Black Water Tales: The Secret Keepers

by JeanNicole Rivers

  “She doesn’t look dead.” Natalie reported. Though Lola’s lips were beginning to turn purple, her skin was still a rich chocolate color.

  “What do you want to do? Kill her some more?” Nikki snapped.

  “Maybe I’ll just kill you this time!” Natalie’s hand flew up to cover her mouth as if she could not believe the words that had just come out of her mouth. Nikki’s face contorted in an exaggerated mask of surprise at Natalie’s harsh words.

  “Rude!” Nikki shot back disapprovingly.

  “Both of you shut the hell up!” Regina barked. Regina eyed both girls with reprove before kneeling down shakily. She tried to get as close to Lola’s face as possible without getting her knees in the blood. Nikki moved her fingers over her own body, making the shape of the cross from her forehead down her chest and then from one end of her shoulders to the other. Regina began to lower her ear to Lola’s slightly open mouth; her chest ached from her labored breathing. When her ear was inches from Lola’s mouth, Regina did her best to quiet her own breath so that she could check for Lola’s. Nikki’s and Natalie’s eyes were glued to Regina and charged with fascination and hope.

  Regina was still and it was difficult to isolate the sounds of rain, wind, and animals from the breathing. She listened and she prayed. She waited, then listened harder, then prayed harder.

  Through the gray streaks of rain, Regina looked up at the dark silhouettes towering over her.

  “Nothing.” Regina finally told them.

  The rain was dying down to a soft pattering now.

  “Check her pulse,” Nikki told her. Regina shot her friend a look of frustration, appalled by the audacity of a request coming from a person who had taken the luxury of completely opting out of the necessary task.

  “I don’t know how to check a fucking pulse!” Regina spit venomously, more frustrated by feelings of helplessness.

  “Just put your fingers to her neck.” Nikki held out her index and middle finger as an illustration. Regina rolled her eyes, took a deep breath, and held out two imitating fingers. The rain had washed away the blood that covered her best friend’s face and she was not the victim anymore, she was just Lola. Regina’s stomach turned at the sight of the deep gash on one side of Lola’s head and she could not look at the other side where her skull was collapsed. She did not want to touch her. Not too long ago, Regina had held Lola but in hopes that she was alive, the fear was that Lola was now dead and there was something quite different about touching death. Lola’s skin was cool to the touch and had the texture more of clay now than of human skin. She pressed her fingers on Lola’s upper throat as she had seen done several times in movies. Regina felt nothing but the shaking of her own hand, though she was not sure what she was supposed to feel, some type of beating maybe.

  “Nothing” Regina told them as she got up from her knees inconspicuously wiping her fingers on the jeans that she was wearing. Nikki’s face twisted in frustration.

  “She’s dead,” Natalie announced as her eyes became glazed behind her black-rimmed glasses, new droplets of water appeared on her cheekbones and Regina wondered if Natalie was crying or if her own psyche was using the effects of the storm to play tricks on her.

  “We should pray.” Nikki suggested.

  Regina hung her head, not for the prayer, but in shame for there was no amount of prayer that could wash away the blood that was now upon her hands. She glared hatefully at the deceptive green crystal that hung from Lola’s neck.

  “Our father …” Nikki began the prayer.

  The trip back to town was one of guilty mourners, solemn and beastly in its uncivilized calm. Natalie’s road was moonless and slick with rain. The yellow Mustang pulled up just short of her house and she climbed out of the backseat. Regina and Nikki watched as she climbed the rose trellis that led up to her second-floor bedroom window. Regina almost laughed aloud at the irony of the fact that they were sitting in the car, making sure that Natalie was all of the way in her window safe before they pulled away. They didn’t want anyone to sneak up on her, murder her, kidnap her, she supposed, but on a night like tonight that would probably have been best. Once she was inside, the car pulled back into the street and turned a few more corners before it sat in front of Regina’s home.

  “You sure you don’t need my help cleaning up?” She spoke sullenly as she studied her mud-caked shoes.

  “No, there won’t be much. The blood in the garden should be washed away and I will burn the wood and the comforter.” Nikki Valentine spoke with a monotone articulation that distinguished her from the girl that was at Stephen Mitchell’s party hours before and Regina grieved for the part of her that would be gone forever. Regina sat unmoved in the car; she was determined to be dragged from this spot kicking and screaming. She didn’t want to clean up the remnants of a murder, but even less did she want to get out of the car. It wasn’t too late, she could still change things. Inside of the car, somehow, she was still within the bubble of this event in time, but once she got out of the car that bubble would be popped with all of the contents instantaneously dissipating into time and space; it would be history and there would be no changing history.

  “OK,” Regina said, shoving the car door open. They exchanged no farewells. She began walking up the driveway on shaking legs in stained clothing. Hopefully, her parents would be sleeping because she didn’t want them to see her covered in blood, she cared not for herself anymore, but the pain it would cause them to know that their daughter was a despicable killer was too much for Regina to digest. If they did see her, then she would have to tell them the truth. Everything would be done and she could drop the five-thousand-pound weight that she had been carrying for the past couple of hours and regardless of what happened after that, she would be fine.

  Regina walked onto the porch, pushed the key into the lock, and found herself in her home, which offered some, but little comfort. Against the backdrop of the storm, her childhood home was a carnival of shifting shapes and arcane racket. She slid off her filthy shoes and held them in her hand. Up the stairs she calculated every step more than the one before so as not to wake her good parents. From the closet in the hall bathroom she retrieved a towel and patted her hair as she made her way stealthily down the hall to her room, her bare, wet feet leaving an easy trail to follow. She undressed, stripping herself of one piece of bloody clothing at a time and throwing it to the floor. Naked, she began to crawl into the bed when a thought hit her. Regina got back out of bed and stood over the pile of wet blood-stained clothes glowering dubiously down at them before kicking them underneath the bed. Regina scrubbed the rainwater from the floor with the towel and hung it over the back of her vanity chair, thunder ripped through the room with lightning fast on its tail and Regina caught a striking glimpse of herself in the mirror and the girl on the other side scowled at her triumphantly. Regina shuddered under the eyes of that girl who was not good and filled with the white-hot glow of something evil. The eyes of the malevolent girl were still watching her as she turned and crawled under the fresh, white cotton sheets that her mother had placed upon her bed. The lawless weather woke her parents and they began to stir. A moment later she heard the door of her parent’s bedroom open and tired, house-shoed feet came dragging down the hall. Regina listened intently and closed her eyes softly as the final foot step rested just outside of her bedroom door. With a soft creak, Regina’s door opened and her mother peeked in to find a soundly sleeping Regina. Mrs. Dean smiled and glanced into the mirror that offered only her reflection.

  The girl in the mirror was gone, but the real monster was right under Mrs. Dean’s nose.

  Natalie failed to stifle the tremendous, body-shaking cries that began in her chest and penetrated through every limb of her body. She didn’t want to wake her mother. The water from the shower head poured serenely over her, chasing away the dried mud and some splotches of blood that were left behind from transporting the body. Every part of her cringed and released violently and she realized that it wa
s she herself that was voluntarily causing the convulsions. She wanted to be free of herself so badly that she felt her soul was physically trying to claw its way out of her skin.

  “Natalie!” The sound of her sick mother’s voice hammered her. Ms. Weston had been so ill that she was unable to get herself out of bed. Just then the sound of her screaming, suffering voice was enough to make Natalie fold up inside herself and she allowed her entire body to slide down the wall until she lay in the fetal position on the floor of the tub under the shower with her hands pressed against her head so tightly that it was beginning to ache.

  “Natalie!” her mother bellowed for her again. There would be no relief for her inside or outside of her skin.

  In Nikki’s living room, a roaring fire emblazed the otherwise completely dark living room with a hellish orange glow devouring the evidence of all of the wickedness that had poured forth from the girls that evening and telling of the destruction of the last bit of innocence that any of them could ever hope to claim. Tonight she poured twice as much vodka as she had ever poured before into a tall glass and watched as the clear liquid tumbled over the clean ice cubes in mesmerizing waves. Nikki lowered herself onto the couch and allowed the fire to watch her as she drank until all of the things that had not made sense an hour ago somehow found meaning and a place inside of the alcohol-induced pseudo reality that made living bearable.

  That night they all watched the world outside of their windows painted with the black and white chaos of the once again raging storm, all of them fearing that the ostentatious show of bedlam was put on just for them by an angry God who now despised each of them, deservingly.

  Someone kicked the jukebox at the back of the bar waking it from a cobweb-covered sleep. Regina and Barron were distracted for a second, before she continued, anxious to finish gorging herself of the emotional poison.

  “The next morning we went back to Nikki’s house and burned our clothes. Everything was gone, but Nikki was terrified. She thought that her father would come home that evening, walk in the door, and know every detail of the event as if he would smell the death just as easily as if the purple corpse of Lola Rusher was lying bloated in the middle of his living room floor under a swarm of circling flies. The house was sweltering from the heat of the fire that had been burning all night and kept roaring right into the next morning. I stood in the living room looking out through the glass doors that opened up onto the back yard, the crime scene and it was now a different place than the land where we used to spend evenings running and playing hide-and-seek. It was a different place; a place of new memories. We talked, but never made any kind of official pact to keep the secret, but it was understood because the secret was already embedded so deep within our chests, so much so it seemed hard to breathe. Later that morning, as we all sat together in Nikki’s living room, we received calls from Lola’s parents and we all confirmed, one by one, that the last time that we had seen her was at school that Friday.

  No, Mrs. Rusher, Lola was not at the party. She said she was studying at the library.

  No, Mrs. Rusher I have not seen her since school yesterday. I hope she’s alright.

  Regina’s lips began quivering as she recounted the exchanges with Lola’s mother and father. Sheriff Handow came and asked us the same questions.

  The last time that I saw her was at school. No, I didn’t notice anything strange. Do you think that she is OK?

  “Those phone calls and visits came, but the ones we were waiting for…I mean the ones we longed for every single day never came and I was almost angry with the Sheriff. How stupid he was. Anyone should have been able to tell that we were stupid little liars! Amateur murderers!” Regina’s voice unconsciously rose in anger.

  “For several weeks, we waited in agony for the phone call saying that Lola’s body had been found. We waited for the knock on the door, the police wanting us to come down to the station, the handcuffs, the suspicious glances, and hateful whispers. The hours ticked away like individual grains of sand slipping through an hourglass one at a time and we just sat there staring at one another until the sun set and so it did that day, the next day, and every day after that.

  “So you just left her at Langford?” Barron asked, his eyes fluttering in confusion. Regina could see it in his face; he thought she was leaving things out. He thought she was a liar. If he had been listening, she knew the obvious questions would come next.

  “Yes!” Regina stated with unwavering conviction. “We just left her there.”

  Barron jumped from his seat nervously and paced a short invisible line that was strung from his bar stool to hers. First, he tried shoving his hands in his jean pockets, but they rested there for only a second until they were on top of his head. His eyes darted to different points on the floor, looking for answers.

  Regina felt a thick knot beginning to tighten in the middle of her throat.

  He stopped in front of her, his hands set in a disarranged pose of disquietude. He lowered his voice and looked around before speaking.

  “How did she get cut up? And how did she get to the DeFranks’ house?”

  “That’s what I don’t know, Barron, I swear. I did not cut her up and I did not bury her. I wouldn’t have, I wanted her to be found. I don’t know what happened,” Regina explained barely able to control her emotion enough to get the words out.

  “Regina, that just doesn’t make any sense.”

  “You think I don’t know that? This is why I came back. When Nikki called me and told me what happened, I know it sounds crazy, but I felt like this was my chance.”

  “Chance for what?”

  “It’s just like you said, this is my chance to make things right! I didn’t protect her that night, I didn’t help her, but now I have a chance to change things and make them right again for everyone, the truth has to come out, all of it. That is the only way that anyone will have any peace. The fact is that when we left her she was in Langford, but a few days ago she was found on the DeFrank estate. What if she was just unconscious when we left her at Langford and she got up and walked away? I have to know the truth,” she told him.

  Barron was still standing in front of her, listening to her desperate pleadings. He gently placed his hand on her arm.

  “And what if she didn’t wake up? What if she was dead when you left her and then something happened?” Barron asked. He hated to hurt her, but it was a question he knew she would have trouble asking herself.

  Regina swallowed deeply, all of the skin tightening around her neck.

  “Then I have to know that too.”

  “You could go to jail,” he sang his brokenhearted warning.

  Regina wiped her nose which was now running.

  “I don’t care.”

  Barron let out a long wind. She had made up her mind and he knew that once she had her mind set there would be no changing it. The only thing that he could do now to help her would be to stay as close to her as possible in order to bring this crazy ordeal to some type of resolve without her being in too much danger. “So what do you think happened? You think Natalie did it?”

  “I don’t know, but I know that someone…someone here in Black Water does not want me to find out. Once I figure out who that person is, I can figure this thing out. And maybe…maybe, even if it’s in a jail cell I can close my eyes and not see her.” Barron said nothing for a few moments.

  “Are you sure?” he asked. Regina was confused.

  “About what?” She asked.

  “About this whole thing!” Barron tried to quiet himself, but Regina could see that he was filled with aggravation.

  “You think I’m making this up? You think I’m crazy? Why would I make this up?” Both of their voices had grown, in a matter of seconds, too loud to be ignored. They noticed that they were being watched. Regina lowered her voice.

  “Barron, please. I have waited for years; years to tell this story. You have to believe me. I need you to believe me.”

  Barron thought and then rais
ed his hands in a show of surrender. “I don’t think you’re crazy, I’m just saying that this is the wildest thing I’ve ever heard in my life! You guys aren’t capable of killing a fly. Maybe you’re just under a lot of stress and this is just a way of making things make some kind of sense to you.”

  “I’m not crazy, Barron,” Regina said in a strained whisper through clenched teeth as she leaned in to speak to him.

  “I am not making this up. We killed her! I think,” she said with a sigh of defeat.

  Barron raised a thick eyebrow before rolling his eyes. “Look, Regina, I don’t think that you are crazy. It’s just that…it’s just that …” Barron thought for a minute and changed his approach.

  “A wise man once said that the only way that two people can keep a secret is if one of them is dead. It’s just not likely that the three of you and whoever else you suspect might have been involved kept this under wraps for all these years.”

  “You are the only person in the world that I’ve ever told about this. You can ask Nikki and Natalie if you need to. You are the only person that I have and I need you to believe me. I need your help.” She pleaded.

  Barron looked into the brown eyes that had captivated him years ago and the tension in his face softened.

  “Please, Barron.” As she spoke he watched her pursed lips move seductively drawing him into this morbid carnival of death; haunted houses, deceptions, and funhouse mirrors. She wrapped her arms around him and he hugged her tightly, his eyes were drawn out the window to the disguises of the children that chased one another and played hide-and-seek behind trees and cars. There were monsters and demons, a teenage girl dressed as a vampire, but she was just a mortal girl with no special powers, and an older woman was in a white dress with a halo around the top of her head, but he now knew that she was no more an angel than the vampire was what she pretended to be. Everyone was wearing a costume. Regina was still speaking but her voice was miles away and he knew it would be better if our reality was not reality at all but just a harmless battle; a board game and we, just the pieces, our movements initiated under the tutelage of a higher intelligence in a range of complex and sometimes unexplained strategy.