by D J Monroe
Table of Contents
One: 1973, Lost Creek, South Carolina
Two: A Phone Call
Three: Lost in Lost Creek
Four: Reconnecting
Five: Getting to Know You
Six: Oh, the Possibilities
Seven: No Turning Back
Eight: Down and Out
Nine: Working Together
Ten: There’s No Such Thing As Ghosts
Eleven: The Next Day
Twelve: A Family Secret
Thirteen: The camera
Fourteen: Family Drama
Fifteen: Unearthing the Past
Sixteen: Suspects and Alibis
Seventeen: A Kiss
Eighteen: A Discovery
Nineteen: Flirting with a Dream
Twenty: Long, Lost Love
Twenty-One: Digging In
Twenty-Two: Suspects Abound
Twenty-Three: Crazy Kenny
Twenty-Four: Dr. Petersen
Twenty-Five: Crazy Kenny
Twenty-Six: Butch Kender
Twenty-Seven: Bill Adams
Twenty-Eight: More Family Drama
Twenty-Nine: All Alone
Thirty: Running Away
Thirty-One: Unexpected Visitors
Thirty-Two: Discovery
Thirty-Three: Together
One: 1973, Lost Creek, South Carolina
“What are you doing here?” Tammy Palmer asked.
“Just thought I’d stop by to say hello,” he said with a shrug of broad shoulders. As usual, he was wearing a tight white t-shirt, the ever present pack of cigarettes tucked into one rolled up sleeve. “Maybe keep you company for a little while.”
“You know I’m not supposed to have visitors when I’m babysitting.”
Tammy wrinkled her nose against the smell of cigarettes which seemed to follow him around like a big, stinky cloud. Some of her friends had taken up smoking, thinking it made them look cool. They’d laughed at her when she tried and coughed until she nearly threw up. Her step-father smoked but her mom didn’t and neither she nor Tammy thought it made anyone look cool. It was just a bad habit that she promised herself she’d never pick up.
“So, are you gonna let me in or not?” he asked, shrugging, nonchalantly, acting like it didn’t matter one way or another to him.
“I can’t,” Tammy said. They were separated by a wooden screen door. She touched the little metal latch just to make sure it was securely in place.
“You’re gonna hurt my feelings,” he said, stepping closer to the door. “Besides, no one will know.”
“You know the rules,” she reminded him.
He grinned, a dimple showing in his chin. All of her friends practically swooned when he did this and he seemed to think it was some sort of a magical trick or something. “Since when do you follow all the rules?”
Tammy bit her lip. She did follow the rules—well almost all of the time—but some people could be so persuasive.
“So, let me in.”
Tammy took a step back away from the door and fumbled behind her for the doorknob. “Sorry,” she said. “I think I hear the baby crying upstairs. Gotta go.”
Before she could blink, his hand shot out and he jerked the screen door open. The flimsy latch popped free, flipped into the air and landed with a little clink on the tiled entry floor. Tammy gasped and continued to slowly move away from the door back toward the stairs.
He stepped into the house.
Tammy stood there gaping at him as he closed the heavy front door behind him and leaned back against it, arms crossed over his chest.
“I don’t hear anything,” he said, cocking his head from one side to the other.
Tammy gulped down the sob that threatened to choke her. She’d seen this dark look in his eyes when he thought he wasn’t going to get his way.
“You don’t have to be afraid,” he said, taking a step toward her.
“I’m not afraid,” Tammy lied. “I just don’t want to get into trouble.”
“You’re not gonna get in trouble,” he purred, moving toward her. “No one even knows I’m here.”
“Please leave,” Tammy said, trying to sound stronger than she felt. Her heart pounded in her chest and she was finding it difficult to breathe. “Please.”
Instead, he reached for her.
Tammy turned to run. Maybe, if she could get upstairs and lock herself in the baby’s room, he would eventually give up and leave. Instead, he caught her arm before she’d even taken three steps, dragging her down to her knees with powerful arms. She struggled against him but he pulled her even tighter, his erection rigid against her backside.
“I’ve heard you like it rough,” he said, his mouth right at her ear and then he cackled like a mad scientist. “This is gonna be fun.”
“Please, please, stop it,” Tammy whimpered, no pretense of being strong or confident now.
When he’d showed up at the door, she had a feeling she knew what he as after. Now, she was sure of it. She grabbed onto the railing and clawed at the carpet, anything that would keep him from dragging her back down the stairs. But he was too strong for her and as he pulled her to her feet, she realized that she’d lost one of her loafers. It was sitting on the third step, the copper penny shining dully in the light.
Finally, she stopped struggling. She was no match for him and she knew it. He was bigger than her, stronger. She bit back a sob. He was going to take what he wanted, what he’d been hinting at for months.
Evidently, sensing that she’d given up, his grip relaxed and that’s when anger flooded through Tammy’s body. Anger like she’d never felt before and it gave her the strength to fight again. She clawed his arms with all of her strength and screamed for help.
“Bitch,” he growled.
Tammy pulled out of his grasp and dashed toward the front door. “I’ll tell your dad,” she shouted. “I’ll tell everyone what you tried to do.”
“Oh, I know how to keep your mouth shut,” he threatened, catching her at the last minute, pulling her roughly away back down to the floor. “Besides, no one’s gonna believe a girl who puts out like you do would turn me down.”
Tammy barely heard him. She struggled, punching, clawing blindly until she heard him grunt in pain. She was on her feet immediately, heading for the stairs again. Grabbing at her, he managed to catch the hem of her shirt, yanking her backwards down the steps.
Her head hit one of the risers, making her see stars for just a moment. And then anger flooded through her again. Tammy whirled and drove her knee directly into his crotch, just like her mother had told her to do if she’d ever encountered this situation. Instead of taking him to his knees as she expected, he howled like a wounded animal and his eyes grew black with rage.
Terrified now, she backed away from him.
“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that,” he said, his voice low and steady, He sounded more deadly than she could ever have imagined.
This time she turned and ran through the den, toward the kitchen. Maybe there she could get her hands on a knife or something to protect herself. That’s when she spotted the metal poker hanging in it’s neat little holder by the fireplace. Maybe changing direction would give her another moment of time.
Tammy’s fingertips had barely brushed against the poker when he caught up with her again, yanking her backwards by her necklace.
With his fingers wrapped around the dainty chain, he forced her to turn to face him. Then he wound it tightly around his hand, his fist against her chin, forcing her to stand on her tiptoes. They were face to face and the nasty smell of cigarettes filled her nostrils, making her eyes water.
Tammy thought her heart would pound out of her chest and she trembled, struggling to even breathe. From the dea
dly look in his eyes, she knew she’d lost this battle. With an evil smile, he gave a jerk and the necklace snapped off in his hand.
“Noooooo!” Tammy screamed. That was her favorite necklace, the locket her grandmother had given her right before she died. She promised her grandmother she would never take it off.
“I’ll give you something to scream about,” he yelled and smacked her hard across the face.
Tammy blinked. No one had ever hit her before and that one action seemed to stun both of them momentarily. She touched her stinging cheek, took a step backwards and then he was on her again, throwing her to the floor.
Tammy was only vaguely aware of a sharp stab of pain as her head slammed into the corner of the raised brick hearth. She was aware that he had rolled her onto her back. Saw him stuff her broken necklace into his pocket and then he shoved her shirt and bra up to her neck. He leered at her exposed breasts.
But Tammy was no longer able to fight back or even move. Her arms and legs felt heavy and everything seemed to slow down. The room grew dark and her vision narrowed until all she could see was his evil grin. When her shorts were down to her knees, he stood up and glared down at her while struggling with his belt buckle.
Tammy opened her mouth to beg him one last time to stop but found that she was unable to make a sound. She felt something warm running down the side of her face and into her ear. It was hard to breathe and the smell of cigarettes filled her nose again. She gagged.
Suddenly, he stopped, his expression changed and he backed away from her.
But Tammy had bigger problems now. She was having difficulty breathing no matter how hard she tried. And everything in the room seemed to be fading farther and farther away. She tried to sit, tried to lift her arms. Nothing.
Meanwhile, her attacker, someone she thought she could trust, looked like he was going to throw up. He was saying something but Tammy couldn’t hear him over the roaring noise in her ears.
Then she thought she heard a familiar voice, very faintly calling her name.
“TamTam, over here,” the voice said.
No one called her that except her grandmother.
Tammy had given up trying to move, trying to breathe. In fact, at this point, her body was of no use to her whatsoever.
“TamTam.”
Tammy shifted her gaze toward the sound of the voice. There, on the hearth sat the camera she’d gotten for Christmas. She’d brought it along to take pictures of the baby. She stared at it for what seemed an eternity, everything continuing to grow dimmer and dimmer.
“TamTam.” There was her grandmother, floating an inch or so off the floor, a sad little smile on her face.
Tammy wanted to tell her about the broken locket. She didn’t mean for it to get broken. It really wasn’t her fault. Again, she found she could not speak.
“It’s time to go now,” Grandma said, reaching out a pale, white hand.
“Go where?” Tammy asked. She knew she hadn’t actually said the words, but she was sure her grandmother heard her.
Her grandmother beckoned again.
At last Tammy was able to move. Feeling a little lightheaded, she got to her feet. Steadying herself, she took a step toward her grandmother. A quick glance over her shoulder and she saw her body, lying still, pale and lifeless on the floor by the fireplace. So much blood.
Her attention returned to her grandmother who was smiling sadly. “You’re coming to stay with me now.”
Tammy nodded, not completely understanding. Yet, somehow, she was sure that she had no control over it any longer. Unafraid, she reached for her grandmother’s hand and the moment their fingers touched, a bright light seemed to fill the whole room.
“Where are we going?” Tammy asked.
“Someplace where you’ll be safe,” her grandmother answered, glancing back over her shoulder.
“He broke my locket,” Tammy said, glancing back at her attacker. He was doing something with her clothing. “He wanted to hurt me.”
“I know,” her grandmother said. “He’ll pay for that in due time.”
With her grandmother holding her hand, Tammy let herself be led toward the light. All of her fear and worry was gone, she felt nothing but peaceful, safe and secure. The pain in her head was gone, she could breathe and at the last minute, she turned and looked at him. He paced back and forth, hands on his hips as if unsure of what to do next. Every once in a while he would bend over the body she’d left behind and then pace some more.
Tammy almost felt sorry for him.
Almost.
Two: A Phone Call
Here he comes again, Nate Palmer thought. He kept his eyes glued to the monitor in front of him, not daring to make eye contact. Maybe if he pretended to be busy, the old geezer would leave him alone.
This article about resurfacing the airport runways was due to the editorial team in two hours. He was completely stuck, completely lost on how to make it sound even remotely interesting or informative. If old man Shepherd would just leave him alone, he would at least be able to think. He reached for a note pad, grabbed a pen and pretended to make a note.
The ruse didn’t work. His boss, Editor in Chief of the Sentinel, lumbered over to his cubicle. Nate placed both hands on the keyboard and stared at the blinking cursor. Shepherd lifted a thick, hairy wrist, shoved it under Nate’s nose and tapped his watch. When Nate finally looked up, the man with the perpetual scowl glared back at him.
“Two hours, Palmer,” he snarled.
Not trusting his voice, Nate nodded.
The old man shifted the ever-present toothpick in his mouth from one side to the other, glowered menacingly one last time and stomped toward his own office.
When the office door slammed, Nate closed his eyes briefly wondering how in the world he had ended up being so miserable.
This job was nothing like he’d imagined it would be when he studied journalism in college. Yes, he was in living in Charlotte, North Carolina working for one of the biggest papers there. But in school he’d imagined being an investigative journalist, covering major crimes and scandals of the rich and famous.
Instead, he’d been assigned to the city government beat covering meetings and local, mostly uninteresting news. Everyone had to start somewhere, right? Yet, in the past year since he’d been working at the Sentinel he’d applied for other reporting positions. He’d always been passed over with Shepherd telling him he needed to ‘mature’ a little bit.
Was he being passed over because he was gay? He had no idea and, really, not even the energy to find out.
Nate took a look around the busy newsroom and realized, not for the first time, that he had achieved exactly what he’d envisioned for himself. He was invisible in the city, and nearly so in the newsroom—well, except for Shepherd’s constant badgering. The only good thing about this so far was that he was far away from the tiny little town in South Carolina where he’d grown up under his father’s disappointed gaze. Always feeling as if he was never quite good enough, never man enough for his ex-Marine father.
Nate felt a headache coming on and his stomach growled. Because of all the confusion at the airport, with people barely speaking to him long enough to answer questions, he hadn’t even had time for lunch. In reality, the only important piece of information that came out of that was one the photographer got—the mayor cutting the ribbon to open the new stretch of runway.
His stomach growled again and he made a decision. Picking up his laptop, he stood and started for the door.
“Leaving so soon?” That was Tessa, the buxom receptionist. She had been there as long as Shepherd, maybe longer. Nate thought she always looked like she had been sucking on a lemon. “Don’t you have something due to editorial?”
Not that it was any of her business.
“I’m going downstairs to work,” Nate said. Thankfully, the elevator arrived quickly. He stepped inside and pushed the button for the first floor.
The lunch crowd was just about gone and The Daily Grind, t
he coffee shop that fueled the newspaper employees as well as half of the city’s police force, was just about empty. Nate found a table as far away from the door as he could and near one of the large windows. He sat down and opened his laptop. He promised himself that he’d get the article done, sent to editorial and then head home. He’d just moved to a new apartment and still had some unpacking to do.
“What can I get for you?”
Nate looked up to see a young man with spiky blond hair and big blue eyes looking down at him. The hair was a bad dye job and the tips of the spikes were all various shades of purple and pink. An earring dangled from one ear.
“Just a large coffee and a chicken salad sandwich,” Nate told him.
“Sure thing, sweetie,” the waiter said, swirled and swished his way back to his workstation behind the counter.
Nate shuddered. Dating was another thing he thought would be different in the big city. All he could find were very young, very proud gay men like the waiter or rough and tumble truck drivers or construction workers that were only interested in a one night stand. As Nate struggled to put together the first sentence on his article, he wondered why he couldn’t just find another man who wanted a nice comfortable relationship, a home.
His cell lying on the table beside him, chimed and he sighed. Rewriting the first sentence of his article, he was tempted to ignore it. He knew that once he nailed that, the rest of the words would start coming easier and he had an idea of where the story was going. It chimed again, more insistently this time and he finally pulled it toward him, glancing at the screen.
It was his father.
“Fuck,” Nate whispered and, again, was tempted to ignore the call.
On the third ring, he tapped the screen. “Hello.”
“Nate?” His dad sounded out of breath. He always acted like someone else might answer Nate’s cell phone. Or maybe he hoped someone else would answer.
“Yes, Dad, it’s me,” Nate said.
To say his relationship with his father was rocky would be an understatement. Besides the normal father/son issues, his dad, the no nonsense, in your face ex-Marine, did not approve of his lifestyle. Still, this was his father and Nate hated seeing the once robust man struggle with heart disease and COPD.
