by Sara Clancy
“And by ‘we’ you mean the Fort Wayward RCMP,” he mumbled.
“Yeah, I’m not a big fan of the attitude.”
Her protest only made him chuckle slightly. Not exactly the reaction she was looking for. As they lapsed into silence, Nicole’s leg began to jiggle with unleashed energy; a mounting need to do something. Although, it could also have been the copious amounts of caffeine she had just ingested. Putting the cup down, she glanced around, seeking a distraction. There wasn’t one. Absently, she snatched up her take away cup again and started to hurriedly chew on the straw.
“I can’t believe that neither of us is with her,” she mumbled.
“Your mom is.”
“Yeah, but it should be us.”
“Of course. What were we thinking, leaving an emergency in the hands of law enforcement professionals?”
“And there’s that attitude again,” she huffed, flopping her head back to stare at the ceiling.
“We have to respect our parents’ rules,” Benton said. “No pitting ourselves against demonic forces of evil when we have school tomorrow.”
“Because you’re all about following your parents’ rules, right?” she scoffed.
His sleepy face twisted up, but he didn’t bother to open his eyes. “Let’s not talk about them right now. Or ever.”
Nicole stared at her phone, willing him to pick up the frustration that was simmering in her veins like static electricity. Completely oblivious, he settled down, his breath evening out as he drifted on the edge of sleep.
“Can you just freak out!” she blurted.
Seeing Benton jerk awake as though he had just heard an explosion left her feeling a little guilty. She clamped her mouth around the straw and sunk back in her chair as Benton grabbed the sides of his mattress and pushed his torso up, searching the room for what had woken him.
“What’s going on?” he swallowed thickly. “Did you hear that?”
She tightened her grip on her drink and slowly shook her head. Somehow, he saw right through her display of complete innocence. He heaved a sigh.
“Something on your mind, Nicole?”
The straw cracked between her teeth as she tried to keep her silence.
“Really? Nothing you want to get out?”
She shook her head.
“Nothing pushing at the edges of your mind? Itching to get free? Like a beetle crawling over your brain?”
“Doesn’t this bother you at all?” he words came out in a rush. Clenching her teeth, she sucked in a deep breath and huffed. “I hate when you do that.”
“I know,” he said. “And for the record, yes, murder bothers me.”
“I’m sorry, you just seem so comfy, and I’m losing my mind.”
“You’re losing your mind because you’re trying to survive on five hours of sleep a night.”
“You do the same thing,” she protested.
“I handle it better.” The reprimand in his tone made her cringe. “Look, I like Amy. She seems nice and I don’t want anything bad to happen to her. But I’ve also got Amir to look out for.”
“Sorry,” she mumbled. “Wait? Who’s Amir?”
The storm in his gray eyes dissipated within a second. He heaved a deep sigh, dragged a hand through his hair, and dropped back down onto the mattress. After which, he continued to squirm and mutter under his breath. He really should change his shirt. Benton always woke up in a cold sweat. Right now, his blue Chicago Cubs t-shirt was a few shades darker than it ought to be. It can’t be comfortable. Eventually, he punched a pillow under his chin again and picked up their conversation.
“Amir Sharma was tonight’s victim.”
“The killer knew that?”
“No,” he chuckled. “The random ones are always the worst. This guy, he didn’t even stick around to see the damage. It didn’t matter to him who he killed. Only that someone was dead because of him. It scares me when I understand that logic. Then again, I never want to understand this kind of logic.”
His smirk was easy to return, despite the cold feeling in the pit of her stomach. No matter how hard she tried, she’d never really understand what life was like for him. The things he saw. His dreams. She’d never be able to experience them herself. She’d forever be on the outside, sneaking glances of a world she could never be a part of.
“But at least you’re doing something constructive,” she found herself saying. “When we’re sent home like this, you’re still useful. I’m just sitting here.”
“You’re helping me,” he said. “Seriously, Nic. Before you, there was no way I’d be able to get to sleep again. That means a lot. At least to me.”
She felt her cheeks flush. “Thank you, Benton.”
He smiled at her. “You know, I’ve come to a conclusion.”
“Oh, sounds philosophical. Do tell.”
“The central goal of my existence is to have a pizza and a nap. It’s not a big goal, granted. But I’m setting my sights on it.”
She hummed, “That actually sounds incredible right now.”
“You can jump in on this if you want,” he said. “Although, I guess you’ll be busy fleeing from your mother right about now.”
Nicole frowned, “Sorry?”
Benton smirked as he settled his head against the pillow. “I suggest heading out now if you don’t want to get caught.”
“Mom’s at the hospital,” she reminded him with a smile.
“With Constable Abby, right?”
“Yep.”
“And I just told your mom about my dream. So she’ll ...”
Nicole’s skin went cold as her brain completed his sentence. She’ll be heading to the office to check it all out. “Why am I being so thick today?”
“I’ve told you a dozen times already. Get some sleep!”
She ignored Benton’s belligerent grumble, instead dedicating her efforts to cleaning away the mess that cluttered every flat surface. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. From a research standpoint, spreading out had made sense. Now, it was clear that it was the worst thing she could have done. Especially given her mother’s sharp, right on the point of neurotic, eye for detail. If the keyboard’s a half inch out of place, she’ll know I’ve been here. She’ll know something’s up. Clenching her jaw, she tried to stifle the voice in her head. You prepared for this, Nicole.
“Benton, I’m going to have to flick over to my photos for a bit to remember where everything goes.”
“Sure thing,” he emitted a jaw-popping yawn.
“I’ll keep the call connected though,” she added.
It had become their routine that they kept the call going until Benton nodded off again. They wouldn’t chat for most of it. He just liked hearing someone else around him.
“Pitter patter, let’s get at her.”
Nicole’s body jerked to a stop before her brain caught up with what he had said.
“Did you really just say that?”
“Don’t pretend that you’re too cool for the phrase,” he said without opening his eyes.
Benton nuzzled down before the phone flopped onto a pillow and the screen went dark. From somewhere in the darkness, she heard his breathing even out.
“Have a good sleep Benton.”
She smiled softly and clicked over to her photos. Taking them upon entering the office was, single-handedly, the best decision she had ever made. With their help, she managed to get Dorothy’s office back the way it was. She checked everything down to the finest detail, shoved her binders into her backpack, and then checked again.
When everything was in order, she was confronted with the question of how she was going to get out without running the risk of her mother spotting her. It was moments like these that she deeply regretted mentioning how easy it was to crawl in and out of the office window. The bars Dorothy put up made it harder to sneak around the station.
Organizing the straps of her backpack onto her shoulders, she cautiously approached the door. She had lost track of time while fixing up
the office. It now left her with the growing paranoia that she was too late. That now only seconds separated her from being caught. Don’t panic. Just think. Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she patted the pockets of her candy striper uniform. Got the keys in one. Mobile in the other. You’re good to go, girl. All of her bravado evaporated the moment she grabbed the office door handle. Her head was flooded with a thousand options of what her mother might do if she was found here. With a growing sense of dread, she pressed her ear to the door, straining to hear any sounds on the other side. Nothing. Summoning her courage, she wrenched the door open and sprinted down the hallway past the storage room and armory to the fire exit at the back.
There wasn’t a large police force in Fort Wayward. Six officers, to be specific. After what happened to Amy, half of the force was at the hospital. Those that remained were patrolling the town, trying to soothe the anxious citizens with a clear police presence. That was the reason why she had parked her jeep in the depths of the alley that ran alongside the building. It was a great hiding place. Just outside of the glow of the streetlights. The moment she burst out into the dark, dank alley, she began to reconsider her choices. Why am I so dumb today?
The door smacked against her back as it closed, cutting off her only exit. She lingered in the small archway, hands twisting tight around the bag straps and stomach churning. The shadows pushed in on her, deep and foreboding, making her skin crawl. The skin on the back of her neck began to prickle. Fur crossed the inside of her skull, brushing against her brain; a now familiar sensation that she had come to take seriously. She was being watched.
An earlier burst of rain had completely escaped her attention. Already, the clouds had begun to dissipate, but the thin layer of water that remained gave the glow of the streetlights something to dance off of. Puddles scattered the concrete floor. She figured that they would work as some kind of early warning sign if anything approached her. There was a little bit of comfort in that. Enough that she was able to lift her jaw and take a step forward. Leaving the door behind made her stomach drop and she quickly broke into a jog. The splash of her boots made tension twist around her lungs. Squeezing like a boa constrictor.
Sucking in a sobering breath, she locked her eyes on her jeep, taking a moment to appreciate the new paint job. There wasn’t enough peppermint green to cover the whole body of the jeep, so the roof had been covered with snow white. It still looked good and did an impressive job at concealing most of the dents and damage. Supernatural creatures had no respect for her jeep. Her fledging smile faded when a new sound broke the uneven silence.
Jerking to a stop, she held her breath, stretching her senses to pick up on the slightest sound. A car engine rumbled by. It was a few streets over but sounded deceptively close in the stillness. The silence that followed was thick and oppressive. Trapped within it, the sensation of being watched increased, to the point that she looked over her shoulder, expecting to find something lurking merely inches from her spine. She freed her hands slowly, breathed deeply, and bolted forward. The backpack bounced against her as she snaked the keys out of her pocket. She threaded the slip of metal between her fingers, balling her fist to keep them upright. It wouldn’t be much of a weapon. But she felt better having it.
Without pausing, she pulled off her backpack. The heavy weight tugged at her arm, dragging her down. Another pathetic weapon, but one that she wasn’t willing to give up. She reached the door and jabbed her key in the hole. The tip scraped across the new paint, creating a series of grooves as she struggled to force it into the lock. Finally, she succeeded.
The sensation of being watched crashed down upon her like a wave, nearly causing her knees to buckle and forced her to turn around. The alleyway was shrouded in shadows. The opening of the alley stood a far distance off, painted yellow by the nearby street lamp. Nothing stirred. Tension coiled in the pit of her stomach like agitated snakes. She could feel them slithering along her limbs, spreading her gathering anxiety until she was trembling with it. Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she turned back and unlocked the door. Then she heard it. A soft thud and splash of water. Footsteps.
They rushed towards her. Nicole fumbled to yank her key free and open the door at the same time. Her backpack smacked against the steering wheel and, in her hurry to get it, became trapped between the plastic ring and her legs. The footsteps were upon her. Not waiting to get her foot out of the way, she slammed the door shut. A blinding spike of pain didn’t stop her from smacking the lock back into place. The instant it engaged, the approaching patter stopped. Breathing heavily, she searched outside her window, all the while struggling to free her foot from where it was lodged between the door and the seat.
An invisible force struck the window inches from her head. She screamed, throwing herself back, half-toppling onto the passenger seat. A split second later, the window shattered. Broken shards rained over the driver’s seat. The downpour sounded like chimes, striking her like hail. Broken from the outside. The thought clashed with the realization that the first thump had been made on the inside of the glass. Something’s out there. Something’s in here with me. She didn’t know which should scare her more. But a Survival instinct kicked in, making the decision for her.
Gripping the steering wheel, she hurled herself up and shoved the key into the ignition. The engine came to life with a thunderous roar. The best sound she had ever heard in her life. Just as she shoved the jeep into gear, a new sound struck her ears like the tip of a pickax. A shrill scrape that streaked across the windshield before her face. She pushed back into her seat with a wince. In the same instant, the air stirred. The unmistakable sensation of something solid barreling past, narrowly avoiding contact. Allowing her to feel the motion but not the touch. The passenger window exploded.
In her panic, she tried to work the gears again. The engine grunted as the jeep protested. She slammed her foot on the gas. Water caught the tires. With a ferocious lurch, the jeep spun out, fishtailing as she tried to bring it back under her control. The rear bumper skimmed the alley wall. The right side collided with a garbage can, tossing it aside and spewing its contents all over the drenched ground. Nicole pulled frantically on the wheel, fighting against the momentum pushing her against the door to force the jeep into the right direction. Instead of hitting the breaks, she pressed the gas pedal down to the floor. Sparks burned like bonfires in the night as she sideswiped the brick wall.
Then, with a final surge, she burst onto the street. And she didn’t look back as she tore off into the night.
Chapter 4
Benton was well accustomed to fear.
None of it had prepared him for the particular brand of terror of waking up to Nicole’s screams. Suddenly snapping back to reality with that sound lingering in his ears had him on his feet before the haze had cleared. It had chilled him to the bone and delayed rational thought. It took an embarrassingly long time to realize that the sound wasn’t coming from inside his room but from his phone.
Once that clicked, he ripped apart his bedding. His bed frame had been damaged in the move and it wasn’t a top priority for anyone in the Bertrand household to replace it. This left his bed a twisted nest of sheets and towels piled up on a bare mattress. He ripped through all in search of his mobile, heart hammering against his ribs the entire time. His hand was shaking by the time he was finally able to snatch up the device. The sensation only grew worse when his pleas for Nicole went unanswered. Finally, when he felt like he was about to crawl out of his own skin, she replied. Her voice was broken with suppressed sobs; but it proved she was alive.
He couldn’t remember the beginning of the conversation. It was lost under a haze of relief and fear. Logically, he knew it had to have been a rather hurried discussion. After all, they had been done by the time he managed to shove his feet into a pair of sneakers. Getting to the front door had taken longer.
His parents had specifically chosen this place to limit his ability to go anywhere unnoticed. The house itself ha
d a distinct lack of walls and doors. The whole lower floor was one large, open space, with towering windows lining most of the outer walls. What little furniture they had was built low to the floor, so as not to obstruct the view. And the upper levels had the same design, with the hallways and rooms pushed to the edges, essentially hollowing up the center of the building. It allowed someone to stand on the third floor and, with only a slight lean over a railing, to see the front door. The finishing touch to their pretty cage was the motion lights. They were all connected. Tripping once set them all off, flooding the house and surrounding area with a blinding light. Since there were no curtains, no matter where his parents were in the house, they would know he had crossed a threshold. So he had to time this right.
Upon hearing the first possible rumble of a motor, Benton grabbed the door handle and held his breath. Listening intensely for its approach. Given that his parents were born and raised city folk, it wasn’t likely that the engine alone would be enough to wake them. After two false alarms, he was finally sure that Nicole had arrived. Waiting until he heard the crunch of gravel, Benton hurled the door open. Light instantly burned his eyes. It didn’t matter. He knew the way now by heart. Five strides to cross the porch. An easy jump down the small flight of stairs to the gravel driveway. Then he sprinted, pushing himself as fast as his legs would carry him.
Nicole had already circled around. She leaned over to push the passenger door open, haphazardly tossing her coat over the seat as she pulled back. As gangly as he was, Benton was a fast sprinter. A skill that had only increased after he joined the baseball team. So it was possible for her to keep a good speed as he came alongside. Grabbing the frame with one hand and the back of the seat with the other, he leaped inside. The instant his butt hit the seat, Nicole stomped on the gas, which threw him back and slammed the door shut in the same motion.
“Are you okay?” Benton asked instantly, reaching across the gearshift to cup the side of her neck. “Are you hurt?”
She had so much hair. The long dark strands covered her neck, shoulders, upper arms. He brushed it aside as he tried to check for injuries. Nicole stared straight ahead, her chest jerking with uneven breaths.
