by Willow Rose
I exhaled and leaned back. “I don’t know, but he sure fits the profile a lot better than Lucy. Everyone I talk to praises her for being such a sweet young girl, always helpful, taking care of others.”
“Could William be getting rid of them because of what they saw? Is that your theory? But they already told the police they didn’t see anything, and you said that was because they were terrified of him.”
“Maybe they threatened to tell; maybe they changed their minds,” I said. “That’s my theory.”
“Or maybe they have something else on him that he doesn’t want them to tell anyone,” Jean said.
Josie came down the stairs with a deep exhale and placed a book on the table. “I don’t know how to do this.”
“What is it, sweetie?” I said, surprised. Josie usually had no trouble with any of her homework.
“I need to do this project for Spanish, but I don’t know how to do it.”
“Let me have a look at it,” Jean said. “I’m pretty good at Spanish.”
Jean got up and walked with Josie back up to her room. I grabbed the plates and started to clean up. As I passed my dad in the recliner, he opened his eyes.
“When are you going to do something about it?”
I wrinkled my forehead. “About what?”
He nodded toward the stairs. “About her?”
“Jean? What on earth are you talking about? In case you missed it, I’m still married, Dad.”
“She’s here every day, son.”
“Because she helps out, taking care of Camille,” I said, getting annoyed with him. “Besides, I don’t think she ever thinks about me in that way. I’m her best friend’s husband.”
“Open your eyes, son. She takes care of you and Josie, doing homework with her. What woman does that?”
I answered with a growl.
“You know what? I have a wife. I don’t need another woman in my life, and besides, it’s none of your business.”
Chapter 23
I stared at the one-story gray building, which held about a thousand teenagers, while eating the sandwich that Jean had made for me when she came over earlier. I had spent the morning hours, while the sun rose outside our window, talking to Camille, telling her everything about the case. Jean had said she’d make sure to change the feeding tube and wash Camille, while I had to rush out of the door.
And now I was sitting here with nothing to do with myself, but ready, just in case. Using the computer in the beat-up minivan, I did a little research, looking at chess pieces and their meanings. I also looked through the case files from the boat to see if anything new had come in…if Morales and his team had any breakthroughs, but nothing had changed since the day before. They had added a couple of new interviews with friends and family members, but nothing groundbreaking.
I was reading through one of them when my phone rang. The text on the display simply said UNKNOWN, and I picked it up. As I suspected, it was Al since she always hid her number somehow and made sure she was untraceable. Al was what I would define as slightly paranoid and always believed someone was listening in on her conversations or looking for her.
“Stop by today,” she said. “I have news for you.”
Then she hung up. Thinking now would be as good a time as any, I started up the minivan and drove out across the bridges to the beachside. I wasn’t planning on staying long since I wasn’t going to make the same mistake I did the day before and not be there when school was out. William had tennis lessons today, I believed. Or was it violin? I couldn’t really care enough to remember.
“Hi there, stranger,” I said as Al cracked the door open, staring at me suspiciously before letting me in like she wanted to make sure it was really me and not some robot the government had sent to get to her.
Once inside, I closed the door behind me and walked up to her desk with her five computer screens. Some of them were showing surveillance cameras from some street somewhere in the world where it was way colder than here, judging from what people walking past the camera there wore. In one of them, they drove on the other side of the road. There was even a camera from inside a workplace somewhere, and that had me puzzled. Part of me wanted to ask why she was looking at that but decided against it. She wouldn’t tell me anyway.
“So, what have you got?” I asked hopefully.
“I went through all of her stuff,” Al said, “and I found that she had been Snapchatting with someone right before she disappeared. Now, your tech department wouldn’t know how to regenerate old Snapchat, or they might be too lazy to, but I did. And here’s a series of snaps that were sent the day before she disappeared that I think you might find interesting. I made an entire transcript in print as I know you’re old-fashioned like that.”
She handed me a folder.
“Thank you,” I said, feeling slightly old.
“Anytime,” she said. “Just let me know.”
“You’re the best.”
I hugged her and held her tight for a few seconds, remembering the day I had caught the guy who killed her sister. After that, I never had to ask twice for her help on anything. I had earned myself a lifetime of favors, she said.
I intended to hold her to that promise.
Chapter 24
She had seen him in the hallway between classes, then run into the bathroom to hide, hoping to dodge him. Heart pounding, she hurried into the girls’ bathroom and into a stall, locking the door. Her legs beneath her were shaking, her breath ragged.
She sat on the toilet for a few minutes, then she heard the door leading to the hallway open and shut again. From underneath the door to her stall, she saw a set of white sneakers walk past her and then enter the one next to her, closing the door.
Sophia was still crying, so she wasn’t ready to go back yet, but knew she’d have to soon. She just couldn’t stand sitting there in Spanish class, where William also was, his eyes staring at her constantly whenever the teacher wasn’t looking. She felt his glare on her skin, and it made the hairs stand up on her neck. He terrified her so much; she couldn’t focus. It was like it would never stop. Not even after she promised him she’d keep her mouth shut. It was like he enjoyed torturing her…like he wouldn’t stop because he was having so much fun. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to take much more from him. It was only in this darn bathroom that he couldn’t get to her.
In here, she was safe.
But it wouldn’t last. At one point soon, she’d have to leave again and face him. They had Spanish together next. Sophia sighed deeply, then looked at her watch. She was going to have to be late for class, even if it got her in trouble. She couldn’t risk him talking to her again. He’d only hurt her or threaten her, telling her she was worthless and that no one would listen to what she had to say. Some days, he would tell her how fat and ugly she was, or point out a pimple she had, telling her how disgusting that was. Stuff like that to make sure her confidence dropped so that she would feel worthless.
You can’t let it go on like this. You have to do something.
Sophia shook her head. It was no use. There was no stopping William Covington. All she could do was survive, get by the best she could.
Hearing the bell ring, Sophia left the stall, then approached the sink where she splashed water on her face, hoping that it would wash away any trace of her crying. There was nothing worse than when people could tell that you had been crying. It was the worst. You couldn’t break down; you had to keep up that happy face, pretending like everything was okay.
It was the unwritten rule of high school. They all did it, no matter how bad they were hurting, you knew never to show it. Whatever you did, this was the most important part.
Sophia breathed in deeply, splashing water on her face, then wiped it with paper towels and looked at her face in the mirror.
She stared at it with small gasping sounds. What she saw in there, who she saw standing behind her in that mirror, made her heart drop instantly.
She shook her head desperately w
hile tears sprang to her eyes, tears she knew no water could ever wash away again.
“No, please,” she said. “Please, don’t.”
An arm reached out and grabbed her around the neck, and a knife was placed on the skin of her throat. The person stared into her eyes as the blade was pressed against her skin. As the swift movement was made, and her throat slit, blood spurted out on the mirror in front of her. Sophia gurgled, her body jolting in spasms before it fell to the ground, rag-doll limp.
The white sneakers walked away, leaving the bathroom and hurried into the crowd outside rushing to class. No one even noticed how the sneakers were now stained with blood.
Chapter 25
I still had plenty of time, so I drove through South Beach, then found a small park where I stopped the minivan. I grabbed the folder that Al had made, then read through the chats that she had regenerated.
I had to admit; what I read was quite a surprise, and I had to reread it a few times over to make sure I wasn’t mistaken. But it did provide me with something very important that I hadn’t known before.
I knew where Lucy was.
Realizing this, I put the transcripts back in the folder, then started the minivan back up. I looked at the clock. I had still a few hours before school was out. I was doing fine—no chance of me repeating the same mistake from the day before. I drove back across the bridges, then stopped at a red light when I received a text from Josie.
I JUST SPILLED CHOCOLATE MILK ALL OVER MY SHIRT. PLEASE HELP.
I exhaled and looked at the text once more. I could have told her she’d be fine and not to worry about it, but I knew how much something like this could destroy someone in eighth grade, then wrote back:
I’LL BRING YOU A NEW ONE.
I turned the minivan left instead of right, then drove back to my own house and rushed inside. I ran up the stairs and into Josie’s room, opened the closet doors, then stopped. I stared at all the clothes in there, realizing I had no idea what to pick. What did Josie like out of all these shirts? There were so many to choose from?
“Need help?”
I turned to see Jean. She was holding a basket of laundry under her arm. “I was just finishing up a load and putting this back.”
“Josie spilled chocolate milk on her shirt and wants me to bring her a new one.”
Jean’s face lit up. “Look who is trying to be father of the year.”
“I just want to help her,” I said.
Jean smiled. The sight of it made my heart melt. I loved her smile. It made me feel at home.
“Of course, you did. But now you have no idea what a fourteen-year-old girl would want to wear, do you?”
I grimaced. “Could you help?”
Jean chuckled, then put the basket down and walked to the closet. She pulled out a hoodie with some print on it.
“She wears this one a lot. It’s her favorite anime character from My Hero Academia.”
I stared at the hoodie. “I swear I have never seen her wear this.”
Jean gave me a look. “Really? Have you ever looked at your daughter?”
I exhaled deeply. “I guess not enough. Does that mean I’m doing a horrible job of being a father? I mean, I should notice these things, shouldn’t I? It’s important to a young girl?”
“Eh, you’re not doing too bad, Detective. The girl adores you. You’re fine.”
I grabbed the shirt from Jean’s hand, then leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Thank you. You’re a lifesaver, again.”
She blushed and pulled back.
“I am sorry,” I said. “Did I do something wrong?”
Jean stared at me; her lips pulled slightly apart. Then she stood on her tippy toes, closed her eyes, and leaned in for a kiss.
Chapter 26
Valerie Hampton was bored. She grabbed her phone and looked at it under the table in the middle of class. She texted Ronald, and, as he had answered, Valerie raised her hand.
“Yes?” the teacher, Mr. James, said.
“Can I get a hall pass? I need to go to the bathroom.”
Her teacher sighed. “That’s the third time this week, Valerie.”
“I know, but I really have to go; I am sorry.” She held a hand to her stomach to pretend to be sick, and he finally gave in.
“All right, but maybe you should have a doctor take a look at this. It shouldn’t keep being an issue.”
Valerie stood to her feet. “It’s okay, Mr. James. It’s just that time of the month, you know.”
That made the class burst into laughter, and Mr. James blush. He looked away, flustered. “All right but hurry up. I don’t want you to miss out on the next part I’m getting to.”
“Of course not, Mr. James,” she said, batting her eyelashes. “I’ll be right back.”
Valerie walked into the hallway, a grin on her face. She spotted Ronald as he came around the corner, signaling for her to follow him. They couldn’t risk running into any of the teachers or the SRO officer on their way, so they rushed ahead till they reached the lockers, where they stopped behind one. No one could usually see them when hiding there.
“Gosh, I thought Mr. James was never going to let me out,” she whispered.
Ronald placed a finger on her lips to shut her up, then pressed her up against the wall behind her and placed his lips on top of hers and forced his tongue into her mouth. Valerie laughed and kissed him back, rolling her tongue around his like he had taught her. Ronald wasn’t the first boy Valerie had kissed in the hallways of school, but he was by far the most experienced. He was a senior where she was a sophomore, and he knew a little more about life than she did. And about kissing. He knew a lot about that.
“God, you taste like cherries,” he whispered, then bit her earlobe.
Valerie wasn’t sure why he did that, but it made her giggle.
“What’s going on back there? Who’s there?”
The voice was Officer Martin’s, their SRO officer. He had to have heard them.
“Shoot,” Ronald said with a chuckle. “What do we do?”
Valerie looked to her right. The girl’s bathroom was only a few feet away. If she could make it in there, he couldn’t follow or accuse her of anything.
She giggled, then kissed Ronald’s lips again before she took off, running down the hallway as fast as her legs were capable of, while she could hear Officer Martin yelling behind her.
“Hey, you two, where are you going?”
Valerie wasn’t sure where Ronald had gone but assumed he had figured out for himself how to get to safety and not to be found. Or else he could talk his way out of trouble. Ronald was smart like that.
Hoping that Officer Martin hadn’t seen her, she rushed into the bathroom, panting, and closed the door behind her. Then she laughed and slid to the floor when she realized she had sat in something liquid. She reached and down to feel it, then lifted her hand and looked at it. That was when her eyes fell on something—or someone—lying on the floor by the sinks.
“What the…?”
Chapter 27
The kiss was wonderful; no, it was more than that…it was unearthly. Soft and gentle, and Jean tasted every bit as wonderful as I had ever dreamt she would. Everything about this moment was so incredible; I wanted it to last forever.
But it was wrong. It was wrong on so many levels, and we both knew it. I grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her away. She opened her eyes with a small gasp and looked at me, startled.
“Jean…I…”
She shook her head, clasping her mouth, then pulled away from me. “No…No…I don’t know why I did that. I am so…I should go. Your dad will be here soon and take care of Camille till you’re done working. I should…probably…”
“Jean…please…”
But she had already turned around on her heel and was rushing out the door. She left me in my daughter’s room, holding a black hoodie with some Japanese cartoon character that I didn’t even recognize, feeling baffled. I stumbled backward and sat on the b
ed, then touched my lips gently. I couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss and how wonderful it had felt.
But it also filled me with such a profound amount of guilt, it almost hurt.
I grabbed the hoodie and hurried into our bedroom, where Camille was. I sighed with sadness when I saw her in there. The sunlight fell on her face and made her eyes gleam, so I could see that beauty in them that I had loved so much.
I grabbed her hand in mine and kissed it. “I am so sorry, Camille; I didn’t mean for it to happen. I am so, so sorry. You have no idea how terrible I feel.”
Camille stared into the nothingness, as usual. I touched her cheek while my eyes filled with tears.
“I just wished I knew if it was worth it, you know? If I knew you’d ever come back to me. Is it even a life worth living? Is the life you have right now even worth living? I wish you could tell me, Camille. Because I want to know. Is it a good life? Are you happy? What will happen to you when you grow old? Do you want to if it means just continuing like this?”
I sat there, crying for a few minutes, not knowing what to do. A text from Josie pulled me out of my self-pity.
ARE YOU COMING?
I chuckled and wiped away my tears. Never a dull moment when you had kids. Especially not when you were alone with them.
I leaned over and kissed my wife, then realized a couple of tears had escaped her eyes and were rolling down her cheeks. It happened from time to time, and the doctor said it was PBA, pseudobulbar affect, a neurological condition often seen in patients with traumatic brain injury. It wasn’t a sign of emotions or of her being able to see or hear us.
But it still got to me every time.
I reached over for a tissue and wiped them away, then kissed her again before rushing out the door, my phone vibrating in my pocket with the many texts from my impatient daughter, or at least I thought that’s what it was.
