“Your dad was at The Crooked Crow one night, and Perry asked him when you were comin’ back. It was a sore spot for your dad, so he didn’t answer. Perry drove him home that night, and when they got here, he asked me. I told him the truth. I didn’t think you were ever comin’ home.” She lets go of my hand and rubs her palms on her nightgown. “He told me you owed him a debt, and he was coming to collect. I told him we didn’t have any money, and after a while, he left.”
“Did he come back?”
She shakes her head and fusses with her hair.
“Mom, he said he killed Dad. That when he thought I wasn’t coming back, he killed Dad to try to make me come back…and when I didn’t… Now he’s coming for you.”
She frowns. “Sam, your father was murdered by Lawrence Hopcroft.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do…” She licks her lips, and her chest heaves. “I haven’t been completely honest with you.”
Dread engulfs me and I lean back against the couch, bracing for whatever secret she’ll reveal.
“I found condoms in your dad’s drawer after he died. We didn’t use them. Then I looked into it further, and he’d booked a motel room with our credit card once a week for the month or so before he died. He always handled the finances, so I never woulda known if the condoms hadn’t tipped me off.”
“He was cheating. We established that. That doesn’t prove Lawrence killed him.”
“I thought he was done with the cheating after you left. After finding out about the weekly motel visits, I drove by the salon Lawrence’s wife, Eve, worked at one afternoon, but she wasn’t in. They said she had the day off.”
“Did you go to the motel?”
“I parked on the road by their house and watched and waited. She came home not long after, just before supper. From the direction of the motel. Alone.”
“It doesn’t prove anything.”
“But it all adds up. It’s the last thing your dad said to Ted.”
“Then why did Perry claim he killed him?”
“To scare you,” she says, using her cane to stand up. “I’m afraid he did quite a job on you.”
She makes a tsking noise as she hobbles to the door and opens it. On the other side, Will is leaning against the porch wall. I can tell it’s him by his stance. He stands up, and Mom whispers something to him. He leans in, and we make eye contact for a split second. He’s angry. He turns away, and Mom closes the door behind her again.
Despite his anger, I feel safer that he’s there. Is he here because he’s worried for me? Could he actually still care?
“If Perry comes for a visit, we’ll be ready for him,” she smirks. “Well, doesn’t this feel like old times?”
I frown, but I should know better.
“Oh, come on,” she says. “Don’t sit there feeling sorry for yourself. We’re not going to let anything else happen before we leave.”
“Leave?”
She nods. “I shoulda when you first came, but now that this has happened…”
She looks me up and down as I push the covers off.
“So it took me getting attacked to prove that we should go?”
“It’s too dangerous ‘round here for us.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying.”
“And I want to sell the house.”
“Good.”
“And give you some of the profits. Whatever it takes to settle your debt with Perry.”
“Mom, no. You need that money.”
“I don’t want you looking over your shoulder, and it’s something you should have done a long time ago.”
“Mom—”
“I won’t take no for an answer. You’re too stubborn for your own good, Sam.”
“You could just say you don’t want to see me hurt,” I mutter, glancing up at her.
Her lips twitch but her expression remains stoic.
“What time is it?”
She glances into the kitchen. “Almost seven.”
“I’ve been out for over twelve hours?”
She nods. “We’ll leave before dinner. I’ve been packing all night, but I still need my scrip, and I can’t find my wedding ring.”
“Where did you last see it?”
“Somewhere in my room, I thought. My fingers have been swollen for years. Haven’t been able to wear the damn thing in so long, I don’t remember what it looks like. But I want it. And I need to let the neighbours know I’m leavin’.”
I nod. “I’ll find your ring. I’ll pick up your meds, too.”
“Then it’s settled. We leave before sunset.”
A knock at the door makes me jump, and I stand, shaking off the nerves. “I’ll get it.”
I pass her and open the door. Will faces me, holding a shotgun, and nods to Mom.
“We’re ready,” he tells her.
“Good, good. I’m heading over to your parents to speak with them. You’ll stay here?”
He nods once as she struggles to pass us and we watch her make her way across the lawn.
He scratches his head, avoiding eye contact, but the smell of after-shave reaches me, reminding me of the time I teased him for shaving what, at the time, were a few chin hairs. He leans against the siding by the porch, just as much the friend I knew as the man I don’t anymore.
“No word on Stacy?”
He shakes his head. “When light breaks, I’m going out again.”
I nod and lean against the door.
“Perry,” he says with disgust.
I raise my left hand and admire the bandage wrapped around it.
“He comes anywhere near here, I’ll put a hole right through him,” he says.
The edge to his voice surprises me. Could he really still care about me, even after leaving them? Is there a chance he’s forgiven me?
No, this is just about our neighborhood pact to protect each other. But if I don’t believe in that anymore, why do I still hope he can?
My head throbs, and he still won’t look at me.
“I need a perc,” I say, turning back into the house.
“Sam.”
I stop and turn back to him. His green eyes pierce through me. “Thank you for your help, you know, looking for Stacy.”
I want to say, of course, but that wouldn’t be right. It wasn’t an easy decision, and most of the time, I didn’t look for her. I’ve been finding ways to run from here, but now, standing alone with him, there’s a buzz between us that was never there before. A chemistry—maybe one-sided—but an attraction I’ve tried to ignore.
And for the first time, I’m nervous around him. Not scared in a bad way, but in this fresh way of looking at him. At the man he has become.
“I’ve been going over things,” he says. “That night was the same as any other. I put Stacy to bed in my old room and stayed up with Mom and Dad for a bit before going to sleep. I went into her room and kissed her on the forehead.” He presses his lips together and clears his throat. “She was there. The window wasn’t open, but I didn’t check to make sure it was locked. I should have. I should have been in there with her…”
He turns away, and I want to say something to comfort him. “I hope you find her,” I mutter. That’s the best I can do? No. I want him to know I’m trying. “I—I checked in Lawrence’s basement.”
“You what?” He turns back to me, furrowing his brow.
“I went to his place, snuck around. Looked in the windows. I didn’t see her in there. I went to Red Woods too…”
Where Albert followed me. Set his wolves on me.
“You’re shaking,” Will says.
I wrap my arms across my chest and squeeze myself. “I’m fine.”
He steps toward me, letting go of the gun with one hand, and squeezes my arm, his strong grip comforting. “You should get some rest, and lay off the drugs, would ya? Do yourself a favor and sleep it all off. Maybe when you wake up, you could come looking with me today—clear mind and fresh eyes…”
His voice drops off as he reads me. He knows I won’t be here, but he won’t break eye contact. His fingers graze my neck, where there are no doubt bruises, and I want his touch so bad.
But it’s not fair—to either of us.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
His hand falls away from me, and he grips the gun with both hands again. He turns around and walks down the path to where it meets the driveway, stopping there.
There are no more chances. No more hope. Not after I left them. There’s no forgetting that.
I grab my bag from beside the couch, take my mom’s car keys and storm out the door. I stride past him to the car, but he doesn’t say a word.
I slam the door of my mom’s old Ford Taurus behind me and back down the driveway, steering with just my right hand. I’m getting Mom her prescription, and then we’re getting out of here before noon. There’s nothing left here for me and if I ever doubted that, I know for sure now. It’s all been swallowed whole by this town, and I’ll be damned if I go down with it.
Driving through the early morning fog, I watch my rearview mirror more than the road ahead. Perry doesn’t know where I am. I don’t even know where I’m going. I pass the pharmacy, but it’s not open yet, so I keep on driving.
Turn around, Sammy.
But I don’t. I never do.
I pull into the cemetery and follow the road along the curve, scanning the headstones.
Apple didn’t fall far from the tree, did it, Dad?
It’s too hard to see through the fog, so I park at the side and get out, wrapping my sweater over my chest as I walk through the rows of headstones, dead flowers, and statues. A whole row of headstones, each with the last name Dupont. A marble headstone with script writing catches my eye for someone named Peggy Spalding. Mom wouldn’t have had enough money for a decent one like that. No, I’m looking for something more modest, like that one that reads Tolloch.
I walk along the dewy grass to the path again, following it as I search for my dad.
Never thought I’d be looking for you, Dad. The roles have reversed.
In my youth, he was always chasing after me when I got caught doing something I shouldn’t have. He was sure to let me know all the trouble I’d caused and punish me for it, but he never stuck around to make sure I didn’t to it again, and I never learned the lesson he wanted me to.
He'd fight with Mom about punishments, and since they rarely agreed, my issues would seep into their relationship, just as Mom always reminded me. She’d say I needed my freedom, but really, she didn’t care what I was doing.
I learned bad things got your attention, Dad. Sometimes Mom’s, but always yours.
Craig Tillman. There it is, right in stone—and a small stone at that. I should have pitched in for something better.
Or maybe you should have never left, I hear him say. One weak link in the chain will break us all.
I fold my arms across my chest and stare down at his name and the dates below it. Just a name and numbers. Fitting, because that’s all I was to you, Dad. Just Sammy Tillman and the number of times she messed up.
Why am I even here?
Because I won’t be ever again. To say goodbye.
“I’m sorry you died,” I say, laughing at how stupid it sounds. I never know the right thing to say. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to stop whatever it is that happened to you… and if it was Perry… I’m sorry—I’m the reason you’re dead.”
I clear my throat, but I can’t bring myself to say it out loud, and I choke back my tears instead. Dropping to my knees before the headstone, I grab the top of it, holding on for the balance he never could give me while he was alive.
“I wish I could have been here for you, not because you deserved it, but it was the right thing to do. Because I love you.”
Rain spits down on me, and my instinct is to stand, but now that I’m here with him, I don’t want to leave. I feel closer to him than I can ever remember, and I can finally say what’s on my heart.
“If I thought you were missing from my life when you were alive,” I choke out with a huff, shaking my head, “I didn’t understand what a big, empty hole your death would leave inside me, because now there’s no chance for us to—to make things right. I have the chance with Mom, but you…”
The weight on my chest is almost unbearable. I struggle to inhale as I grip the headstone tighter, and rain splashes down against my face as I stare up at the sky.
“I’m sorry I drove a wedge between you and Mom. That I was never the daughter you hoped for—one you could be proud of. Wherever you are, Dad, I hope you’re at peace.” I choke down the lump in my throat as I stand.
Because I won’t be.
Not until death.
My tears mix with the rain on my face, and it all feels like nothing. I’m numb to it, and I try to shake away the dampness creeping in under my clothes and into my lungs, but it makes me shiver.
I hug my arms to my chest and jog back toward the car. The pounding of my heart in my chest and ears drowns out my thoughts well enough, and the rain patters the rest out of my head, washing it away.
I jump into the car, locking the doors, and lean back, trying to catch my breath. I twist the key in the ignition and turn the knob for heat, relaxing as the hot air blows against my chest and feet.
“I’m getting Mom, and we’re getting out,” I mutter, shifting into drive. “And I’ll do the right thing this time, Dad.”
We look after our own… Or else…
I shake the thought from my mind as I turn onto the road where a long line of cars has already accumulated for the morning traffic on the way to Arbordale. The light ahead turns green, and I need to get through it. By the time I get to the pharmacy, it’ll be open, and then…
A crunching, crashing noise ahead echoes in the early morning silence, and before I can push on the brake, my bumper crunches into the car in front of me.
I close my eyes as the seatbelt takes my breath away, cutting into the same spot as before. I squeeze my eyes tighter, wincing in pain as I brace for impact, but I turn around, and no cars sit behind me.
The man in front of me gets out of his car, shielding the top of his head with a newspaper. He wears an expensive suit, and I bet he’ll get back in before it gets too wet, but he doesn’t. He’s just staring at something.
I step out into the cold rain, and my breath clouds in front of me as a small child cries in the distance. I walk past the man and stop just ahead, staring at the little girl sitting in the middle of the road. A little strawberry blonde crying with her head hung, picking at her dress in her lap.
“Stacy?” I don’t know who else it could be, but she doesn’t look up when I call.
I walk toward her as a woman in the car in front of her gets out. “Where did she come from?” She turns around to look at the man and then me. “I—I almost hit her.”
“Stacy!” I call, and she lifts her chin.
Her searching eyes find me as I rush to her.
It’s you. How can it be you?
I run to her with my arms open wide, and she stares up at me with big, teary eyes.
She’s scared of me.
I slow down as I reach her, and at the same time, she reaches up to me.
“Stacy,” I say, picking her up and wrapping my arms around her as she grabs hold of my neck and buries her wet face in it. She’s soaked.
“Ma’am!” The woman shouts at me. “Is this your child? Why did you let your child walk around in the middle of the street? What the hell—”
“It’s her!” The man says. I turn around, and he’s pointing to us. “That’s the missing little girl from the flyers.” He points to one of the flyers stapled to a telephone pole at the intersection.
I keep Stacy pressed to my chest as the man ducks into his car, pulling out a cellphone. Of course he’s the kind of guy with one of those new flip ones.
“Hello, yes, the little girl, Stacy Hutchings? The missing girl, yes. We found her. Yes, we’re just
outside the cemetery on Main Street. No, I don’t think—is she hurt?” he calls to me.
I pull away from her a bit, but she clings to me.
Does she know who I am?
“Stacy, are you hurt?” I whisper.
She doesn’t say anything, but she holds on tight. I make eye contact with the man and give my head a little shake. I don’t know. I don’t think so.
“Stacy,” I whisper as the man continues to talk on the phone, “you’re safe now, honey, okay?”
She cries into my chest, and I move to push her up further, to keep hold of her, but her legs are slippery from the rain.
“Can I get a coat?” I call to the man and woman. “Come on, we’re going to put you in the car.”
I walk back past the woman, and she stands in shock, just watching us. The man continues talking as I place Stacy in the back seat, but she still won’t let go.
“Stacy, Bunny, we have to get you warm,” I whisper. The nickname I had for her comes naturally. “Okay?”
She nods and bites at her finger as I set her down on the seat and take my sweater off, wrapping it around her. Bright pink, distinct markings wrap around her wrist, and her other wrist has matching patterns. She was restrained. Someone had her tied up—or cuffed?
I stare at her, this little girl I used to know and love, and all I want to do is protect her. Make her feel safe after whatever she’s been through. I need to get her warm, and the car heater could do the trick, but I’m letting the dampness in.
“Hey,” I shout to the man with the phone, “I’ll be in here with her. You need to call the number on the flyer. Got it?”
The man nods and turns away. I duck into the back seat beside Stacy and close the door behind me.
“Stacy, your daddy’s coming, okay?” She nods and wraps her arm around mine. “Stacy, do you remember who I am? It’s okay if you—”
She nods before resting her head on my arm and crying again. I wrap my arms around her, pulling her in close as the warmth and my body heat thaw her.
How long has she been out here in the rain? Where did she come from? I want to ask, but I don’t want to upset her, and it’s not my place. The police will question her. Her dad will know what to say.
All the Dark Corners Page 7
