by Rose, Willow
I liked to tell myself I was saving lives, that I was doing something good, but I wasn't sure it had been worth it. Was it worth losing my marriage?
I got up, then brushed the sand off my behind, glanced once more across the ocean, then turned around and ran back, this time running a little slower, so I didn't exhaust myself quite as much. It took a little longer, but I felt better. When I walked up past the restaurant area by the beach, I thought I saw something and paused. A car was parked in the alley between Coconuts and Fat Kahunas, really close to the Hunkerdown Hideaway Bar. But all the restaurants and bars were closed now. A figure was by the car, just standing there, motionless. I stopped running and walked toward downtown, through the small square that had recently been renovated and closed to cars. I watched this figure in the alley as I walked by and felt like the figure was watching me as well, even though I couldn't see a face. I shivered even though it was eighty degrees out, thinking about the faceless man and almost felt the grab on my arm again. I walked faster, my eyes fixated on the figure that wasn't moving.
Are you lost, little girl?
I could still hear the faceless man's voice in my mind. My heart was pounding in my chest while I rushed past the alley, and soon I was running again. I was certain I heard footsteps behind me, but as I turned to look, no one was there. I ran as fast as I could down Minutemen Causeway and into my house, where I, wheezing and panting, threw myself on the floor after closing and locking the door thoroughly behind me.
You've gotta relax, Eva Rae. It was probably just someone going home after a night on the town. It was probably just some drunk.
I coughed while trying to calm my poor beating heart down. Meanwhile, I kept seeing the faceless man and feeling him grab my arm.
Don't lie to me, little girl. I noticed you were all alone.
When I caught my breath, I showered, then as my head hit the pillow once again, I finally managed to doze off. I got two hours of deep dreamless sleep before the door to my room slammed open, and Alex stormed inside, dressed in his full-blown fireman outfit that I had bought for Halloween, screaming FIRE, then pretending to rescue me.
"Alex, it's Sunday; please let me sleep, will you?" I moaned tiredly.
But it was too late. The boy yelled STOP, DROP, and ROLL, then started to pull my arm, trying to get me out of bed, then continued screaming DANGER, DANGER, swinging his plastic toy ax around, knocking down my lamp.
I sighed, then realized I might as well get up. I stumbled down the stairs, dreaming of coffee when I realized we were completely out. I looked at my phone. It was six o'clock. I wondered if anything in this sleepy town was open at this time, then decided something had to be. The gas station or Publix maybe?
Alex was screaming loudly and jumping on the furniture—the little I had since Chad had taken half of it—while saving imaginary people from an imaginary fire, and my head began to hurt. I knew I had to find coffee somehow. I grabbed my car keys and looked at my screaming son, realizing I couldn't leave him here. He would tear the place apart before I made it back, and both his sisters were still sound asleep.
"Alex, we're going for a drive. Come."
"Yay, a drive! In the fire truck?" he exclaimed.
I smiled and nodded. "Yes. The big one. With the ladder. There's a fire downtown we need to put out."
"Then, we must hurry," he said, as he swung his ax and stormed out the front door, holding onto his fire helmet with one hand. "Come on, Mom!"
I trotted after him, feeling soreness in my legs from the run. What was I thinking? Going for a run in the middle of the night? It wasn't very like me. It had been a long time since I had last run like that, and I knew it was going to make me sore for days.
Getting in shape was harder than I had expected.
I strapped Alex into the back of my minivan, and we drove toward downtown, him wailing like a siren the entire way.
Chapter 6
Aubrey Simms yawned loudly. She could barely see out of her eyes as she staggered around the corner, her two-year-old daughter pulling her arm while pointing and yelling behind her pacifier.
"Beach! Beach!"
Aubrey yawned again and followed her young, energetic daughter while dreaming about her bed. It was way too early to go to the beach if you asked her. The sun had barely risen yet. The sky was changing colors like it was preparing for its arrival, but it was still pretty dark out.
Going on a vacation with her daughter wasn't exactly how she had thought it would be. Naively, she had dreamt of long days at the beach, where she would lie in a chair working on a tan while her daughter played happily for hours in the shallow water or she would be swimming in the cool ocean while her daughter built sandcastles.
Boy, had she been wrong.
Just packing for a toddler had turned out to be quite an ordeal. Just the diapers alone had filled an entire suitcase, along with washcloths. And she had almost forgotten her special zip-up blanket that makes sure she isn't strangled at night. Not to mention the organic sunscreen and mosquito repellant, just to mention a few things.
But that wasn't the worst part. No, the packing she had done pretty fast. It was more the throwing up on the airplane, the diaper leaking accident in the Uber, and then there was the part about her getting up at five-thirty every morning begging to go to the beach. It would have been fine had the child only been able to entertain herself once they got down there, but, oh, no. Aubrey had to constantly observe her since otherwise she would run into the water on her own, or simply take off down the beach, running after birds or talking to people she didn't know. Aubrey usually wasn't overly protective, but she knew she had to keep an eye on the girl constantly, and it exhausted her immensely. There was no time for her to simply sit in a chair and work on her tan or even bathe comfortably in the ocean. There was a lot of crying and a lot of constant running from early morning to late at night. And if she didn't put her down for a nap during the day? Forget it. The rest of the day was completely destroyed with crying inconsolably and even screaming and throwing herself on the ground in a fit of rage when she didn't get her way.
It was true. She would never tell anyone, but Aubrey couldn't wait for this so-called vacation to be over, so she could go back to New York.
Now, they turned the corner toward the beach entrance next to the restaurant, where Aubrey had bought French fries for her daughter every day for lunch all week. She had done it even though it filled her with such a deep sense of guilt—just to make her sit still and be quiet for even just a few minutes so Aubrey could breathe.
As they turned the corner, Ani's hand slid out of her mother's, and she began to run.
"Beach! Beach!"
Realizing her daughter’s hand was no longer in hers, Aubrey rushed to catch up with her. Aubrey yanked her daughter's arm and pulled her back and was about to scold her for running away when she spotted something odd in the middle of the pavement. They had recently renovated the area and made it look nice.
"What's dad, mommy?" Ani said and pointed.
Aubrey shrugged. "Probably a homeless person," she said, knowing her daughter had no idea what a homeless person was. She stared at the sleeping bag that was zipped completely shut, but there was definitely someone inside of it.
"That's odd. Who sleeps in the middle of a street like that?"
Even for a drunk, this was an odd place to sleep. Yes, the area was closed to traffic, but still. There could be trucks coming to unload food or drinks for the restaurants or the bar next to them. They didn't open till ten o'clock, but people working there would most surely arrive soon. And in a few hours, the place would be crawling with tourists walking to the beach or the restaurants. Whoever it was could get hurt.
"Someone ought to do something," she mumbled, biting her lip and hoping it wouldn't have to be her. She looked around to see if anyone else was out, but the area was completely void of people. Even the Hunkerdown Hideaway on the corner was closed, and the drunks had left.
Aubrey looked do
wn at her daughter, then shrugged. "Guess there’s just us, then."
She walked to the sleeping bag, then knelt down next to it. Her daughter imitated her every move and sat next to her in the exact same manner, chewing on her pacifier, waiting to see what her mother was up to next, probably thinking it was all some fun game Mommy had come up with.
"Hello?" Aubrey said. "You can't sleep here."
The sleeping bag didn't move. It remained eerily still, and there was something about it that made the hairs rise on Aubrey's neck. There was a stench that made her stomach churn.
Heart in her throat, Aubrey poked the person inside the sleeping bag. Still, no movement.
"Hello?"
Her daughter chewed her pacifier very pensively, then imitated her mother and poked the person too.
"Hello?"
Her daughter shook her head and threw out her arms.
"No one's home?"
Aubrey locked eyes with her daughter, then decided she'd have to take action. This person was in danger. If he was passed out drunk, there was no other way. She'd have to wake him up or move him to the side of the street. She grabbed the zipper and pulled it down.
With a gasp, she recoiled, and seeing her, Ani did the same. Next, Aubrey grabbed her daughter in her arms and ran down the street, both of them screaming.
Chapter 7
Thank God for good brakes. I almost hit them with my car as they rushed into the street without looking where they were going. I stepped on the brakes, and the car skidded sideways and finally came to a halt.
Heart in my chest and panting in fear, I jumped out of the car.
"What the heck are you doing?"
The young mother and her young child in her arms both had terrified looks in their eyes. She tried to speak but didn't make much sense. She was gasping between the words.
"There…there’s a…up there," the mother said, pointing. Her daughter was crying helplessly.
Thinking someone had tried to hurt them, I turned to look up the closed-off street, but they were all alone except for something lying on the pavement. The mother whimpered slightly, then caught her breath and spoke.
"There. Over there."
I stared at what she was pointing at. It looked like a sleeping bag.
"Stay here with my son, will you?" I asked. "I'm gonna have a look."
The woman nodded, then walked closer to my car that had ended up on the side of the road. Meanwhile, I approached the sleeping bag, bracing myself for whatever could be inside of it.
Was it some homeless person? Maybe he had died in his sleep? Maybe that was why she was so upset?
I decided that had to be it, then walked even closer, but as I did, my heart began to thump harder in my chest. As I moved closer, a face was being revealed from inside the sleeping bag that had been zipped down just enough for me to see it.
I clasped my mouth and gasped as the realization sank in. This was no homeless man who had drunk too much or even died in his sleep. No, this was a young girl, and I knew exactly who she was.
"Oh, dear God," I said, pressing back my tears.
Fumbling, I reached inside my pocket and found my phone. Then I dialed a number. It wasn't 911. Instead, I called the guy I knew would want to know about this first. The man I had watched on TV talk about the young surfer girl's disappearance over and over again. His name was Matt Miller, and he was a detective with the Cocoa Beach Police Department. He was also an old friend.
"Hello, Matt?"
"Who's this?" he asked, sounding sleepy and confused.
"It's Eva Rae."
A long pause.
"Eva Rae Thomas?" He suddenly sounded less tired. "Really?"
I bit my lip and looked at the dead girl in front of me. In the background, the woman and her child were still crying.
"Yes, really. I need you to come downtown. By Coconuts. I…I’ve found your girl."
He went quiet for a few seconds, then sighed profoundly.
"I'll be right there."
Chapter 8
It took him less than five minutes before he drove up and parked behind me. He rushed out and ran toward me. As I spotted him, my heart skipped a beat. I hadn't seen Matt in maybe twenty years, but he still looked the same. Older, yes, but that didn't make him any worse. Like many other men, he had gotten even more attractive with age. I didn't know how they did it.
His eyes locked with mine and he ran a hand through his thick hair that was brown but had been lightened by the sun and looked almost blond in places. It was a side effect of surfing and something a lot of the locals walked around with around here. Everyone surfed. Even the mayor and the city commissioners you would meet in the line-up in the water. I used to surf too as a child and teenager but hadn't been out there in many years. I often wondered if I still remembered how. I was a lot heavier now than I had been back then.
"You sure it's her?" he said, wrinkling his forehead.
"I have no doubt," I said.
He nodded heavily. "Okay."
He knelt next to the girl. I did the same. "The woman over there thought it was a homeless person and was worried he would get hit by a truck or something, then went to take a look. She zipped it down and spotted the girl, then ran into the street, where I almost hit her with my car. I took one glance at her, then called you."
He swallowed. "Thank you."
Matt then grabbed the side of the bag and pulled it down to get a better look. As her face came completely into the light, I could tell his hand began to shake. Sobs emerged from his throat and, even though he tried to choke them back, he didn't succeed. Sobbing and gasping for breath, he pulled the zipper further down, so the girl's small body came into the light.
Then, he lost it. He sobbed and bent forward, crying, touching her long blonde hair between his fingers. "Oh, dear God, Sophie. What have they done to you?"
Knowing Cocoa Beach, I realized that Matt, of course, knew this girl very well and probably her parents too. I fought my tears as I wondered just how hard this was going to hit this small community, losing one of their own.
"Maybe we should not touch anything," I said, trying to remain professional. I wondered if this was the first time Matt had been called out to a dead child before. I had a feeling it was. I, on the other hand, had seen my fair share. I remembered each and every one of them and knew their faces. I knew what it was like. I knew it would never let you go again. I knew this one would never let Matt go either. She would haunt him for the rest of his days.
Matt didn't listen to me; instead, he zipped the zipper all the way down, so we could see the entire body, and that was when it got really creepy. It was so nasty that I almost threw up. Sophie's dead body wasn't complete. She had been dismembered.
With his face pale, Matt rose to his feet, took two steps to the side, then threw up on the pavement. The sound of him throwing up made me gag too, but I managed to remain in control, keeping all my emotions bottled up inside as life had taught me to.
Chapter 9
THEN
"We need to have a talk. Sit down, please."
The boy looked up at his father as he pointed to the couch. His sister was next to him and just as confused as he was.
"What's going on, Dad?" he asked.
"Just sit down, will you? Your mom is coming too."
The boy swallowed and did as his dad told him. He looked at his toys that were in a pile in the middle of the living room. He had forgotten to put them away when he was done playing. Was that why they needed to talk? They were mad at him, weren't they? Would they kick him out of the house? Or would they just yell? The boy didn't like the sensation deep in his stomach.
There had been a lot of yelling lately. Mostly by them, the adults, but also by him and his sister. None of them seemed to be getting along. It wasn't that he didn't love his sister, he really did. The day they brought her home from the hospital was the best day of his young life. He had wanted a sister for so long, longing for someone to play with. But lately, she
had been so annoying he had to yell at her, just like his parents yelled at him. Otherwise, she would never learn, would she?
His mom entered the room. She looked so pale, it was scary. The boy wondered if she was sick. Tommy from down the street's mom had been pale too for a long time, and then one day she hadn't gotten out of bed anymore. She was sick, his dad had told Tommy. And now he had to be quiet and let her sleep. And so she did. She slept and slept, Tommy said. Till one day when she didn't wake up anymore.
Was that what was what happening? Was Mommy sick? Was there a mommy sickness going around?
"We have something important to talk to you about," his mother said.
The boy's eyes grew wider. He could hear his own heartbeat and was about to cry, but knew he wasn't allowed to. Big boys like him didn't cry, they always told him. So, he had to keep it inside if he felt the need to. These days, it was only his baby sister who was allowed to cry. And she cried a lot. The boy was nothing like her. He could keep it in if he had to.
His dad took in a deep breath. The boy could tell he was angry by the way he was clenching his jaw. He could see it moving under the tight skin.
"Your mom and I…" he said, then looked briefly at the boy's momma before continuing. "We're…"
Then he stopped like he forgot the words, but luckily, the boy's mommy could remember them for him, so she took over.
"We're getting a divorce."
The word seemed so strange to him. Divorce? The boy had heard it before. Irene from his pre-school class had parents that were divorced, but he wasn't quite sure he knew what it meant. Apparently, it was something they had decided to get, so it wasn't a sickness. Because who would choose to get a sickness? The boy certainly wouldn't. He could still remember the time they had taken him to the hospital because he had a high fever. That wasn't very fun.
