“What are you doing here?
“I needed to talk to Barron.”
“About what?” Carter inquired. Regina could feel the heat rising up in her face and she felt uncomfortable with Carter being so close to her. Regina clutched the bag that held Carter’s idolatrous letters a little more tightly to her body, trying her best to keep him from noticing that she was treasuring the bag.
“I just need to talk to him.” Regina restated.
“Is it about Lola?” Carter asked, intrigue filling the lines of his young face.
Regina studied him, but he was blank and it worried her.
“Lola? Hmm…well …” Regina was stalling for time to think, but it was useless, her throat was dry and her eyes felt as if they had been rubbed with beach sand.
“What have you found out? You know something, don’t you?” Carter asked.
“Nothing,” Regina lied. “Nothing.” She lied again.
“Hmmm,” Carter reflected upon his own mysterious thoughts before he rose from the couch and bent to pick up the bat. He turned to face Regina eyeing her meticulously as he tightened and loosened his grip on the handle of the wooden stick.
“Well, I’m going back to bed. I have not been feeling good since the wake,” he said as he lumbered out of the room. Regina let out a deep sigh, instinctively she put her hand to her chest and she could feel her heart pounding relentlessly. She sat silent and still for several seconds anticipating Carter’s climactic and violent return. When she heard nothing, she grabbed her bag and sweater and shot out for the door when it burst open and the wind of the vespertine storm howled into the house.
“It is crazy out there,” Barron announced as he struggled to shut the door behind him with a pizza box in one hand.
“What took you so long?” Regina asked impatiently.
“The roads were a mess and I stopped to get food. What’s wrong?” Barron asked. Regina looked up the stairs into the complete black of the second floor to see if Carter was there glaring down on her angrily, but he was not.
“I’m fine.” She sighed, forcing herself to calm down. With Barron there, she felt safe. He followed her into the living room where they sat on the couch, he flipped the pizza box open and grabbed a slice of the thin crust pepperoni pizza and drove it into his mouth. He finished his first slice before he spoke again. Barron grabbed a napkin and began wiping his hands.
“So what is so important? Did you find out anything new?” Barron asked. Regina sighed and pressed her fingertips into her eyes lightly.
“Barron, I don’t even know where to begin. I have heard Nikki’s explanation about the picture with Glen DeFrank, but it still freaks me out. I have never fully retired all of my suspicions about Natalie and today we went to the site on the DeFrank estate where Lola’s body was found.” She told him. Barron nearly spit the garble of chewed pizza that he had in his mouth unto the coffee table. He swallowed hard to finish what remained.
“What?” He spat. “You went there alone? I can’t leave you alone for a minute!” He sounded upset.
“No.” Regina moaned as she sank unto the couch next to him. “I went with Natalie and Nikki and guess who we saw?”
“Lola,” He responded mischievously.
“Barron!” Regina shouted. “This is not funny!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Barron said, but unable to wipe the grin away from his face fully.
“Eden,” Regina told him.
“Eden? Who?” he questioned.
“Eden DeFrank,” Regina confirmed.
“She was DeFrank’s sister, right?” He said.
“She is DeFrank’s sister and she told us that she knew about what her brother had done to us, but she defended him against the accusations about Lola’s murder. She said that he was a lot of things, but not a murderer,” Regina explained.
“Well what do you think she is going to say, Regina? Hi, my name is Eden and my brother is a child molester and a murderer? That’s only a good icebreaker if you’re attending an AA meeting. She is going to say whatever she has to say to defend that monster of a brother of hers,” Barron explained to Regina.
“But why? He’s dead. Why would she come back to confront us now if she didn’t feel so strongly about it?” Regina wanted to know.
“And I think she is the person that has been following me and the person that attacked me yesterday.” she added.
“What? You think it was her? We need to go to Sheriff Handow.” He stood up.
“No, no, please. I can’t prove anything, she didn’t actually say that it was her, I just feel that it was and besides I am still not ready to get the sheriff involved.”
“But if she is dangerous …”
“No, please, Barron.” Regina cut him off. Defeated he retook his seat on the couch.
“Why did she come back now just to tell us that?” Regina persisted.
“Regina, who knows? She’s probably a psycho like her brother; psychosis is genetic, you know,” he told her. Regina wanted to tell Barron about the things that she had discovered about the Waterford explosion, but she thought better of opening up an entirely new topic of events that would just make the situation more complicated. Already, Barron must have thought that she had become odd over the years and since it did not lead to helping directly solve any of the immediate problems, she decided that it was probably best to keep the story of the voodoo gas, as Natalie called it, to herself for now.
“I suppose,” Regina stated.
Regina’s palms were dampening as she tried to muster the courage to confront Barron with the true reason for her visit. She cleared her throat as she reached into the bag that rested in her lap and pulled out the handful of letters that she had stolen from Lola’s secret stash and tossed them on the table next to Barron’s pizza.
“What’s this?” he asked as he picked up one of the envelopes, pulled out the letter and began reading.
“I don’t know, you tell me. Did you know about this?” Regina asked.
“Know about what?” He said as his eyes continued sliding over the words on the page. He put down one letter after he finished reading and picked up another. She could see the expression of curiosity on his face slowly disintegrating into one of realization and disappointment.
“So now my brother murdered Lola? Is that what you are saying?” He tilted his head slightly after asking the question as if trying to figure out the meaning of this display of high school love letters.
“He wrote her some letters, Regina. We all knew that he had a little crush on her. So what?” Barron defended his brother, his jaw tightening.
“Exactly, Barron, we all knew that he had a little crush on her, but none of us knew this. This is sick,” she said, pointing accusingly to the letters that were sprawled across the table. “He was stalking her. This was no high school crush. I think she was afraid of him.” Regina said, her voice growing into a roar. Barron jumped from the couch his anger plainly written across his face, he looked out into the entryway to the living room to make sure that Carter was not in earshot of this accusatory conversation.
“You also think that you killed Lola yourself, dropped her in a park and the dead body fairy just picked her up and took her away. You also think that a Halloween monk attacked you in the middle of a festival. You think a lot of things, Regina.” Barron’s fists were balled up at his sides by the time he finished his monologue through clenched teeth. He could see that Regina was now trembling and he forced himself to take a couple of deep breaths, turn and walk a few steps away. Barron turned to face Regina again with a new calm.
“You are losing it, Regina,” he said in a lowered voice.
“Am I, Barron? Am I?”
“Yes! As a matter of fact, you are. Glen DeFrank was a crazy psycho, he killed Lola and that is it!”
“So you don’t even believe my story. You don’t believe me when I said that Natalie hit her?” Regina asked.
Barron rolled his eyes slightly and lovingly grabbed
Regina’s hand. “I think that you are under a tremendous amount of stress and with what your mother went through …” Regina groaned into the air in exasperation at Barron’s words. Immediately, Barron regretted bringing up the emotional struggles that her mother had faced in the past; he was the only one that she had ever told about the incident with the mirrors and he feared making her regret that.
Regina shrieked un-interpretably.
“You think that because my mother had a breakdown that I am the same? You think I’m like my mother? You think I’m crazy?” Regina was barely able to get the words out before they broke into unrecognizable sobs disintegrating like wet tissue paper. Ignoring Barron’s apologies, she gathered the letters and shoved them into her bag.
“I am not crazy and I am going to prove it!” she threatened as she threw on her sweater and raced out the door into the chaotic storm.
“REGINA!” Barron chased her out to the edge of the porch.
“REGINA!” he yelled again, but she was already in her car and moving head on into the dismal whirlwind. Barron closed the door with a curse and somewhere upstairs in the Forte home a door moved silently to a close.
Regina gripped the steering wheel tightly in hopes that it would help her control the vehicle against the storm. The clock on the dashboard told her that it was getting late, 9:45 p.m. To whom could she turn now that Barron thought that she was a lunatic? The farouche storm banged wildly against the car pleading to come inside. She found herself on Main Street with the illuminated police station just up ahead; a lighthouse beckoning anyone lost in the storm. As the stoplight turned green she pulled cautiously through the intersection and settled her car on the curb, less than a block from the police station. She cut the headlights and tried to determine whether she should go to the police with all of the garbled information that she had gathered over the last several days. Buckets of water splashed her windows and she was startled by them despite the fact that they were anticipated. At this time of night, she was sure that Sheriff Handow was comfortable and warm in his bed and the person guarding the light was one of his puerile sons. Every detail of information filtered through her mind and she wondered if any of it made sense or if she had attached too much personal meaning to each object and event. Would the objective listener think that she was just paranoid or worse, crazy? Fifteen minutes later her story made no less sense to her because she knew the truth, but no one would understand the connection of all of the individual events that she had experienced and they would think that her rattling was just that of an over-imaginative girl who wanted to give reason to a senseless death.
Maybe it was not that they could not see, but that they turned away. Everything was right in front of Handow’s eyes, but he failed to see, maybe he didn’t want to see, no one did.
Maybe she was actually losing it.
Regina was grateful to be jolted out of the labyrinth of thought by the loud demonic howl that soared through the night air. She plucked on the headlights and pulled back onto the street. Visibility was nil and she was forced to find her way home based on memory as much as actual sight. She maneuvered through the streets and stoplights until she pulled up in the driveway of her pitch-black home. Regina bristled at the realization that her parents were still not home. For the first time ever her house seemed uninviting. Her stomach shifted with anxiety. She gathered her things and pulled her hood down tight in preparation to race through the storm. Her boot sunk into the flooded grass; the water was coming down in falls, covering everything in sight. She sprinted through the lawn, threw off the hood and shook her hair out as she found herself safe under the shelter of the porch. Fumbling the keys, Regina felt something creeping up her spine; she was not alone. Compelled by instinct she spun around and scanned every corner of the wooden porch. Her eyes darted around and she scampered to the end of the porch and peered out around the house into the never-ending blackness. Her keys clattered to the floor, but the sound was barely audible against the soundtrack of the wind and the rain. Regina saw someone slip into the trees toward the alley and the wind was sucked out of her at the sight. She continued to peer into the thunderous night, and then blinked her eyes rapidly. Lightning flashed again and there was nothing. Her mind was playing tricks on her, but that didn’t stop her from dropping to the ground and frantically grappling along the edge of the porch, racing to find the keys.
“Shit,” she shouted as she felt them slip out of her grip and plop into the flower bed at the side of the house. Her heart began pounding and she could feel a wretched strain in her eyes as they began to fill up with tears. Hyperventilation was next. Regina could not think, see or feel, her senses had departed completely. She could hear only her quick hard breaths inside of her head and she closed her eyes tightly and focused on regaining control of them, slowly her breathing began to stream longer and steadier until the process was once again a rhythmic and involuntary flow in and out. The sounds of the squall and the mist of rain washed violently back into her reality along with a bright streak of lightning, followed by a thunderous crash that felt so powerful she thought the earth shook. Instantly, the sound propelled her back to her feet and she ran down the steps of the porch into the tsunami-like weather, as she approached the corner of the porch she dropped to her knees and began scuffling around the flower bed in a frenzied manner waiting and praying for the sensation of cool metal between her fingers.
“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, c’mon.” she raved. Regina dug her hands deeper into the soft dirt. She gasped a sigh of relief when she felt the jagged edge of one of her keys, she plunged farther and wrapped her hands around the cluster of key chains and rings and began to pull them out of the dirt. Regina wrenched the set of keys from the dirt and she had never been happier to see them. Her relief lasted for only a moment when the fingers shot out of the dirt, she screamed and moved clumsily to dodge the grasp, but it was too late, the hand had anchored itself firmly at the root of her hair and she raged and tugged at the hand in a losing battle to release her. She cried deliriously, but only half of her miserable wails were due to the pain that was being unleashed on her scalp. The attack happened quickly, but Regina had caught a glimpse of the bright tangerine nail polish on the chipped and jagged finger nails. The stench of rotting roses was all around her.
“Please Lola! Please stop, please.” Regina screeched, but the storm roared over her and she fought ferociously against being pulled down under the dirt. She struggled to breathe when the strong hand pulled her face so far into the wet flower bed that mud clogged her mouth and nose.
“No, please, Lola!” Regina screamed again after spitting out a mound of moist dirt that plugged her mouth.
Regina searched the ground desperately with her hand for something, anything, when she felt the cool metal once more. Like a knife, she maneuvered one of the keys between her fingers with the point jutting out and began stabbing at the dead hand in unsystematic jabs until it finally released her in one quick movement. Regina stumbled onto her back, hitting her bottom hard on the ground with a yelp. She peered into the flower bed where no trace of a hand remained. Her mother’s flowers sat disturbed only by the storm. Quickly realizing that the keys were still in her hand, she bolted from the ground. As she tried to run, she could feel that the series of blows to her body were beginning to take their toll and the most that she could force was a wounded jog up the porch stairs. She fought to sweep her wet and matted hair from her face. Regina wrestled with the storm door and it was difficult for her to steady the key with the waves of anxiety sweeping through her body. Regina was at war with the keys and the door when her body froze as if the temperature in Black Water suddenly dropped twenty degrees. Still, she was not alone. She turned slowly to face the next obstacle and as soon as she laid her eyes on the sight, she was unable to hold it together any longer. Regina squeezed her eyes shut and could no longer hold back the cries and the tears.
“Please no more, PLEASE.”
Desperation leaked from every pore in her
body.
Lola’s rotting corpse made Kafkaesque steps toward her through the heinous night. Her body was stiff with death, but wobbly with the movement of a body that had been cut to pieces barely holding together like a limp puppet being yanked and jerked for every movement.
“Regina, Regina, Regina, Regina, Regina …” The corpse was babbling through its toothless mouth. Regina rolled her head back and forth reiterating the words that she wanted it all to go away. Again, she screamed but the corpse was undisturbed and continued on its path straight toward her. The skin on Lola’s neck was stretched thin; her head cocked fully to one side causing it to lie on her shoulder almost completely, the strands of what was left of her once beautiful black hair hung like slick wires over her arm. The rotting corpse was making failed attempts to lift its uncooperative foot upon the first step. With no end in sight, Regina turned back to the door fumbling with the keys until finally the correct silver key emerged in her fingers, she thrust it into the lock. The door sprang open and she threw herself in, slamming the door behind her and flipping the locks to entomb herself in the house. She leaned against the door and took only two breaths before she felt the load of vomit curdling in her throat and coasting up into her mouth, she dashed through the dining room into the hall bathroom and barely got the lid up before vomit was spewing into the porcelain bowl. Her stomach retched with vile liquid and dirt, her throat burned, and her eyes felt as if they would bulge out of their sockets. Regina could hardly breathe as her body ridded itself of what little food she had consumed that day. Once everything was gone from her stomach, she took in a deep gasping breath as her body worked desperately to get oxygen to all of its parts. Even after there was nothing left to vomit, she stayed bent over with her hands on the sides of the toilet, not trusting her body and wanting to be sure that the purging was complete. Regina flushed away the sewage that had come from inside. At the linen closet she pulled out a towel, wiped her mouth and blotted her entire face. Next, she soaked the rainwater out of her hair. She wiped the clumps of mud from her eyes and mouth. As she stepped into the hallway she stared at the front door, but there was no longer any terror within her. She knew that there would be no banging on the door. Regina stood only feet from the door that was bordered with two draped windows. No part of her felt compelled to look out of either of them because she knew that no one was out there.
Black Water Tales: The Secret Keepers Page 29
