by Amy Cross
“I can't be...” He paused. “There are some things I can't tell you, June, and that's just the way things have to be.”
“But -”
“I'm a police officer. Some things simply have to remain confidential.”
“I thought you'd never kept a secret from me?” she asked.
“No you didn't,” he replied, with a hint of sadness. “You never said anything, but you always knew there were a few things I couldn't tell you. It was like an unspoken agreement between us. This is one of those things, June.”
She stared at him for a moment, as if she was trying to read the expression in his eyes.
“For something to get you this worked up,” she said finally, “I can only think of one case it could be about.”
She waited for him to reply.
He looked down at his empty glass.
“It's Rose Hillard, isn't it?” she continued. “What's wrong, Ben, did you... Did something happen? Did you finally get a lead? Did you find her, or... Did you find her body?”
“June -”
“If it's about Rose, you have to tell me. Please, Ben, I was her schoolteacher, for God's sake, I watched her grow up and there's not a day goes by that I don't think about her, wondering if she's alive out there or...” She paused, with tears in her eyes. “If you know whether she's alive or dead, can you at least tell me that? Just to set my heart at ease?”
He shook his head.
“Just one hint?”
“June...”
“She's dead, isn't she? She's dead and you're not going to tell anyone, not even her poor family.”
“June,” he replied firmly, “you've really got the wrong end of the stick on this one.”
“No-one blames you, you know,” she continued.
“Blames me?” He paused. “For what?”
“For whatever happened to her all those years ago. For the fact that maybe... Maybe it was something awful and maybe the people responsible were never caught. For... For the fact that if she's dead, her body was never found. You do so, so much for this community Ben, and people are thankful every single day that you're around. I know the disappearance of Rose Hillard has haunted you these past five years, I see it in your eyes, I hear it in your voice, but I just want you to know...” She leaned closer and kissed the side of his face, before taking a step back. “You're the best thing that ever happened to this town,” she said finally. “Every single person here believes in you.”
“That's good to hear,” he replied with a faint, nervous smile. “I always do my best and... There's no news about Rose. Whoever broke into my office, they were just kids. And I promise you, I've never kept anything from you when it comes to Rose.”
“Do you think there's a chance she's still alive? Could she be out there? Maybe she ran away and started a new life? I mean, it's hard to believe, she loved her family so much, but you know what girls can be like if they meet the wrong man. Maybe she ran off and she's happy?”
“Anything's possible,” he told her, feeling a heavy sensation in his chest. “And that's the point, isn't it? As long as no body is found, the whole town can still have hope. No-one has to face the possibility that something terrible could have happened right here among us.”
***
Opening his eyes suddenly, Gorman stared up at the dark ceiling and listened to the sound of rain still battering the town outside. When he glanced at the bedside clock, he saw that it was almost 1am, which meant the storm had been raging for almost twelve hours now. Frankly, he couldn't shake the feeling that the elements were trying to completely wash the town of Vantage away, to scrub it from the map completely. If that was the case, he figured he'd have to stay behind, to go down with the ship so to speak.
Vantage was his town. He protected it, and if anything bad happened, it was his fault.
Rolling onto his side, he immediately felt a sharp pain in his hip, and although the pain quickly faded, he could already tell that sleep wasn't going to come easily.
After a few minutes, he began to notice something strange about the sound of the rain. Every so often, there was a very faint clicking sound mixed in with the constant hiss of the downpour, and a while later he began to notice certain patterns of repetition. Wide awake, he began to memorize the sound of the rain, and finally he sat up and stared at the dark blue shape of the curtains on the other side of the room. He was convinced now: the sound of rain was on a loop, and the occasional click was the sound of that loop starting again.
Getting out of bed, he limped slowly to the window and peered outside. Dawn was still many hours away, leaving the whole town to weather the storm in pitch darkness. In the distance, the vast forest was just about visible as it spread away as far as the eye could see, and the rain was still falling, pounding against every surface. It was cold outside; he could tell that from the pain in his hip, which had been getting steadily worse for a day now as the weather gradually worsened. It was almost as if the storm was getting inside his body.
He waited.
The click was due.
He waited some more.
There.
He was right. The rain was somehow on a loop, as if it had been recorded and was being played back.
With June still fast asleep on her side of the bed, Gorman grabbed his cane, made his way out of the room and limped slowly along the dark corridor that led to the front room. He was wide awake, with no desire to go back to bed and struggle to get a few more hours' sleep. Reaching the patio door, he looked out at the rain-soaked garden, where some of the bushes had been battered down almost to the ground by the incessant force of the storm. The pain in his hip was becoming unbearable, so he grabbed the bottle of pills from by the window and swallowed one, all the while keeping his eyes on the garden.
He waited.
The click was due again.
He waited some more.
There.
He took a deep breath.
Unlocking the patio door, he stepped outside. His bare feet felt ice-cold against the wooden decking, but the patio was covered by a small wooden awning that kept the rain from hitting him. Still, he slid the door closed again and made his way to the edge of the patio and then down the steps that led to the grass. As soon as his bare feet sank down into the soggy ground, he felt cold mud starting to bubble up between his toes, and the constant stream of rain was already soaking through his night-clothes and running down his skin.
He waited.
The click was due again.
He waited some more.
There.
And then suddenly, this time, he realized there was another sound, coming from the far end of the garden.
Walking forward, ignoring the rain that was running down his face and getting into his eyes, he turned his head slightly as if to better hear the faint noise that was intermingled with the sound of the rain. Finally he realized it was a voice: a girl's voice, hissy and filled with static as if it, like the rain, was being played from a tape.
“Don't hurt me,” the girl's voice was pleading desperately, filled with fear and pain and dread. “Please don't hurt me, I'll do anything you say but please don't hurt me. I don't want to die, I don't want to -”
The voice, still so faint that it was barely perceptible, broke down into sobs.
Gorman continued to limp barefoot across the soaking lawn, his eyes fixed on the trees at the far end of the garden. He could tell he was getting closer to the source of the recording, even though he couldn't see anything out of place. After a moment, however, he noticed that the old apple tree seemed to have become bent and twisted, as if its highest branches were trying to grow back down into the ground.
“I don't want to die,” the girl whimpered. “Do anything you want to me but please don't kill me! You're going too far! I just want to -”
Suddenly she screamed.
Gorman stopped dead in his tracks.
The scream was already over, but its memory echoed in his mind, in just the same way that
it had echoed for the past five years.
“Please,” the girl sobbed desperately. “What is that? Please don't come any closer. Please, please, this isn't what happened last time, please...”
He'd heard the voice before, of course. It was from an early part of the video, the same video that was on the missing disc. He'd only ever watched it once, and only because he had to know what had happened to her. After the video had ended, he'd sealed it in the envelope, placed it in the back of his safe, and tried to pretend that it didn't exist. And yet now, after all these years, he could hear it again. Making his way to the bottom of the garden, he looked around for some sign of a presence nearby. Someone had to be deliberately playing the video for him, trying to drive him crazy, but he couldn't work out where they were hiding or why they'd want to torture him so mercilessly.
“Come out!” he shouted.
He waited.
He heard the click.
He waited some more.
“Please,” the girl's voice continued. “Please, please, please, please, please...”
And then, somehow, despite the sound of the rain all around him, he realized the recording of the girl had stopped.
He waited.
The click was due again.
It didn't come, almost as if the loop had been played out.
“What do you want?” he called out, even though he knew it was too late. Instinctively he reached down for his gun, only to realize that he'd left it inside. “Come out here and face me like a man, damn it! Whoever you are, this is not the way to -”
“Ben?”
Turning, he saw to his surprise that June was standing right behind him, wearing a rain-coat over her nightgown and staring at him with a horrified look in her eyes. After a moment, however, that horrified look melted to become an expression of pure pity.
“What in God's name are you doing out here?” she asked.
“I...” He paused, realizing that there was no way he could tell her the truth. “Jesus, June, you're going to get pneumonia.” Grabbing her by the arm, he steered her back toward the house. “I just thought I heard something,” he continued, “that's all. I came out to take a look.”
“Heard what?” she asked, still confused.
“It doesn't matter. It was nothing.” He led her into the house and then turned to slide the door shut. As he did so, he spotted a shape down at the far end of the garden, close to where he'd been standing a moment earlier. It was a figure, a young woman, and she was staring straight at him. This time he could see her face, and her dead eyes stared back at him with slow-burning intensity.
“Ben?” June continued. “Are you okay?” She followed his gaze, looking toward the bottom of the garden. “What is it? Do you see something?”
“No,” he replied, even as he maintained eye contact with the distant figure. Finally, with a shiver, he grabbed the curtains and pulled them together to cover the patio door completely, before turning to his wife. “Nothing at all.”
IV
Five years ago
“Come on,” Ricky said with a leering grin, “just stay out with me until the morning. What's the problem?”
“I can't,” Rose said, keeping her eyes on the road ahead.
“Why not?” He reached over to the passenger seat and put a hand on her bare knee.
“I have to be back,” she told him coldly. “I have something to do after this.”
“You have something to do after midnight?”
She nodded, before pushing his hand away.
“Keep your attention on the road,” she added, turning to him. “Ricky, I only have a few hours before I have to be back, so let's not spend the whole time arguing, okay? It's just... I came out with you because I want to be distracted, and because I don't want to think about everyday stuff. If you can't do that for me, you might as well turn this pile of junk around and drop me at the nearest bar. I'm sure I can find someone there.”
“It's cool,” he replied, clearly a little surprised by her forcefulness. “So when we get to Cantonville, there are two movies showing. First, there's -”
“I don't want to see a movie.”
“You don't?”
“Not tonight.”
“But I thought that was the whole -”
“I changed my mind. Can't we just park up somewhere, maybe look up at the stars?” She turned to him again. “Can we get out of town, go somewhere there's no light pollution? I want to feel small.”
“Well...” A faint smile crossed his face. “Okay. I get it. Why don't we head out to the lake? There's never anyone there. I'm sure the stars'll seem so goddamn bright, they'll damn near burn your eyes out.”
“Sure,” she replied, watching the dark road ahead as the headlights picked out the tarmac. “Just keep driving. Don't stop until the stars are the brightest you've ever seen them.”
***
“What's that?” she asked as she watched Ricky grab something from the back seat.
“My new video camera,” he replied, slamming the door shut and making his way around the car to join her. “It's a proper professional model with two built-in microphones and military-grade night-sight. Damn thing cost a few grand, but I got it cheap in this second-hand deal with the local school. They were selling their old stuff off 'cause they're getting new equipment. You like it?”
“No,” she replied, staring down at the large, black device in his hands. “I hate it. Put it away.”
“Are you kidding?” he asked, holding the camera up and aiming the lens straight at her, only for her to push it away. “What's wrong?”
“I don't like cameras,” she told him. “You can either take me to the lake or take the camera, but not both. I can always walk home.”
“Jesus,” he replied, opening the door and carefully setting the camera on the back seat. “Whatever. Sorry, Rose, I really didn't know you were so touchy.”
“I just don't see why everything has to be filmed all the time,” she continued, turning and taking a few steps toward the edge of the shallow ridge that led down to the shore of the lake. Ahead of her, there was nothing but darkness and the occasional glittering ripples of moonlight dancing on the surface of the water. “Cameras, phones, computers, wearable tech, even hidden devices... Sometimes I feel like, one day, everything everyone does is going to be caught on camera. Doesn't that freak you out?”
“I hadn't really thought about it,” he replied, walking over to join her. “I just like making movies, that's all. Are you cold?”
She shook her head.
“Take this, anyway,” he continued, removing his coat and placing it over her shoulders.
“I don't need it,” she replied, pulling the coat off and handing it to him before making her way toward the water's edge. “Stop trying to look after me. Come on, I want to see the water!”
“See what?” he called after her.
She didn't reply.
Sighing, he put his coat back on before hurrying after her, catching up just as she got to the shore.
“So are those stars bright enough for you?” he asked, looking up at the vast canopy above them. “Jesus, I think I see what you mean. They're definitely more cool out here, aren't they? It's, like, you can see them a lot more clearly.”
“There are so many of them,” she replied, tilting her head up, “and they're so bright, and yet... All that bright white light, and it's still so dark down here.”
“I, uh, think that's because they're a hell of a long way away,” he pointed out.
“I know that, dumb-ass. I was just commenting on it, that's all.”
“You're pretty cool,” he continued. “Did anyone ever tell you that, Rose? It's like you see the world in a way that other people -”
“Have you ever done anything really bad?” she asked suddenly, turning to him. “I mean really, really bad, like... morally... evil? Something repugnant and unforgivable and just purely horrifically evil?”
“Um...” He paused. “No?”
&nb
sp; She stared at him.
“Why?” he asked. “I mean... have you?”
She turned to look out at the water again.
“Rose?” he continued cautiously. “That was kind of a weird question.”
“What if you did it before you realized it was evil?” she continued. “What if you did something truly awful, something that you could never recover from, not in a million years... But what if when you did it, you were too young and too afraid and too alone to really understand what was happening? What if someone who was supposed to protect you... instead, they told you it was okay? They kept telling you it was okay, over and over again, and even though you were starting to guess the truth, you didn't feel like you could say anything until eventually it all became too much and you just wanted to...”
“Wanted to what?”
“End it.”
“End what?”
He waited for an answer.
“So... what?” he continued with a faint smile, as if he still hoped the whole thing was a joke. “Are you trying to tell me you did something huge and awful? Is that why you wanted to come out here with me tonight? To confess to all your evil crimes?”
She turned to him, with pain in her eyes.
“What happened?” he asked, swallowing hard. “Rose? You're scaring me. You didn't kill anyone, did you? I mean, no way you killed anyone...”
She shook her head.
“Then what?”
“I wish I had killed him,” she continued. “If I'd killed him, at least it would have ended. At least I wouldn't have to do it again.”
“Do what?”
She stared at him for a moment longer, with tears in her eyes.
“You'd never understand,” she said finally. “God bless you, Ricky Baggard, you're not exactly Mr. Clean yourself, but you'd never understand what happened to me, what's still happening to me. It's going to be over tonight, though. Or... in a few hours, anyway. The thing is, it's been a couple of years now since I realized how bad these things are, and I've been wanting it to end but now that the final night is here, I'm scared. I don't know what to do tomorrow, when I'm free. I've been waiting so long for someone else, anyone else, to do the right thing. I guess I have to do it myself.”
