‘Sit down, Bessie,’ he said, indicating a neatly made-up cot in the corner. She moved to it, gingerly sitting down. The bedding was new; it didn’t smell like the rest of the room; it smelled like Downy, the smell of home. This brought tears to her eyes that she willed away. Don’t break down, she told herself. Don’t give him the satisfaction!
‘What now, Aldon?’ she asked.
He looked at her for a long moment, a look on his face that scared Elizabeth. It wasn’t a mean look, a dangerous look; it was a blank look. A look that said he had not thought beyond this point. From now on, Elizabeth knew, he would be playing it by ear. Which meant her living through the next few hours could be totally up to her – up to what she said, how she reacted, how she played his game.
Memories were flooding her, of playing Candy Land with Aldon, with his made-up rules that always let him win; of throwing the gingerbread men from the Candy Land game at her brother, hearing him laugh, hearing Mom say, ‘You make a mess, you clean it up!’ Same thing Mama E.J. said.
Mama E.J.! God, how she wanted her now. If she’d been here, this wouldn’t have happened, Elizabeth thought. Nobody could have gotten to her if Mama had been here. Tears threatened again, and she pushed away the thoughts.
Tommy/Aldon had turned, moving into the small kitchen area, such as it was: a camp stove on a counter by a sink, and an ice chest next to it.
‘You hungry?’ he asked.
Elizabeth said, ‘Yes.’ Keep him busy, she thought. She was totally untaped now, both her hands and feet. With his back to her, she looked around the small cabin, looking for something heavy she could use to bash his skull in – some kind of weapon, anything.
She saw the door opening before the creaking of its hinges sounded, making Tommy/Aldon swing around, a sharp knife in his hand. Graham stood in the doorway.
SEVENTEEN
If she doesn’t want me, truly doesn’t want me, then my life is over. But I’m not going alone. I’ll take her with me to Heaven – where we’ll be together for eternity. She’ll be mine forever.
GRAHAM, THE PRESENT
I stayed in bed until I heard Mom and the girls take off. I knew Thursdays were Mrs Luna’s day off, so I grabbed some jeans and a T-shirt and headed next door. I rang the bell and waited, then rang it again. She came to the door in her bathrobe, her hair all Medusa-like around her head. Scary.
‘What?’ she said, her voice louder than necessary.
‘Sorry, Mrs Luna. Did I wake you up?’ I said.
‘Yes. What do you want?’
‘Ah, well, I guess I can talk to you about it later,’ I said, turning to go. ‘It’s just that me and Lotta got shot at by the stalker last night.’
She grabbed my arm and swung me around. ‘Get in the house,’ she said.
I sat in her living room for about ten minutes, then heard her coming down the stairs. She had on jeans and a sweatshirt and her hair was combed. I was thankful for all of it.
‘Did he hit either of you?’ she demanded, once she was in the living room.
‘No, ma’am,’ I said, standing up.
‘Your car?’
‘Oh, yeah!’ I said. ‘It’s parked in the garage so Mom and the girls can’t see it.’
‘Why?’ she asked.
‘Well.’ I shrugged. ‘They’re all, you know, pumped about fixing up that girl, Alice—’
‘Alicia,’ she corrected.
‘Right. Alicia. They went shopping this morning for her. I gotta admit it’ll be nice seeing her in something other than that dress thing and that sweater thing.’
‘The stalker!’
‘Yeah, right. You wanna see it? My car?’
‘Yes!’ The woman was getting tense and I didn’t know why. Maybe that time of the month or something. You know how they get.
Anyway, we left her house and crossed over the twin driveways to our garage. It’s hardly ever used for cars and I had a hell of a time getting the Valiant in there, but I managed. I’d brought the clicker with me, in my back pocket, and pulled it out and opened the garage door. The gaping hole that used to be my back window loomed at us.
‘Shit,’ Luna said.
‘Tell me about it!’ I confirmed.
She shot me a look. Why? I don’t know. She started walking around the car, checking out the damage.
‘You got more than liability on this thing?’
That thought had already occurred to me. ‘No,’ I said, shaking my head sadly.
‘Check out the county victims’ assistance program. They may be able to cut you a check. Not much, mind you, but every penny counts, right?’
‘Yeah, it sure does,’ I said, smiling at Mrs Luna. Who knew? ‘Thanks.’
She nodded and headed back to her house. As I shut the garage door and headed back to my house, she said, ‘I need coffee. Get your ass over here.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ I said and scurried after her. I know, not manly, but under the circumstances I think I can be excused.
Once back in her living room, she demanded details of the night before. I told her everything I could remember and she said, ‘What about your girlfriend? What’s her name?’
‘Carlotta Hernandez,’ I said.
‘I need to interview her, too. And I’m not going into the station today, no way, no how. Call her and have her come over here,’ she demanded.
‘Yes, ma’am,’ I said, and headed back to my house. I had no way to go get Lotta and she had no way to get here except walk, which was several miles and she had to work tonight. So, having a brain storm, I called Mom and asked her to pick up Lotta on her way back from shopping, cutting her off before she could ask why I couldn’t pick her up, then called Lotta and told her, asking her not to mention a word about last night to my mom. Not until I could tell her myself. Then I went upstairs and spent some quality time on my computer with Zombie Nazis from Outer Space.
E.J., THE PRESENT
I’m not saying any of this is my son’s fault, I’m just saying that even if you wrapped Graham in foam rubber and put him in a rubber room, somehow he’d get bruised. He’s just got that kind of luck.
When I saw his car I nearly fainted. The back window blown out, the driver’s side window blown out, bullet holes in the back door, one back fin shot completely off. I was trying to control my breathing when my son said, ‘See? It’s not so bad. All I really need to fix are the windows—’
That’s when I whacked him in the back of the head. ‘What did you do that for?’ he demanded, gingerly touching his ‘wound.’
‘Because you could have been killed!’ I said, tears welling and spilling over. I grabbed Lotta and hugged her.
‘She gets a hug? How about the guy that got us the hell out of there?’ Graham demanded. ‘Me!’
So I hugged him. And he of course squirmed.
‘Mom!’ he said.
‘Hug me back!’ I demanded.
He sighed and did so, and I held him for a minute. Maybe two.
Luna came out her side door on to our connected driveways. ‘Graham, I told you I wanted to interview the girl.’
Since, including myself, there were five girls standing on the driveway, all of us turned to look at her.
Graham took Lotta by the hand to lead her to Luna. Graham whispered something to her, and I saw Lotta pull back. ‘Cop?’ she whispered, but much louder than Graham’s whisper. ‘I’m not talking to any cop! Are you crazy?’
I followed the two as they walked – Graham walked, Lotta was pulled – to where Luna stood.
‘Mrs Luna, this is my girlfriend, Lotta Hernandez. Lotta, this is Mrs Luna,’ he said.
Behind them I smiled proudly, thinking, ‘He’s so grown up! Introducing them like a little gentleman!’ Then I tried to control myself.
‘Nice to meet you,’ Lotta said, stopping just short of a curtsy.
‘Come on in the house.’ Although I did not hesitate to follow, Luna added, ‘You, too, Pugh.’
My God, the manners going around here were amaz
ing. I turned to tell the girls to go on into our house, but they were already unloading the car and totally unaware of anything but their bounty.
I followed Graham and Lotta into Luna’s kitchen and into the living room. I took a seat on one end of the couch, with Lotta in the middle and Graham on the other end. Luna sat in an easy chair opposite the three of us.
‘Carlotta, could you tell me what happened last night?’ Luna asked.
‘It’s Lotta,’ she said. Then she looked at Graham, and he nodded his head. ‘OK,’ she said, ‘so we were parking . . .’ Then looking at me, she said, ‘Just talking, you know? So anyway, I hear this noise, sounded like a firecracker, but then Graham grabbed me and pushed me to the floor, and I was thinking . . .’ Again she looked at me. ‘Anyway, then the glass blows out of his – Graham’s – window, and I scream, and Graham . . .’ At this point she smiles and clasps my son’s hand. ‘He’s half lying on the seat but he starts the car and whirls it around and heads straight for the guy but he – the stalker – jumps out of the way and then the guy, the stalker, he blows out the back window, but we’re out of there.’ Her smile got even bigger. ‘He’s my hero,’ she said.
Graham’s smile couldn’t have been removed with a butcher knife.
‘Where exactly was this?’ Luna asked.
Graham gave her explicit, long-winded directions, playing the hero to the hilt, then Luna said, ‘I’m calling this in. I’ll get our forensic guy and a uniform out there to check it out. See if he left anything. Like some blood or a billfold. That would be nice.’
She went to the phone while I sat on the couch pretending my son wasn’t having carnal thoughts about the girl sitting next to me.
ELIZABETH, THE PRESENT
I sat on the bed watching Megan and Alicia unload the crap. Bed, Bath & Beyond bags full of bedding and towels and curtains that matched the bedding, and Wal-Mart bags full of make-up and cleaners and underwear and night clothes, and Gap bags full of shorts and jeans and tops and a swim suit, and Payless bags full of sandals and a beach bag. It was a serious haul.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about Graham’s car. Because of me Graham and Lotta could have been killed. At least injured. Already I had Myra Morris’s death and Alicia’s injuries on my conscience, and Megan’s nick on her arm – although the way she played it up I was not all that sorry for her. She seemed to be having fun. I was just glad school wasn’t in session: Megan would be hauled around school on someone’s shoulders while poor Alicia carried her books. Ugh!
Alicia was lighting up, beaming at all the new stuff. Megan and I talked about it and decided not to ask her about her past, about her mom, or the horrible foster mom, or anything else. If she wanted to talk to us, one or both, then she would.
Meanwhile, nothing much had changed on the stalker front. He was still out there, he was still a threat, and we still didn’t have a clue. Was this someone who just picked me out of a crowd? Who stumbled upon the clippings of my birth family’s murders? Someone who thought it would be fun to terrorize me? Or some – excuse the expression – poor soul who fixated on me for some reason? Or was this someone I knew? Or someone connected to my birth parents?
I felt as if I couldn’t really move, like I could do nothing more than mimic the appropriate response to things: Smile while Alicia showed off another outfit; nod when Megan asked what I thought; come to dinner; brush my teeth; go to bed; get up and do it all over again. I was glad school wasn’t in session; I doubted if I could do any work right now. My 3.9 GPA would dwindle down to failure if this kept up.
Whoever he was, he was winning. I was giving up. Even my anger was gone. How could I stay mad at a ghost? Fight a phantom? He was going to kill someone else, probably me or a member of my family. And I was unable to stop it.
BLACK CAT RIDGE, TEXAS, 1999
Although the journal started at the beginning of the school year, the stuff of interest didn’t start until the beginning of the second semester:
January 14—
Met w/ Eric Rush today. I feel so sorry for him. He doesn’t have any friends, and all the girls treat him like a leper. If he’d do something about those zits it might help. But I think it’s more than that. It’s like he’s got the weight of the world on his shoulders. We’re meeting after school today at the Dairy Queen for a Coke. I just hope nobody thinks I’m dating him. Boy, is that an uncool thing to say, or what?
January 15—
I met w/ Eric at the Dairy Queen yesterday. He started crying right there and it was really embarrassing. Sometimes I think I’m not cut out for this counseling shit. Need to talk to Mrs Olson about that. Anyway, we left the Dairy Queen and started walking. We took the trail by the railroad tracks and then walked down the tracks. He didn’t say much, but I think he’s beginning to trust me because I don’t let on how gross I think he is. But he’s sweet, too. Really.
January 18—
Spent my lunch hour w/ Eric today. Got him to smile. But that’s about all.
The journal went on in that vein until early March. That’s when things began to get interesting:
March 3—
Oh, God. Now what do I do? Met w/ Eric today. I never thought doing this PAL thing would lead to people telling me crap like he did! I’ve got to talk to Mrs Olson. I’m also going to write all this down so I don’t get any of the facts screwed up. This is soooooooooooo awful!!!!!!!! When they lived in Houston, before Eric’s dad got our church here, Eric’s sister got in trouble. Rev. Rush is always talking about how abortion is wrong and he wants the whole church to back him in that Right to Life stuff. Nobody much listens to him at our church. You know a woman has a right to her own body! Anyway, Rev. and Mrs Rush were really big in the Right to Life movement back in Houston and had a lot of followers. Anyway, when Eric’s sister got knocked up, she was only sixteen (and a preacher’s daughter – but I’ve always heard preacher’s kids are the wildest!) and her parents took her to Mexico for an abortion! Anyway, it got botched up and they had to give her a hysterectomy. When they came home, his sister just cried and cried. And she told Eric what their parents had done! When he confronted his parents, they got really angry and told him it wasn’t true. The next day his sister was gone. He found out two years later they’d put her in a mental institution! Can you believe it? That poor kid’s been holding this in all those years! They threatened him once that he’d go there too if he kept talking about ‘something that never happened,’ so he hasn’t mentioned it since. Except to me. Oh, joy! I need Mrs Olson’s help on this one!
March 18—
I haven’t seen Eric to talk to in two weeks, until today. He’s obviously been avoiding me. I told him I had to go to Mrs Olson with this. He got really upset. I tried to calm him down but he just ran away. Now what the hell do I do?
March 27—
Finally got up the nerve to speak to Mrs Olson. Haven’t seen Eric since the last time I talked to him. He hasn’t been in school. Mrs Olson was very upset, even though she tried to cover it up. She said for me to forget about it and she’d take care of it. Thank God it’s off my shoulders.
March 31—
Eric’s back in school. He came up to me at my locker and said for me to watch out. Said he’d told his parents he told me! Gross! How can I ever go back to church? He seemed really scared and it sort of scared me a little. I’m going to hide these papers for insurance.
That was Monique’s last entry in her journal. Three days later she was dead.
ELIZABETH, APRIL, 2009
Elizabeth saw him smile at her abductor. ‘Hey, Aldon,’ Graham said, ‘remember me, man? It’s Graham! Your best friend! Remember?’
Tommy/Aldon just stared at him, the knife pointed in his direction.
‘God, I couldn’t believe it when Megan told me you were alive!’ Graham said. ‘Man, I’m so glad! I really missed you, man! Hey, Liz . . .’ he started, turning toward his sister.
Tommy/Aldon said, ‘Bessie. Her name is Bessie.’
Graham nodd
ed. ‘Yeah, right, man. Bessie. You OK, kiddo?’ Graham asked her.
Elizabeth nodded.
‘She’s better than OK,’ Tommy/Aldon said. ‘She’s with me now, so she’s where she belongs.’
‘Man, that’s cool,’ Graham said, keeping the smile plastered on his face, trying to keep his demeanor non-threatening, his hands at his side. ‘She’s really missed you.’
‘You were part of it!’ Tommy/Aldon said, taking a threatening step toward Graham.
‘Part of the conspiracy?’ Graham asked. ‘Man, how could I be? I was like only six at the time, remember?’
‘Six?’ Tommy/Aldon said, confusion on his face. ‘But I was ten.’
‘Yeah,’ Graham said, smiling bigger now. ‘You were my hero.’
‘Yeah,’ Tommy/Aldon said. ‘Yeah, I remember. You followed me around.’
‘Sure did,’ Graham said. ‘Went everywhere you went. Our moms called me “the shadow.”’ Graham forced a laugh.
‘The Shadow,’ Tommy/Aldon repeated. ‘You were the shadow. Not me.’
‘That’s right, Aldon,’ Graham said. ‘I was the shadow.’
EIGHTEEN
I want them all dead! They’ve ruined my life and they keep trying to do it over and over and over and over! I want Monique back! I mean Bessie. She looks so much like her sister, her beautiful, wonderful sister. I’m sorry, Monique, so sorry!
E.J., THE PRESENT
They found nothing at the scene of the last stalker attack. Not even shells. ‘He had time to pick up his casings,’ Luna said. ‘After Graham took off, he had all the time in the world.’
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