Lord knew, her reporter’s salary wouldn’t cover much more than the basics. Penny pulled out a few extra Andrew Jacksons, stuffed them in the back pocket of her faded black jeans, and deposited the cereal box back into the depths of the pantry. Her mother told her never to be too careful with her savings and Penny took that to heart. Before they hired Sophie, one of the nurses from the agency stole a few dollars here and there from the kitchen drawer. Penny had to borrow a little from Peter to pay their water bill t
hat month. Needless to say, Penny fired that nurse on the spot. It wasn’t her finest moment, but Peter had taken care of her, as he always did.
At the thought of him, guilt snaked through her body as she set out the door for the newspaper office. She knew the Golden case was technically still off limits, but Peter would have to let it go to print once he read the piece and saw the accompanying pictures. Even a stubborn man like him couldn’t deny a fine example of journalism. She figured he was still tormented by his daughter’s death and Harper’s disappearance only reminded him of that, but he shouldn’t let that get in the way of reporting on an important story.
A mixture of sleet and snow fell from the dark sky. Shivers ran up and down Penny’s arm despite her wearing a hoodie and a coat. Barely any other cars shared with the road with Penny as she cruised toward the office. She couldn’t help but notice the paper signs with Harper’s sweet face hung limply from the posts along Main Street, the rain making them soggy like Shredded Wheat that sat too long.
Would she ever find her way home? And if the worst were to happen, and she didn’t, would the town forget about her as they did the missing girls from the past? Would the girl with the crooked teeth and strawberry-blonde hair become just a memory? A faded dream from many moons ago? Her parents wouldn’t soon forget the gaping hole in their hearts, but could the rest of Crimson Falls keep her in their thoughts, too? Or, would the idea of Harper Golden disappear like a wisp of smoke?
Penny parked her car and sprinted toward the back door to the Chronicle’s office. Only a select few knew the security code to the building, and she was one of them. Jayson was another, but only because he’d weaseled it out of her a couple of years ago. Jayson had procrastinated writing a few of his upcoming articles, and as fate would have it, an insane storm had passed through town, and almost everyone’s power had gone out. Penny hadn’t been able to leave her mother: it had been one of her bad days. But the Chronicle had a generator, and Jayson had promised to take over layout for the next month if she gave him the code so he could finish his assignments. She’d obliged and enjoyed having the next four Sundays off instead of working on layout night.
Penny eased out of her leather coat and whipped it around, attempting fruitlessly to dry it off. She hung it up on the coat rack by the door and rubbed her hands together. Stalking across the carpet, Penny made her way into the breakroom and started a pot of coffee. She could use the whole damn pot considering how sleep had eluded her last night. As the steaming coffee trickled from the machine, Penny closed her eyes and leaned against the wall.
Silence.
So many people took it for granted. They didn’t take the time to appreciate the absence of chaos. But not Penny. She pined for it. No one badgering her, no one asking to take them to the bathroom, or to make sure she chose the best quote for her story. No one to interfere. No one to impress upon her.
Once the pot was filled to the brim, she poured herself some into her mug that read, I Like it Inverted Pyramid Style, a white Elephant gift she’d received at the last office Christmas party.
Penny poured powder creamer into her coffee and about three too many sugar packets. She set the mug down on her desk, and a few drops spilled onto her keyboard. Her computer hummed as it booted up and Penny nibbled her cuticles while she waited.
She sipped her coffee slowly at first, then once she adjusted to its temperature, she gulped it down. The desire for caffeine controlled her every thought. Out of nowhere, though, the memory of her and Jayson staying late on layout night with the help of coffee and Baileys sprung through Penny’s consciousness. Her mouth watered for the taste of a little booze in her coffee. What could it hurt? No one else was here. And, it never affected her ability to write. In fact, sometimes, it helped.
Like a child in a candy store, Penny trotted back into the breakroom, opened the fridge, and peered behind all the soda for the little shots of Baileys they’d hidden. Except, she soon realized, they were all gone. Had they actually drank them all that Sunday night? She supposed they did. But Jayson almost always kept a bottle of booze in his drawer. For special occasions, or for the nasty ones. With a little less bounce in her step, Penny strolled back to the office area and dug out Jayson’s desk key from his mug of pens and paper clips. She was the only one who knew it was there. She turned the small golden key into the keyhole for the top drawer, expecting to pull it open and see the bulge of the bottle under a few empty folders.
Except, she saw something else. Something she never expected to see, let alone discover in a drawer at the Chronicle.
There in front of her, clear as day, was a pair of muddy, pink sneakers. The same exact sneakers Harper wore the day she disappeared. Penny dropped her mug of coffee and the porcelain shattered, spilling its steaming contents all over the floor.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Friday, October 11, 2019
Penny backed away from the drawer as if a hissing viper lay in it, ready to pounce. Her heart throbbed against her chest and threatened to explode. Her breath caught in her throat and she forgot to exhale.
Why would a pair of little girl’s sneakers be in his desk drawer at work? A pair of sneakers which matched the description of Harper’s to a T? There had to be a logical explanation, right? A valid reason? But what would that even be? What excuse would Jayson have to explain it? Penny collapsed into her chair as dizziness grasped at her consciousness and tugged at her ability to think clearly.
What would she do now? What could she do now?
I should call him and ask him point-blank, she thought. But, no. What if he lashes out? What if he did take her and he hurts her?
Flashes of their relationship through the years flashed before her eyes. The hours they’d spent together, working, playing, getting in trouble, and so much more. She’d never thought he could be capable of such a vile crime. He simply wasn’t the type. Sure, he wasn’t the best husband, not by a mile, but did that automatically mean he’d hurt a child? And, if it was him, how would that explain all the missing girls in years past? Sadness enveloped her. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. This man loved her. Was a man capable of love also capable of murder? Could those two traits co-exist within a person?
It didn’t make a lick of sense — not one bit.
Penny raised her hand and held it at eye level; it shook violently. She wiped her hands on her jeans and gripped the denim. She desperately tried to steady herself. To think clearly. To figure out what to do next.
Who could she call? Talk to? Vent to? Before she had time to ponder the answer to that question, the back door opened and the familiar sound of the alarm being disarmed chimed within the silence. Penny gulped and slammed Jayson’s drawer closed. Beads of sweat trickled down the back of her neck. She tapped her foot against the floor, ignoring the spilled coffee.
She squeezed her eyes shut and hoped it wasn’t Jayson coming in early. She wasn’t ready to face him. Not yet.
Behind her, someone cleared their throat.
Peter.
“Mornin’, Penny. You’re here early,” he said.
Penny spun slowly in her desk chair and gulped. “Hey, boss. How’s it going?”
He narrowed his eyes and craned his neck to see what was on her computer screen. “What are you working on? I figured you’d be penning your talent show article tomorrow, after the fact.”
“Actually—” she said.
Peter watched her carefully, as though he waited for the other shoe to drop. Penny wanted to broach the subject of the vigil piece, but that only reminded of her Harper, who led to her think of the shoes in the drawer next to hers. Jayson. Harper. What the hell was going on in Crimson Falls?
“Can we talk?” Penny asked, clearing her own throat.
Peter eyed his favorite employee up and down. “Sure,” he said slowly. “Everything okay?”
“Not particularly,” Penny replied.
Peter walked past Penny and the spilled coffee and nodded toward his office. “Come on.”
Penny stood on shaky legs and followed Peter into his office, stepping over the stained carpet which reeked of French vanilla artificial creamer. She couldn’t calm herself down despite all of her best efforts.
Peter flicked on his light and illuminated the room, including himself. Penny noticed his bloodshot eyes and his distinct pallor. He looked like he’d seen a ghost, too. And, maybe he had. It wasn’t uncommon this time of year for those in Crimson Falls to lose themselves, to morph into another person, to fall into dangerous habits.
“You okay?” Penny asked. She sat down across from Peter and waited for his reply.
“Just, you know, that time of year,” he said and looked longingly toward the headshot of his late daughter.
“I totally get it,” Penny said. A lump formed in her throat and she begged herself to open up to him. She needed guidance and someone to tell her how to handle the current situation. Tears lingered in the corners of her eyes, ready to fall down her cheeks.
“What’s that you wanted to talk about?”
Penny cracked each and every one of her knuckles. Then she gripped the arms of her chair. “I think someone I know, we know, rather, has done something wrong.”
A sheen of glittering sweat formed on Peter’s forehead, and he pulled out a handkerchief to wipe it away.
“Go on,” he said.
Penny stared at her feet like a little girl in the principal's office. She was about to tattle on one of her most dependable allies, one of her oldest friends. “I found something in Jayson’s desk.”
“Oh?” Peter asked.
Penny cleared her throat and looked up toward her boss. “I think I found Harper Golden’s sneakers in his drawer.”
