“They’re everywhere, Liam! Great idea!” Tasha skipped around the yard, pigtails bobbing up and down with each step, swinging her baton like a band director.
The yacht club’s bell tolled in the distance, and a burst of wind rocked the empty porch swing. Liam played along with Tasha, ignoring the itch on the back of his neck, and collided with imaginary unicorns until he couldn’t catch his breath. Panting, he settled on the swing. He called out, “His Royal Highness requires a nap.”
“I’ll gather up the animals!” she shouted.
He smiled at her joy. He’d made the right call coming out here. If Cull watched from afar, then he saw Isaac’s overbearing presence behind the windows, scrutinizing every step his daughter took. No way would he risk showing his ugly face. Nor would Liam worry over whether Tasha acted out the ideas of an imaginative child or displayed early-onset symptoms. She was happy. Nothing else mattered.
The hunt for mythical creatures led Tasha so far into the backyard she soon danced in the grove of live oaks. She leaned against the thick trunk of a tree that resembled an ogre with six massive arms webbing into thinner branches as they reached the sky. It cradled Tasha in its monstrous, magical embrace and would’ve made the perfect memory snapshot if not for the hand above her head.
Liam sat up bolt straight and rubbed his eyes. The hand, so taut he could see its blue, bulging veins even from where he sat, remained. Except now it moved closer to her small head.
He’d been dead wrong. Cull was here, Isaac as sentinel or not. Cull had promised to harm Liam if he talked to anybody. And harming Tasha would bring him the worst pain imaginable. The swing rocked violently as he leapt out of it.
“Tasha!” Blood thrummed in his ears as he sprinted forward.
She thought it all part of the game and clapped her hands together in delight. “Are you coming to rescue me?”
“Yes! But you have to run to me!”
Cull’s hand inched closer to her. A few more centimeters and his fingers could grasp the spiral curls of her pigtails.
“Nope,” she said, “you come to me.” She patted down her tutu and readied herself to be rescued.
Cull’s hand slid farther down the tree to behind her ear. It reached for her neck.
He wouldn’t make it in time. Cull’s hand would crush his sister’s fragile neck.
The back door swung open behind him. Isaac yelled, “Tasha!”
All pleasure on her face trickled away at the tone of her father’s voice.
In a blink, Cull’s hand vanished. Liam didn’t slow his pace until he reached her.
“What’s the matter?” Her lower lip trembled.
He raced behind the tree, but nothing other than the heavy evening air greeted him.
Isaac sped across the backyard and made his way to the tree in half the amount of time it’d taken Liam. He pulled Tasha close and shot Liam a murderous look. “What were you doing?”
“Rescuing Tasha.” He crossed his arms across his heaving chest.
“We were playing, Daddy,” she said. “Don’t worry. I’m not really in danger.”
“Of course you’re not. I’ll never let anything bad happen to you again.” Isaac’s eyes bored into Liam’s. “Time to go inside and eat. Mom’s made a feast.” He hoisted Tasha above his shoulders.
Belly full of giggles once again, Tasha commanded her father forward with a wave of her baton. Left alone by the tree, Liam ran his hand up and down the bark, looking for any signs that proved Cull had been there.
None existed. No footprints other than Tasha’s and his, no cigarette stubs. Nothing but his imagination.
he atmosphere during dinner fell far short of Allison’s projection. Though she and Tasha smiled and laughed, both men stayed on edge. Isaac sat rigid and quiet while Liam stewed about the near miss with Tasha. His desire to leave his family with a happy memory had trumped his sister’s safety. He’d never make that mistake again. So what if Cull hadn’t actually been there? He could have been. And that’s what mattered. The lapse in judgment added one more brick of evidence to an already tall tower of mistakes proving he needed to leave.
Between bouts of mentally berating himself, he obsessed over the imaginary hand and what it meant. If he doubted the hand’s existence, other, more troubling questions arose. Was Cull even real? Or was he about to ruin the next few weeks of Mai’s life because of a dark fantasy?
“Thank you for a ‘licious dinner!” Tasha rubbed her stomach and wiped her mouth with a napkin. Traces of ketchup stained her cheeks. “Time for some more fun. I’ll pick out our board game!”
She squeezed Liam’s neck in a tight embrace, then disappeared into the guest room. Without her presence, the underlying tension in the dining room rose to the surface like an inflamed blister. Untouched peas and carrots rolled together on Liam’s plate as he picked it up and cleared the table, anxious to put some space between him and his stepfather.
His plan fell flat as Isaac pushed out from the table. He said, “I’ll help you.”
“Super. I hoped you’d offer.”
“Fantastic. Because you and I are going to be attached at the hip all night. Wherever you go, so do I.” Condensation from Isaac’s clear glass dripped onto the table as he lifted it and gestured toward the kitchen. “After you.”
Allison touched Liam’s arm. “I’m sure you understand our concern. It’s not that we don’t trust you, it’s just…”
“You don’t trust me. I may have a hard time with reality, but that’s one concept I understand with perfect clarity. It’s why I’m moving in with Uncle Pete, remember?”
Liam kicked in his chair and walked into the kitchen. True to his word, Isaac followed close on his heels. The men bumped shoulders as they rinsed off their dishes and placed them in the dishwasher.
Tasha skipped into the room with a crisp, new box of Trouble and shoved it into Liam’s hands.
“Ready to get beat up?” she asked. She held up a small fist and pumped it menacingly.
“It’s just ‘get beat’,” Isaac corrected. Silverware clinked in his hands as he rinsed the dishes Allison had brought him.
Tasha shrugged as if to say, “What does the old man know?”
A smile inched up Liam’s face, and he snapped a dish towel in the air. “You think you’re gonna win this game? I’m the king of Trouble.”
“Nah-uh. Mommy will be on my team. She always wins.”
Allison flexed her biceps and acted like the past two minutes hadn’t occurred. “Tasha’s right. I play a mean board game. Girls versus boys,” she said. She winked at her daughter.
Isaac slammed shut a cupboard, rattling the glasses inside.
“Umm, let’s have three teams,” said Liam. Up until the little flap about Isaac following him everywhere, the evening had gone relatively well. He had no intention of further tarnishing it by arguing with his stepdad about a game.
“Scared?” Tasha taunted. She placed a small hand on her hip, burying it in her fluffy tutu.
All the time.
“You asked for it,” he said.
Once he and Isaac finished the dishes, the family sat again at the table. In all the months he’d lived here, the four had never before come together for an activity other than a meal. A casual observer might think it represented a new beginning. He knew better. Allison allowed the moment because she didn’t have to repeat it.
Pretending for one night was easy.
The game of Trouble commenced with Tasha popping a six on the die. She hooted with excitement and moved her yellow piece onto the board. She popped the die again and got another six. Her small foot stomped his under the table, and she sneaked a surreptitious glance at him. “Sissy,” she mouthed. Her eyes darted to the right.
Before he could suggest letting his mother pop the die, Tasha slammed it again. Another six.
“Girl’s got the magic touch,” said Isaac. He grinned, most likely relieved to be rushing through the game.
Tasha popped four more si
xes.
The wrinkles on Isaac’s forehead deepened with each successive six. His relief must’ve morphed into the same uneasiness Liam felt.
Join the fun, daddy-o.
“The popper must be broken,” said Allison. She tapped it with her fingernail like she could unjinx the game with a mere touch.
Liam had to hand it to Sissy―she’d certainly introduced herself to the family in a blaze of glory. Brazen bitch. Although Allison and Isaac couldn’t consciously understand their discomfort, he’d wager the same prickles running down his spine also ran down theirs. For the first time ever, he wished he could see a hallucination. Then maybe he could scare her away.
Delighted, Tasha continued to pop sixes until she’d ushered the last of her pieces into the safe zone. She said, “It’s a Trouble miracle!”
Indeed. She’d run the board in a single turn. In celebration of her achievement, she hopped off her chair and twirled around the family room.
Liam stared at the board game like it might start levitating. On impulse, he popped the die. It spun on its side and landed with a single dot facing up.
Isaac picked up the board and shoved it back in its box.
The setting sun framed Allison’s silhouette a russet red as she leaned back. “What an incredible game. We should have a rematch to see if Tasha can continue her streak,” she said.
Isaac looked as though Allison had said he’d won a year’s worth of cyanide.
“Maybe tomorrow,” Liam said.
She tilted her head a fraction to the right in disappointment. Her slight movement allowed him to see who hid by the live oaks.
A tall man stood in front of the ogre tree Tasha had leaned against earlier in the day. His shoulders stooped, and abnormally long, muscular arms hung from his side. Cull.
He really was coming for them. Tonight.
Heart lodged in his throat, Liam raced to the back door and cut on the porch floodlight. Moths swarmed around it and concealed Cull as he slinked back into the inky night.
Isaac joined Liam at the doorway and scrutinized him more than the backyard. “What has you so jittery?”
“Heard a noise,” he mumbled. Though he didn’t like being the only one on guard against the killer, Isaac would never believe him. Drained from the day’s emotions, he sat back down at the dining room table and resisted the urge to hunt for Cull in the backyard.
“Time to get ready for bed, baby girl,” said Isaac.
“Race you to the bathroom. Last one there’s a rotten egg!” Tasha ran flat out to the hallway, determined to beat her father there.
With a flick of his wrist, Isaac shut off the porch light. “Want to help me put Tasha to bed?” he asked Allison.
“Of course.” She rose and took her husband’s hand.
“You’ll be okay out here?” Isaac asked Liam. It was less a question than a command.
Liam grunted in the affirmative.
Alone in the dining room, he listened to his family giggle their way through their nighttime routine. If he hadn’t also fallen under his sister’s delightful spell, he’d doubt brushing teeth and flossing could be so fun. But he understood. His sister exuded the magic of joy.
Once the family moved into Tasha’s room, RP crawled out from under the table and stretched his hind legs. The lazy bugger had slept through Sissy’s coming-out party. He meowed, padded over to Liam, and weaved between his legs. Warm fur covered Liam’s fingers as he picked up the cat. He’d use the fur ball as an excuse to say goodnight to his sister.
Tucked snug under her pink and white polka dotted comforter, Tasha patted the space beside her. “Come listen while Mommy reads a book,” she said.
RP didn’t wait for a second invitation. He launched out of Liam’s arms and circled out a nesting spot next to Tasha. Saddened he couldn’t copy the cat’s confidence, Liam eased onto the foot of the bed and listened as his mother read, “Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus.”
Allison had her faults as a mother, but she’d always excelled as a storyteller. Her voice, pitched an octave higher than normal, kept both Tasha and Liam captive. His little sister slipped her hand into his, and she squeezed three times―their silent code for “I love you.” He squeezed back four times, adding a “too” to the end of their code, and wished every night ended this way.
As soon as Allison closed the book, Isaac cleared his throat from the doorway. He’d determined Liam had spent enough time with his daughter.
“Sweet dreams.” Liam kissed the tip of Tasha’s nose. “Don’t you ever change. You’re perfect.”
“So are you, Liam. Love you.” She brushed his cheek and then pulled up her covers and yawned.
An imaginary dagger twisted his guts. He’d miss Tasha every day for the rest of his life. But whether or not Cull and his threats existed, she was better off with him gone. She’d be safe then.
“I’m exhausted. Think I’ll relax in my room,” Liam said. He bumped against Isaac and stepped on his foot on the way out of Tasha’s room.
“Wish I could knock off for the night, too, but I’ve had trouble sleeping lately,” said Isaac. He jerked his foot out from under Liam’s. “Bet I’ll be up all night.”
“Don’t wear yourself out.”
Isaac opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Allison placed her hand in his and leaned against him.
“Try to get a full night’s sleep, Liam. Think over your plan and let me know in the morning if it’s really what you want.” She took her free hand and tucked an unruly wave of hair behind his ear.
“Will do.” What he really wanted to say was, “love you,” but he didn’t. She’d suspect the worst and check on him throughout the night.
Half afraid another hand waited to haunt him in his room, he breathed a sigh of relief when he pushed open his bedroom door and saw nothing but the generic decorations of his room. Only white walls and stark reality accompanied him tonight. Not even Joshua awaited him; he must be biding his time until they moved to a new home. Yet another misjudgment on Liam’s part.
He flopped onto his bed and looked at his clock—8:16. In under six hours, he’d leave Isaac’s house forever. He’d be independent, and Tasha would be safe.
He’d come up with his best plan yet.
ix hours passed slowly. Too slowly. Liam spent most of it picking fuzz off his comforter and devising ways of eluding Isaac. It wouldn’t be easy. Fooling his stepfather once was impressive; twice would be miraculous.
One unavoidable constant reared its head in each of his escape scenarios. He needed the Hyundai’s keys, but after stealing the SUV that morning, he doubted they’d be dangling from the hall tree waiting for him.
Still, he had to check. At 10:01 he stumbled down the hallway, pretending to stretch his arms and yawn. Isaac sat in the doorway to the living room with a direct view of Tasha’s room.
“Need something?” he asked. A half-empty mug of coffee sat to his side.
“A glass of water.”
“I’ll get it for you.” Isaac stood and waited for Liam to pass. Their shoulders brushed in the narrow hallway.
Curled up in a corner of the couch, Allison gripped the remote and watched some superhero show. Police sirens blared from the television. No doubt the cops chased a chiseled millionaire who wore tight leather pants.
“Everything all right?” she asked. Her eyes traveled from Isaac to Liam.
“Helping your son stay refreshed. Nothing to worry about. You didn’t have any other reason for coming out here, did you, Liam?” Isaac trailed his fingers along the hall tree as they passed it, the keys conspicuously absent from their normal hanging place.
“None at all.”
The two marched into the kitchen, and Liam feigned patience as Isaac filled a glass with tap water and handed it to him. “Thanks, Dad.”
Isaac’s eyes narrowed. Good thing he’d already handed Liam the glass. Otherwise, it might’ve shattered under the pressure of his hands.
Liam mumbled, “See you in
the morning.”
His stepfather resumed his position in the hallway and watched Liam walk back to his bedroom.
The escape plan’s difficulty level jumped from yellow to red. Unless he could figure out how to hot wire a car in the next few hours, he’d have to sniff out where Isaac had hidden the keys. No matter how much coffee he consumed, the man would have to fall asleep at some point. Liam could out-wait him.
He switched off his nightstand lamp and paced in the pitch black. He faced a difficult, but not impossible, task in finding the keys. He’d prevailed in worse binds. Besides, hadn’t his mother asked him to apply himself to real-life issues? This was a puzzle he could, and would, solve.
First, he had to pack. He popped on a headlamp and stuffed all of his necessities, including the paltry stash of bills he’d stolen for his escape, into his backpack. The bag rattled with the sound of his anti-psychotic medication as he tossed it on his bed. Thankfully, his mother had recently switched to mail order prescriptions, so he had a three-month supply of his meds. He’d have an issue when they ran out, but he’d worry about that later.
He crouched on the floor and peered under his bed. The headlamp revealed mounds of crumpled paper and long-lost socks. Buried under a fine layer of dust lay Mai’s portrait. He pulled it out and blew a puff of air at it, sneezing loudly at the resulting dust cloud. As if she knew he thought of her, his phone dinged with an incoming text. He rested the canvas on his bag and picked up his phone.
“Still on for tonight?” Mai texted.
Uncertainty over the Cull situation ate at him. He ran his tongue over his teeth and inhaled. Could he really ask Mai to drop everything for a possible delusion?
“Yes. See you soon,” he texted.
With nothing left to do but wait, he hopped onto the papasan and threw on his headphones, playing every Pearl Jam, Pixies, and Smashing Pumpkins album he owned. On impulse, he pulled out his oils and painted a unicorn scene on his last blank canvas. The unicorn’s swirling horn resembled a jagged knife a mite more than necessary, but hey, for balancing the canvas on his unsteady knees and working by the light of a headlamp, it didn’t turn out half-bad. Tasha would love it.
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