I Can't Trust You

by Roxy Gray

  “Thanks, dad.”

  I look over at Jasper, who plants another kiss on my leg.

  “I have to go. I’m late for my class.”

  “Alright, talk to you later. Love you, hun.”

  “Love you too.”

  I hang up the phone, smacking Jasper lightly.

  “Quit distracting me,” I nag.

  “Please, you wanted out of that conversation,” he laughs. “I know for a fact that you don’t have class today.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “It’s Saturday, Ivy.”

  “Oh, shit,” I exclaim, bringing one hand to my face. “Hopefully he didn’t realize I was lying.”

  Jasper shrugs.

  “Hey, man. Do you still want to go to the store to get booze?” Clay appears, knocking on Jasper’s open door.

  “Sure,” Jasper replies. “Just give me a second.”

  “Booze for what?” I ask.

  “Emergencies,” Clay grins. “And because it’s the weekend.”

  Jasper throws on a shirt, following Clay into the living room.

  “Okay,” I say. “Have fun.”

  “Bye,” they call. The doors slams.

  With the guys gone, there’s no better time to resume my investigation. Even though all other roads are leading nowhere, I have faith that something will turn up in Violet’s room. Maybe something the police didn’t notice. I do know her better than anyone: what seems insignificant to a stranger might be useful to me.

  I retrieve Jasper’s lock picking kit and get to work on her door. The guys will probably be gone about half an hour, I note, setting a timer on my phone.

  It takes me only two minutes to break into Violet’s room, leading me to seriously doubt the security measures in this place.

  I step inside. The room feels of Violet, even though she isn’t here. Her bed is unmade, a few clothes strewn across the floor. Various makeup products are spread across the surface of her desk. The balled-up note is nowhere to be seen. The police took it, likely.

  Everything in this place still looks of her, smells of her even. An untouched moment in time: Violet’s last evening here. It’s eerie.

  “Come on, Violet. Tell me where you are,” I murmur, sinking down onto her bed.

  I scan the room, but anything of potential merit has either been gathered by police already, or it never existed.

  I notice a tiny glimmer of light reflecting from a crack between the bricks.

  Is that a…?

  I jump up from the bed, practically charging through the air. Up close, I confirm my fears.

  Embedded in the wall is a tiny camera, clearly hidden here on purpose. The police must not have seen it, but they should have. Apparently, my room wasn’t the only one being watched.

  I try to locate where the camera is plugged in, but it looks like it’s fed somewhere in the ceiling. So I leave it, making a mental note to let officer Daniel know about my findings later.

  Hopefully, he doesn’t get mad at me again.

  I have about ten minutes until the boys get back. Taking one last scan of Violet’s room, I shut the door, making my way back across the apartment.

  Until I reach the living room, stopping dead in my tracks as a nagging thought enters my brain.

  I should check Clay’s room, just to be safe.

  I take the kit over to his door, working with one of the picks until I’m able to get the lock open.

  The door swings slowly, revealing his sparse room. He has even fewer things than Jasper. A laptop and tablet on his desk, a stack of textbooks, and some snacks are immediately visible. His bed is made neatly, not a wrinkle in the comforter. The floor is devoid of clothes. In his closet, a couple of boxes are stacked up, odds and ends poking out of them.

  I wish Jasper was this organized.

  I stand in the middle of the room, not sure of where to begin until something catches my eye on a small bookcase in the corner.

  It looks like a sketchbook, likely for one of Clay’s art classes. I pick it up, leafing through it to find beautiful drawings. Some of them are natural things: leaves, forest scenes, sunsets. They’re flawless and meticulously detailed. Others are portraits of people: Jasper, a couple of other guys from our floor, and some women I don’t know.

  I smile. Who knew Clay was so talented.

  I continue flipping through the book, becoming more and more impressed by each page.

  When I get closer to the back, I freeze. There in black and white ink is a sketch of Violet, smiling as if it were her happiest day on earth. I run my fingers over the lines on the paper, the resemblance to her uncanny.

  The timer ends.

  As if it were a siren summoning them home, I hear the faint sound of Clay and Jasper’s voices down the hall.

  I scramble, putting the book back as I found it. I run out of the room, shutting the door behind me. Retrieving the lock picking tools, I sprint to Jasper’s room, putting them away just as the boys enter the apartment.

  “Ivy, you here?” Jasper calls.

  I emerge into the living room, trying to seem calm.

  “Hey, guys,” I say. “What’d you buy?”

  “Beer, mostly.” Clay says, “I’m told that’s what men drink.”

  I laugh. “Maybe some men.”

  “I won’t be around to help drink it though,” Clay laughs. “I’m going to my, uh, parents’ place again for the night.”

  “Oh, really?” I ask, a twinkle in my eye. “Not your new girlfriend’s place?”

  Clay’s brows jump, surprised by my comment.

  “No. Well, maybe for part of the weekend,” he says, smiling uneasily.

  Jasper glares at me from behind Clay. I guess I shouldn’t have said anything. Clay heads into his room, and I approach Jasper.

  “So, what’s all the booze for, then?”

  Jasper grins boyishly.

  “You and me, baby.”

  “Is that so?” I ask.

  “Yup.”

  He captures me in his arms, kissing the top of my head.

  “Okay, fine.”

  “You guys have fun,” Clay says, wheeling his bag out of his room. “I’ll be back sometime tomorrow.” He jingles Jasper’s car keys as he goes.

  “Bye, Clay,” we echo.

  Once he’s gone, I try to think of any excuse to get rid of Jasper for a while, wanting to finish my search.

  “You know what I’d like more than beer? A nice bottle of wine,” I say.

  Jasper laughs. “Listen, you and I both know that you’re a beer drinker. I’m not going to let you lie to yourself by drinking wine.”

  I frown.

  “Okay, fine, but we’re definitely going to need snacks.”

  “I can just get some downstairs at the snack bar later,” Jasper shrugs.

  “Or, you could get them now.”

  He tilts his head at me, looking confused.

  “Ivy, what’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” I say. My voice is too high.

  “Just tell me.”

  “Fine,” I sigh. “I went into Clay’s room while you were gone and found a sketchbook.”

  “Okay…?”

  “There were sketches of people in it, people we know…some that we don’t. The weird thing was that he has a sketch of Violet.”

  Jasper shrugs. “So what? He’s drawn me before.”

  “I just have a bad feeling about it, that’s all,” I say.

  “A bad feeling? Ivy, you had ‘a bad feeling’ about me, and you were completely wrong.”

  “I was, but —”

  “But nothing. It’s the same. I won’t let you do to Clay what you did to me.”

  “Jasper, I —”

  “No, Ivy. Drop it.”

  “I’m not dropping it,” I say, rooting my foot to the ground.

  “Don’t you trust me?” He asks.

  “This isn’t about you.”


  “Ivy, I know Clay like the back of my hand. He’s not your guy. He helped me get clean. He’s a good person. Clearly, you don’t trust me, or you’d take my word for it, yeah?”

  “Jasper, I do, but I’m going to look anyway.”

  “Ivy,” he says, shaking his head. “Thought we were past all this bullshit.”

  “This isn’t bullshit,” I insist.

  “Let the police do their job, Ivy.”

  “They aren’t doing it! I’m not going to sit here and do nothing with Violet still out there somewhere. I’m going through Clay’s room.”

  “Yeah? Then I’m leaving. I’m not going to be a part of this. And next time I see Clay, I’m going to tell him.”

  “Do whatever the fuck you want, Jasper.”

  He takes his things and goes, leaving me alone again.

  I decide to call Officer Daniels to let him know about the camera before resuming my search. I tell him about the drawing too, except I lie and say the door to Clay’s room was left open.

  “We’ll investigate the camera,” Daniels says.

  “And the drawing?” I ask.

  “Ivy, it’s not a crime to have a drawing of someone,” he says. “Especially just of someone’s face. Didn’t you say he was an art student?”

  “Well, he’s taking art classes. But that’s not the point. Don’t you think it warrants a little bit of suspicion?”

  “Be suspicious all you want, Ivy. But until we have probable cause, we’re not able to obtain a warrant to search Clay’s room. And on that note, you’re not allowed to break in. That would be against the law.”

  “Ugh,” I groan. “So there’s nothing you can do.”

  “Well, we’re doing what we can, and —”

  “Right. Got it, thanks.”

  I say, hanging up the phone. The police are a joke. Completely incompetent in this case. I’ll hold off on breaking into Clay’s room for now; I don’t want to get into trouble.

  I sit in the dining room, the place feeling empty without Jasper. I wish we could get along. Something about he and I together just creates smoke. And where there’s smoke, there’s fire. I don’t want to get burned.

  I can understand where he’s coming from. If I were in his shoes, I wouldn’t want anyone accusing my best friend of being a bad person.

  Maybe I should apologize.

  I head down the hall, hopeful that Jasper is in the common room. He isn’t. I check downstairs in the cafeteria, the lounge too. He isn’t there either. I go outside, circling the block for any sign of him, but nothing. Where could he be?

  As I’m heading back to the entrance, I notice Jasper’s car in the parking lot. Strange, because I would have assumed that Clay left with it already. I approach the car, peeking inside through a window. Other than Clay’s bag on the backseat, it’s empty.

  And unlocked.

  I open the back door. I’m about to look through Clay’s bag when I see someone resembling him in the distance. He’s making his way across the grass.

  Shit.

  Quickly, I go inside and quietly shut the door. I fold down one of the seats and hop into the trunk, which is thankfully empty. I restore the seat to its former position, using a seatbelt to keep it from locking entirely.

  Then, I go quiet in the darkness, barely letting myself breathe. A car door clicks as it opens and closes. Clay hums a happy tune. The engine rumbles, vibrating my body against the carpeted trunk. This is either the best idea I’ve ever had or the absolute worst.

  To my horror and delight, we begin to move. I brace my arms against the ceiling of the trunk, trying to keep myself from rolling with each turn of the vehicle. Faintly, the sound of classical music trickles in from the front of the car; something else I didn’t know about Clay.

  My body is on high alert, my senses strangely heightened by the small space. I lose all sense of time. Each song seems to bleed into the next. Yet, I remain alert, focused and ready. Ready for… something.

  The car finally comes to a stop quite a while later, and I wait, listening.

  I hear Clay getting out of the car. The sound of the other door opening, and him picking up his bag. Finally, the bang of the doors shutting. A faint clickety-clack of wheels against gravel outside.

  Count to one hundred first.

  I do. I wait even longer, until I’m certain that he isn’t coming back. I push the seat forward and crawl out of the back.

  We’re in the woods at the end of a driveway, surrounded by tall pine trees. They go on for miles around. A narrow dirt road winds through them, disappearing up ahead. The air is fresh and moist with dew, but the forest is surprisingly quiet.

  No other homes in sight. No other cars either. If I hadn’t heard Clay with my own ears I’d have thought that I’m alone out here.

  I immediately check our location on the map. We aren’t far from where Violet’s phone led Jasper and me the other morning. It’s only a few miles down the road.

  Staring down the driveway, fear and dread swallow me. Coming here may have been a mistake. A mistake I didn’t share with anyone. But it’s too late. I can’t give up on Violet now.

  Jasper, I text. I’m checking something out – Clay has your car. Near where Violet’s phone was.

  It vibrates a second later. Go home, Ivy. Clay’s family owns a cabin near there. He’s probably just taking his girl there for the night.

  He very well may be, but I’m not going to ignore the feeling I have. It’s the same one I had each time I received a threatening message. Each time one of the other women told me her story. Like something is eating at me inside, and I need to find out why. I need to find out who.

  10

  ___

  HORROR

  IVY

  The gravel crackles under my feet as I walk up the driveway, trying to creep as close to the trees as possible. Every sound seems amplified. The wind blows through me, adding to the chill I’m experiencing. I didn’t dress for the fall weather. I hadn’t even planned on being outside long.

  As I wind the corner, a log cabin comes into view, the exterior composed of huge timbers. Out front, there’s a small lawn. The grass hasn’t been cut in a long time. The cabin’s roof is peaked, painted in black. All of the windows have decorative white shutters, contrasting with the natural wood. Only some of the windows are translucent. One section has been blocked off with plywood boards, nailed over each opening.

  Thankfully, it’s near dark in these depths of the woods. I don’t have to work hard to conceal myself.

  Still, I stick low to the ground as I creep closer to the cabin. I navigate around the portion with plywood coverings, careful not to disturb the absolute quiet in the forest around me. When I reach the back, one window is aglow from within, drawing me to it like a moth to a flame.

  Against the yellow light, I see her.

  To my horror, Violet is inside, lying on an old mattress. Her ankles are tied with rope, leading to a chain. It’s attached to a structural post. She’s nearly naked, wearing just a bra and panties, which look filthy. I get closer to the glass, drawn in and repulsed all at once. She isn’t even conscious. But I can see the rise and fall of her breathing.

  I need to get her out of there.

  I duck, resuming my prowl. I’d hoped there would be a back door. There isn’t. All of the windows in sight are shut. The front door is my best bet, though it’s on the other side of the place.

  Deep breath.

  I creep back around to the front, where I discover wooden steps leading up to a porch off to one side. I hadn’t noticed the entrance when I came up the driveway. I climb the steps quietly, each one emitting a low creak with the weight of my foot. I stop breathing. I wait for Clay to pounce, but he doesn’t. It’s just as quiet as when we arrived.

  Maybe he isn’t even here.

  It’s possible that he went in a different direction. I didn’t see him leave the car with my own eyes. Maybe he went down the road,
the other way. Now might be my only chance to get Violet somewhere safe. I approach the door, my heart pounding to oblivion. It, too, squeals as I open it.

  I step inside.

  It seems darker in here than it looked from out back. I squint to make out Violet’s form on the droopy mattress. I rush to her side, my eyes shifting to the rest of the room, ensuring it’s empty. Clay isn’t here.

  “Violet,” I whisper frantically, gently slapping her face to wake her.

  She groans, but her eyes stay closed. She rolls over, getting sick into a bucket just beside her. The smell of vomit mixes with that of urine.

  “Oh, Violet. Shit,” I say as she struggles to open her eyes. Dark vomit is running down her chin.

  “Ivy?” Her voice is distant.

  “It’s me. I’m getting you out of here.”

  I pull out my phone, dialling the police. To my dismay, the call fails. My bars fade to zero.

  “Violet, you’re going to have to hold on to me. Okay?”

  Violet nods loosely. I frantically untie her bonds, which have left marks on her delicate skin. Throwing a blanket over her, I wrap Violet’s arms around my neck and pull her up. Her frame is heavy. Most of her body weight is transferred to me.

  “Come on. I’m just going to get you somewhere safe and then we’ll call the police,” I tell her.

  Her legs slide behind me as I slowly make my way back toward the entrance. Adrenaline propels me forward. I move as quickly as I can with her clinging to me, the worn floorboards creaking and bending with each step I take. Finally, we make it out the front door from where I came.

  I open it. We’re outside.

  The bottom step of the porch snaps under our weight, and I nearly fall, catching Violet just before she hits the grass.

  “I’m okay,” she says weakly, clinging to me once again. I hold her tighter and we slowly cross the lawn. The tall grass is scratchy on my legs. My heart pounds. I frantically search the darkness for movement; for any sign of Clay.

  If he is out there somewhere, he must be in hiding. It’s quiet, apart from the faint chirping of crickets. A bat flits through the air above. The moon is nearly full overhead, shrouded in part by dark grey clouds.