by Laurèn Lee
Silence filled the air. The humming of the incandescent bulbs overhead buzzed like a hummingbird. Peter stared at Penny until a heavy frown crossed his face. He stroked his unkempt beard.
“Show me,” he finally said.
Penny pulled herself up from the chair and strode back into the main office area with Peter at her heels. The back of her top, now damp with sweat, clung to her body. Carefully, she placed her fingertips on the drawer’s metallic handle and pulled gently before jumping backward. The drawer creaked open and revealed the sneakers. Harper’s sneakers.
“Well, this isn’t good,” Peter said.
“What should we do?” Penny asked desperately. Tears snaked down her face.
“There’s only one thing we can do.”
Penny clutched her stomach as nausea washed over her. “What’s that?”
“We call the police.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Friday, October 11, 2019
The cold porcelain chilled Harper to her bones, which appeared more prevalent in the young girl’s cheeks. The man continued to feed her, but only barely. She lay curled up in the bathroom with all the lights off. She liked it better this way when he wasn’t here. When he didn’t visit and speak to her in baby talk as though she were his child.
The night before, though, he wasn’t happy with her and Harper suffered the consequences.
The strange man had returned to the house with her feminine products as promised. He’d knocked on the door with a polite rap and instructed her to put on her blindfold. He’d only come in if she did so.
“Cover your eyes, Heather. If you don’t, Daddy will be mad,” he said.
As requested, Harper put on the blindfold and sat on top of the toilet seat, her legs jittering against it. She held her breath and waited for him to enter. The door squeaked as a cold draft swept into the bathroom. She heard heavy footsteps and the bathroom door close again. This time, however, she wasn’t alone. The man breathed heavily as he tossed the bag of supplies at the girl’s feet.
“There you go, sweetie,” he said softly.
Harper sat on her hands, concealing something she didn’t want the man to see. The entire time he was gone, she’d sharpened the edge of his toothbrush against the windowsill until she created a pointed edge. She saw it on a movie once and thought she could give it a go herself. Since the man wouldn’t leave her alone in an unlocked room, she had to figure out a way around that. She needed a way to circumvent the man entirely. And what better way than for him to be taken out completely? She shivered on the toilet seat while she concealed her weapon. She wasn’t sure she could pull it off. The most she’d ever hurt a person was during gym class when she’d accidentally hit Jimmy in the head playing dodgeball. Besides that? She’d never been in the business of causing pain. No matter how many kids teased her at school for various things like her red hair or her missing teeth.
She sensed the man kneel before her and could feel his warm, stale breath against her face. He grasped her cheeks in his hands and kissed her forehead.
“It’s almost your special day,” he said. “Tomorrow, we will celebrate.”
“Okay,” Harper replied meekly.
Visions of running to her mother and father rushed through her head, and she’d never wanted to be in their arms more in her entire life. She wanted the warmth of her mother’s bosom against her and the roughness of her father’s beard scratching her cheek. She took a deep breath, and in a flash, she hopped off the toilet and swung madly in the air with the toothbrush knife in her hand. She caught the man and felt the tip of the makeshift-blade graze against his skin. The stranger yelped and stumbled backward into the tub, ripping the shower curtain from its rings in the process.
“Heather! What the hell?” he cried.
Without time to remove her blindfold, Harper felt her way to the bathroom door and found its knob. She yanked on it, and the door jiggled free. She felt the freedom on the tip of her tongue. She was about to escape!
Harper took one step over the threshold of the bathroom. She reached for her blindfold, but then the man yanked at her hair. He pulled her back into the bathroom. Harper slammed against the cold tile. A ringing in her ears immediately pierced her senses like a siren. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she felt warm blood oozing from her head onto the floor.
“How could you, Heather?” the man shrieked with indignation. “I trusted you!”
Tears poured down Harper’s cheeks and vomit collected in her throat. She turned over and heaved what little sustenance she had left in her belly. The contents of her stomach splattered against the floor and splashed back onto her cheeks and chin. She moaned in agony, and intoxicating sobs crippled her.
“I want my mommy and daddy!”
“I am your family!” the man cried. “Me! Only me!”
“No!” Harper shot back. “You’re not my daddy! Take me home, you monster!”
She waited for the incoming blow, but it never came.
“I thought this time would be different, Heather,” he said, seethingly. “But, it’s got to happen like it always does.”
Confusion seized her and Harper crawled backward until she felt the closed bathroom door against her shaking body.
“Get up!” the man ordered.
The venom in his voice convinced her not to mess with him. Harper used the door as leverage and shimmied upward until she stood, still wearing the blindfold. The stranger grabbed at her hair again and dragged her as he opened the bathroom door. The floor creaked under their weight. Harper felt chunks of her hair being ripped away with the man’s grip on her. Fresh tears sprang from her eyes, and she cried out yet again for her parents.
Her captor led her down a flight of stairs, each step squeaking as they ventured downward. The man cleared his throat over and over again, muttering to himself about the past repeating itself.
“Please let me go! I won’t tell anyone about you,” Harper pleaded. But the man ignored her.
They reached the last step and subsequently the first floor. The man yanked at Harper and led her further until she heard the turning of a doorknob. A rush of cold air whipped against her body and whirled her tangled hair. Shivers crept across her whole body. She wasn’t dressed properly to go outside and yet that was exactly where the man was taking her.
With the blindfold still securely in place, she couldn’t see where they were going, but she knew it was nighttime. The chill in the air was all she needed for evidence of the time of day. Harper’s ears pricked at the sound of rustling leaves all around them. The man pushed her along, her bare feet stumbling upon little stones on the ground. She hopped up and down after stubbing her toe on a, particularly sharp one.
“Ouch!” she squealed.
The man ignored her still.
After what felt like miles and miles, the man finally brought Harper to a halt. She could feel asphalt now and could only guess they were near a road. Harper rubbed her arms, hoping to warm herself up to no avail. Her body quivered with fear and the freezing air assaulted her with every passing moment.
“I’m so sorry it has to be like this, Heather,” the man said.
“It doesn’t have to be like anything. Please let me go, mister. I miss my family.” Harper sobbed and shuddered against the man. But her tears wouldn’t free her just as praying to the heavens wouldn’t bring her any closer to her parents.
“It’s time,” the man said.
“Time for what?” Harper cried with chattering teeth.
In the distance, the hum of a semi truck’s engine rattled through the night. Harper thought this could be her chance. She could be saved!
She concentrated and focused on the sound of the approaching truck. Surely, they’d see her and help her. They couldn’t just drive by, right? Harper could smell the truck’s fumes. She flailed her arms and pulled against the man’s grasp.
“Help me! Help me!” she called into the night.
She could see the light from the truck illu
minate her blindfold.
And, then, everything went all black again.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Saturday, October 12, 2019
News of Jayson’s arrest spread through Crimson Falls like wildfire. The phones rang off the hook at the Chronicle as neighboring reporters, some from Arbordale, called and asked for a quote. Jayson’s wife sobbed on cable TV and promised the viewers it was a mistake, that her husband could never hurt a child. She rubbed her own pregnant belly as tears gushed down her mascara-streaked cheeks.
The entire Chronicle office watched the TV in the breakroom as local police handcuffed Jayson and shoved him into the back of the police cruiser. Before they closed the door on him, he looked straight into the camera and cried, “I’m innocent! I never touched her!”
Penny wanted to believe him; she wanted it all to be a sick joke. But how could she ignore the sneakers in his drawer? The Goldens confirmed they were Harper’s, without a doubt. Chief Chapman and Officer Truman personally visited the newspaper’s office to take each of the staff’s statements, taking extra time with Penny.
She explained coming to the office early to work on a story and looking for an extra phone charger. Naturally, she lied about what she was actually looking for in Jayson’s desk. Penny couldn’t help but feel guilty for blowing Jayson in, but what if he’d taken Harper? What if he’d hurt her? She didn’t want to believe it, but she couldn’t avoid the truth of what she found in his desk. Guilt nagged at her, but so did depression. She thought she knew Jayson. They’d been in love once. He’d treated her well. He’d taken care of her.
She didn’t want to believe he was capable of such a crime, but then how did the sneakers get in his drawer? It would certainly explain his mysterious behavior over the past week. Would the police find her now? Was Harper still alive?
If it were any other publication, the Chronicle would have been all over the story, but since one of their own was locked up, they wanted to avoid the publicity at all costs. Peter instructed everyone to avoid talking to the public about it. He would draft a press release and an official statement on behalf of the Crimson Chronicle later that day.
Penny’s stomach churned with despair. Even though she found the sneakers in Jayson’s drawer, her instincts told her it wasn’t the whole story. The reporter in her wanted more information, more answers.
She snuck out the back of the Chronicle’s office and pulled her hood over her head. Sleet poured from the sky and wind whipped her in the face. Penny unlocked her car and dove inside. She turned the key in the ignition, then pulled away from her parking spot. Penny’s car rocked as she drove down Main Street and toward the woods, cemetery, and the Crimson Motel toward the edge of town. They’d moved Jayson overnight from the police station’s holding cell to the Arbordale Jail. She drove to the jail in silence as she worked through what she’d say to Jayson. Penny couldn’t piece together the reality of the situation. She’d barely slept the night before, and the haze of her fatigue clouded her vision. Several times along the drive she dozed off and only woke as her tires grazed the bumpy ridges on the shoulder of the road.
Finally, she reached the jail and parked in the desolate lot. Apparently, there weren’t that many visitors on a Saturday. Although, she’d had enough foresight to call the jail ahead of time to see if they accepted visitors on Saturdays at all.
She had about two hours left before visiting time ended. Plenty of time to see Jayson and ask him what the hell was going on. Penny stepped out of her vehicle, avoiding her reflection in the car window.
She took long strides across the lot, avoiding puddles until she reached the visitor entrance on the side of the aged, brick building. Inside, the jail appeared sterile and vacant, except for the guard chatting up the secretary at the front desk. The guard, a man in his mid-thirties with a bald spot, whispered into the woman’s ear, causing her cheeks to redden and a giggle to escape her plum-colored lips.
Both turned, though, once Penny walked inside and approached the front desk. The guard stood up straight and revealed a hefty beer gut which hung well below the waist of his pants.
“How can we help you, miss?” he asked with his nose turned upright.
Penny ignored the man and faced the secretary as she blew a bubble and popped it loudly. “I’m Penny. I just called about visiting one of the guys here.”
The woman nodded knowingly and nodded toward the metal detector. “You gotta go through there, hun. And, no phones allowed.”
Penny obliged and handed her cell to the secretary before stepping through the dated metal detector, supervised by the overweight guard.
“Who ya here to see?” he asked as he led her through the locked doors and into a room mimicking a school cafeteria. Penny knew she wouldn’t be going to the common visiting area where the inmates were separated by glass, and that they must communicate with phones because part of the jail was undergoing renovations. Each table in the temporary visiting area had rings drilled into the table, presumably for the inmates and their handcuffs.
“A friend,” Penny replied simply.
“I’ll need their name if you want to see them,” he said and rolled his eyes.
“Right. Yeah. Jayson Owens.”
The guard's eyes illuminated like a Christmas tree. “The kidnapper? Took his sister and then took little Harper. He won’t last very long in here.”
Penny swallowed hard and dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands. She sat down at a table closest to the window. The guard pulled out his black matte walkie-talkie and mumbled a code into the mouthpiece.
Penny nibbled on her cuticles while she waited for Jayson to come to the visiting area. She stared outside and watched the bare trees sway back and forth in the storm. Penny wondered if she’d ever see the sun again.
Not for a while. At least not until October is over, she thought.
A deafening alarm rang twice, and a door buzzed open. In walked Jayson, donning an orange jumpsuit and walking like an Antarctic penguin in his shackles. Penny’s breath caught in her throat and her stomach clenched with shock.
Jayson’s sunken-in eyes were bloodshot and heavy. She doubted he’d slept a wink last night, the same as she. Under his left eye were shades of purple and blue. The guard snickered as Jayson walked by and sat down.
He narrowed his eyes, and if looks could kill, Penny would have dropped dead right then and there. She stared at her chewed nail beds, unable to speak.
“Why are you here?” Jayson asked, seething.
“I wanted to talk to you,” Penny replied weakly.
Jayson burst into a fit of dark laughter. He sounded villainous and repulsed by Penny’s presence. “You want to talk to me now? Now, that I’m in jail, you care to hear about my side of the story? I know it was you who turned me in. Peter told me so.”
Penny looked up. “Peter told you it was me who found the sneakers?”
“Oh, yeah. Didn’t you know? He said I had you to blame for being here.”
Penny furrowed her brow and scrunched her face. She’d trusted Peter like family when she came to him with her discovery. Why would he blow her in like that? She shook her head.
“Well, do you have an explanation for why the sneakers were in there in the first place?”
Jayson growled, a deep guttural cry from within his throat. “I’m being set up!”
Two guards reached for their nightsticks, but Penny waved them away. She returned her gaze to Jayson and reached for his handcuffed hands. Jayson flinched and pulled away.
“Talk to me, Jayson. Did you take her?” Penny asked, her voice barely audible above the twittering guards in the corner.
“Look at me, Penelope. Look into my eyes. You know me. You know I didn’t do this. I didn’t hurt my sister and I didn’t take Harper.”
Penny stared into Jayson’s eyes as he’d asked. She tried to delve deep into his soul as though his pupils were a window into his mind. Was he truly capable of taking Harper? Of hurting her? Of killing her? E
ven back then, she hadn’t believed he had anything to do with Shannon’s disappearance. She couldn’t believe he was capable of hurting Harper, either. And yet, doubt nagged at her.
“If you didn’t do it, then who did? Who put the sneakers in your desk?”
Jayson broke into a smile. “Don’t you see? It’s been in front of our faces all along.”
“What, Jayson? What didn’t we see?”
Penny broke the skin on her palms and blood oozed out of her gashes. She wiped them on her jeans, trying to conceal the wounds. Her pulse raced inside her chest.
“It’s been him this whole time,” he said.
“Who?”
Jayson leaned in as did Penny, until they were nearly nose to nose. “It’s Peter.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Saturday, October 12, 2019
Penny stared at Jayson incredulously. “What did you just say?”
“You heard me. It’s Peter. It’s always been Peter,” Jayson said, his voice low.
After a moment, Penny broke out into her own fit of laughter, catching the attention of the guards. They watched her intently, and one elbowed the other and spun his finger around as he pointed it to his own head.
“You gotta be shitting me, Jay. Are you fucking with me?”
Jayson remained stoic in his seat. “Think about it, Penny. All the girls, including Harper, who’ve gone missing have all disappeared around this time.”
Penny finally calmed herself down but held her belly still. “That’s because of the curse in Crimson Falls. You know that.”
“Is it the curse that takes the girls or just encourages a sick bastard to do its bidding?”
She bit her lip and thought about Jayson’s question. It was like the chicken or the egg conundrum. Who was truly responsible for the disappearances? Someone had to be blamed. There wasn’t an invisible force snatching up the girls out of thin air.
