by S. K. Grice
We fist-bumped our goodbye and I let out a sigh of relief. I was going to get some answers. But as Noah walked away, carrying the only evidence I had which could point to Jackson’s killer and my stalker, the old sense of unease weighed me down.
I hoped I’d made the right decision to trust him.
Chapter Thirty-Two
I hopped out of the back seat of the taxi and onto the end of my driveway. Free at last. The old country house stood before me like a loving mother with outstretched arms welcoming me home. I breathed in the fresh March air, savoring the gift of free will.
The rhythmic hammering of nails broke my tranquility. Construction across the street. Another ginormous house in the new neighborhood of cul-de-sacs and McMansions. An ache of nostalgia pressed on my chest. Patsy would have cried over watching the land on this street get over-developed. Good thing she’d never suffer the changes.
But another change was coming. My change. Someone had set me up in Jackson’s murder, and Noah was going to help me prove it. He didn’t believe I was insane, and in time, everyone else would see that too. I hoped the vacation in Florida with Catherine was what they needed. I cared for Noah in that way. He’d become a true friend.
I’d been tempted to call him for the past week, but after his story about how his work interfered with his marriage, I’d backed off on the impulse.
I looked at my letterbox, reluctant to open it. Mrs. Nichols had said she was leaving my mail on the kitchen table, so I wasn’t expecting anything. Perhaps another leaf.
My neck tensed. Anxiety itched under my skin.
I opened the letterbox. Empty.
I exhaled a sigh of partial relief. I couldn’t rest until I knew who’d been sending the leaves. But Noah wouldn’t return for a few more days, so I had to be patient. For all I knew, he was already working on a lead.
I hurried up the driveway. I’d only stay a minute. My suite at the oceanfront awaited. All I needed was to grab some clothes and a few necessities.
I entered the house. Beep, beep, beep, the security alarm gave the thirty-second warning. I entered the code and shut the door behind me. My shoulders relaxed and I leaned my back against the door, grateful for home.
Then I flinched; an odd odor had filled my nostrils. A thick, sweet smell. Not a pleasant sweet. A sickly metallic sweet. I set my purse on the floor. The shutters were closed, but a light was coming from the hallway upstairs.
I switched on the floor lamp next to the sofa and looked around for the source of the smell. Besides being dusty, the room was exactly how I’d left it before going to jail. I headed to the kitchen, but something next to the armchair on my right caught my eye. Clothing.
A pair of dark jeans lay crumpled on the floor. My heart jumped into my throat.
Someone is in the house.
The air stilled, and tiny hairs rose on my neck. Mrs. Nichols had been taking care of the house, but this didn’t look like something that belonged to her.
Thump.
A noise from upstairs. Icy tendrils of fear coiled up my body and froze my lungs. Was that a footstep, or a groan from the old house? I turned toward the door on my toes, careful not to make a sound.
Creeeak.
The floorboards. Someone was upstairs. Mrs. Nichols? Blood rushed to my eardrums, pounding. What would she be doing here?
She wouldn’t be here.
I dashed toward the door and reached for the knob.
“Jolene?” Melissa’s gentle voice called out. “Is that you?”
My breath hitched and I turned. What was she doing here? She’d returned her house keys and moved to Richmond months ago.
“Hey,” Melissa called out from the top of the staircase. “You’re home.”
I patted my chest, relieved but unnerved. She wore a black wig in a cropped Dutch boy style. “You scared me. What are you doing here?”
“Oh, I came to welcome you home.”
“What’s with the wig? Going to a costume party?”
She took a few slow steps down the stairs. “Oh, I’m going to a party all right.”
Something wasn’t right. Besides the strange wig, Melissa’s normally clear eyes were inky blue, almost black. She was also disheveled, like she’d worn the same denim shorts and dirty brown tank top for days. “Are you okay? I thought you were in Richmond.”
Melissa dragged her fingertip down the railing, a half-smile contorting her mouth. “Richmond one day. Your house the next. Who knows where you might find me tomorrow?”
The air chilled, and I rubbed my goose-bumped arms. Her cheery voice had never sounded more fake. This wasn’t the Melissa I knew. She stepped off the staircase and I instinctively hugged her, hoping to clear the awkwardness. But her body was rigid, uptight in my arms. I put some space between us. “You want to tell me what’s going on? We’re friends, you know.”
Melissa made a face of disgust. “No. We’re not friends.”
Her words stung like a slap across the face. “Why are you acting like this? Did I do something to upset—”
“Oh, you did a lot of somethings.”
Looking away, I tried to make sense of this. Our nights drinking wine and watching trash TV. Laughing and reminiscing about our early years. All the kindness she’d shown me. Now, a hard-edged face stared at me. “How’d you get into the house?”
“I made an extra copy of the key to hold onto. You know, in case of an emergency.”
Her calculated tone set me off kilter and I zeroed in on her eyes. “But I changed the alarm code—”
“And I deactivated the alarm to the back door to the garage before I moved to Richmond. It’s not hard to do if you read the operator’s manual.” Melissa’s eyes turned dark and menacing. “We don’t have much time, so I’ll make this real quick.”
My head spun with confusion, and I wanted to believe this was a prank. That any moment all the friends I never thought I’d had would soon pop up and scream, ‘welcome home.’ But the rancid air signaled something sinister. I backed away from Melissa and asked, “Much time for what?”
“Time for me to finish my job.” She rubbed her hands together. “Time for me to take from you something cherished and precious.”
The hairs on my scalp rose, sending icy tingles down my neck, but I squared my shoulders against the fear. “What’s this about?”
“Annette. That’s what I’m talking about.”
I twitched. This didn’t make sense. “What about Annette?”
“She was my dearest friend, and you stole her from me. You stole a life that should’ve been mine.”
“Annette was friends with everyone. That was her personality.”
“Bullshit.” The word shot out like a cannon ball. “Annette had only one best friend. Me.” She pounded her chest then continued, “Until you and your mother pranced your asses into our lives all la-de-dah like you were the most important people in the world.”
An ache sprang up in my chest. Patsy and my mother had been closest of friends since their own childhoods. I could almost hear their laughter from the verandah where they’d drink pink wine spritzers while Annette and I played in the yard. But this moment wasn’t a walk down memory lane. “I was eight years old. Why are you bringing this up now?”
“Because Annette and Patsy were my family, and you stole a life that should’ve been mine. I want you to understand what that feels like.”
“I miss Annette and Patsy, too. We all do.”
“Like I care how you feel.” Melissa stepped close to my face and her jaw muscle twitched. “I want you to know how much you’ve hurt me. I want you to suffer the agony of having what you love ripped away and being left with nothing.”
My chest collapsed into a tight knot of resentment. Nothing? As if I didn’t know what having nothing meant. Having my mother ripped away, my children ripped away, my dignity ripped away, my sanity ripped away—a big part of my life ripped away because of one foolish choice. A choice I’d been coerced into by the same person Melissa wa
s so obsessed with right now.
But I’d never seen her this volatile and irrational. “We’ve both lost a lot. When my mother died—”
Melissa jabbed her finger close to my face and bared her teeth as she spoke. “You lost nothing. You had a father. You had a home. You went to college. You found a good husband. You had two healthy kids. You had Annette, Patsy. A big happy family.” Her mouth twisted. “You. Had. Everything.”
I moved away to put a greater distance between us. “It might have looked that way from the outside, but honestly—”
Melissa lunged forward with a wildcat’s glare. “Ha! Looked that way? It was that way. My parents were crack heads scraping by on welfare who hardly knew I existed. It was Annette and Patsy who gave me a safe and loving place where I belonged.”
Melissa was dangerous and deranged. I couldn’t make sense of her behavior, but I knew it wasn’t good. I fanned my face with my hand. The sickly smell lingered and turned in my stomach. “This is a lot to take in. After being cooped up for three months, I could use some fresh air.” I edged past her, toward the front door. “Let’s sit out on the verandah. We can talk about this—”
Melissa grabbed my arm and yanked me back hard. “You’re not going anywhere.”
I jerked my arm out of her grip. Heat rose from my abdomen, burning my throat and putting fire in my voice. “I’m going outside, Melissa.”
Melissa pushed my shoulder back toward the living room and got inches from my face. “Oh, no, you’re not. Not until you hear everything I have to say.”
I put up my hands, ready to shove her away. “Hey, no need to get physical.” I sidestepped, making sure not to turn my back to her. She was ready for a fight, but the last fight I’d been in hadn’t had a good outcome. My muscles tensed. How could I make her see this was a nonsensical argument? “You’re talking about things that happened when we were kids. Surely, it’s something we can sort out as adults.”
Melissa stepped closer. Her throaty voice filled the space between us. “Shut the fuck up.”
I stepped back until my back touched the wooden staircase rail. “I never knew you had all these feelings pent up inside.”
Her face twisted. “How could you know? You were too busy having the time of your life with my best friend.”
“Things are different now.”
Flames of red shot up Melissa’s neck and face. “No. They’re not. Everything is still the same. You’re a taker. Always taking and taking. Now, it’s my turn to take.”
The wooden staircase rail pressed into my back. “What do you want, Melissa?”
“Humph. You’ll know everything soon enough. The first thing you should know is… I saw you and Annette kill Mike. I saw everything.” She pointed to the ground. “Right there. In front of the fireplace.”
Tingles of fear ran up my spine as details of that hot summer night flashed into my mind. The rustling outside the living room window. “Were you on the verandah?”
“Watched the whole scene.” Her voice turned eerie calm. “Remember the trailer I used to rent over on Holly Road?”
That was a few streets away from here. I didn’t remember her living there but nodded like I had. “Sure.”
“That night, Mike showed up at my place, high on meth and rearing for a fight. We argued and I kicked him out. He rambled about how he was going to hitch a ride to the beach and grab some ass. Except he turned right instead of left, and I wondered where he was going. I threw on a black hoodie.” A glint of fire flashed in her dark eyes. “I followed him down to Willow Road, hiding in shadows.”
Blood thrummed through me, pounding in my head as images bombarded me from all directions. The dark figure running across the lawn. The years of random sightings of a man in a black hoodie.
It was Melissa.
I put both hands to my temples. This made no sense. “If you saw us kill Mike, why didn’t you call the police?”
“I did.” A spark flashed in her eyes. “You’re talking to the anonymous tipster right now.”
My mouth dried as my flight or fight instincts got stuck in debate. I had too many questions to run. “If you saw everything, why didn’t you report it right away?”
“Ohhh, this is where it gets interesting. I thought it would be poetic if I waited until the return of the cicadas.”
“What the hell—”
“Remember the hissing of cicadas that night? So loud it filled the air with electricity?”
I’d never forget that deafening sound. “So what?”
Her eyes lit up and she waved her hand like an orchestra conductor. “I wanted to build this to a crescendo. I wanted to see Mike’s body dug up with the cicadas in the midst of cicada song.” She dropped her hand. Her face twisted into a ghoulish grin. “But Annette’s death was premature, and I made a modification to the plan.”
“That’s why you waited? For the cicadas?”
“I had other reasons. At first, I just wanted to see what you and Annette were going to do. Then I couldn’t believe it when I came by a few days later and found Patsy in the backyard watering a tree planted over the spot you two buried Mike.” She shook her head. “A story like this couldn’t be made up.”
“I still don’t understand why you waited.”
“I’m telling you. I liked watching you and Annette live with the tree. I waited for the moment one of you would crack. Especially since Patsy fawned over that damned tree like it was one of her own children.” Her tone turned borderline nice. “But you and Annette drifted through life like sweet angels. I mean, let’s face it, you got married right next to Mike’s gravesite. Anyway, I decided it might be fun to hold out for seventeen years.”
Ice ran through my blood. Her twisted vengeance showed no end. “What do you want, Melissa? Why are you telling me all of this now? And don’t give me that bullshit about cicadas.”
“Because I’ve been waiting for the perfect time to take what always should’ve been mine.”
This didn’t make sense. “But the reward… you never asked for the reward.”
“Pffft. Like fifty grand could change the rest of my life. I got something better. Something priceless. Since you’re neurotic anyway, I got to have some fun and trigger your paranoia.” She snorted. “It’s fun watching you suffer. The drinking, the drugs, the OCD. You give me a lot to work with.”
“You need help, Melissa,” I said in a gentler tone which I hoped left room for reason. “You’re not thinking straight”
“Ohhh, no. My mind has never been clearer. And now I’m ready to move forward with my plan.”
“What fucking plan are you talking about?”
“You need to understand… one thing which really bothered me about you all these years is how well you’ve lived with the secret, keeping it all together.” Melissa’s face contorted into sharp angles. “I couldn’t stand watching you live the high life in Bay Shores with a successful husband and two happy kids. It wasn’t supposed to turn out that way. You weren’t supposed to be happy.
“On the other hand, we had Annette.” Melissa’s face softened into an expression of sorrow. “Poor girl couldn’t even get pregnant. And everyone knew Tristan was a womanizer before she even married him.”
It was true. Annette had never found the true love she’d dreamed about. Tristan had wined and dined her all the way to the altar, and then cheated on her when she hadn’t been able to conceive. None of that was my fault, but that wasn’t a point worth arguing. “You cared for Annette. We all did.”
“I cared for her more than I care for you. See, I wasn’t going to just sit back and let you carry on with your happy life. No. No, instead, I came up with an ingenious way of reminding you that someone else knew your secret. I wanted to put a thorn in your happy life. That’s when I started mailing you the leaves.”
Every follicle on my body prickled. Nothing prepared me for this, for Melissa. “You’re the sender.”
“Yeah. Remember, I don’t like seeing your life run smooth. I m
ean, here you were with an adoring husband and healthy three-year-old twins. I had to shake things up for you.”
Heat rose on my neck. It had been the leaves in the mail which had first heightened my OCD and paranoia. The leaves which had torn apart my mind and my marriage. Melissa had been provoking me the whole time. She’d been orchestrating my destruction this whole time. “You’re crazy.”
“Oak trees and oak leaves. Fun times, huh?”
Cold fingers of fear climbed up my skin. She was the informant. Melissa had sent all the leaves. That meant she’d killed Jackson. My eyes darted between the door and Melissa’s dark eyes. Her face distorted into features I didn’t recognize as human. Savage. Beast. Monster. Every impulse screamed for me to get the hell out of this house.
I bolted for the door, but Melissa blocked me and pushed me backward. “Don’t go yet. We have so much more to talk about.” Her sadistic smile was punctuated by a twinkle in her eye.
Danger. Danger. Danger.
Every cell in my body snapped to high alert. One, two, three, four, five. One, two…
Stop. Counting wouldn’t help. I had to fight my tormentor.
Chapter Thirty-Three
I looked around the living room for a weapon—the candlesticks were long gone, but an iron poker stood ready next to the fireplace. The thrum of my heartbeat played in my ears. I’d done this before, and Melissa was as wild as Mike had been when I’d smashed in his head.
You can do it.
I inched closer the fireplace tools. As long as she was engrossed in telling me all the reasons she hated me, I could keep her distracted. “Tell me, Melissa. Have you been stalking me all these years?”
A flicker of confusion crossed her face, like she’d been thrown off her focus. She squared her shoulders and snarled. “What the fuck are you talking about, you crazy bitch?”
“You’ve been following me. Stalking me.”
She laughed. Not a funny ha-ha laugh. A cruel you’re-fucked-up laugh. She walked a slow circle around me. “I only followed you one time. Back in July when you were at your last teacher’s assembly. When I put that leaf on your windshield.”
