by Jo Crow
Frustrated, I lay the journal back in the tote. I had to keep doing what I’d planned to do in the first place—stay alert.
The sun was starting to set when I picked up the tote and moved it into the trunk. Not only would it be safe from prying eyes back there, but I wouldn’t have to look at it, either. The less I did, the less I’d worry. I needed to stay grounded. James depended on my stability.
It was time to swap out the Clara McNair trying desperately to solve the mysteries of her past and get back to the Clara McNair who was a mother to the sweetest boy in Hickory Hills.
On my way back to the Appleton household to pick up James, I stopped at the grocery store to find something for dinner. No matter what Gino had advised me, I needed to eat. There was a hot bar at the back, serving rotisserie chicken and overcooked sausage and, although the woman behind the counter glared at me like I’d directly offended her, she served me what I asked for.
I checked out at the front. The line was short, and the teenage cashier who rang up my purchase was either too apathetic or too young to care about who I was. She bagged my items and spun the bag holder around so I could claim them.
“Have a super day,” she said, totally deadpan as I took the package, burning my hands on the bottom of the plastic container of my prepared white meat dinner. It was one of the nicest things a stranger had said to me since I’d returned, and I couldn’t help but laugh. The teenager rolled her eyes and picked up the divider blocking her cash’s conveyor belt from moving, then began to ring up the next customer. The steady beep of the scanner was reassurance I’d already been forgotten.
Not everyone here was out to get me, I realized. I had to keep reminding myself that no matter how scary the situation felt, the truth was there were people here who knew I was just as human as they were. The vocal minority who actively wished me harm didn’t represent everyone in Hickory Hills. Gino’s job was to be on alert, and I’d let him scare me into thinking I was in trouble from everyone I met.
Tonight, I decided, once I’d had a good meal and curled up on Amanda’s couch for the night, my paranoia would subside. I’d come down from the terrors I’d encountered and come to understand that brute force tactics like these were meant to shock me so that I’d leave. All that stood in my way to what I wanted was my nerves. I’d been threatened and followed, but I’d never once been hurt. I wouldn’t let a group of close-minded, spiteful individuals stop me from getting my son the treatment he needed.
I wouldn’t.
And as I left the grocery store to return to my borrowed car, I told myself everything was going to be okay. I’d lay low with Amanda for the duration of my stay, if Amanda would have me, I figured, and that would be that. Even if I couldn’t find who killed my parents and left their remains on the estate, I’d get what I’d come for—and when Detective Elkins’s investigation failed to dig up any dirt on me, I’d be free of this place for good.
More confident than I’d been since my return to Hickory Hills, I sat in the driver’s seat and laid the bag of groceries on the floor of the seat beside me. If I was going to go back to Amanda’s place after picking up James from Francine, I didn’t want to open the trunk—there were some journal entries in my father’s collection dating back to when her mother was still alive, and I didn’t want to stir up any bad feelings. Amanda had been kind enough to take me in, after all. I wasn’t going to bring up her past just because I was looking through mine. Her generosity and her huge heart deserved to be protected. Without her, I wouldn’t have made it this long.
I bent over at the waist to lay the grocery bag on the floor, not wanting my container to spill onto its side, and by the time I’d straightened up, something had changed. A blue Dodge Ram had come to a stop just behind my car. That in itself wasn’t surprising, since the parking lot was tiny and locals loved to stop their vehicles in inconvenient places to chitchat, but it was inconvenient in the worst way. Francine was waiting for me to pick up James who, I was sure, would be starting to get fussy. I couldn’t see through the truck’s tinted windows but, by the looks of it, the human-shaped blob on the inside didn’t look like they planned to move. The situation left me with no choice but to speak to the driver blocking me in. Once he knew he was blocking traffic, he’d probably move.
Out of habit, I closed the car door with my hip and approached the truck. I’d barely cleared the taillights of Francine’s car when the truck door swung open, and the driver stepped out. I opened my mouth to greet him, but the “hello” jammed in my throat. I could tell just by looking at him he meant trouble.
The black hood of his too-big sweater was drawn up over his head, the pull-strings tightened so it wouldn’t fall. It was paired with a white plastic mask, a cheap one from a discount store selling last year’s Halloween stock. Black fabric stretched across the eyes: thin enough he could see out of it, but solid enough I couldn’t see in. The cheeks of the mask were rosy, and there was a little curl of brown hair at the top—a baby face on a six-foot monster.
My words weren’t the only thing jamming my throat anymore—my heart had leapt in, and it pounded a sickening rhythm in my ears. The man lifted his head and looked right at me, then took his first step forward.
I couldn’t move.
Fear had frozen my legs and sent my brain in a panicked downward spiral. No one hid their face like that if they didn’t mean to do someone harm. Whoever it was, and whatever he wanted, it wasn’t good.
The man took another step forward. Time had slowed, and each small detail was vivid. I saw his baggy sweatpants rustle as he lifted his leg, and I heard the heavy clunk of his boot as it met the pavement. The purr of the truck’s engine and the rhythmic beep the dashboard made to let him know he’d left his keys in the ignition marked the seconds. My heart struggled to drown them out, rushing in my ears like the sound of the ocean.
And then, all at once, fear sharpened into instinct, and my legs were free.
I ran for the car, frantically clawing at the door handle to try to wrench it open. My fingers curled around the handle. I pulled. The door opened.
I didn’t make it inside.
20
Hands locked around my arm and spun me around so fast all I saw was the black blur of my assailant’s sweater, the stark white streak that was his mask. When my vision focused, I tried to brace myself against the car only to find my attacker wasn’t interested in letting me get the upper hand. Something firm lodged itself behind my knees and, with a sharp pull, they buckled. I collapsed, the air leaving my lungs—the scream that escaped my lips was muted, like I was living in a nightmare where all I wanted to do was call for help, but couldn’t make a sound.
My hands clawed at him on my way down, and I snagged the baggy sweater he wore. While I held my weight with one hand, I used the other to swipe at the man’s face. My attempt was made clumsy by fear, and my survival instinct overtook my rational thoughts. All I could focus on was getting away, no matter what the cost.
The man grabbed my wrist as my fingernails skidded harmlessly across his plastic mask. He lifted my arm up over my head like I was a rag doll, squeezing my wrist so hard I heard something pop. Incredible, piercing pain shot down my arm, and this time I did scream. The sound of my voice was hollow and primal, like a dog who’d yelped because her paw had just been stepped on. He held my arm so far up that my shoulder popped.
So I did all I could think to do.
Deprived of my arms, I lashed out with my feet. As I dangled, unable to regain my balance after he’d knocked my knees out from beneath me, I slammed the sole of my shoe into his groin. The man bellowed and threw me back as he recoiled, and I hit the side of the car and crumpled to a pile on the ground.
My wrist ached, and I clutched it to my chest even as I scrambled to get back to the car door—salvation. If I could get in, I could lock the door, then—
Out of nowhere, his thick hand flooded my field of vision, and I staggered backward from the force of an impact I didn’t feel. I knew he
’d punched me. There’d been a crunch, an ungodly crunch, and I reeled from the impact of it. But there was no pain. I was too stunned to feel anything.
“Bitch!” His voice was muffled by the mask and further distorted by the hammering of my pulse. “Fuck you!”
I screamed again, but the sound was kitten-weak. Mad with terror, I tried to duck beneath him and run, but he grabbed me by the shoulders and shoved me up against the car.
Why wasn’t anyone helping?
My head hit the window, leaving the back of my head wet. Was I bleeding? I couldn’t tell. I could barely bring my eyes to focus on the monster right in front of me. But when he leaned close, his putrid breath escaping through the small slit holes of the mask, I was able to bring myself to focus. Each curled, rasped breath was marked with unyielding anger. All I could do was pray he’d back off, and I’d have another chance at escape.
“Never do that again,” he hissed in my ear. The heat of his breath leached through the slits of his mask, and I shuddered in revulsion as it rolled over my earlobe and across my neck. The man in the mask released my shoulder. “And if you ever—”
I bolted. Panic and my instinctual drive to survive blended into one, and my muscles sprang into action before my mind could tell them not to. The surprising burst of energy caught the man off guard, and I was able to escape out from between him and the car. This time, I didn’t run for the door. Somewhere out there, someone had to help me. A whole town couldn’t turn the other cheek while I was beaten, could they?
But as I ran, all I could think was what had happened at Chow’s. The entire diner had emptied out, staff and all, so those men could—
My leg refused to move forward, and I plummeted to the ground face first. My palms skinned on the pavement, and I cried out as the fiery pain of ripped skin consumed my hands. Like a dam had burst, the pain I hadn’t felt before hit me with full force. My face, particularly my nose, throbbed, and the back of my head felt as though it had been split open.
I didn’t have long to suffer. The thing that had stopped my leg from moving forward tugged, and I was dragged across the parking lot until I was back beside my car.
There was no way to escape the nightmare. I’d done my best for my son, but I was going to be killed for a crime I didn’t commit—for a sin that wasn’t my own. I sobbed bitterly and grabbed at the tire as I was dragged past it. My nails bent as I slotted them into the tire grooves, hoping desperately that if I could only hold on long enough, someone would see what was going on and call 911. The cashier inside, a customer, anyone.
Another forceful tug at my leg forced me free of the tire. I screamed and cried at the same time, my wail of agony echoing through the empty lot.
Why would no one help? Were they really all so heartless?
The man rolled me over so my shoulder blades were planted on the pavement. I stared up at the sky, the dark blues of night contrasted with the dreamy pinks of sunset. Stars shone, unwilling to be eclipsed by the sun’s final rays.
The night sky was my goodbye, a reminder of the beauty I was leaving behind.
I drew a shuddering breath that resulted in a pathetic sob and let go of the last of my hope. No one was coming to help. This was it.
The man invaded my line of view. He looked down at me, the white, rosy-cheeked baby face mask mocking me. Then he dropped to his knees and showed me the fat-handled switchblade in his hand. The blade was out, and it glinted in the day’s last light.
I sobbed again.
“Do you see this?” he asked through the mask. The words were muffled, but my senses were hyper-focused, and I heard every syllable. “Do you see it?”
“Yes.” At least, that’s what I tried to say. I wasn’t sure if the word made sense, as jumbled as it was by how I sobbed.
“This? This was bought just for you.” The man lowered the blade toward my face.
My eyes widened; I squeezed them shut and pinched my lips together. I couldn’t watch while he maimed me. I couldn’t.
“She’s pretty, and she’s got a nice, sharp carving edge. Do you want to feel it?”
I couldn’t stop sobbing, but I kept my lips shut so the sound warbled in my throat.
“I think that sounds like a yes,” he said with a chuckle. A cold sliver of metal met my cheek, and try as I might to pull away, there was nowhere to go. I knew if I squirmed, I’d end up hurting myself. As long as I stayed still, the blade would only rest on my cheek. “Do you like her?”
How could I reply?
He traced the blade down my face, then over my lips. Tears squeezed out from behind my closed eyelids, sliding down the sides of my face. Saline pooled in my right ear, and I wanted nothing more than to shake it away, but I couldn’t move.
“If you don’t get the hell out of this town, she’s going to like you even more. She’s going to want to take it to the next level. Maybe, if she likes you enough, she might want your kid, too.”
James. My lips parted, and I sobbed. The blade bit against my cheek, and I pushed my head as close as I could to the pavement to get away from it.
“So, if you don’t want her to get to like you any better, you’d best get going. Do you get what I’m saying?”
“Yes!” I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. My heart was set to burst. I couldn’t take the fear and the stress. “I understand.”
“Good. Good girl. Maybe you’re not as dumb as you look.”
The blade left my cheek, and I gasped in relief.
“Go.”
I felt him stand up, and I started to cry in earnest.
“You get the hell out, then you won’t have to get comfortable with your new friend here.”
Fat tears rolled down the sides of my face, soaking into my hair. Still, I refused to open my eyes. I figured, if he was taunting me, trying to lure me into a false sense of security so he could make my death that much more painful, I wasn’t going to fall for it. I wasn’t going to give him that pleasure.
“Get out.”
I heard footsteps. Casual footsteps. A car door slammed. Then, so close to my head I was sure I was about to be run over, I heard the heavy tires of the Dodge Ram roll by, crunching against the parking lot. It was only then that I opened my eyes.
The truck was gone.
I was alone.
For a while, I remained where I was. My body ached, and my heart refused to calm down. The sound of my pulse in my ear was my sole focus.
I was empty.
A minute passed, then a second. I sucked in a breath and slowly lifted myself up until I was sitting. My palms protested, and my back ached, but I couldn’t lie there, broken, all night.
James needed me.
James.
Tears beaded in my eyes all over again, and I wiped them away with the back of my hand. If I stayed, James was in danger, too. The man in the mask had threatened him directly. How could someone be so cruel?
I laid a hand on my car and slowly stood. My brain wasn’t ready for it, and I stumbled from dizziness, but I braced myself against the vehicle and took a few strained breaths. One step at a time, I resolved, I would get through this. The first step had been getting back on my feet. The second step was getting into my car. The step after that? I wasn’t sure, and I wouldn’t be sure until I got there.
Was I to get James and disappear into the night? Was I to report the crime and hope I wouldn’t suffer retaliation? Was I to go on like nothing had happened?
Once I’d regained my breath, I opened the car door and sank into the seat. The locks popped, and once I was safely sealed inside, I choked out another sob and let it all out. I’d survived. I’d lived when I was sure I was going to die.
And I knew, then, I needed to act, or I might not get that lucky again.
I couldn’t go back to the Appleton house as shaken as I was, and I couldn’t bring myself to stay in the parking lot, so I started the car and reversed from the parking space. Not far from the grocery store was a church, now deserted. Out of anywhere I could
think of in town, it was the safest place to be, so I didn’t hesitate when I pulled into the parking lot and brought the vehicle to a stop.
My hands trembled against the steering wheel, and I wasn’t sure my heart would ever stop racing. I’d never been so certain I was going to die in my life—and I’d been up to some pretty dangerous antics as a teenager. Breaking into buildings in the dead of night, sneaking around behind my parents’ backs to see men more than twice my age, hitchhiking, hard nights of alcohol and drugs… but this? It was unlike anything I’d been through before.
Who would help me?
I didn’t want to frighten Jerry and Francine, who’d been nothing but nice to me since I arrived.
The revelation hit me hard, and for a second I considered not following it through, but I knew I had no other choice.
I called Detective Elkins.
The phone rang, and I closed my eyes as I held it to my ear. I hated that the man who unjustly held me responsible for killing my parents was the one person I could turn to.
But as much as he hated me, he’d stepped in at Chow’s, so I knew I could count on him.
The call connected.
“Hello?” Detective Elkins’s voice broke like he’d just woken up from a nap.
“Hi. Um. It’s Clara. McNair.”
“What an unexpected surprise.” Detective Elkins cleared his throat. “What brings you to call me?”
I thought I was over my tears, but his question struck a nerve, and I choked back a sob.
“Hey, hey, McNair, calm down. What’s wrong?” Concern edged Detective Elkins’s words. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay now.”
“What happened?”
Once I started to speak, I couldn’t stop. I told him about the truck blocking my way, and the masked man with the drawn hood who’d jumped out to assault me. I told him I’d been beaten and dragged back to the spot beside the car, then threatened with a switchblade. I told him the man had threatened James, too. When I was done, I pulled in a deep breath through my nostrils and closed my eyes all over again.
