I’m fairly certain, at least.
Ma opens the door to the cellar and the two men go downstairs, holding an oil lamp they borrowed from our parlor. Ma watches them go down the stairs before turning away. My mother has always been one of the most beautiful women in town, but right now, she looks every bit her age.
“Go upstairs to your room, Tom,” she says.
“Ma…” I protest.
“I said go,” she says in a voice that leaves no room for argument.
I go upstairs, but I have no intention of staying in my room. I want to hear whatever the sheriff has to say when they come out of the cellar. I go to my room, close the door so that my mother will think I’m inside, then quietly creep outside to the top of the staircase. She won’t be able to see me and I’ll be able to hear everything he says. I’m scared to hear it, but I need to know.
It is over half an hour that the sheriff and his deputy spend in our small cellar—I can’t imagine what they could have been doing there for so long. I start to become terrified they really have found the body. But when they come back up, I can tell immediately by the tone of their voices they are empty-handed.
“You keep a clean cellar, Missus Blake,” Deputy Ubend’s voice says. “Nothing out of place down there.”
“Oh,” Ma murmurs.
“Where’s Tom?” It’s Sheriff Eckley’s voice this time.
“I sent him to his room,” Ma says.
“I may have some more questions for him at the station tomorrow,” the sheriff says. “Why don’t you send him over after he comes home from school?”
“Why?”
“Just some routine questions, Meg.” There’s a pause. “By the way, does Tom know that George isn’t… his natural father?”
“Yes.” Ma’s voice breaks on the word. “He knows. I… I told him recently. But… what does that have to do with anything?”
“Maybe nothing. Just gathering information.”
“Bill.” My mother’s voice lowers so that I have to strain to hear what she is saying. “You… you don’t think that Tom could be responsible for… what happened to Agnes?”
I hold my breath. At least she’s asking him. At least my mother hasn’t already decided on my guilt.
“Not my place to say right now, Meg.”
“Please, Bill. We’ve known each other our whole lives.”
Sheriff Eckley sighs. “Yes. I think it was him. I think Tom killed them both—George and Mrs. Perkins. I think Mrs. Perkins must have seen whatever he did to George through the window and he got rid of her so she wouldn’t turn him in. I can’t think of any other explanation that makes sense.”
I clutch my knees, feeling suddenly dizzy. The sheriff thinks I’m a murderer. If that’s true, it’s just a matter of time before he acts on his suspicions.
“How can you say that, Bill?” Ma cries too loudly before remembering to lower her voice. “You’ve known Tom since he was a baby—you know he’s a good boy. He’s been calling on your Mary for years.”
“Yes,” the sheriff says tightly. And at that moment, I know that the man will never let me near Mary ever again.
“You know Tom wouldn’t do something like that,” Ma says.
“Wouldn’t he?” he retorts. “You remember his father, don’t you, Meg?”
My mother is quiet for a moment. I strain my ears, not wanting to miss her response. “Stephen did nothing wrong,” she finally says.
“You don’t really believe that, do you? Stephen comes into town and charms all the ladies. Then two girls in the span of a month go missing. Poor Edith turned up floating in the lake…”
“It wasn’t Stephen!” Ma snaps.
I hold my breath, waiting to hear what the sheriff would say in response. For what feels like several minutes, there is nothing but silence. Then I hear Sheriff Eckley say, “Like I said, Meg, tell Tom to come on by after school. We just want to ask him some questions. I’m sure the truth will come out, whatever that may be.”
I hear the front door slam and I know the officers are gone. I stay at the top of the stairs for a few minutes, unsure what I should do next. When I finally make my way downstairs, I find my mother at the kitchen table, her face in her hands, sobbing.
“Ma,” I say.
She looks up, her eyes swollen and bloodshot. I wonder if she really believes me to be innocent or if she was just defending me so that the sheriff wouldn’t haul me away.
“Go to bed, Tom,” she says.
But I don’t move. “What was the sheriff talking about?” I say. “About my father?”
Ma’s mouth falls open. She wipes her eyes with a trembling hand. “Nothing. Don’t you worry about it.”
“Please tell me, Ma,” I say.
She shakes her head. “It’s better you don’t know.”
“Tell me, goddamn it!”
Ma blinks a few times at the sharpness of my tone—I have never raised my voice to her before. I watch as she squeezes a soiled handkerchief in her palms and decide I’m not sorry I snapped at her. I’m not going to let this go. I need to hear the truth. I need it now.
“Ma…” I say, more gently this time. “Please.”
She stares up at me. She doesn’t want to tell me. But she can see the look in my eyes.
“Your father…” she begins. “He… he was… very charming. And so handsome. All the girls in town loved him.”
My heart pounds in my chest. Now that she is telling me the story, I’m not sure if I want to hear it anymore. But I know it is too late to go back.
“I used to see him a couple of nights a week, but I knew he took out other girls,” she says. “I didn’t mind. We all knew he was just passing by and it wasn’t anything serious. But then…” She heaves a deep breath. “Rose Noland went missing.”
I close my eyes for a moment, wanting to beg her to stop but at the same time, scared she might not tell me the whole story. I have to know.
“Then a week later, Edith Fisher disappeared too.” Ma dabs at her eyes. “Everyone was whispering about Stephen, but I knew him well and was certain that he couldn’t be responsible. He was so sweet. So gentle.”
I nearly put my hands over my ears to keep from hearing the rest.
“I found out I was carrying his child,” she says. “Obviously, it was not planned. He was very persuasive. He convinced me to do things I never thought I would have done, but… well, that’s in the past. He was so wonderful. I thought I would tell him about you and he might marry me, then everyone would know he was a good man. Except on the night I was to tell him, he… he…”
My heart speeds up. “Ma?”
“He tried to kill me.”
My legs feel so weak, I have to grab a chair to keep from collapsing. I sink into it, wondering if I might pass out. I feel dizzy. The man who spawned me is a murderer.
I am the son of a murderer. Killing is in my blood.
“He got me alone in our meeting place in the woods,” she says softly, avoiding my eyes. “I started to tell him about the baby, but before I could, he took a knife to my throat. I could feel it biting into my skin. I knew I had seconds before he finished me off, so I told him. I told him his child was growing inside me.
“He felt my belly and said he would spare me,” she recalls. “For your sake, he would let me live. And then… the next morning, he was gone. Left town—never seen again.” She reaches out to put her hand on mine. “You saved my life, Tom.”
I yank my hand away, not wanting to feel her touch. Or anything.
“A week later, Edith surfaced in the river,” she goes on. “The rope used to tie rocks to her ankles had come undone. But she hadn’t drowned. Her throat had been slit—I knew it was Stephen who had done it, but I never said a word about what he’d done to me because then everyone would know he was the one who had gotten me in trouble. By then, George had already agreed to marry me to save my honor.”
I rub my face with my hands, trying to take in what she just told me. My father wasn’
t just a murderer—he killed multiple women. At least two but maybe hundreds. Maybe thousands.
“I was so scared you might turn out like Stephen,” she murmurs. “Especially since… well, you look just like him. I watched you so carefully though, and you were never anything like him. Such a good boy—sweet, considerate, and I know you truly love that Mary girl. You’re not like your father at all.”
I feel like I’m choking. She believes the best of me. She has no idea.
“I remember when you were only five years old,” she murmurs. “You found this sparrow with an injured wing on the front steps. It would have died. You brought it into the house and nursed it back to health. George didn’t want it in the house, so you hid it from him. You took such good care of that little sparrow, Tom. You were so gentle with it. I’ll never forget how sweet you were. I knew then there was no way you could ever…”
I turn my eyes away from hers.
“Tom,” she says softly. She puts her hand on mine again and I don’t pull away this time. “You are not like him. I swear to you.”
“I wish you had told me,” I manage.
“What good would it have done you to know?”
“Maybe I could have…” I struggle to find the right words. Maybe if I had known my true nature, I could have made a conscious decision to be different. When Chas ordered me to cut George’s throat, I could have resisted.
“You’re a good boy, Tom,” she says firmly.
But how can she really believe that? She must know in her heart that George is dead. She must know that Sheriff Eckley is right—no other explanation makes sense besides me killing them both.
_____
This morning I go out behind my house before leaving for school in the morning. It is a beautiful day—it rained the night before and there are dew drops on every leaf. It’s the sort of thing I might have appreciated before, but now my mind is focused on only one thing.
“Chas?” I call out.
He’s been watching me for a long time. I’m certain he is somewhere out there now. Why would he disappear now, when everything is finally happening?
I wait for a moment, scanning the bushes. Then I turn and he is suddenly there. He has sworn he is human, but humans don’t just suddenly appear that way, do they? I certainly have no ability to move the way Chas does. But if I continue to kill and drink the way he does, maybe I’ll gain those skills as well.
Maybe I’ll finally get to meet Stephen, my father.
“Hello, brother.” His lips curl into a smile. Even though he is my brother, I’ve grown to hate him over the last week. “How are you doing?”
“They found Mrs. Perkins,” I hiss at him.
He nods. “Yes. It’s unfortunate. I thought I buried her quite well—your police are smarter than they seem.”
“The sheriff thinks I killed her.”
He nods again. “Yes, I realize that. I think it may be time to think about getting out of town, Tom.”
I stare at him. “Getting out of town? But... I thought…”
“You realize they’re going to arrest you, don’t you?” Chas shakes his head at my apparent stupidity. “It will be hard for me to help you once they have you behind bars. Of course, I’m certain I can break you free, but the result will be the same—you’ll have to leave town.”
“I can’t leave my mother,” I mumble.
“She’ll understand,” he assures me. “George has left her with money. She is an excellent seamstress. And once you’re gone, she can rent out your bedroom. She’ll be fine—she’s a strong woman.” He smiles. “After all, she survived our father. Few ladies can say the same.”
I wonder how many ladies have survived Chas.
“Go tonight,” he says. “Attend school so they don’t get suspicious, but as soon as dusk falls, you must go.” He gives me a meaningful look. “They’re close to finding George’s body. When that happens, they’ll come for you.”
I want to argue, but I know he is right. I have to leave. There’s no other way.
Tonight I will go.
Chapter 24: Brooke
When I get into my building and see the “Out of Order” sign on our only elevator, I let out a groan. I’ve been on my feet at work most of the day and I’m not excited about trudging up seven flights of stairs to my apartment. Seven flights is a lot—the other times I’ve done it when the elevator has been broken down in the past, my legs felt like they were going to fall off by the end of it. I’m not in great shape.
Also, I’ve been jumpy and irritable ever since I handed that hair over to Detective Bateman. Every time my phone rings, I’m certain it’s Bateman, telling me the hairs were a match. Hunter called me up last night for a date and I put him off, not wanting to see him again until I heard back on the DNA test. But those things can take two weeks… I don’t think I can put him off that long.
Jamie comes in behind me and he doesn’t look thrilled either when he sees the sign on the elevator door. It’s got to be even worse for him than for me. Even though he only lives on the fifth floor, I can imagine it taking him the next hour to make it up there. Stairs are not his friend.
“Sucks, right?” I say, gesturing at the sign.
“Actually…” He flashes me a crooked grin. “I have a key for the service elevator. The super let me have it the last time the elevators stopped working.” He raises his eyebrows at me. “Want a ride?”
Is he kidding me? “Definitely.”
I follow him down the hall to where the service elevator is located. I’ve never taken it before, but it appears tiny and cramped, based on the size of the door being about half the size of our own elevator door. Still, it’s way better than stairs.
“I hope you’re not claustrophobic,” Jamie says as he inserts his key into the pad by the elevator door.
“I don’t think I am.”
Although when I see the inside of the elevator, I change my mind. I very well might be claustrophobic because the thought of going inside this dimly lit, tiny elevator with padded walls scares the shit out of me. Jamie steps inside and puts his hand on the door to hold it open for me. I hesitate, debating if this will be worse than climbing all those stairs.
Ultimately, laziness wins out.
I step inside the elevator, standing far closer to Jamie than I’ve been since he started dating Gabby. I’m close enough that I can smell spearmint on his breath and when I lift my eyes, I’m staring directly into his. He has nice eyes.
“It’s a little cramped in here,” he comments.
“Yeah,” I breathe.
Funny how I thought I was going to be terrified in this elevator, but somehow, I’m feeling something entirely different. Our faces are less than a foot apart. The way I feel around Hunter is like nothing I’ve ever felt before in my life, but there’s something that isn’t entirely real about it, if that makes any sense. Sometimes it’s like I’m watching a movie about a girl dating a really handsome guy. Me and Jamie in this elevator—it feels real. I think about all the years we’ve known each other, all the kind things he’s done for me, how sexy he looks when he smiles…
Like he’s smiling right now.
If I leaned forward and kissed him right now, what would happen? He’d push me away, right? He’s got Gabby. He wouldn’t cheat on Gabby. I know he’s not a cheater.
The elevator dings to announce Jamie’s floor. Without breaking eye contact with me, he steps off the elevator. “Uh, listen,” he says, “do you want to come over for a bit? We can have a beer, watch some television…”
I smile at him. “An infomercial?”
He laughs. “I don’t know if any are on, but we can channel surf till we find one.”
I hesitate. I don’t know how Gabby would feel about this.
“Come on,” he says, “you haven’t been over in a really long time.”
“Um,” I say, “okay.”
I step off the elevator to join him. The last thing I want is to get back in that coffin all alone anyway. Besi
des, it’s been forever since Jamie and I have hung out. We used to go to his place or mine once or twice a month for a beer, some TV, and some conversation. A lot of times, we’d order in a pizza or Chinese food and hang out the entire night. I can’t even remember what we used to talk about. Usually one of us would be dating someone, but it never stopped us from hanging out before.
When we get to Jamie’s apartment, I settle down on the couch while he grabs a couple of beers from the fridge. I hear his voice calling out to me, “Is light beer okay?”
“Sure!” I call back.
I hear a buzzing sound and realize Jamie’s left his cell phone on the end-table. I can’t help but glance at the screen and am not surprised to see Gabby’s name.
Will be over in about an hour.
Gabby’s coming here? Why did Jamie invite me over if he’s got a date with her?
Before I can contemplate further, the phone buzzes again: Still shaking from what you did to me last night.
Followed by a winky smiley face. And then an emoticon of a tongue.
Well, she isn’t leaving much to the imagination.
Jamie limps into the living room holding one beer in his hand and the other tucked under his arm. He plops down on the couch, then hands me one of the two beers.
“Why do you have light beer anyway?” I ask him. “I thought you hated it.”
He shrugs. “It’s Gabby’s.”
Of course.
“Um.” I bite my lip, wanting to say something about Gabby coming over, but not wanting to reveal that I read his text message. Then again, I didn’t really do anything wrong. They popped up right on the screen. “Is Gabby coming over tonight?”
He nods. “Yeah, I think so.” He glances over at his phone and picks it up. “Yeah, looks like she is.”
Then he grins at the other message on the screen.
I clear my throat. “Does she come over most nights?”
“Maybe a few times this week.” He raises his eyebrows at me. “Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug, trying to act like I don’t care. “It just seems pretty serious, considering you haven’t been together that long.”
Love Bites Page 18
