If Tyler was saying the talk was picking up again, that might change things. “Keep your ear to the ground, Tyler. I’ll be in touch.”
The call ended, and Paul found himself on Fifth Avenue. Tourists and locals crowded the sidewalks, the whole street a sea of umbrellas as the rain fell. Paul opened his own umbrella and headed north. It was time to go home.
_______________
Brent started the car, and Taylor tried to avoid the gaze burning in her direction. “Do you believe Edith’s story? It’s insane! How’s that going to help you with the Smiths’ history?”
Taylor had recorded the conversation and took a few notes along the way. She glanced at Brent and wondered how much she should tell him. Would he run away if she told him the truth? Would he mock her and tell everyone at Bellton about the crazy girl who believed in demons?
She didn’t think so, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to take the chance. “What time is it?” she asked, changing the subject. The dash clock blinked four thirty-seven. Not enough time to get to the psychiatric hospital today.
“What are you going to do with that name she gave you?” Brent asked as he pulled into the middle of the street, driving toward the path at the end of the road. Taylor stared at it, unblinking the entire time.
“What name?” she asked on reflexes alone.
“The guy who used to live in your dad’s old house. The one at Gilden Hospital.”
“Trevor Hayes. We’re going to go see him tomorrow morning,” Taylor said.
Brent blew out a deep breath. “Taylor, you’re acting all weird. Tell me what’s really going on. Your dad won’t let you come back to this town, but why? What happened? It has something to do with the Smiths, right? The documentary I saw that you wouldn’t watch with me. What is it?” Brent’s voice was rising.
Taylor owed him part of the truth. “Brent. Fine. Pull over.” He did, and she could still see the path in the rearview mirror. She almost urged him to drive farther before they talked about it. “It was me. I was part of it. My grandma was related to the Smiths, a couple of generations past. My dad came here twelve years ago to help Aunt Beth empty out the house we were just inside.”
Brent’s eyes were wide, but he didn’t speak, letting her continue. “He got mixed up in it when a kid was taken his second night here. My mom and I came at the end, and I was…”
“What is it?” he asked, grabbing her hand.
“I was taken outside of the restaurant we had breakfast at.”
“What the hell, Taylor? Why didn’t you tell me before?” His hand jerked back, as if she was a poisonous snake about to bite.
“I didn’t want anyone to know. Jesus, can you imagine if they knew I was the Smiths’ last victim?” Taylor purposely left out the bogeyman from the tale. She didn’t think Brent was ready to hear it.
He shook his head, and his eyes softened. “Damn. What happened?”
“It wasn’t quite like it happened on the documentary. My dad found me. He knew where to look because he was taken as a boy too, only his memories were suppressed by a doctor. It’s a whole thing.” It felt good to tell someone about the secret life she’d kept buried for so long.
“How did he get away? And why would they take him, if he’s related? I don’t understand,” Brent said in a rush.
“Neither do we. They were deranged. One of the deputies saved Dad, but was later killed saving me in the end,” Taylor said.
“You mean the one and only Sheriff Cliff? The man was a hero. I remember hearing about it when I was a little kid. It made me want to become an officer when I grew up,” Brent said.
“That’s him.” Taylor looked away, out the window. “So now you know why I’m so interested.”
“What do you hope to get out of this? Aren’t they all gone? The Smiths, that is?” Brent asked.
“I don’t know. There could be more.”
“But why would they wait twelve years and abduct someone else?”
“That’s why I’m here, Brent. I’m going to solve this, and I have a feeling it dates back a long way. I need you to stay with me, and no matter what you see, you have to trust me, okay?” Taylor asked.
“Yeah, of course.”
“That’s not good enough. Promise me you’ll believe anything you see or hear. I’m not crazy. Things are going to get serious, and I need you to support me,” Taylor said, wishing she hadn’t dragged Brent into her mess.
“Tay, you’re scaring me.”
“You need to promise me.”
He nodded solemnly. “I promise.”
“Good. Let’s head over to the diner to pick up Isabelle. I told her we’d be there for five.”
Brent’s hands were steady as he grabbed the steering wheel, guiding the car into the middle of the street.
Taylor watched in the mirror one last time as the pathway shrank from her view. She saw the flap of the dusty cardboard box in the backseat and couldn’t believe she’d forgotten about it. They’d have to go over it in Isabelle’s room later.
Brent remained silent for the rest of the trip to the diner, and Taylor texted her cousin when they arrived.
“Don’t want to go in?” Brent asked.
“No. Dad keeps in contact with Charlie, the owner.”
“I thought it was called Chuck’s?”
“It is. Dad just knew him as Charlie when they were kids. I don’t want him knowing I’m here. I guarantee he’d call my dad if he did.” Taylor wondered how many other people would call him. As long as her aunt and uncle kept their word, she thought she might be in the clear. She didn’t see Tyler or Nick often, and hadn’t since she was in high school. They used to visit her dad in the city at least once a year, but as time passed, the visits had become less frequent.
Seven
The car’s headlights shone through the glass, and the woman shaded her eyes as she peered at the people behind the windshield. A handsome young man was in the driver’s seat, and there was a girl beside him. Her gaze darted around nervously, and something about the newcomer set off warning bells.
The woman stared, trying not to be obvious but failing miserably. She tapped the table with a long fingernail, the staccato picking up in pace as her heart raced. Who was this girl, and why did her presence alert this woman’s alarms?
She could feel the apparition she was linked to scream out in anger, the result a gnawing on the woman’s mind. It was like a thousand paper cuts over her brain, and she fought the urge to shout in agony. A single tear fell down her cheek, and she rubbed it away harshly as the pain subsided.
“My shift is over. Do you mind if we clear up? Unless you want a slice of apple pie?” the waitress asked.
“No pie for me. Especially apple,” she muttered.
The woman wiped her eyes again and glanced up at the rosy-cheeked beauty in front of her. Her friend would like this one, but she was too old; past prime for their purpose. The screaming in her head dissipated like mist as her gaze averted from the girl in the car outside.
She reached for her wallet, seeing her wrinkled hand, and wondered exactly when she’d become so old. Had it really been so long since she’d been young and vibrant, like the girl standing beside her? Clearly it had.
She handed the girl a twenty-dollar bill, and when the waitress asked if she’d like change, the woman shook her head, happy to give the tip. The food had been okay, but what she’d learned had been priceless. Something inside her was pressing for her to look out the window again, to see the other girl inside the car, but she refused it.
“Not yet,” she said as she slipped her wallet into her purse.
_______________
The diner door opened, and Isabelle waved at Taylor before hopping into the backseat behind her.
“Thanks for picking me up. Saves me having to wait for my mom to come get me. God, I wish I had a car,” Isabelle said. “What’s this?” she asked, sliding the old box across the faux leather.
“We found it in your mom’s old house,” B
rent answered.
“Seriously? Why the hell would you go there?” Isabelle asked.
Taylor didn’t say the whole story. “Because my dad thought Grandma might have left something hidden behind. Apparently, she did.”
“What’s in it?” Isabelle asked, flipping through the journal. Dust flew off the pages as she did so, causing Isabelle to sneeze suddenly.
“Just leave it until we’re in your house, Isabelle,” Taylor said, and her younger cousin obeyed, setting it down where she found it and sniffling in reply.
“How do I get there?” Brent asked, and Taylor laughed.
“That might help. I don’t remember. Izzy?”
Isabelle directed them, and five minutes later, they were parked in front of the old house. Taylor had spent some time looking over the maps of Red Creek, and this neighborhood was one of the first to develop. This particular street had been created in the late forties, and the house showed its age. Her uncle had put some elbow grease into it, because the yard was in good shape; the fence was erect, looking freshly painted, especially when compared to the other homes surrounding it.
“Mom is so thrilled you’re coming to visit.” Isabelle got out, and Brent turned to Taylor before she opened her door.
“I meant it. I’m in with you, Tay.” He leaned over, and she let him kiss her.
“Thanks,” she whispered before getting out. Brent had the box in his arms and passed it to her before grabbing their bags.
Her uncle’s truck was in the driveway, and Taylor already saw the flashing of the TV in the otherwise dark living room. The sun still had a way to go before setting, but with the heavy cloud cover, it felt like midnight as Taylor took the long steps toward the front door.
Her uncle’s form moved behind the living room curtains toward the entrance, and she had the sudden thought that it wasn’t him inside. It was it, waiting for her in the dark house. She stopped, and Brent bumped into her.
The door swung open, and her uncle Darrel stood there, arms wide and smiling. “If it isn’t my long-lost niece, finally paying an overdue visit. Get over here.”
Darrel had always been nice to her. Isabelle swore he was the world’s best dad, or at least the best intentioned. He didn’t have a lot to offer her financially, but he treated her like gold, and that went a long way in some daughters’ books.
Taylor went up the three steps and set the box down inside, hoping he wouldn’t snoop in it. She gave him a big hug, careful not to hurt his sore midsection. He’d gotten injured at work a year or so ago, and he’d had a rough stretch ever since.
“It’s so good to see you.” Darrel held her at arm’s length now, appraising her. “You’re such a beautiful girl. You look just like your mom.” Darrel was usually nice, but he was extra jovial tonight. He looked older than the last time they’d seen each other: his hair grayer, the bags under his eyes heavier. There was a sadness in his eyes he didn’t have before too, and Taylor felt the urge to hug him again.
“What’s that for?” he asked.
“I just missed you guys, that’s all,” she said, letting him go.
Brent cleared his throat behind them. “Sorry,” Taylor said. “Uncle Darrel, this is Brent. My boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend, huh? Does your dad know about this?” Darrel asked.
Taylor shook her head, suddenly feeling guilty that her uncle knew about Brent when her own parents didn’t. Why had she kept him a secret for so long? “I’m going to introduce them soon,” was all she said, and he nodded.
Her uncle shook Brent’s hand. “Good to meet you, son.”
“Likewise. Thanks for letting us stay here. I didn’t see a hotel,” Brent said.
“Oh, there are two, actually, but you don’t want to see inside any of those rooms. Not quite up to Bellton standards, anyway.” Darrel stepped aside, and they entered the home, with Isabelle in the rear.
“Dad, don’t,” Isabelle said in hushed tones. “Leave the school stuff out of it, okay?”
Taylor knew her dad had offered to give a good word for Isabelle to get into a prestigious school, and had gone as far as to suggest he’d be willing to pay for it too. Like many red-blooded working men, Darrel took this as an insult to his manhood and fatherhood and had outright refused.
Over the months, her aunt claimed she’d whittled her husband down, because they’d never be able to afford to send their daughter there without the help. As far as Taylor was aware, there had been no further conversations on the matter between Darrel and her dad. She knew when the time came, Isabelle would be taken care of. That was her dad’s way.
Brent pretended not to notice, and Taylor appreciated it. “Either way, thanks again.”
“You can have the basement couch, and Taylor gets the spare room. Please abide by our rules while staying here, and I think you’re both old enough to understand what that means,” Darrel said, heading into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and grabbed a beer can, opening it with a pop. “Want one?” he asked Brent, extending his arm out.
Brent glanced at Taylor, and she gave him a slight nod, letting him know it wasn’t a test.
“Thanks,” Brent said.
“You are old enough, right?” Darrel pulled the can back and laughed.
“I’m only twenty, sir. But almost there. Another few months,” Brent said honestly.
“I was just messing with you. How about you, Taylor?” he asked, and she declined. She saw how much her uncle depended on the stuff, and she had enough to worry about.
“I’ll show you to your room,” Isabelle said, gripping one of the bags.
Taylor followed her down the stairs at the far end of the kitchen, leaving Brent to talk with her uncle in the kitchen. She was carrying the box and couldn’t wait to see what was inside the books and album. It was so weird to be in their house. She’d only spent a couple of nights there after the incident, but it was almost exactly the same as in her memory.
“This is strange,” Isabelle said, mirroring Taylor’s thoughts.
“I was just thinking the same thing.” They were at the bottom of the thick carpeted stairs, and Taylor noticed the family room was a little different.
“This is my spot to hang. I like it,” Isabelle said, as if defending her small patch of independence. The lamp had a scarf draped over it, casting pink light over the side of the room. There was an older flat screen on a TV stand across from a well-used leather couch.
“I love it, Izzy. Maybe we can watch a movie later. Some popcorn?” She and Taylor always watched some rom-com or another any time her cousin came to stay with them in the city.
“Don’t we have other pressing matters?” Isabelle asked, nodding to the box Taylor had placed on the coffee table.
Taylor heard the front door close and the muffled sounds of a woman’s voice upstairs. “Your mom’s home.”
“This is the pull-out bed.” Isabelle pointed to the sofa. “Just make sure Brent’s on it in the morning, because my parents will check.” She rolled her eyes as if to say how lame they were, and Taylor laughed.
She was feeling better about coming to Red Creek, now that she had a home base. Being around her family was giving her a sense of safety and security that had been missing as she’d toured the town throughout the day.
Taylor wanted to start sorting through the journal and photos, but they’d have to do that later. “Can I put this in the bedroom?”
Isabelle nodded. “This one,” she said, leading Taylor to a tiny space off the living room. There was a cramped bathroom beside it, with a toilet, a pedestal sink, and a cheap stand-up shower. The sink ledge was full of products threatening to fall to the floor.
“My room’s on the other side of the basement if you need anything,” Isabelle said with a smile. She was only a foot away, speaking softly. “I’m sorry things have been weird between our families. I wish you could have grown up coming to visit. It was hard for my parents to not have you guys around. And then to take money or hotels from your dad when we came t
o visit… well, you know how my dad can be.”
“I know. I’m sorry too.” Taylor wondered if Red Creek really was as bad as her dad always said. He was honest about it. He claimed it was just them that couldn’t be there, because of something his mom had said while he was visiting Greenbriar. Something about not having protection for Taylor. She pushed the thought away as her Aunt Beth called to them from upstairs.
“Girls, I brought pizza!”
Taylor did laugh now. “I’ve been here twice, and all I’ve ever eaten is pizza.”
Isabelle shrugged. “It’s an addiction my mom and I have. We can’t say no to a carb-loaded slice.” It was her cousin’s turn to laugh as they jogged up the stairs.
Taylor saw Brent in the living room, sitting on the sofa, Darrel in his own reclining chair. A newscaster was talking about the missing girl in Red Creek, and Taylor walked behind her uncle, staring at the screen.
“It’s been two days since the missing person was reported, but there are no signs leading to Brittany Tremblay’s location. We’re told a detective from Gilden is here taking over the case, and while this situation has the townsfolk worried, they’re happier to know someone with experience is hunting down the perpetrator.” The newscaster was a middle-aged man, his face grim as he held an umbrella outside the Town of Red Creek sign on the highway.
“What a bunch of BS,” Darrel said from his seat. “It took my buddies and me a trip to the orchard to crack it after how many years? Do they really think this clown is going to do any better than the sheriff?”
“What about Tyler? Is he doing a good job?” Taylor asked.
“Sure. He’s good. But he hasn’t had to deal with much other than some drug dealing and domestic violence. Nothing like all the missing kids old Cliffy and the rest before him had to work on,” Darrel said as Taylor’s aunt entered the room.
“Turn that off, Darrel,” Beth said. “We don’t need the reminder.”
“You know we can’t sweep this under the rug any longer, Beth.” Darrel got up and headed for the kitchen.
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