by K. E. Garvey
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Sali - 2018
During every step of the short distance between her aunt’s house and where she had decided to hide the car, Sali felt like a slow-moving target. She wore a wide-brimmed hat her aunt had used for gardening and kept her head down until she reached the car. She kept the hat on until she was several miles down the road, although the feeling of being conspicuous lasted much longer.
She feared Warren, she feared he was searching for them, but it wasn’t a quaking-in-her-shoes kind of fear. It was suspended fear. It hung over her head quietly, patiently as it waited for the perfect moment to drop and crush her. Her sister, on the other hand, was in full panic mode. Every once in a while, she would notice the tremor in her hand when she reached for something, or the catch in her throat when she spoke. Her eyes widened in terror every time Warren’s name came up. She heard Amy tiptoeing through the house at night once she thought she was asleep and wouldn’t hear her. She was probably checking locks on the doors and windows, the same locks she checked multiple times before bed. On their own, they were scared and nervous. Together, they were a neurotic mess.
As much as Sali hated the idea of leaving Amy alone at the house while she ran to her apartment, it was for the best. Amy wasn’t up for the walk to the convenient store, and she didn’t want to run the risk of Warren seeing the car parked in the driveway while she picked her up. She’d ride there and back on an uneasy feeling, holding her breath whenever she gave too much thought to their situation.
The parking lot of Amy’s building was empty. She had worried she would have to check out the parked cars to make sure no one was sitting in one awaiting their return. Instead, the empty lot filled her with apprehension. In an eerie way, no cars made her more nervous than if there were a few scattered throughout the lot.
She scanned the shrubbery and outlying trees for movement, maybe a misplaced shadow, but found nothing out of the ordinary. She pulled the keys from the ignition and slowly stepped out of the car. If anyone were watching her from their window, they might think she was a perpetrator rather than being the person expecting one. She tried to look casual as she approached the door to Amy’s apartment.
Once inside, she locked the door behind her and pulled up the list she had created on her phone.
Check machine.
Several books, any titles.
Calendar on fridge. Why doesn’t she just use the calendar app on her phone like everyone else?
Extra clothes, slippers, terry housecoat.
She listened to the messages on the answering machine while she looked over the rest of the list. First message, a hang up. Second message, another hang up. Third, hang up. She backed up a step and stared at the machine. Fourth message, an inaudible sound before the caller hung up. There were nine in total, three with an unintelligible sound before the caller hung up.
Warren.
Now that he had found her phone number, it was only a matter of time before he found her address as well, if he hadn’t already. He was probably calling to determine whether Amy were staying here without running the risk of being seen outside her building. Nine calls. How many would it take before he was convinced she was gone and began looking elsewhere?
She gathered the items on the list quickly, shoved them into several plastic Walmart bags, and then ran them to the car. Back inside she checked each of the window and door locks and gave a quick look around to see if anything looked out of place.
For a reason she would never be able to explain, she had a sudden and troubling urge to leave a note for Warren lying where he wouldn’t miss it should he come looking for Amy. But what would she say? Would she threaten him? No, he’d simply laugh it off. She could try to make him believe the police were closer to catching him than what was the truth, although she doubted he’d care. He had to know he had a target on his back, but it wouldn’t change his intentions. Warren had always lived under a cloud of his own reality. There was no right and wrong in his world. There was only what he wanted, and what he didn’t want. And he wanted to kill Amy. Or would he be content in knowing he had hurt her? And why Amy and not her? He had abused her sexually, mentally, and emotionally; but had never harmed a hair on Amy’s head that she was aware of. So, why now? Why not go after the person he truly hated?
Or had he? She let out a gasp. Realization hit her like a jolt of electricity.
He had missed!
The unanswered questions, answered. The holes in each theory, filled. He had missed his intended target. Of course. He had never intended to shoot Amy. That scenario hadn’t made sense to her from the moment she learned he was alive, but she had failed to think outside the box. The fact was Warren shot Amy and everyone involved assumed she had been his intended target. And why not? They didn’t know her secrets, her past, his hatred of her.
With the items gathered and locks checked, she pulled the door closed behind her. She was eager to talk to Amy, but first, a call to Detective Johnston.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Wanda - 2009
Wanda waited until Katherine had finished making tea before she began to speak. It wasn’t going to be an easy conversation, so she needed her undivided attention. When Katherine knew a painful truth was unavoidable, she would choose to ignore it and wait for fate to drive her to it. That wouldn’t do this time. She had to be sure Katherine understood her wishes.
She had gone back and forth in her mind for what seemed like months over whether to tell the girls everything in person, or write it all down in a journal they could read in bite-sized pieces since it would surely be a lot to take in. In the end, she went with the journal. Not as much for them as for herself. She couldn’t bear to see the look in their eyes, and no longer had the strength to field the questions they were sure to have. Some might view it as the coward’s way out, and maybe it was. But she had spent every day of her life since she became a mother protecting them, bending when she thought she would break, and crying into her pillow to spare them. If she wanted to end on a coward’s note, she had earned it.
Katherine pulled out a chair and sat when she put the creamer and sugar on the table. “What have you got there?” she asked.
Wanda looked to her bony hands. She had lost so much weight that bright, blue veins stood out in contrast against her chalky skin. Her hands parted exposing the red leather journal. “I began writing everything down the day I learned I was….”
Unable to finish her sentence, Katherine reached over and gave one of her hands a comforting rub.
“It’s my journal. It’s an account of everything that happened.”
Katherine studied her with sad eyes. Wanda wished there was another way, but Katherine was the only living relative the girls would soon have left, leaving her the only one to see that the girls received everything she had poured between the pages.
“I’ve kept a lot of secrets.”
“You had to keep a lot of secrets.” Katherine corrected her.
She closed her eyes and nodded. When she opened them, she said, “They deserve to know the truth. The whole truth.”
“I hope I can answer their questions. I’m sure they’ll have many.”
She brought a hand to her mouth and coughed into it, rough, raspy coughs that caused pain from her chest to her lower jaw. When the last of them were over, she took a sip of her tea, and then said, “No. I don’t want to put you in that position.”
“You know I’d do it,” Katherine said, and she believed her.
“No. They deserve to know, but it doesn’t have to be next week or next year. I want you to leave it for them.”
When she looked up, she found Katherine staring into her tea. “Did you hear me?” she asked.
Katherine looked at her without lifting her head. “But then who will answer their questions?”
Wanda pushed the journal across the table. “They’re smart girls. They’ll find answers to all their questions in this.”
Katherine’s eyes glistened
as she pulled the journal closer. She pulled a tissue from her sleeve and ran it under each eye, and then under her nose.
This time, it was Wanda who reached across the table and held tightly to her sister’s hand. “It won’t be long, you know that as well as I do. I’ve made my peace with it. I wanted to make sure I said the things that needed saying while I still could. The journal will take care of the girls. As for you, I can only pray that the girls are as good to each other as you’ve been to me.”
Katherine let out one choked sob. “You were just as good to me.”
She gave a half smile knowing her sister’s words were half-truth. She’d always been the needy one. “I could never repay you for your kindness, your support, or for your help when our world went dark.” She reached across with her other hand, took Katherine’s hand in both of hers, and squeezed. “You were my rock. You are my rock.”
With her free hand, Katherine picked up the journal and clutched it to her chest. “I love you, and I love the girls.” She let out several more sobs, and added, “I’ll do as you wish.”
Wanda gave her sister’s hand another squeeze and breathed in as deeply as she was able without causing another coughing fit. She was finally ready. There were no loose ends, no regrets, no reason to prolong the inevitable. Very soon, she would be at peace. And with that thought a calm washed over her.
Chapter Forty
Sali - 2018
As each day passed, food became more of an unpleasant necessity. Both she and Amy forced themselves to get something down once a day, but regretted it later. Their nerves were getting the better of them, and Sali didn’t know how much longer either of them would be able to hold out. For a brief moment, she considered calling Steve and asking him if they could stay with him until Warren was either caught or the police were convinced he was gone, but quickly cast it off as poor judgement.
There was a part of her that was surprised Steve hadn’t called her since the day she asked him to leave, but another part of her was relieved he hadn’t. She had been waiting, and maybe expecting, the age-old saying “absence makes the heart grow fonder” to begin chipping away at her resolve, but instead, the voice she heard was chanting “out of sight, out of mind.” Less than a month ago she had happily accepted his proposal and his ring, but now she was running from the thought of him. Was this another area of her life Warren had destroyed, or had she sabotaged it herself? Maybe the truth lived in a place deep down in her soul, so deep she wasn’t consciously able to connect with the idea that she was trying to spare Steve at the expense of her own happiness. Was she capable of such selflessness? Presented with that question, Amy would answer a resounding “absolutely.” She was sure of it. But what about everyone else she knew? The answer saddened her.
“Dinner’s ready,” Amy called from the kitchen.
She caught herself before she blurted she wasn’t hungry. She had no appetite, but Amy had no appetite and little strength and still managed to fix them something to eat. She supposed it wouldn’t kill her to force a few bites in appreciation.
Relieved to see nothing but salads and dinner rolls on the table when she entered the kitchen, she pulled out a chair and thanked her sister for keeping it light. She ran a hand over the tablecloth Amy had found in the linen closet while she was out. The tablecloth and removing the chair their aunt had been sitting in when found had helped them to push past the avoidance of eating in the kitchen.
“Was everything in order?” Amy asked as she buttered a roll.
“Order?”
“At the apartment.”
Sali nodded as she picked through her salad with her fork as if expecting to find something hiding under a leaf. “There were nine heavy breathers on your machine though.”
“Warren?”
“That would be my guess.”
Amy set her knife and roll on her napkin. “You know, I kept hoping against hope he’d be halfway to Nicaragua by now. I should have known better. He isn’t going to give up until he finds me.”
That was her opening to share her suspicions with her sister. If nothing else, it might help to put Amy’s mind at ease, or at least alleviate a bit of the worry on a personal level. She set her fork down and straightened in her seat, but the words wouldn’t come. Telling Amy what she suspected would mean having to convince her since she was the one he had shot, and at this point, she wasn’t sure she could. She had no answers. All she had was a feeling, a twisting in the pit of her stomach that told her she was right, but had nothing to back it up.
“I called Detective Johnston on the way here. They were only hang up calls, but I thought he should know. He said he had some news and was planning to come by around six.”
Amy stood and walked her untouched salad to the counter. After setting the plate in the sink, she turned, and said, “Good. I feel a little less scared when he’s around.”
Sali stood. “I wish I could put you at ease. It’s killing me that I can’t do anything.”
“It’s not often I get a glimpse of you not of control. Actually, seeing you like this makes me feel a little less pathetic.” She folded her arms in front of her. “Oh, I almost forgot. I found a journal while you were gone.”
Sali closed the refrigerator door and returned to the table. “I never knew Aunt Katherine kept a journal. What was in it?”
“It wasn’t Aunt Katherine’s. It belonged to Mom.”
She pulled back the bottle of soda she had begun to pour and set it on the table in front of her. “What’s in it?”
“I didn’t read it.” Amy returned to the table and sat. “I thought maybe you could read it first.”
She understood Amy’s apprehension, but knew she would not have been able to wait had it been the other way around. “As soon as Johnston leaves.”
Amy’s head seemed to sink into her shoulders as she offered a half-hearted smile. Her unspoken plea wafted through the room. She was losing the fight. Her sister was mentally depleted and the more emotionally weak she became, the stronger Sali had to become. But was she strong enough to beat Warren?
~
Johnston always carried himself with confidence, something Sali assumed was necessary in his line of work, but today he appeared to be more assured than usual. He made short of the pleasantries upon his arrival and sat on the couch without waiting for an invitation.
“How are you doing, ladies?” His expression was one of true concern as he awaited an answer.
Amy offered her usual one-word reply of “fine” while Sali took charge of their end of the conversation.
“I called you because I went to Amy’s earlier today to pick up a few things and there were nine voiceless messages on her machine. I figure it had to be Warren, and if so, I would assume that means he’s still in the area. Please tell us you’re closer to finding him.”
He looked from Sali to Amy, his attention finally ending on Sali. “We’re closing in.”
“Which means… what exactly?”
“We spoke with several of his former coworkers.” He paused, which caused a tightening in the pit of her stomach. “We went to the address where he had been living.”
“Had been?” Sali asked.
His eyes offered an answer before he spoke. “Although we believe he’s no longer staying there, he left a body behind. We’re still investigating the scene, but I have little doubt it was your fath… Warren Grissom’s doing.”
“Who was it?” she forced out the words in fear of hearing a familiar name in response.
“A man named Rodney Tuttle. They had done some time together in Graterford. According to Rodney’s sister, he had offered Warren a place to stay when he got out. My guess is this guy either knew too much, or Warren simply had no further use for him. Either way, he was a loose end and in Warren’s world a loose end can be a very dangerous thing.”
“Excuse me,” Amy interrupted. “It’s time for my medicine.”
Sali excused herself, stood, and followed her sister to the bedroom. Inside, she
closed the door behind her. “Are you OK?”
“Now there’s a subjective question, wouldn’t you say?”
Sali sat on the edge of the bed. “I wish I knew an easier way to get through this.”
Amy’s shoulders relaxed as she joined her. “I’m sorry. It’s not you, it’s not Johnston, it’s me. I’m resisting having to deal with it. He’s killed at least two people, and attempted to kill me. He’ll find me, Sali. He’ll be back. I should be scared beyond functionality, and who knows, maybe I am and that’s why I can’t bring myself to deal, but either way I’m out. If it were up to me I’d run far and change my name when I got there, after all, we know how easy that can be done. I’d simply disappear and leave all of this behind me until it reared its ugly head in another twenty or so years. And if there’s one thing I know about myself, I am so much better at flight than fight.”
Sali pulled Amy’s hand into her own. “What if I told you that I don’t believe it was you he was after?”
A puzzled look crossed Amy’s face.
“I think I was his intended target. I think he shot you by mistake.”
Amy studied her for a moment, and then stood. “I know.”
Agreement was the last response she had expected. “What do you mean? How?”
Amy walked to the other side of the room, pulled the curtain back, and gave a quick look around before letting it fall back. “The mind is a funny thing. It can create, fabricate, and forget propelled by little more than desire…” she turned to face Sali, “or necessity.”
Sali remained silent while she waited for Amy to continue.
“I know, although I don’t know everything. I remember, although for years I forced myself to forget. I think listening to you tell Johnston what Warren had done to you brought it back.”
The air in the room grew thin and Sali took deep breaths in an attempt to get enough oxygen. “Knew what?”
