Blood Will Out

by Jo Treggiari

  Ari shook her head. “I swear.” He walked back over to the counter and picked up the phone. She couldn’t hear the conversation, but after a minute he hung up, turned back to his computer and didn’t pay her any more attention.

  Ari stared at the FBI wanted posters on the wall across from her. Murderers. Kidnappers. Rapists. Was there an identifying characteristic? Something in their eyes?

  “Miss Sullivan?” Officer Tremblay said from close by. Ari hadn’t noticed the slight woman approaching. “Shouldn’t you still be recuperating?” she asked, looking at her searchingly. “Forgive me for mentioning it but you don’t look well.”

  “I’m fine,” said Ari, wishing she didn’t have to keep saying it.

  “Rojas said you might have some information pertaining to the case?”

  “My friend. Her brother said she was coming to see me, which is totally what she would do, but she never showed up.”

  “Okay,” said Tremblay. “Is there more? Can you give me something to go on?”

  Ari told her about the phone call Mark had overheard. She explained how close she and Lynn were and how they saw each other every day and how Lynn would never abandon her at a time like this. “She’s missing,” she said, and she thought of something else. “Have you found Stroud yet?”

  “It’s a big lake, lots of islands. He’s got a canoe and his grandmother wasn’t sure where he was camping. We’re still looking. It won’t be long now.”

  “Maybe they’re both missing,” Ari said.

  Tremblay was quiet for a long time. Finally she said, “I know that you believe this, Ari, with your whole heart, but—”

  “No, no buts. I know it sounds crazy but there’s something there. Some real stuff. I just can’t see it yet. But if you investigate you’ll be able to. And if I’m wrong, then why don’t you find Stroud and Lynn and prove me wrong!”

  Tremblay was shaking her head. Ari half reached for her, wanting to grab onto her until she listened. “I’m calling your parents, Ari. This anxiety you’re feeling, your anger, your confusion—all are signs of post-concussive syndrome and trauma.”

  “No! But none of that matters. Lynn is gone.”

  “Ari!” The shout came from the doorway.

  Like a hallucination, Ari saw Mrs. Lubnick storm in, laden with bags, her glasses slipping down her hawk-like nose.

  “Ari, I got your message. What the hell’s going on? Where’s Lynn?” She gave Ari a quick, hard hug with one free arm. “God, you look wrecked.”

  Hot tears spilled over Ari’s eyelids. “She didn’t come to see me.”

  Mrs. Lubnick blinked. “What do you mean?”

  The bags went flying, spilling groceries all over the floor, and Mrs. Lubnick sank down on the chair beside Ari.

  “What are you saying? She was on her way over to you before dinnertime yesterday. It’s two hundred yards.” Her ruddy face blanched.

  “I’ve been trying to tell Captain Rourke that she’s missing,” said Ari, “but he won’t talk to me.”

  Mrs. Lubnick stood up. She skewered Officer Tremblay with her forefinger. “You tell Fred Rourke that my daughter is missing. You tell him right now.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  I watched her all the time. She was perfect. Beautifully rounded arms and legs, glossy hair and eyes, a rosebud of a mouth, the thick vein that pulsed in her neck. I could imagine how vivid she is, though my poor vision rendered everything in gray. I could feel the heat of her, smell her musk. She reminded me of a deer. Bold and shy at the same time, victim of her own insatiable curiosity.

  I observed and learned her daily patterns. I noticed the others who noticed her and I hated them for it. I stalked her outside the school, in the park, at the convenience store where she bought red licorice and root beer. Once I was close enough to breathe in the sweet tang of her breath when she spoke to someone. My sense of smell has strengthened with my loss of color. Another time, a curl brushed against my hand as I held it outstretched just so, as if by accident. That soft contact sent chills up and down my spine, shooting electricity into my groin. I can only imagine what it will feel like once I have her under my knife and can bend her to my will. Her skin like velvet, the silk of her blood, the scent of her, a flawless red apple. My tired foggy eyes will see clearly again, I just know it. The color will seep back into my world as it pumps from her heart, leaving her as bleached as silver driftwood on the sand.

  Lynn. Such a mediocre name for such a gorgeous creature, such a spirited, vital thing. I have her safe and I will never let her go.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  A crow squawked and Ari’s head jerked. She took in her surroundings. How had she gotten here? She’d left the station with Lynn’s mother and walked almost all the way home again before she’d decided that sitting quietly and waiting for news was the last thing she wanted to do.

  “Hang tight, Ari,” Mrs. Lubnick had said on the corner, giving Ari another one of her bone-cracking hugs. “They’ll find her.” Ari couldn’t help but hear the note of desperation in her voice. Captain Rourke had sent cars out countywide and they were putting up flyers with Lynn’s picture. Ari tried not to think about Tallulah’s furry face staring back at her from telephone poles, and failed.

  She’d stalled until she saw Mrs. Lubnick stride up her garden walkway and throw open the front door, and then she’d spun on her heel and headed back to town. She’d lost another small chunk of time; from early afternoon to late. Her feet hurt as if she’d been walking for miles, and she supposed she had, though mostly in loose circles and figure eights, threading through downtown and out again.

  And now she found herself here. Dempsey’s Maze looked like a wall of thorns, something out of Sleeping Beauty after the world fell asleep and the wilderness crept back in. It was as if she were half-asleep herself, caught in a nightmare, Ari thought, fighting to suppress the panic that deadened her limbs and made her feel she was trudging through waist-high brambles. Her headache was back, the twinkling distracting lights too, as if her brain were misfiring on all cylinders.

  She sank down on a bench and watched a curled brown leaf skitter along the path, caught up in an invisible breeze. Pushed and pulled, taunted and teased, helpless before a force greater than itself. Ari felt like that too. Are we all just victims?

  Something stirred in her brain and Ari grabbed for it. Last night, just before she’d fallen asleep, in that weird halfway-between state, she’d been back at the cistern. The forest quiet and still, not a breath of air, and there had been someone else there too. She strained to remember something, anything—a feature, a voice, a recognizable item of clothing. It had been dark, the bottom of the hole shrouded, and she’d felt a cold updraft. But she had not been afraid then.

  She sat up straight, her heart leaping in her throat like a trapped bird. She had not been scared. Surely that meant she’d known the person she was with, had trusted whoever it was. You don’t go out in the woods with someone you don’t know; you don’t freely stand at the edge of a pit deep enough to kill you if you fall. There was no way it could have been Sourmash. A friend? Absolutely not, but perhaps someone who didn’t pose an obvious danger.

  Excitement flooded her veins, obliterating the terrible anxious feelings that seemed to encase her, mind and body, in ice. This memory rang true. It was fact. A memory she could share with her parents. Something she could tell the police that they would have to take seriously.

  Or would they? She gnawed on a shred of skin near her thumbnail. Would they question her until she no longer knew what was the truth? Holy shit, you could argue yourself out of breathing, Lynn would say. Make up your mind!

  Her friend’s voice was so clear, so loud, so familiarly exasperated that Ari looked around, expecting to see her. This more than anywhere else in town was Lynn’s place.

  She knew the trick to navigating the winding paths. Ari always got helplessly lost.

  It was almost as if Lynn could see the maze from above, track the most direct rout
e to the exit. On the few instances when they separated—not by Ari’s choice, but because Lynn sped off without her, casting taunts over her shoulder—Ari usually ended up facing a towering dense wall. One of the many dead ends. Like now.

  She wondered what had possessed her, coming in here without her guide. The paths seemed as convoluted and twisted as the pathways of her brain, clogged, a gnarl of questions so tangled she could not straighten them out. She thought of the story her father had often told, of why her parents had named her Ariadne. Her namesake was a clever Greek princess who helped a hero find his way out of a perilous maze by using a ball of thread. “She was a little more proactive than most of them,” her mother had said wryly. Maybe if she just found the end of the thread, she could pull on it and everything would unravel and become linear again. Her feet rustled through a carpet of leaves, and the shushing sound seemed as if it were emanating from inside her head. Whisper, whisper, whisper. Perhaps, she thought, she’d find Lynn here, walking, thinking, figuring out the next step in her life.

  Somewhere out of sight, she could hear the sounds of feet thudding, yelling, a ball game being played out on the adjacent field. She pressed against the thick interwoven branches. They pushed in and then sprang back. There was no way to force her way through. The scent of mold and dry leaves crept into her nostrils and scratched at her eyes. Her brain crackled, the ever-present lights flickering at the edges of her vision. She felt a wave of weakness, remembered she had eaten nothing since she had picked at her mac and cheese. The blood thundered in her ears, like the ocean advancing, retreating. There—she could almost see Lynn, in a bright-red sweatshirt, running ahead, a flash of color at the next bend, her laughter drifting back.

  Catch me, catch me if you can.

  Or no, it was Stroud.

  Ari started to run. She ran until she was out of breath and sobbing. She ran so blinded by tears that she almost missed the gap in the hedge that marked the exit and the boy who stood there, beanie cap pulled down over his hair, craggy shoulders hunched.

  “Stroud!” she yelled.

  The relief was almost as big as if Lynn had appeared. Stroud would be able to tell her what had happened up at the cabin. Fill in the empty spaces.

  “Jesus, Sullivan. Does anyone else even figure in your pathetic world?” Jesse snapped, whipping his hat off and smacking it against his leg as if it were dusty. His hands were encrusted with dirt, and more stiffened the knees of his jeans.

  It took a moment for Ari to clue in. How had she mistaken him for Stroud?

  “What?” she said, feeling even more disorientated. What the hell was he talking about?

  “You walk around oblivious. Like a victim. It’s so sad.” Why was he taunting her? Did he know that she was the girl in the well? Of course he did; it was exactly the kind of juicy morsel he would uncover and gloat over. What kind of asshole delighted in someone else’s misery?

  Ari felt rage bubble up. It was a relief. “What the fuck is your problem, Jesse? Do you think I don’t know how things really are?”

  He blinked at her.

  She was just getting started. “It’s not all gothic and romantic, you moron. The world is a truly dark place. People are fucked.” Her breath caught on a sob. “I don’t have time for your small-minded bullshit.”

  “Fine. Get the hell out of here then.”

  For a breathless second she stared at him. “Fuck you, Jesse Caldwell!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  I draw her blanketed by the blackness, as if the shadows are slowly feeding on her. Only her perfect face floats there like the moon.

  I sketch the beautiful bones under her skin. I surround her with eyes and the drift of her hair and she looks like a constellation mapped out in a dark sky.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Ari bunched her fists. She felt high on a heady mix of rage and adrenaline and exhaustion. Summoning energy from who knows where, she’d launched herself at Jesse Caldwell’s smirking face, using her shoulder as a battering ram, and she’d knocked him flat on his back.

  For once he’d had absolutely nothing to say. He’d just stared at her from the ground as she walked away, his eyes darkening from shock to hatred.

  She was still trembling with the force of it now, standing at a busy corner. Part of her wished she’d gotten a few kicks in as well.

  There were tons of people around, too close, brushing against her shoulders, her back. She could smell fried onions, hot dogs, sweat. Someone laughed, mouth wide, their teeth impossibly large. She stumbled out into the street. A car slammed to a halt, brakes screaming. The sound catapulted her right back to the incident with Sourmash and instantly the buzz of energy left her body, and she sagged.

  “Jesus, the light was red,” the driver yelled.

  Ari followed his gesticulating hand with her eyes. She hadn’t noticed a traffic light. All she’d been thinking about was getting away from all these people.

  “You got a death wish?” the driver snarled, shooting her a venomous look before peeling away.

  She made her shaky way across the street, ignoring the concerned glances and murmurs of “are you all right?” coming from behind her.

  No, she was not all right.

  Although it hurt her bones, she started running again. Little more than a shambling jog at first, but slowly her muscles loosened and she was able to move faster. It felt good, even though she knew she’d pay later when her body cooled down.

  Ari didn’t stop until she got back to her house. By that time her feet felt like they were encased in concrete blocks and she couldn’t catch her breath.

  She bolted through the front door, registering that the car wasn’t in the driveway.

  “Mom! Dad!” she yelled, ducking into each downstairs room. She paused at the bottom of the stairs and shouted again. Neither was home.

  She whirled around in despair. Should she run back to the police station? She didn’t want to waste time trying to explain things to Captain Rourke again. She’d tell him she knew the person who had pushed her into the well and he’d just look at her with that skeptical expression and when he asked for a name, she wouldn’t be able to give him one. It would be better if she were accompanied by an adult.

  She picked up the phone and called Mrs. Lubnick. Colette answered on the first ring. “Lubnick residence,” she said wearily.

  Various kids whooped in the background. It sounded like a war zone, battle raging full force.

  “It’s Ari. Is Mrs. Lubnick there?”

  “No. She’s getting some people together to put flyers up around town. She has her cell phone with her, and she’s been checking in every hour.” Colette sounded desperate. “She’s got us on lockdown. Can’t leave the house. The kids are going a little crazy.”

  Ari felt some grim satisfaction. At least Lynn’s mom was taking things seriously.

  “Do you want to leave a message? Your cell number?”

  “I don’t have a cell. I’ll call her back,” Ari said, hanging up. A thought had occurred to her. She had lost her cell phone near the well, although it hadn’t been recovered by the police. But she could still check her messages remotely. From any phone or computer. Maybe there was something that would jog her memory, a clue to what she had done on Friday.

  She punched in the access number and then her password.

  Three new messages. One from her coach reminding her to work on her delts, a telemarketer asking if she was happy with her cell service, and then she heard Lynn’s husky voice. She almost sobbed with relief. The reception was awful, filled with snaps and crackles and hisses. It took three listens before she could make out what Lynn was saying, and even then it was only snatches of words….just missed your…only…one bar…could hardly…what you said…on my way…smooches….

  Ari listened one more time and jotted down the audible words and the fuzzy, garbled spaces in between them.

  She tried to piece it together systematically, ignoring the thump of her ever-present headache. Lyn
n had called from someplace where she only had one bar on her phone. But that didn’t narrow things too much. Cell reception was notoriously bad in the Hollow, especially since the motion to put up a tower—or eyesore, as some would have it—had been voted down. So she could’ve been anywhere that was not the downtown core.

  Then, filling in the blanks as if she were playing Mad Libs, she jotted: Just missed your call. I’ve only got one bar. I could hardly hear/understand what you said. I’m on my way. Smooches.

  Ari’s heart turned over. Smooches was so Lynn.

  She replayed it, noting the time and date. Lynn had left the message at 5:08 p.m. yesterday. With tremulous fingers, she dialed Lynn’s number. It went straight to voicemail.

  Ari’s breathing quickened. The call must have come from Ari’s own cell phone, which was why Lynn hadn’t questioned it. She couldn’t see Lynn being fooled by a vocal impersonation. Muffled? Text to voice? Perhaps.

  She tried to think clearly. What she did know was that there was no possibility it was Sourmash because he’d been dead by then, and there was no way Rocky could have done it either. The police had picked him up while Ari was still at the station. So who then? The shadowy figure who haunted her every thought?

  She heard the back door slam.

  “Mom, Dad,” she yelled. She could hear the buzz of her parents’ voices coming from the kitchen. She was just reaching for the doorknob when her mother’s voice froze her in place.

  “It’s a relief he confessed. Now maybe we can put all this behind us.”

  “It’s a dirty business,” her father sighed. “Rocky insisted at first that there was someone else there, but after some intense questioning he caved.”

  “Do they know why he would do such a thing?”

  “Drug-related. Fred said they found all kinds of methamphetamine paraphernalia up at Sorkin’s place. Balboa had been crashing there too, I guess. They probably had some kind of an argument over money or drugs.”