Under the Boardwalk

by Barbara Cool Lee

  "I'll manage."

  He reached for the tray on the bed next to her. When he leaned over her, Hallie felt like reaching for him, wanting both to comfort him in his grief, and to comfort herself. She gripped the coverlet with both hands instead.

  "It's still early," he said. "We can both get some more sleep before the day's half-over."

  She snuggled back down under the covers. The door shut softly.

  ~*~

  She woke again.

  The sun still shone through the windows. This time she felt really awake, no more of that drifting between dream and daylight. Her neck still hurt. The ache grounded her firmly in the present moment.

  She got out of bed, noticing for the first time that someone —she didn't dare imagine who—had gotten her into her flannel pjs. At least she wasn't wearing a negligee, she thought. If she woke up knowing he'd picked that out of her dresser drawer she'd probably die of embarrassment.

  She opened the window. It looked like midday, with clear blue skies all the way to the coastline. The barn doors were open, and Poky stood in the corral with one leg cocked, head down, dozing, her tail occasionally swishing at a fly.

  Hallie heard some kind of banging on the other side of the house by the driveway, then the chug of an engine turning over. A Volkswagen, she thought, remembering the familiar putt-putt of the Little Guy. She got dressed and went downstairs.

  The kitchen table was covered in papers: post-its with scribbled phone numbers; stacks of empty envelopes waiting to be stuffed with flyers; listings of everybody from Pajaro Beach employees to PTA members at Pajaro High School and the local Boy Scout troop—all with red x's next to most of the names. It was a sad sight, because it meant that nothing they'd tried so far had helped.

  She thought of the man who attacked her. Had he done the same to Windy and to Zac? That was the image they'd all studiously avoided thinking about—the two in the hands of some madman. No, she thought. The text message from Windy could have been faked, but that had been Zac's voice on the phone. But if Zac was okay, why hadn't he called again? If only they had some answers to go with all their questions.

  She went out the back door. In the driveway the Little Guy sat surrounded by enough spare parts to make another Beetle. A pair of long legs could be seen sticking out from under the car. Chris sat on the hood of Kyle's red pickup, sipping a soda and holding the phone. He waved.

  "You're alive." He pointed down at Kyle's legs. "We've got the Bug running again—a little paint and it'll be good as new."

  Kyle poked his head out. "We? You don't have a spot of grease on you. Hand me that torque wrench."

  Chris jumped off the hood and got the wrench for him.

  "I thought you were going to sleep," she said to Kyle.

  "I'm too tired to sleep." His head disappeared back under the car.

  Chris rolled his eyes at Hallie. "He's been going crazy since you got hurt," he said quietly. "Dr. Lil said you were all right, but he's been all worked up about it."

  Hallie thought of the feel of the rag around her throat. "I got pretty worked up about it myself."

  Kyle poked his head out again. "What're you two talking about?"

  "Nothing," Chris said. He handed the phone to Hallie. "I'm going inside for a minute. Don't forget," he said to Kyle, "you've gotta get back from the haunted house in time to drive me to the park at five. I'm on the evening shift, and I'm gonna grill everyone on the shift until I find a clue."

  Kyle frowned. "We'll talk about that later."

  Chris went into the house.

  Kyle looked up at her. "Should you be out of bed?"

  "Sure," she said. "I'm okay—just a couple bruises. I've been hurt worse."

  Kyle raised his eyebrows at that. "Joe Serrano wanted you to call when you got up. He wants to ask you some more questions about the attack."

  Hallie rubbed her head. Yesterday was still a blur in her mind. "More questions? I don't remember what I've told him already."

  "You said you didn't get a look at the jerk 'cause he came up behind you in the dark, but you saw him leave through the service door. That's all I heard you tell him, anyway."

  She sighed. "That's about all there is to tell, I guess. I don't know. He's gotta be the same guy who ran me off the road—or else this is a very unfriendly town. I just wish he'd let me get a good look at him."

  He raised his eyebrows at that. "If you had, he might have been more careful to make sure you were dead before he took off."

  Hallie hugged her arms around herself. The day was sunny, but she felt cold, thinking of the dark haunted house and that stranger creeping up behind her. She shivered. "Next time he might be more careful to finish me off."

  "There's not gonna be a next time," Kyle said firmly. "This bozo's an amateur—running you off the road, choking you. Joe said it might mean he doesn't have a clue what he's doing and is just improvising. We can take some hope from that—Windy and Zac might be okay. They've got to be okay...."

  She picked up the phone. "Do you know the deputy's number?"

  "Got it memorized," he said with a faint ghost of his old smile.

  ~*~

  "Well, that's that," she said to Kyle when she hung up. He was gathering the tools he had scattered on the ground while he worked. "Deputy Serrano says we're no closer to finding the guy who's behind this than we were the first day."

  Kyle shrugged. "He said there are so many fingerprints smudged on the walls in the haunted house they couldn't find anything helpful."

  He brushed the dust off his jeans. "I'm going to take a look around the place myself, though. I haven't been up in that old attic for years, and I'm wondering if this guy could have used it as a vantage point to stalk you."

  She shuddered. "I didn't even know there was an attic." She got an image of bats hanging upside down under the eaves of the haunted house.

  He smiled at her expression. "It's just a storage area—nothing too ghastly, I'm sure. It doesn't matter anyway, since you're not going to see it."

  She raised her eyebrows. "Yes, I am."

  "I need you hold down the fort here, in case anybody calls."

  "I want to go along," she said. She saw the objection in his eyes and rushed on: "Chris can hold down the fort."

  "He's gotta go to work."

  "Not for hours." She reached for the car door. "Come on. Let's go."

  He stood in front of the car door and blocked her way.

  "No. I don't want you to go back there."

  From somewhere deep inside, she felt anger. "Don't you dare say no to me! You don't tell me what to do." She took a breath, and tried to calm down. Where had that anger come from? It seemed to burst out from somewhere deep inside of her—some place she'd held it in for a long time. She thought about her time in the hospital after Dave had broken her hands. For days she'd lain there, curled up in a ball, feeling nothing but a paralyzing fear. She wasn't ever going to be a victim again.

  He just stood there, patiently waiting for her to get herself together, not yelling back, not contradicting, not ordering. Looking a bit confused at her anger, but not fighting it.

  She spoke more quietly: "It's my choice, Kyle. I need to face this myself, not hide out here. I'm not letting the bully win."

  "But you're scared." He took hold of one of her shaking hands. "I don't want you to be scared."

  "Of course I'm scared," she said. She pulled her hand away. "Somebody's tried to kill me, and he's done something with my best friend, and I don't know why any of this is happening. But I'm not going to be bullied anymore. I'm facing up to it. So don't try to tell me what to do."

  "Sorry. Okay," he said hesitantly. "We'll go together. It's just... if anything happened to you...." He paused, then said: "I just want to protect you is all." He moved aside.

  "Don't worry," she said as she slipped past him through the open door, "I'm not proud. If King Kong comes after us I'll be cowering behind you before you know it."

  ~*~

  "Where cou
ld that ladder be?" Kyle muttered.

  "It's in there somewhere," Tom said. He sat at his desk and watched Kyle and Hallie dig through the pile of junk in his office. His brow furrowed. "Or maybe it was in the storage shed next to the Ferris wheel?"

  "How could you lose a ladder?" Hallie asked. "Isn't it pretty big?"

  "We've lost kids, why not a ladder?" Kyle muttered.

  Tom took another sip of his "coffee" and Hallie turned away, coming face to face with the armless King Kong between the file cabinets. She jumped. Geez, she was feeling nervous. I guess having somebody try to kill you will do that to a person, she thought.

  "Didn't the deputies have a ladder to look in the attic?" she asked.

  "They brought their own," Kyle said. "Smart dudes." He began handing Hallie things as he dug through the pile of junk in the corner: a wrench, a can of motor oil, a snake.

  She took the snake from him absentmindedly before she realized what it was. "Ugh!" She tossed it away and it landed in the gorilla's arms.

  "Huh?" Kyle glanced up. "Relax. It's rubber."

  "I can see that," Hallie said.

  "It's from the Wild Adventures exhibit from three summers ago," Tom explained.

  "This place is a dump," Kyle said. He bent over the pile again.

  "Hey, you weren't here to run the park, don't you criticize me. It hasn't been an easy job." Tom's voice got loud.

  "I'm sure it's not easy when you're boozed out of your skull," Kyle muttered.

  "Who are you criticize? You never came around." Tom shuffled the papers on his desk into neat piles.

  "Come on, relax." Hallie put her hand on Kyle's back. He straightened up and turned to face Tom.

  Hallie stepped in front of him. "Kyle, stop. These last few days have got everybody on edge. You know this isn't what's really bothering you."

  He looked down at her. "I'm not so sure."

  "What are you implying?" Tom asked, his fists clenched on a spreadsheet.

  "Nothing." He glared at Tom.

  Tom's eyes widened in surprise. "Come on, Kyle. I've made a lot of mistakes in my life, but how could you even think I had anything to do with the kids' disappearance? And hurting Hallie? How could you think that, man? We're family. My God, even if we weren't family, why would I want to hurt Windy, or Zac—or any of you? What would I have to gain?"

  "I don't know," Kyle said pointedly. "Did the kids?"

  "What exactly does that mean?"

  "What are you talking about, Kyle?" Hallie asked. "You do think the kids were involved in something? But what? Something here at the park?"

  "'Involved with something'?" Tom sputtered. "What are you talking about? Look, Kyle, I know you're upset about this whole thing, but you can't start making up conspiracy theories. There's gotta be some simple explanation."

  Kyle glared at him. "Such as?"

  Tom stood up from the desk. He backed away from them. "How would I know? My God, Kyle, how can you think I know?" Tom turned to Hallie. "You know I'm not the one who jumped you in the haunted house. Tell him he's nuts."

  She hesitated. "I don't know who attacked me," she finally said. "I don't know anything anymore."

  "It would explain how someone got in the haunted house undetected," Kyle said.

  "Someone was hiding inside," Tom said desperately. "They slipped out of one of the cars when no one was looking and hid in there. That girl working the front admitted she wasn't paying attention and didn't notice if the same number of customers came out as went in. Joe told me so this morning."

  "Maybe," Kyle said. "But someone could get in through the side entrance by the service road."

  "But that entrance is kept locked," Tom said. "It's an emergency exit—anyone can get out, but no one can get in."

  "Didn't Joe tell you he found it unlocked after Hallie was attacked?"

  "I guess he did." Tom put his head in his hands. "But don't you see, Kyle? That means anyone could have gotten in that way."

  "Convenient. But how did it get unlocked?" Kyle glared at Tom.

  "I... I don't know," Tom said. He looked at Hallie, and there was a plea in his eyes. "I didn't do anything to you, I swear I didn't."

  Hallie looked from Tom to Kyle. It seemed so hard to believe that Tom could be the man who choked her, but then again.... She thought of the way he'd yelled at her when he found her going through the timecards.

  Tom watched her with that hurt expression on his face, and she just didn't know. She was a lousy judge of character—her ex-husband was proof of that. If she'd learned anything from her mistakes it was that cruel men didn't always look the part. She leaned wearily against the file cabinet. She'd already experienced enough violence to last her a lifetime.

  She noticed both men were looking at her. "Why would someone attack me?" she finally said. "There's gotta be a reason for all this."

  "I don't know," Tom said quickly. "I really don't know, Hallie." He looked hurt at the accusation, but Dave had looked hurt when she accused him of driving away her friends and isolating her. He'd sworn up and down that she was paranoid, and it was too late when she realized the truth. She touched the bruises on her neck. Would it be too late this time, too?

  Kyle saw her rubbing her sore neck. He pulled her close and held her in his arms. "No one's going to hurt you anymore," he said. Tom started to say something, but Kyle interrupted him. "I'll make sure of it."

  The deep murmur of Kyle's voice was seductive. She could let him take care of everything. He'd keep her safe.

  She pulled away from him, out of arm's reach. She had vowed never to be vulnerable again. She rubbed her neck some more. This was something she'd have to handle by herself. And if Tom was behind it, she'd just have to deal with that, too.

  "Better find that ladder," she said gruffly.

  Kyle looked confused at her reaction, but he turned away and dug through the pile of junk some more.

  Tom shuffled the papers on his desk as if his life depended on it.

  Kyle straightened up. "Here it is." He pulled a folded aluminum ladder out from its resting place under a couple of inner tubes. The ladder was one of those that that folded down into a compact bundle. He handed it to her, and she was able to lift it, even with her hands.

  He faced Tom again. "If I'm wrong, I'm sorry, Tom. I'm out of my skull worrying."

  It wasn't much of an apology.

  "But if you have even the slightest involvement in hurting anyone I care about, I'll kill you," Kyle finished.

  No, it definitely wasn't an apology. But maybe he had his own reasons for doubting Tom. There was definitely some old anger between them—but why?

  "Kyle," There was a plea in Tom's voice.

  Tom looked so hurt. Were they crazy to suspect him?

  "We're family," Tom muttered, turning away.

  Outside Tom's office, Hallie turned to Kyle. "Are you ready to explain that? I don't understand what just happened in there. What makes you suspect Tom?"

  "Hey—it was your idea in the first place," Kyle said.

  "I just asked if it was possible he was hiding something, and you said it was my overactive imagination."

  "I don't know," Kyle said. "Oh," he said, noticing she was carrying the ladder. He took it from her and then went down the stairs ahead of her.

  Hallie felt a brief sense of disorientation when they walked out of the building and found themselves bathed with sunshine amid the bright colors of the promenade. A fresh, salt-tinged breeze blew in from the bay, and it was hard to believe anything more serious than a case of sunburn could be going on in Pajaro Bay today. They made their way through the tourist crowd to the haunted house.

  Hallie had to walk fast to try to stay beside Kyle. He finally slowed down for her and she caught up. "Still thinking about conspiracy theories?" she asked him.

  His glum expression softened. "I dunno. Maybe my imagination is getting the better of me—just like yours. I just can't believe all this weird stuff is coincidental—it's all part of some bigger picture
and we just don't have all the pieces put together yet. And Tom has been acting squirrelly since I've been coming around here, so I've gotta wonder if it's connected to all this." He smiled faintly. "I don't know. He and I aren't the best friends in the world."

  "I noticed. Why is that?"

  He shook his head and didn't answer the question. "He was here the night my parents died. I always wondered if he was drunk—it seems like he's been constantly drunk ever since that night. But everybody in town knows that. It's hardly a secret."

  They stopped in front of the haunted house. A metal gate blocked the front of the building, with a hastily lettered sign reading Closed until further notice hung on it.

  "And it's not reopening until we get some answers," Kyle said.

  The little cars sat on their track, and the place looked just as it had the last time she'd seen it. The dorky little ride was harmless. Why would someone attack her there? The cops had been all over this park, so it was impossible for Windy and Zac to be hidden around here. The place was crawling with cops, crawling with employees. It was crawling with tourists. There was no way to hide two kidnapped teenagers here. Hallie was determined to think of them as kidnapped. She was not going to think about the logistics of hiding bodies. She wouldn't go there. They were alive, and her brain held some key to finding them. Somewhere in that missing hour of her life was the key. There had to be an answer.

  She took a step back to look up at the building. "How many floors are there?" she asked, counting four, no, five, gables pointing up toward an arch in the roller coaster's track overhead, maybe forty feet above the promenade.

  "Just two. The fancy roofline is only on the outside. Inside it's just one big attic above the main floor."

  "And what's in the attic?"

  "Bats?" Kyle said with a small smile. She must have looked less than amused, because he added, "just junk, really. It's organized along the Tom Robles management plan. Joe said it took them hours to search the place."

  She looked up at the gables, which seemed to glare back at her like menacing eyes. "I'd rather not meet any bats."